For the Love of Hades (The Loves of Olympus) (4 page)

“Why?”

“He would offer up a bargain of sorts.”

“A bargain?” Hades stopped, stared briefly at Aeacus then set off again. “Who is this man? A hero? Who finds fault with Elysium?”

“His name is Ariston,” Aeacus said, keeping stride with Hades once more. “An Ekdromoi of Athena, soldier of Athens and son to Rhodes’ high counselor.”

“Is he as arrogant as you make him out to be?”

Aeacus shook his head, laughing. “No, my lord, he is not. That is why we sent him to you. He is noble, truly, but not arrogant.”

Hades regarded Aeacus, weighing his words. This promised to be an interesting exchange.

“Tavli this eve, my lord? You may try to beat me.” Aeacus smiled at him. “Though I will bring my own astragals, for your dice are weighted, I think.”

Hades snorted, dismissing him. “If your pride is less injured then bring them, Aeacus.”

“More arrivals come, my lord.” Aeacus walked at his side. “Boat after boat of soldiers. Some lost to the storm, others to the Persians, off Athens’ coast.”

“Too many will be lost in this endeavor.” Hades shook his head. This was a young war yet, with many battles to come. His ghosts had learned the truth; the Persians were determined to win Greece for themselves. Their numbers were great. He feared they might win in their conquest, if Olympus did not intervene soon.

Aeacus nodded. “I know there were wars in my time, but none so wasteful as this.”

“War is always wasteful, Aeacus.”

Aeacus conceded as they reached the crossroads, “Perhaps you are right. It is easier to see such folly now.”

“Bring your dice.” Hades clasped arms with Aeacus in farewell and headed home, alone.

His home rose, stark and black. Carved into the side of a huge mountain, its parapets and arched windows were set into the rock face. He had no courtyard as was common in Greece and Olympus. But his chambers were grand, connected with sloping passageways and intricately carved doors. All had been constructed with long balconies, extending the length of every room so that he was able to look out over the Underworld if he pleased. It was the first thing he’d built in his new realm, to honor his new station and his new life.

He paused by the river’s edge and bathed his face and hands before crossing the bridge and entering his home.

He studied the man who awaited him. A young man, Hades saw, powerfully built. He’d fallen in battle. He bore an angry puncture, from stomach to back, and a jagged cut across his chest. Painful wounds that ebbed life slowly and caused suffering.

This man was for Elysium.

Hades walked past the man to sit in his black stone throne. “You have a bargain to offer me?”

The man straightened, drawing in a deep breath.

What would drive a mortal man to seek Hades out? When all others cowered at his name, he would demand an audience.

Hades found a peculiar sense of anticipation settling over him. “You asked for an audience; you have it. Where do you belong?”

The man swallowed, staring into the white-blue flames with a furrowed brow. He spoke a single broken word. “Athens.” Ariston of Rhodes lifted pale gray eyes, revealing his pain… so much pain.

Hades spoke carefully, keeping his tone aloof and distant. “You died with honor and glory. Is that not what every soldier wants?”

“My wife…”

His wife?
Hades was surprised. “Lives. You do not.”

“She is in danger.”

Hades heard the pleading in Ariston’s voice, and the torment. But he would remain firm in his resolve. “Earthly danger,” Hades said. “She is no longer your concern.”

“The danger she faces is not earthly, far from it…” Ariston’s voice was hoarse, edged with a desperation Hades could feel. Ariston took a wavering breath before he began again. “She is everything to me. I am proud of my death, and the honor it brings my family, but it means nothing if she is in peril. I must know.” Ariston kneeled. “I beg you. I beg you to return me to Athens.”

Hades stared into the fire, unable to deny the impact of this man’s actions. He was here, humbling himself without shame, for the honor, the love, of his woman. Hades was in awe. Would that he was able to feel such devotion, without fear of recrimination.

“Who is this wife?” Hades asked, angered by the hoarseness of his voice.

“Medusa of Athens.” Ariston paused. “Now of Rhodes.”

Hades was silent, his thoughts racing. Could he help this man? He could help Ariston. This was his realm. But should he? Should he give this man a reprieve?

“When I die,” Ariston began.

“You are dead,” Hades assured him.

“When I return… die again, I would serve as guardian to Tartarus. I am a skilled warrior, a skill I might offer you.” He spoke with confidence.

Hades could do little but stare at the man. Was he mad? Did he know what he was offering? For a woman?

