For the Love of Hades (The Loves of Olympus) (3 page)

“They’ll have no more success this time than the last,” Hermes spoke.

“Better to drive them back,” Ares added. “Better to crush them once and for all.”

Hades sat in his little-used throne and waited, considering their words.

Hebe, the Goddess of Youth, offered him refreshments. Her normally bright smile was forced, and her eyes stared upon the floor. This was the effect he was used to having upon women. This was as it should be.

He stared at the ambrosia. He did not like the taste of it. It was a cloying meal, weighing down his limbs and thickening his tongue. The drink, nectar and wine, he downed quickly enough and set the cup aside. He would welcome another cup, if Hebe dared offer him more.

His hands ached, chilled still from their work on the meadow. He flexed his hands, noting that bits of dirt and blood still clung to his fingers. He had washed quickly, knowing his lateness would provide meat for his fellow Olympians to feed upon. And after the morning’s events, he feared his patience too far gone to tolerate their heckling.

Truly, this morning had seemed to tilt his world completely. Now he must forget, and right it once more.

Athena’s voice rose, filling the Chamber and grabbing his attention. “Athens’ hoplites are strong, trained well to defend the city.”

“You would refuse my aid? You think your mortals can thwart the numbers that Persia will place upon Greek soil?” Ares stared, shaking his head. “This is war, Athena. My realm…”

“Olympus will have no need to interfere or offer aid, you will see,” she snapped.

He thought of the boy he’d left, his body surrounded by tiny blue flowers. His aid had done little to help the soldier.

“We must decide such matters carefully.” Zeus turned a pointed gaze upon Athena, then Ares. “That is the purpose behind this meeting, to ensure Greece, and Athens, victorious.”

“Our soldiers would do better without such a storm.” Apollo swept into the Chamber, his golden face tight with anger. “I fear we’ve lost more to the waves than to their mortal adversaries.”

He’d encountered no storm. The sun, Helios’ sun, had set Persephone aglow. Persephone. He stiffened, searching for Hebe and another cup of nectar. But Athena’s face, her flaring nostrils and red cheeks, caught his eye instead.

“Storm?” Athena glared at Poseidon.

Poseidon shrugged. “None of my doing, niece. I am here, as you plainly see.”

Hades’ eyes traveled between the two, marking Athena’s narrowed eyes and Poseidon’s contrived innocence. It was an old rivalry, one that seemed to have no end.

Would Poseidon ever tire of scheming? Surely provoking Athena grew tiresome. And how could Athena, Goddess of Wisdom and Reason, not see how shameful such pointless squabbling was?

Why did he continue to expect changes from them? Hades let out a sigh of exasperation. Olympus was beyond his control. He would stay for as long as Zeus required, no more. Until then, he would be wise to focus only on the matter at hand. The war, the mortals… Greece.

He fixed his gaze upon Apollo.

“And yet a storm wreaks havoc on
Greece’s
ships.” Apollo ran a hand through his gilded locks, smoothing the rain from his head.

“Is it so grave?” Zeus sounded astonished, causing Hades a moment’s sympathy. He did not envy his brother dominion over all.

“It is.” Apollo nodded. “For its temper is unleashed upon the Greeks while
sparing
the Persians.”

“What?” Zeus roared.

Hera gasped, clutching Zeus’ hand in her own. “Who would do this?”

Who indeed?
Hades wondered at such foolishness. Surely even Poseidon… From the corner of his eye, Hades saw it. A quick smile of victory flickered across Poseidon’s face.

But Poseidon covered his mouth as he rubbed his chin in mock consideration.

What ruse was this?

“Phorcys…” Poseidon began, leaning forward with a sparkle in his eye.

Does no one see the bastard’s pretense?

Hades’ gaze swept the Council Chamber in hopes his brother would be caught. If anyone suspected as he did, he saw none of it. He sighed again, clenching his fists in his lap. If the others were so obtuse, he would not deign to enlighten them. Likely they would accuse him of seeking vengeance or retribution.

“That spineless Titan would not
dare
!” Athena cried.

