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“What are you smiling about?” Zeus’ voice boomed. Ever the dramatic. “I have not made my decision.”
Hades rolled his eyes, turning from the god to pace the room. It was large enough that he’d never been able to make an entire lap before being shunned from the room—from the mountain. He leisurely made his way around the thrones, eyes trained on the God of the Sky.
Zeus sucked his teeth in contemplation, truly thinking his decision through, eyes darting to the open doorway every few seconds. Waiting for Demeter to inevitably rush inside and throttle him for even debating making a deal with him – even letting Hades into the throne room.
Growing impatient, Hades picked up his pace, circling the room in record time – if he had a record, that is – and heading for the door. He made an effort not to clench his jaw or fists at his sides, letting his hands hang naturally. Lest Zeus know just how irritated Hades was. Or desperate.
Zeus’ characteristic listen-to-me-I-am-your-king cough reverberated through the room just as Hades’ foot hit the threshold. Still the egotistical, high and mighty King of the Clouds whom Hades hated so much. He plastered on his own regal smile before spinning on his heel to face Zeus once again.
“Fine,” Zeus breathed reluctantly. “Fine,” he repeated, resting his arms on the sides of the throne, and shifting in discomfort. “But this stays between you and me.” He pointed a thick finger up and flicked it between them. “If anyone,” he leaned forward, a power move Hades knew well, “anyone finds out that I agreed – let alone gave you my permission – I will personally make a visit to the gloom you call a kingdom,” he said, “and I will wreak havoc.” He made a tight fist at Hades, looking so perfectly the part of menacing older-brother-turned-king that Hades almost congratulated him. He would have, too, if he did not value his peaceful existence so much.
Hades smiled sweetly, “Okay,” he said simply, shrugging his shoulders and turning back to the exit.
“Hades.”
“Yes?” He hissed through his teeth. When will this bastard let me get on with my day? He thought. He debated saying it out loud, but pressed his lips together in an effort to remain silent.
“I expect her back immediately.”
“Of course, my Lord.” He bowed mockingly to Zeus, so deep that the tips of his curls dragged on the pristine marble floor.
“Tonight.”
Hades could practically feel the sneer projected at him.
Rising from his bow, he winked and was gone.
§
Watching the goddess of spring and her nymph friends wasn’t exactly how Hades had planned to spend his day. They were so loud and their voices so giddy, he couldn’t help but be forced off his meticulous schedule to see the commotion in the private pool.
The meeting with Zeus had gone precisely as Hades had hoped. Though, he hadn’t truly believed his brother would give him permission to wed his daughter that easily, especially knowing who her mother was. Demeter would never agree to what Hades wanted, never give her blessing or understand why Hades wanted her precious Persephone.
Thankfully, Zeus had no love in his heart for the girl. The god held no love for anyone except himself. Even his wife had long given up on her pursuit of the god’s heart.
Having two powerful brothers, always vying for control over the others no matter the cost, had shaped Hades into the god he was. The King of the Underworld. The cold, calculating immortal who tortured souls without a second thought. Without the fear he instilled in mortals and immortals alike, Hades was sure he wouldn’t know half the information he did about his brothers.
Zeus, King of the Gods and the Sky; easily swayed when promised somewhere warm to stick his disloyal, eternally-unsatisfied cock. Poseidon, Ruler of the Oceans and life beneath the roiling, dark depths; never had Hades hated someone more for doing so little.
Water splashing in the distance, followed by the wet sound of feet padding onto a dry, flat rock pulled Hades back to the task at hand. Persephone had pulled herself from the water to lay on the sun-soaked rock hanging over the pool. He could almost hear the water slither down her body and pool at her feet, the trickle of water pouring off the rock and into the pool in a steady stream.
He stared at the Goddess of Spring. A true, delicate beauty basking in the golden rays that seemed made for her, made solely with the purpose of illuminating her glowing tan skin. A fat tree branch jutted across his sight of her, blocking his view of her body below her breasts, which were covered by her long, soaked golden hair. He was about to duck his head to get a better view when the nymphs in the water started bickering and Persephone looked up from her sunning spot on the rock, directly at him, her eyes wide and afraid.
Not wanting to be caught watching his bride-to-be, naked and vulnerable with her friends, Hades replaced the helm he was so fond of atop his head. The trees blocked much of her view of him, but the extra precaution allowed him to watch, invisible in their shade.
She slowly tore her gaze from his spot in the forest, eyes narrowing as her brows drew together in what had to be confusion. She had seen him. Seen him and not been afraid, not run from the small pool they trekked so far to get to. She hadn’t even mention his presence to her friends.
He kept his distance from them, hidden deep in the trees, under cover of their shade as he watched them splash around in the water. Odd, that they ventured so far into the forest, when the ocean was near her mother’s house.
Demeter.
Hades chuckled thinking of his sister, face reddened with rage when she heard about the impending marriage. Her daughter and the Infernal Zeus, Hades could almost taste the horror she’d feel. He loved it, reveled in it – the idea that her sweet, perfect maiden Persephone would become his queen. Queen of the Underworld. Torturess of the Dead.
It was the least she deserved after suspending Minthe as a plant. For eternity. An immortal trapped in a vegetative state would have once made him laugh, the idea unfathomable until Demeter had done it. Until she trampled the poor nymph, stomping on his lover until her feet ached, and left her sprawled on the ground – legs and arms bent at wrong angles, her neck snapped and twisted to look over her shoulder at the sky.
Hades shuddered at the memory. The nymph he had loved, broken and bent in ways he could never fix, never put back together in the right ways. He had turned to Demeter after finding her over Minthe’s body, her feet sticky with goldenichor, her blood mixing with the blood seeping from Minthe’s own corpse. He reached out to grab the goddess without a second thought, grabbing fistfuls of her golden-brown hair and yanking her to her feet.
Then she was gone.
