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“It felt wrong, you know?” Apollo said, meeting Hades’s gaze. “Until now.”
“You know you always had his blessing.”
Apollo nodded, and Hades’s gaze shifted to Hyacinth, who had returned, two drinks in hand.
“Lord Hades, congratulations!” he said, his eyes bright with mirth.
Apollo took a breath to compose himself and then turned to face the mortal prince.
“Thank you, Hyacinth,” Hades said, nodding once. “I’ll leave you two to the festivities.”
Hades wandered outside into the Underworld night, leaving behind the clamor of the crowd. He needed the space and the quiet. He wasn’t overwhelmed exactly, but there came a point when he only wanted to sit with his thoughts.
He was eager to be alone with his bride. When he thought of how this evening had begun, he had no idea it would escalate to this. He doubted his brother expected him to marry so quickly. Zeus had likely anticipated that they would wed publicly, both in the Upperworld and on Olympus.
Weddings between gods among the Olympians were rare and celebrated as monumental occasions, and while it was a monumental occasion in his life, Hades was not so certain he wished to share that with anyone beyond his realm, especially in the climate that existed in the Upperworld right now. It was likely, if word was to get out about their marriage, it would be seen as a selfish choice, given Demeter’s snowstorm.
But Hades hated the politics. He hated that their union had been about power at all, when all he wanted was to marry the woman he loved. And so he had, come what may.
He heard the familiar sounds of his dogs’ loudsniffing, and when he turned, Persephone was walking down the path toward him, and it was like being back in that moment when she’d rounded the tree line to marry him.
He smiled at her as she approached and then asked quietly, “Are you well?”
“I am,” she replied.
“Are you ready?”
“I am.”
He offered his hand, and when she took it, they vanished.
Hades had planned no part of the wedding, but that did not mean he hadn’t planned for the night. He had only thought of one thing when he considered where to take her, and that was some place beyond this world, to a place that had not been touched by terror or strife.
He wanted to take her to the stars.
He was pleased with the illusion, and as they stood on the platform of their marriage bed, stars glittered all around.
“Are we…in the middle of a lake?” Persephone asked.
“Yes,” he answered.
“Is this your magic?”
“It is,” he said. “Do you like it?”
“It is beautiful,” she said. “But where are we, really?”
“We are in the Underworld. In a space I made.”
“How long have you planned this?”
“I have thought about it for a while,” he said, just as he’d thought about her ring for a while.
Persephone’s lips curled, and she approached the bed, smoothing her hand over the soft silk sheets. He wondered what she was doing—perhaps making sure it was real—but then she straightened and looked at him over her shoulder.
“Help me out of my dress,” she said.
He obliged happily and approached, drawing the zipper down, letting his fingers drift along her spine as he returned to guide the thin straps of her gown from her shoulders. As it pooled to the ground, he realized she wore nothing beneath.