“Justice,” Zeus intoned, his voice hard, his anger palpable, “will find him. It seems we’ve no time for debate. I fear this day will bring many to your realm, Hades. See that you are ready.”

Hades stood, all too eager to depart. While he had not learned the reason behind his summons, Apollo’s news demanded action.

Zeus spoke with gravity. “Poseidon, go and end these storms.”

Hades watched Poseidon, his eager nod, the heightened color of his cheeks and smile on his lips. Whatever scheme he’d set in motion, Poseidon was most pleased.

Hades moved quickly, wishing to put some distance between them.

This day was far from over. He
knew
what this war would reap, knew Charon’s purse would grow heavy with coin and his ferry would bring many across the rivers to his home.

“I’ll accompany you, brother.” Poseidon appeared at his side, smiling. “As we’ve both been sent to do Zeus’ bidding, we might make the journey together.”

Surely he’d been tested enough this day? But to endure his brother’s company, alone…

Poseidon whistled. His giddiness, gravely misplaced in the face of such news, strained Hades’ fraught nerves. He held his tongue, broadening his step to speed his descent.

“Can we not find some common ground to remark upon?” Poseidon shook his head, looking comically disappointed. “I would think you’d be eager for some companionship, even from me.”

“You are mistaken,” Hades answered.

Poseidon laughed loudly, falling in step at his side.

The words were out before he could stop them. “I’ve seldom seen duty please you so.”

Poseidon turned the palest blue eyes upon him, smiling broadly as they continued down the mountain. “Saving those poor souls from a Titan’s wrath is surely enough to please me.”

Hades caught his bitter smile. To reveal anything to Poseidon – a twitch, a sigh – was to reveal too much. “For you? No.”

“You are far too shrewd, brother. I fear you’d ruin my fun if you visited Olympus more often.” Poseidon laughed again, clapping Hades on the shoulder. “I think you’d learn the root of my sport before the rest had begun to suspect anything was amiss.”

Disgust rose within him, and anger that should have long ago extinguished, blossomed anew. He stiffened, ignoring the urge to shake his brother’s hand from his shoulder.

His voice revealed none of his conflict as he murmured, “I far prefer the peace of my home.”
Learning the root of your so-called sport turns my stomach, brother.

Poseidon shuddered, clapping his shoulder again. “If you have peace it’s because the company you keep are dead, Hades. Unlike the lady I will call upon shortly.”

Hades froze, the disgust in his voice unmistakable. “A woman?”

Poseidon laughed, shrugging. “Not just any woman…”

Hades stepped forward, his words hard and sharp, “Will she help you calm the storm? Save Athens’ finest?”

Poseidon’s brow quirked as his lips curled into an amused smile.

Hades stepped back then, cursing his temper.

Poseidon’s pale blue eyes narrowed, assessing Hades with interest. “I will settle the storm for the mortals.” Poseidon rubbed his hands together, staring at Hades. “And she
will
settle the storm raging in my cock.”

Hades stood still as stone. Poseidon need not know that he longed to pummel him senseless. That he would have happily thrown his arrogant bastard of a brother down the mountain. It would do him no good. Such actions could offer him no peace. There were times immortality was the cruelest sentence. He would never be able to extract the revenge he longed for.

Hades took the last steps from Olympus in silence, moving quickly, ahead of Poseidon. Once they stood at the mountain’s base, he stopped. He did not look at Poseidon as he spoke; he could not risk it. “I charge you to remember your lot, brother. Those soldiers, Greece, should not look to luck in times such as these.”

“No luck is needed, for Greece, her soldiers or…my lady.” Poseidon met Hades’ eyes with a taunting smile. “Luck would do the lady no good, for she has no choice.” With those words, Poseidon melted into vapor and blew towards the city.

Hades felt bile flood his mouth. Fury, hot and churning, quickly followed.

She has no choice…
He sucked in a ragged breath, rolling his neck to release the tension that knotted and pinched his broad shoulders.

His eyes followed Poseidon, a swiftly moving shadow, drifting towards Athens. Would he do his duty? Hatred, his constant companion, mixed with grief for those that would suffer under Poseidon’s care.

