“Rhea,” he breathed. “My name was ‘Aidoneus’ then. During those grueling ten years of the Titan Wars, I was given a ‘God killing’ sword by the Cyclops, along with a helmet of invisibility. A twin sword was gifted to Zeus. The Cyclops had chosen us to be the only two God’s that could call upon the two deadly blades. We were given these with the knowledge that they were to be kept safe and secret. These are the only two weapons that can destroy a God.” He took a sip of his wine and his hands trembled. “After the Olympians defeated the Titans and the war was over – Cronus was thrown into Tartarus. I saw my opportunity to destroy the man who had tormented me and my brother. I snuck down to Tartarus and drew out the sword - I fought Cronus with all my might, lifting the weapon to deliver the fatal blow, but when I lowered it to strike him, my mother threw herself in front of the blade.” Persephone gasped in horror but Hades did not seem to notice, locked in painful memories long repressed.
"I carried her body outside the gates of Tartarus,” he continued. “I asked her why - why did she do it? She told me she did not want to see me become a murderer like my father. It was too late for that. She laid in my arms, dying. Her blood seeped into the ground, and a pomegranate tree blossomed over us, red like her blood. Zeus and Poseidon found us. We helplessly watched her eternal existence fade away into the ether. To be immortal and experience this helplessness was insufferable - it was an emotion none of us had ever felt before, so... powerless. They were furious at what I had done. My punishment was to rule over the dead, never see the sunlight or walk amongst the living -- for eternity. They held me down and forced me to eat the fruit of the tree that had grown from our mother’s blood. They chanted a curse towards the heavens, ‘Aidoneus, you shall be known henceforth as Hades, the ‘Unseen’. Never to be spoken of above ground, to be written out of history and so feared on earth that men dare not utter your name. Destroyer of life, you have become king of death.’ My fate was sealed, and I was once again, a prisoner. I, their wicked brother, must judge the wicked men and to remember every day my place in this wretched world. They slipped the rubied signet ring on my finger and concocted a story about us drawing lots to divide up the kingdoms – Never could anyone ever know that there is a weapon that can destroy a God."
Persephone felt herself flush with anger at the injustice of his brothers. Instead of comforting their brother, they did their best to push him over the edge of reason, blaming him for their mother’s death. Instead of compassion, all they offered was more pain. Before she could think better of it, she rose from her chair and knelt before him, taking his face into her hands, turning him gently towards her.
“You… you punish yourself… They had no right to deal such a punishment to you. They, who practice cruelty like it is a skill to be honed. Your mother had a choice, Hades. Just as we all do. You are still punishing yourself and she would not want that. She gave her life so that you could be free from the chains of your father. With his blood on your hands you would be tied to him for eternity. You sit on your throne dealing out judgement but it is really yourself you are sentencing day after day. Stop following protocol and start breaking the rules. Do not let your brothers dictate the course of your life.”
He shook his head. “My damnation stains me, Persephone, with you...with all of you. A crimson stain, a cursed badge I forever have to wear. My history is written in your world - it will always paint me as a monster until I become the very thing I have been pictured to be.”
She gave a grumble of protest at the stubborn set of his jaw and then she did the only thing she could think to do to break him from his painful confessions. She brushed her lips quickly over his. It was only the slightest touch and she pulled back before he could even react. She stood up and then turned around to look at him shyly, but her voice was pragmatic.
“I think you should show me the different realms tomorrow. Take a break from your duties.” She paused and re-phrased her sentence. “Or, perhaps have a different kind of workday by showing your queen around the Underworld. We can start with the Asphodel and then head to Elysium.”
“Adopting me to your menergie of injured creatures? I am not one of your helpless animals,” he countered.
“I do not think anyone would call you helpless,” she replied lightly. “Prove you are not a lone wolf by accompanying me tomorrow.”
“I could warn you about the dangers of letting a wolf loose with sheep,” he replied with shadowed eyes.
“Will you come?” she insisted again, ignoring how her pulse quickened at his warning.
