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Unfortunately for the busy king, his thoughts were occupied by Persephone once again as he walked down the Judgment Path toward the three Judges of the Dead.
As he walked, he tried to corral his thoughts about his wife. Trying to think about his duties to the realm and what he needed to talk to the Judges about, but he had already forgotten, his mind solely occupied with images of his wife.
He had walked in on Persephone using what he assumed was a gift from another married woman, on their wedding night. He hadn’t seen anolisbosin quite a few decades, the last time was when an ancient woman’s soul insisted on keeping it until Hades caved and allowed her to. She claimed it had been an exact replica of her husband’s cock, who had died years before in a war, and she couldn’t fathom parting with it. After listening to her greatly detailed explanation of how she ensured it came with her in death, Hades sent her on her way, unable to listen to another word from her mouth.
But his wife needing one? Hades had never imagined that would happen. No matter how strained his relationship was with Persephone, he was positive he was better than a phallic chunk of wood.
No that she used it for long that night.
Hades lips tugged up at one corner as he thought about it, about how she’d felt writhing beneath his body, tightening around him with release. He truly had not realized just how attracted he was to her until he had joined her in that bed for the night; exactly what he was hoping to avoid since he was marrying her to enact revenge, and as a bonus, gain a harsh Dark Queen.
Marriage was never his plan, not until Persephone presented the perfect revenge on both her mother and his brother. Mortal marriages at least served a purpose, giving a man legal heirs and children, as well as a wife to look after them and the home.
Hades didn’t particularly care for children and had no need for an heir. As a god he would sit on his throne and watch the world crumble and burn around him without fear for his life, the time for an heir would never come the King of the Dead since he could not die. Even when the mortals ultimately forget to sacrifice and worship his family, they would still die, still come to the Underworld.
The realm would never empty; never end.
An heir for Hades would be useless. Only serving as something to hold over him if ever the time comes that Poseidon and Zeus, or another he supposed, attempt to overthrow him to claim his throne.
Not that Hades truly feared that they would. They fear him too greatly; they avoid him, and his realm, altogether, fearing the immense power filling his body and the dark World of The Dead. Neither would actually want his throne, nor the responsibility that comes with it; they’d gone through great pains to force the Underworld on Hades all those centuries ago, so they could take the Oceans and the Sky.
Poseidon had killed someone he loved before though, and Hades wouldn’t put it past him to do so again. Especially after what he did to his own love, Pelops. And Zeus would back Poseidon up, leaving it two against Hades.
An heir, a child, would be merely an extra vulnerability. A bothersome worry constantly in the back of his mind. His wife would be enough to worry about when the time comes, he didn’t need the added stress of an additional loved one.
“Fuck,” he said, shaking his head a little. He couldn’t focus, not with Persephone on his mind, and his new plot to corrupt her.
Hades grinned broadly and he clapped his hands together before sending himself up to his wife, who he was sure would lead him straight to Pelops.
21
THE BEACH
Persephone found herself in the same spot she had first been with Pelops. With no memory of the walk here, Persephone slowly crouched to the sand, folding in on herself and resting her chin on her knees.
She sat back, the sand collapsing under her as she did, creating a perfect sized indent to sit in. Her cheeks were wet with tears she didn’t remember crying when she dropped her face into her hands, rubbing at her swollen eyes.
Sobs shook through her as she rocked back and forth, her hands wrapping tighter around her legs as she cried into them. She dragged her nails along them, digging into her skin, trying and failing to bring enough pain forth to pull her out of this heartache.
Physical pain was nothing compared to ache devouring her heart when she thought of Pelops. She could be chained to a mountain, her liver pecked at and eaten by a ravenous eagle every day like Prometheus, and still she would think only of Pelops. Through the pain and blood leaking from her abdomen, Pelops would still shine through, always with her.
She had loved him so much – still loved him so much – that she had been willing to wait until he came to the realization that they were meant to be in love and married. That she would make an excellent wife, a perfect, ideal wife for him.
One that nobody had ever spoken about before. She could be the mother of his children and keeper of his home while satisfying his every desire in their bed chamber. She’d been doing the latter for years, patiently waiting for the day he finally asked her to marry him and complete him, to be the wife he craved and the mother his children needed.
Young and naive, she could hear her mother calling her.
“Young and naive,” she spat at the ocean undulating in front of her.
She was young and naive when she constructed this plan. She’d thought it was brilliant, she stayed up half the night plotting it, listening to him sleep deeply behind her. With no idea that in less than a decade she would watch him die.
For hours she had laid awake feeling sorry for herself, urging herself to get up and leave before he woke up. Then deciding she would wait until day broke and the sky lightened because walking home in the dark always sent shivers down her spine, her body locking up at every sound in the forest surrounding her.
Until the plan formed by itself in her thoughts, the sky still black and sparkling above them. One minute she was silently crying into her arm, biting down on her skin to keep quiet; the next, her tears dried up and a calmness shrouded her like a blanket, numbing her all at once.
Queens and wives gave birth to children every day while still being treated with the utmost respect. Why couldn’t they also be desirable and arousing in private? Surely she wasn’t the first woman to want both.
And how could Pelops reject her? He could have a wife and a lover in one beautiful woman. In one beautiful goddess. She had the desirability and beauty of a courtesan, the ability of a wife to give him strong children and heirs, and as a powerful, respectable goddess she could make a commanding queen.