Charon would ferry soldiers to the Underworld’s shores this eve. Soldiers Poseidon should have spared.

That his brother was selfish was no surprise, most of the Olympians were. But where the others might find a way to justify their actions, Poseidon felt none was needed. He was an Olympian. His every action and word was for his purposes and none would stand in his way. He reveled in his self-indulgence.

In the time since they’d drawn their lot for life, Poseidon had changed little.

And Hades’ loathing for his brother had changed not at all.

“You have nothing to say?” Demeter asked, her face alight with amusement.

Erysichthon of Thessaly stared open-mouthed at the deity before him. He shook his head. “For once, I’m speechless, Goddess.”

She laughed. “Your words prove otherwise, oh mighty King.”

Her laughter stirred him, pulling a smile from him.

She’d not changed since the first time he’d looked upon her. Nor had the love he felt for her… But such sentiments were one sided. The love she bore Erysichthon came from his complete loyalty to her as his Goddess, nothing more. But this? She knew of his affection for her, his devotion for her. Surely she was mocking him.

“You are in earnest?” he asked, surprised by how tight his throat had become. She must care for him then, to suggest such a thing. “It is a surprise, Goddess.”

Her brown eyes narrowed as she regarded him. “A pleasant surprise, no doubt?”

He nodded quickly. “Yes, yes. Pleasant can scarce describe such a… gift.” He paused, still stunned by her words. “I swear by my honor, I will esteem to earn her.”

“If Hermes will not,” Demeter cautioned. “I would see her marry from the Olympians first, of course.”

He nodded, taking no offense. He was, after all, king. He ruled all of Thessaly. But he was only mortal. He could hardly fault his Goddess for wanting an Olympian match.

“If Hermes will not have her, I would see that you do.”

He should be pleased. No, more than that. What she proposed was a rare honor…

“She is young.” Demeter moved forward, staring down at him. “And innocent. I would have you remember that. Such a gentle soul will need a show of affection and time to accept this match.”

Erysichthon watched a faraway look claim Demeter. His eyes wandered over the Goddess, curious to know if his young wife would be as fair as her mother. None had seen Persephone, Demeter was fiercely protective of her. Some said it was because the girl was hideously disfigured, that Demeter thought to save her daughter from the ridicule or malice of those that should respect her.

He prayed that was a rumor. He would do as Demeter asked, wed and bed the young Goddess. But it would be easier if she was comely. If she resembled her mother, it would be… He felt heat rush to his loins.

Her eyes bore into his, causing his heart to thunder within his broad chest. “I know what you are, what appetites you have. Your skills are your sword, your loyalty, and I value them. But I must know, can you be gentle?”

“I will be whatever you ask of me,” he promised. If he was to marry Persephone, he would lose Demeter. He knew it and ached.

Demeter smiled at him, tilting her head slightly. “And that is why I chose you.”

“She is in favor of this match?” he asked.

Demeter shrugged. “My daughter has no notion of you or my wishes when it comes to this marriage. But she will, soon. There will be, however, some changes within your kingdom.”

He waited. Demeter had shown him mercy since his reign began, more than twenty years before. In return, he’d been careful of her, taking pains to keep faithful to her and those she cherished. When he’d learned of her affection for barley, for it reminded her of Persephone’s hair, he planted fields of it. When her beloved cypress grove was threatened by fire, he fought the blaze without a single tree lost.

“Speak them, Goddess, and they will be made.”

“You will have no more mistresses.” She watched him closely as she spoke. “And your daughter must leave. Marry her to your neighbor. His holdings are almost as grand as yours, are they not?”

Such a notion had crossed his mind many times. But Ione was young, a comfort to him. He’d thought to pass more years with her at his side. He’d hoped as much.

Demeter sighed, as if she could hear his thoughts. “Besides your Goddess, there can be only one woman in your heart, Erysichthon. I demand it.”

Her words cut deeper than a sword. While he’d only ever loved Demeter, his daughter Ione was the only one who’d ever loved him. Pain, and anger, twisted his gut.