“You vex me,” Hades murmured, his brow furrowing at this strange proposal. Surely there was more to this offer. “You offer this to me for a woman?”

Ariston nodded. “She is worthy.”

Hades was silent, for his chest seized with anguish. It encompassed him, raw and sudden. It was a pain he’d long denied, buried deep for his own protection.

Ariston continued desperately, “As Olympus has my arm and sword, she has my heart… a mortal, and perhaps weak, heart. My words may not … adequately express the love I have for this woman. But I cannot leave her when she is at risk.”

Ariston would return to his wife, to protect her.

As Hades had once done.

Would Ariston’s wife welcome him home? Would she be pleased to have him at her side and in her bed?

Or would she cry in terror and beg him leave her forever?

His hands clenched at the memory, faded but no less excruciating.

Hades nodded. “It is a weakness that is not reserved for mortals alone, Ariston of Rhodes. I understand.” Perhaps this mortal would have what he could not.

Ariston was silent, his body rigid as he waited. Hope, hope and excitement, flared in his startled grey eyes. It was more than Hades could bear.

“I will return you to your ship so that you may lead your men to victory. Too many have fallen in this war and I would see it end. When that is
done
, you may go to your wife.” The words came quickly, but he did not censure them. He could justify this, for every soldier was needed. He paused then added, “And when you return to this realm, I will expect your fealty when I demand it.”

“You have it,” Ariston vowed earnestly, and Hades believed him.

###

Six days of disappointment passed. She’d spent the better part of each of those days needling and prompting Myrinne or Crysanthe. She was far too eager for any insight or knowledge she might learn about him, she knew, but she could not stop herself.

Hades.

His burning blue eyes haunted her.

But her efforts were in vain. The nymphs were afraid of him, Persephone surmised. The few things they had shared with her were uttered in hushed tones. All the while, their eyes had flitted this way and that as if he might appear and drag them screaming into the bowels of the Underworld.

What she’d managed to extract had done little to aid her in searching him out.

He had four monstrous horses, a gift from his brother Poseidon.

He was evil, the bringer of death.

He was cruel and unfeeling…

Such news was useless to her, for she knew most of it to be falsehoods. She’d seen the pain in his eyes. If he was unfeeling, or evil, such pain could not exist. Yet it did, she’d felt it, she knew it. And when she’d asked for his help, he’d not hesitated to give it.

She’d seen his power and understood it. He did not wield it lightly.

No, he was not cruel or unfeeling, he was good and generous and beautiful…

“Persephone?” her mother called to her, distracting her from her thoughts.

“I’m in the courtyard,” she answered.

Her mother arrived, wearing the white robes of Olympus. “You missed dear Hermes, Persephone. He had no time for a visit as he was sent by Zeus to summon
all
to Olympus,” she said. “I fear there’s been little progress in this siege…”

But Persephone heard no more of it. If Zeus had summoned all the Olympians, Hades would be traveling too. And if he was traveling to the mountain, she might find a way to meet him.

“… so stay close to the house as your attendants will not be back for some hours yet,” Demeter finished.

Myrinne and Crysanthe had set out this morning under the pretext of collecting wool. She knew better, there was wool enough for half a dozen new garments. Her companions were hunting an altogether different kind of companionship. And when they went to their lovers’ beds, she had the day to herself.

Excitement bubbled up within her. She would
see
him. This very night.

“Take your spinning inside,” her mother continued. “And lock the doors.”

Persephone said as little as possible, knowing her voice would betray her anticipation. She collected the spindle and whorl, as well as the basket of raw wool she’d been spinning. She’d planned to weave this afternoon but it would wait until tomorrow.

Her heart was in her throat and her hands began to tremble, so she paused to steady herself. She must be careful.

While preparing her mother’s hair, she took pains to keep her touch light and steady. If her mother suspected she was ill or out of sorts, suspected her of anything, Demeter would defy Zeus and stay with her.

“Why call upon all of us?” Demeter shook her head. “Ares and Athena, certainly, and Poseidon as well, for much of this war is on the seas. Hades will come, poor fellow, as his realm will grow greatly if things do not cease. But why me?”

Persephone found her voice. “Poor fellow? Hades?”

Demeter met her daughter’s eyes in the looking glass Zeus had given her. “Imagine how he must feel. To be called up, tempted by the sights and sounds of this realm, only to be cast into the gloom that is his domain once more?”

“Is it so bleak?”

“Bleak? Persephone, the man lives in eternal darkness. His only companionship found with the dead. It explains his grim disposition. He is a churlish fellow.”

