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He watched Persephone as she scanned the room, eyes fixating on the very center where his armor was on display. She approached it, letting her fingers drift across the helm, which sat at the base.
“How long has it been since you wore this?”
“A while.”
Since the Titanomachy and the Gigantomachy—the battles against the Titans and the Giants.
“I do not need it unless I am fighting gods,” he explained, knowing she had likely thought of the most recent battle that involved the Olympians: the Great War.
“Or against a weapon that can kill you,” Persephone said pointedly.
He reached around her and picked up his helmet.
“This is the Helm of Darkness. It grants its wearer the ability to become invisible,” he said, and though it granted other abilities, only one power was relevant at the moment. “It was made for me by the cyclopes during the Titanomachy.”
“Why do you need this helm? One of your powers is invisibility.”
“Invisibility is a power I gained over time as I became stronger.” As he had gained more and more worshippers. Then he smirked. “Outside of that, I prefer to protect my head during battle.”
She was not amused as she took the helm into her hands, studying it closely. He knew she was focused on the marks that scored its surface—one for every blow he’d taken.
“I want you to wear this while at Council.”
She looked at him, surprised. “Why?”
“Council is for Olympians, and I am not eager to introduce you to either of my brothers, especially under these circumstances. You will not like everything that is said.”
And the helm would ensure she remained undetected while she listened.
“Are you worried my mouth will sabotage our engagement?”
He smiled at her arched comment.
“Oh, darling, I have faith your mouth will only improve it.”
They stared at each other, and then her gaze dropped to his cock. She raised a brow.
“Are you going to Council naked, my lord? If so, I insist on watching.”
“If you keep staring at me like that, we will not go to Council at all,” he said, though he knew this visit was necessary, as much as he hated it.
He summoned his glamour and dressed them both.
“Ready?” he asked.
She did not speak, but she took his hand, and they left the Underworld for Olympus, appearing in the shadows, which vibrated with raised voices.
“This storm must end, Zeus!” Hestia said. “My cult begs for relief.”
“I am not eager to see the storm go,” said Zeus. “The mortals have grown too bold and need to be taught a lesson. Perhaps freezing to death will remind them who rules their world.”
Persephone’s head snapped toward Hades, her eyes narrowed in frustration. He recognized the problematic nature of Zeus’s words. They were the root of every mortal’s frustration with the gods.
He pressed a finger to his lips, signaling her to be quiet as he took the helm from her and secured it over her head. It was too large and did not fit properly, but the magic would work, and that was all that mattered. He kissed her fingers and then left her in the shadows.
He teleported.
“You will be reminding them of nothing save their hatred for you—for all of us,” Hades said as he appeared in the middle of the arc of Olympian thrones and strolled toward his own beside Zeus.