“I know you are fond of her,” Demeter continued, “as I am fond of my own daughter. If I am to give you Persephone, a Goddess, you will send your Ione to the north.”

He could not meet Demeter’s eye, not when his anger burned so. But he nodded, his voice only slightly husky as he acquiesced. “It shall be done, Goddess.”

Demeter touched the top of his head. “Come now. You will have more daughters, demi-gods at that. Your Ione will not be dead or punished, just gone to live a new life of her own. How proud she will be, for you will both marry well. How pleased she will be to see such honor bestowed upon you. Much better than losing favor with the Gods, surely? Better than two such loyal worshippers suffering the Olympians’ wrath? Is it not? Think on it that way.”

He said nothing, for his anger burned brighter. She threatened him? His Ione? When he had been nothing but loyal to her?

But he must be careful. For Persephone would live with him, away from her mother’s influence. Once the vows were done, he would find a way to bring Ione home again, somehow.

Until then, he must remain Demeter’s most devoted servant. He took a deep breath, speaking calmly, “You do me, and my daughter, the highest honor a mortal can hope for. I thank you.”

She smiled down at him, patting his bearded cheek. Her palm lingered, one finger stroking his thick brow. “You are welcome, Erysichthon. See that you do nothing to make me regret such generosity. Won’t you?”

He shivered from her touch, ashamed when he turned into her palm. He inhaled, pulling in her scent. Earth and honey, flowers and grass, woman, all swirled in his nostrils. His attempt to stifle a groan was unsuccessful, but she did not scold him for his lust. Instead she tilted his head back, her brown eyes bright.

“Can you be gentle, mighty Erysichthon?” She ran her fingertips over his mouth, watching her movements with heavy-lidded eyes.

He swallowed, desperate to pull her to him. Did one seduce a Goddess? Did one dare try? For her touch upon his mouth was more potent than any coupling.

“I can be,” he murmured, daring to add, “I would show you.”

She smiled, her hands cupping his cheeks to tilt his head forward. She placed a kiss upon his brow, whispering, “Show my daughter.”

He closed his eyes, the throb of his hunger pounding in his ears. When he opened them, she was gone and he was alone, kneeling on his floor.

###

The cave dropped, a mere shelf of rock that hung over his realm. Hades stood, peering at the world that stretched before him. Tartarus glowed red from here, a wasteland of pain and suffering. Only those most evil and cursed were sent there. Such were fitting company for his mood.

He grasped the edges of the ladder, climbing swiftly down. The ladder swung, suspending him precariously in the thick blackness separating Tartarus from the rest of his realm.

The Erinyes, those he charged with Tartarus’ keeping, would have followed his orders by now. They never tired of tormenting their charges, of bringing suffering to the damned. It was their way. But his mood made him restless and he sought any distraction. Tartarus offered much in the way of distractions.

The smell of sulfur, blood and smoke welcomed him. Heat wafted from the tunnels leading to the earth’s core, spewing steam at irregular intervals. He dropped from the ladder, landing on the warm, black dust with a thud. His eyes narrowed, adjusting to the red flickers of light and lengthening shadows.

“Didymos,” Hades greeted Tartarus’ master guard, chosen by the Erinyes themselves.

Didymos bent low, his booming voice echoing, “My lord.”

“Hades,” a woman’s voice stirred the hair on his neck. “What do you think of your reinforcements?”

Hades turned, glancing at the Erinye. He took care to reveal none of the aversion her appearance evoked. They may assist him in his realm, but theirs was a fragile friendship. Erinyes were spiteful creatures, easily offended and quick with their retribution. Only a fool would make an enemy of an Erinye.

“More guards have been placed, as you ordered.” The Erinye’s voice was deep.

Vaporous forms, hardly recognizable as men, lined Tartarus’ wall. Their eyes, black holes that flamed and sparked, did not rise to regard him. To look upon him would set the Erinyes’ wrath upon them.

He nodded. “Good.”

The Erinye added, “We shall reinforce the wall next, my lord.”