Persephone made a non-committal noise, hoping her mother would go on. Her mother’s description did not sit well with her. Did none see him as she did?

Demeter shook her head, her finely arched eyebrows rising as she spoke. “Poseidon declares him senseless, that his time away from humanity has driven him mad... I say, if Hades is so, then Poseidon must bear his part of the blame for it. It was Poseidon who rent the first wound upon his gloomy brother. Who can blame him if he is mad? His life has afforded him little comfort. And, he
is
the ruler of death.”

Persephone shivered at her mother’s words. Death… Had she not jolted awake these last few nights, remembering the shade being torn from its mortal shell?

But what of this other?

How had Hades suffered at his brother’s hand?

Demeter stood, kissing her daughter’s cheeks. “Remember my words, Persephone. Stay in the house and lock the doors. I would not risk losing you.”

Persephone hugged her mother and waved her off, closing the door with shaking hands and leaning upon its carved wooden surface to calm herself.

She waited as long as she could bear it, all the while her heart racing in her chest. Winding her heavy chlamys about her shoulders for warmth, she borrowed the scarf she’d embroidered for her mother and covered her tresses with the delicate eplibema. She might venture off alone, but she was reasonable enough to cover herself.

Pulling the heavy doors shut, she teased the climbing vines high, to cover them. Only then did she turn, half running towards the roadway.

Her hands trailed along the tall grass as she went, listening closely.

He would come this way. The grass had seen him many times, this was his path.

She walked on, her fingers stroking the grass as she went. She smiled, encouraging the shoots an inch taller with her simple touch.

It was sunset when she made her way to the crossroads.

She touched the base of a towering fig tree, seeking answers. He would pass beneath the trees branches, it assured her. She rubbed her hand over the smooth bark, watching the leaves green and plump at her touch.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

The tree entreated her up into its branches for safety. Hades was not the only man who traveled this road. She climbed high, settling amongst the sturdy branches until he arrived.

Mayhap she’d missed him. Mayhap he was already there? But the tree told her he had not traveled this way in many weeks…

Her heart thundered wildly.
Then
I shall wait a bit. If he does not come, I will retire before the sun.

The chargers flew, their heavy hooves tossing up earth in their wake. Hades held the reins loosely, giving the horses their head. They had been too long confined and found their newfound freedom exhilarating.

He smiled, savoring the simple joy of racing with them. Faster they went, galloping across the plains without pause. They hugged the base of the mountain, and tore across a wheat field. As they drew close to the main road, he gripped the reins more firmly.

He sighed, straightening his shoulders and tightening the length on the reins. The horses resisted, as did he. But they eventually responded to his hand upon them, slowing to a slight trot.

Orphnaeus shied suddenly, the massive black horse turning into his three running partners in his move to get away. Hades drew the team up, searching for the cause of his stallion’s distress.

Then he saw her. She was sitting in the tree, her foot dangling from the limb.

And he felt Orphnaeus’ urge to flee, too.

She’d tortured him most sweetly. Every day since their meeting he’d forced her from his thoughts. She was a Goddess, virtuous and protected by both Demeter and Zeus alike. No good could come from this fascination. He wanted none of it.

That the memory of her voice found him to whisper his name, that he could still feel the silken touch of her hand upon his arm, meant nothing.

She meant nothing. She would never mean anything to him. He would not allow it.

And yet his eyes lingered on her, hungrily taking in every inch of her.

Damn her. Damn her copper locks and dazzling eyes. Damn her round curves, her welcoming smile… and damn the slight ankle that dandled before him, swinging back and forth playfully.

Damn her for such beauty.

“You came.” Her voice startled the animals anew, making them rear and whinny. “I am sorry,” she said as she slipped from her perch to the ground.

“No.” He jerked the reins sharply, knowing his team would mow her down without thought.

But the four grew still, blowing hard with ears pricked forward. They made no move against her.

“No?” she asked, standing beside the horses, fearless. Her brow rose. “You didn’t come? But… but you are here, sir.”

Hades stared at her, exasperated and enchanted all at once. He found nothing fitting to say, so he said nothing.

She smiled, a blinding sight to one who was seldom in the sun’s light. “What a team you have. So fine and proud,” she whispered to the horses, extending her hand to Aethon.

Before he could utter a warning, the horse snorted into her hand.

Persephone laughed as Aethon lowered his nose to her touch.

