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Poseidon avoided looking at him. From the deep scowl etched on his face he was clearly unhappy with having to be visiting Hades in his home in the Underworld.
He examined his surroundings. Hades watched intently as his eyes trailed from the bright beckoning gates, to the yellowing grass at their feet, to the endless darkness stretching above their heads. Growing more impatient with every second Poseidon made him wait, Hades cleared his throat. Poseidon’s head snapped back to face Hades.
The Sea God’s face reddened, his eyes narrowing with anger at Hades’ daring to force his head to look where he wished.
Hades merely rolled his eyes.
“Do not—”
“What do you want?” Hades demanded through his teeth, stressing each word. Poseidon had been in his realm for all of five minutes and had yet to explain his unwanted – and certainly unwelcome – visit. Hades thought about punishing him for daring to speak to him with such disdain, such wrath, as if he had any power here in the Underworld.
Poseidon threw his head back and stared above them, placing his hands on his sides as he teetered back and forth on his feet. “There’s this guy,” he bobbed his head to the side before rolling it forward and looking at Hades again, “that I seem to find myself quite in love with.” He stretched his neck to the side, letting his ear drop to his shoulder, and Hades imagined how enjoyable it would be to tear that ear clean off his head. “Not quite, no, no, no,” he shook her head with each uttered no, “madly.” The word barely audible over the loud exhale that accompanied it.
Hades blinked slowly, listening; not caring.
“But for some reason—
Hades’ had had enough of his whining. “Out with it.”
Poseidon groaned, throwing his arms into the air dramatically. “He loves someone else!” He kicked at the grass like a child in the beginning of a temper tantrum. “And he won’t choose between us. So I need your help. I need you to force him to give her up. Entirely,” he said, drawing a line with his hand in the air from his waist toward Hades.
“Do I look like the god of” Hades grimaced, choking the next word out through his closing throat, “love?”
“Of course not, Hades!” Poseidon said, eyes bulging and unflattering, “But—” he breathed, “But I don’t know what else to do.” His shoulders fell in defeat. “I already asked Kypria, but she won’t intervene in our love affairs since Psyke, you know that. And—”
Hades eyebrows jumped and he chuckled before cutting Poseidon off, “So it’s another god that he loves.” He leaned forward, placing his forearms on the desk so he hovered above it.
Poseidon’s golden eyes hardened, “And,” he continued, “you have no morals. So I thought you would be the least opposed to meddling.” When Hades remained silent, watching him, he continued, “I want to tell her. I want him for myself,” he jabbed his thumb at his chest, “and surely I shouldn’t have to share his affections with another.” He clenched his fists, returning them both to his sides. “But he doesn’t want to hurt her because he loves her too much.” He mocked the last words, his lip curling at the thought of his lover loving another that much.
“Or fears her wrath, of course,” Hades said, a glass of wine suddenly in his hand.
Poseidon’s eye caught on the wine and he started toward the desk again, but before he could ask for his own glass, Hades said, “No.” He didn’t want him here any longer than necessary.
Watching Poseidon squirm while asking him for aid in his love life was the last thing Hades expected to happen today. He hadn’t even seen his brother in years, let alone spoken to him one-on-one.
Hades hated Poseidon; loathed the Lord of the Deep more than any of his other siblings, even their arrogant brother Zeus. He’d already decided not to help and was about to say so when the idea wormed it’s way into his mind with a flashed image of colourless hair draping through his fingers.
“All right.” He shrugged after barely a breath and leaned back.
“All right?”
Hades stared back at him, bored. “You can go now.”
Poseidon opened his mouth, the shut it again. floundering like a fish out of water. He slowly turned around, pacing in a circle. When he faced Hades again he ran both hands through his soaked hair, dropped them to his sides and looked up into Hades’ dark eyes. Confusion and disbelief running circles around his mind.
“Well, what will you do?”
Hades stood from his desk, letting it vanish back to it’s place in his home, and clicked his tongue impatiently as he turned back to the still-open gleaming gates. He didn’t bothering to turn back to see if Poseidon had left; his putrid scent had disappeared, indication enough that he was gone.
The gilded red door opened with a groan as Hades approached, the dimly lit hall leading to the back of the palace growing brighter with every step deeper into the palace. The metallic walls shining despite their rough finish.
The kitchen was empty of furniture save for six largeamphoraelining the only wall, and the long stone dining table carved from the rock of the foundation itself. A thin, black cloth draped along the length of it and sitting atop was a glass bowl of pomegranates, and two decanters filled to the brim with diluted wine, a single deep-red glass between them.
He strode for the wine, pouring glass after glass as he drained them. By the time he headed for the back garden, he’d already finished one decanter and had grabbed the other to take with him. He walked down the few steps to the grass, savoring the cool, fresh wind breezing toward him from the maze of silver roses. One of his favourite parts of the palace.
The back of the palace was entirely open to the elements with only a few scattered columns of marbled red breaking the clear view of the back gardens. There were several tables scattered around the yard, and a small circle of six couches—stolen from one of the first symposiums held above. He’d once added three large bonfires, with smaller ones scattered between, but had never had enough company to need them all. Nor did he desire to have that much company.
He poured another glass as he wended his way through the roses, the silver hue an Underworld specialty. Several more turns and he found himself at the bench that sat in the center of the maze, where the sweet-smelling white poplar resided. The roses acting as a protection of sorts, with the intricate maze sending anyone who tried to wend their own way through to utter madness.