The Erinye bowed, returning to the shades. She paced before them, her whip snapping with threat. She moved, a true hunter, like one stalking its prey. Hades’ eyes traveled over the souls that were once men. Whatever their crimes among the living, there was no escaping punishment in death. She would see the wall twice as thick, and enjoy it.

In truth, those that fell under a Persian sword would not enter Tartarus. Few that fought for their country, died for their country, were sentenced to eternal torment.

War brought sorrow to all. How many wives and children, mothers and fathers, would Charon and Cerberus drive back from his realm when war brought their loved ones here? How many mortals and souls would cry out in anguish, reaching even his ears, when they were denied?

What would it be like to have someone so devoted? That they would travel into the Land of the Dead, to plead for your release or one last glimpse of your face?

It was a sorrow he would never know. He should be glad of it. His life had seen enough sorrow. He would not seek more out.

He set off, prowling the tunnels with a sharp eye. All he passed bowed. The shades trembled, falling to their knees while the Erinyes stooped low.

He wound through every passageway, following the corridors those within Tartarus had made with a small hammer and pick. They were endless, opening into tunnels, cells or vaults. On and on they went, winding back and forth, towards the main cavern.

It seemed that man had an affinity for evil and Tartarus would need to grow. He left the tunnels, watching the shades work.

They were gruesome to behold. More spirit than flesh, their eyeless faces and bent, twitching movements were the stuff of nightmares.

If he were mortal, would he be sent to Tartarus? He’d done terrible things in his time.

“Will Hades find him worthy, I wonder
,” Persephone’s voice reached him.

She’d looked to him for reassurance that the young soldier would find peace, not knowing he would be the one to give it to the boy. Or take it from him.

The days since he’d returned had done little to dampen his memories of her, or the troubling effect she’d had upon him. He could feel the throb of her, the pull of her touch upon his arm. Indeed, the air seemed to come alive, searching for her… aching for her, if he thought on her too long.

He moved forward, grabbing up one of the large boulders meant for the wall and setting to work. It was not the first time he’d toiled alongside those in Tartarus, but it had been years since the need was as great as it was now.

He would chase away her presence, or go mad from it. She lingered in his mind’s eye and haunted his dreams. Why, he did not know. But he would banish her.

He worked on, until his back ached under the weight of the massive black rocks and he grew weary from the heat.

“My Lord,” Didymos spoke from behind him, “Judge Aeacus calls.”

Hades nodded, set the last stone and straightened, flexing and rolling his neck and shoulders.

Didymos backed away, his eyes downcast as he returned to his work. This man had been a monster in life. Even now, the man’s corded muscles and layers of scars displayed his earthly sins. He’d earned his eternity in Tartarus, the deeds of his life beyond forgiveness. But Hades had found his skills useful. Monster or no, Didymos served Tartarus well.

And Hades valued Didymos. All who served him, loyally, deserved as much.

Hades entered the chiseled tunnels rising gradually to the only opening into Asphodel. The gated hole, a sudden gash caged by leaden bars, was constantly watched over by a dozen guards. No one would leave Tartarus and no one would fall from Asphodel. The gate opened for him, though he had no key. It was the Fates’ doing. He was all powerful in his realm, and only slightly less so in the Land of the Living.

The murky sunlight that greeted him was blinding when compared to the red darkness of Tartarus. The air was clean and cool, a balm upon his dry throat.

The guards bowed their heads as he passed, expecting no acknowledgement from him. None was given, for Aeacus was waiting.

“My lord,” Aeacus greeted him with a slight bow.

Hades clasped the man’s arm. “Aeacus. What troubles you?” He set off towards the crossroads, Aeacus at his side. The Judges of the Dead held court at the crossroads, enabling those new to the Underworld to take the path to their given place.

“One who demands your audience.” Aeacus did little to disguise his disbelief.

“Demands?” Hades regarded Aeacus with surprise.

Aeacus shrugged. “With no disrespect, to be sure, but he is most insistent. As he is a hero from Athens, we sent him ahead to your home, to wait for you.”