Hades was stunned. Mighty Aethon, known to bite and tear flesh, yielded to her touch? Perhaps the beasts could sense her as deity? Perhaps she was capable of magic? Did she cast all living things in her thrall?

His memory had not captured her lovely face, the curve of her lips and sparkle of her eyes well enough. And now, she seemed to beckon to him.

Yes. Yes, she was magical. He could feel her power creeping over him; it was most unsettling.

She spoke to Aethon, stroking the stallion’s forelock with gentle fingers. “You are a handsome beast.”

Enough of this
. “He is not meant for such company.” His voice sounded cold and distant, which pleased him. “He is not a pet. He is a charger.”

She nodded, not in the least offended, as she continued to run her hands along animal’s neck. “He is indeed one of the more fearsome creatures I have ever seen.”

He was at a loss. “Why are you here?”

“I was waiting for you.” Her green eyes met his.

Her answer startled him, rendering him speechless. His chest felt unaccountably heavy and strangely warm, but he ignored it. She had waited for him. She had waited… for him?

“My mother was summoned by Zeus, you see. She said all had been summoned. Which meant you might also be called upon.” She smiled again, her green eyes never wavering from his. “I hoped this would be your route. The grass told me it was, and they were right. They normally are. They have no need to deceive, I suppose.”

He remained silent, contemplating her purpose. What game was she playing?

“Does it trouble you, my lying in wait?” She blushed then, further disorienting him. “I only thought… I wanted to…” She shrugged, growing redder with each uncertain word.

Finally her gaze fell from his, releasing him to breathe and think once more. He raked his hand across his face and drew in a ragged breath.

This would not do.

She wanted what? He swallowed. Why had she waited for him? Why did it matter to him? His hands fisted, clenching the reins.

His words were hard, “You are alone again?”

She should not be alone. It was not safe… He stiffened. She was none of his concern.

She nodded. “Mother is on Olympus already. And my attendants are off collecting wool.” She paused. “Rather, that’s what they told my mother. In truth, they’ve gone to meet their lovers, I think. Myrinne was missing hers greatly, or so she said last night. It would be taxing, if one was used to such… companionship, to go without. Don’t you think?”

Hades could not contain the small smile that her words stirred. “You are fond of speaking.”

She laughed. “It’s necessary to become acquainted with someone. If you have an interest in making new acquaintances, you should converse with them. I should think. Do you agree?”

His smile was irrepressible. “That is why you’re here? Lying in wait for me? So that we might become better acquainted with one another?”

She blushed, but nodded.

He found no artifice, or coy affectations. Either she was a master at such games or she spoke the truth. But it could not be true, for that made no sense. He shook his head, hardening himself. He pressed the smile from his face and turned his gaze toward the mountain.

He would end this now. “I see no need. You would be wise to return home before your mother finds you out, alone... again.” He glanced at her, though he knew he should not.

Her face fell, a strangely vexing expression. He did not like to see her so. Nor did he like to be the cause of such displeasure.

No. No, he was in the right. She would be well rid of him and he must be rid of her.

“I have matters on Olympus…” he started.

“The war? So many have fallen.”

“I’ve returned a soldier to the Land of the Living.” Why had he told her?

Her green eyes regarded him, her sweet smile returning. “Why?”

He tore his gaze from her, but not before he’d noticed how her eyes tilted slightly or that her upper lip was kissed by a perfectly round mark, inviting him to look his fill at the plump lips beneath. His voice, when he spoke, was soft, distracted. “He was a leader of men. He led his men to victory.”

“Then you were wise to return him. Mother worries over this war for the battles will be long and costly. Greece has seen enough wars, she says.” She watched him, an unsteady smile upon her mouth as she added, “He will help Athens?”

“One man cannot fight an army, but he can lead one to victory.” Hades cleared his throat. His tone was too soft for his liking. He spoke again, lacing each word with an abrasive edge. “And his skill is surpassed by few, so yes, he will help Athens.”

It was true. He’d discovered all he could about this Ariston, to know more about the man he’d freed. He was a worthy soldier, commander to the Ekdromoi, the most skilled of Athena’s warriors. And while that should have warranted Hades’ consideration, it had not been what decided matters for him.

But he would not share that with her. Or Olympus.

“You will be praised for such an act.”

It took an effort to keep his face calm, for a bitter sneer longed to surface. “You have never visited Olympus?”

Her brow furrowed. “No, though I would make the trek if mother permitted it. I long to learn more of the world and its happenings.”

“While I long to escape it,” he murmured.

She paused, pushing her long braid from her shoulder. He could not help but notice the golden curve of her shoulder, exposed now, as she did so. The sun had kissed her, gilding her a most enticing color. Her neck, long and slim, was the same color, as was the slope of her jaw…

“Perhaps you are right.”

“Am I?” he asked unsteadily. About what? What had he said?

“Perhaps being there is not necessary. For it’s not the being there that excites me, it’s the stories. I am fond of a good story.” She walked towards his chariot, her hand resting upon the blackened edge.

He swallowed, fighting the urge to push her hand away. She was too close to him. His nerves were frayed enough without her standing so near him. “I must go. The sooner I arrive, the sooner I may leave.”

“It will be a short visit then?” Her finger trailed over the engraved demons on the chariot’s basket, her eyes narrowing as she studied their faces.

“Too short to be called a visit, if I have my way. I would not make the trek if my brother had not demanded my presence.” He watched her curiously, aware he said too much.

“Then I will wait.” Her eyes found his.

“Why?”

“To hear what they say. I would hear of Ares’ battles. What Apollo has spied from his place with the sun. Is Athena pleased or quarreling with her uncle? Is Aphrodite present? Mother suspects something is afoot with the Goddess of Love as she’s been absent of late. Is Zeus ready to intervene on the mortals’ behalf? I would know these things, and anything else you learn, trivial as they may seem to you. Will you tell me?” She paused, blinking at him. “Please?”

He shook his head, entranced by the shift of expressions that crossed her beautiful features as she spoke. She was truly a sight to behold.

“No?” She considered his face, her smile dampening somewhat. “If you return, we can exchange stories. I am a master storyteller, it’s true. Even Mother is enthralled by my talent.”

She had enthralled him without the use of a story. He could imagine her, absorbed in her tales, animated and lively as she wove a spell with the husky timber of her voice.

His thoughts troubled him, greatly. He should have ridden past her. He should never have stopped.

“What makes you think your tales would be of interest to me?” He did nothing to hide his irritability from her. His words dripped with forceful sarcasm. That he was irritated with himself, and not her, seemed irrelevant.

She sighed, clasping her hands in front of her and stepping away from the chariot. “As I said, I’ve a gift. I believe one should share their gifts. Don’t you? I vow, even you in your concentrated solemnity will be diverted.” She paused, smoothing a wayward curl from her forehead absently. The smile she sent him was warm as the sun. “I’ve kept you too long already. I will wait for you here.”

It took great effort to breathe normally. It took a greater effort not to beg her to leave him be, to let him return to his life without wanting...

Or was it too late already?

He did not look at her as he flipped the reins against his team’s flanks. He did not turn when they climbed the base of the mountain.

It was only after he’d settled the chariot onto the flat of the road that he glanced back. She grinned at him, waving happily from her perch in the tree.

He was well pleased that he caught himself before he waved in return.

###

“You would be wise to marry her, dear Hermes.” Demeter’s words were the first he heard.

But then, only Hermes and Demeter sat in the Council Chamber as yet.

“Hades.” Hermes rose, clasping forearms with him. “I fear you will be plagued more regularly by me in the days to come.”

Hades nodded. “I will tolerate it.”

Hermes laughed.

Demeter did not.

Hades glanced at her briefly, hating the mix of pity and disdain that marred the lady’s lovely brow. His gaze remained as he considered Demeter. As lovely as she was, she could not compare to her daughter, in face nor form. Persephone was rounder, softer, she smiled…

“You wound me, sir. Or do you bear me a grudge for losing to me at Tavli?”

“I bear you no grudges, Hermes,” Hades admitted. “You’ve skill with the dice.”

“Even Hades finds little to fault in you.” Demeter took Hermes’ arm. “I entreat you, consider my offer. Would it be such a chore, to have my beautiful daughter as wife?”

Hades froze.

“And I tell you again Demeter, Persephone deserves better.” Hermes shook his head, a warm smile upon his face.

“Is there better?” Demeter asked, fluttering her eyelashes shamelessly.

If he’d had the urge to flee from Persephone, it could not compare with his desire to do so now.

“There is, I assure you. While I am fond of your sweet daughter…” Hermes began.

He knows Persephone?
Hades sat in his throne, assuming a pose of casual interest.

“… I would not care for her heart as dearly as she deserves,” Hermes continued, “For I’ve a wandering eye. My passion will not be tamed by one woman, no matter the woman.”