“How could I resist the temptation?” he murmured, and she could not tell if he was being derisive or earnest, and which was worse.
She held out her hand, “You need to rest. ” He placed his large hand in hers and stood, towering over her and yet she felt strangely protective of this enigmatic, powerful God. She pulled at him insistently and to her surprise he complied, following her lead.
They walked in silence, hand in hand, back to her room. Step by step, dark hunger seized his mind. He should stop and insist that he return to his own rooms. This was madness, barely controlled desire...lust; he tried to push the sensations away, but sweat began to pool on his forehead and he felt the maddening pulse of arousal at the touch of her small hand in his. He had to leave, but when she opened the door to her room and willingly allowed him to enter, the temptation was too overwhelming to resist.
She turned back smiling at him, “What do you think?” she asked with an earnest expression on her beautiful face. She had no idea the derangement that was closing in on him. His wife would not look at him with such trust if she knew the raging erection he concealed beneath his robes.
A wolf with a lamb, he thought with disgust, remembering Aphrodite’s warning. And how he wanted to devour her. He forced himself to look around her room and saw the beautiful garden she had created and it seemed a stark contrast to his tormented, twisted and depraved thoughts.
He pulled his hand gently from hers on the pretense of inspecting her creations. He needed distance between them, so he moved to the fireplace scrutinizing the vibrant pink and violet flowers that wrapped around the hearth. “Persephone, these are lovely.” He turned to see his wife had lit a few candles, proud to show off her work.
She beamed at him and grabbing a handful of cherry blossoms, she came closer to him once more and said with a laugh, “Yes, it is so much better.”
He stared at the curve of her lips and then turned away from her, “I should leave.”
“Oh no, wait,” she exclaimed, “I made something for you.”
“What?” he asked harshly, wincing inwardly at the rude tone. He watched as she took a bowl from near her bed and threw the cherry blossoms into the mixture as she ground them carefully and a soothing aroma filled the air.
“For your wound,” she replied. “I know I cannot heal it, but it may help a little.” She was pushing him towards the chaise and like a helpless fool he let her steer him when he should be fleeing from her.
“You really cannot help yourself, can you?” he asked as she settled him carefully against the cushions. Cerberus appeared suddenly in the doorway and jumped onto the chaise, curling against his side with a contented sigh. “You would try to help a hydra if you could.”
She gave the dog a pet on the closest head. “Oh surely you are not comparing yourself to a hydra, your majesty.” She had pulled his robes from his chest, and he knew he should stop her. Her touch was only making him ache more fiercely, causing the wound in his chest to trickle blood. But it felt so good to feel her cool fingers on his body. It was a testament to her innocence that she did not notice the portion of the robes over his groin, and then he frowned. But she was not innocent, he remembered as he recalled the lover in her memories. His attention reverted back to her as she gave a small gasp and her eyes widened in shock at the state of the wound. It was a raw, bloody mess, and instead of healing had only grown in size since the arrow had pierced his chest.
“It is ho
rrible, isn’t it? Perhaps you would prefer the hydra?” he inquired politely.
He watched as she tried to school her expression into calm once more as she replied, “Oh, I do not know, the hydra may give me less trouble.” She stepped away and went to the pool of water in her room and brought a bowl back when she began to gently clean his chest, his stomach, his arms. Did he imagine it or did her fingers linger over his skin? He closed his eyes and let the sublime sensation of her cool, small hands wash over him. He felt feverish and chilled at the same time and her touch seemed to both soothe and torment him. The sweet scent of crushed petals filled the air as she applied the paste over his gaping flesh, and though the pain did not abate, the sensation was still amazing.
He glanced over her bent head and his eyes drifted to the bed. A lock of long, dark hair tickled his stomach and he had to suck in his breath to keep from inhaling her scent. Lust was crawling into his brain like an insidious worm, whispering to him to “take her,” to wipe the other man from her mind until only he was in her thoughts; He wanted to consume her as she consumed him. He wanted her to burn with want, to know the pain that pulled at him until he was senseless with need, no better than a rutting animal. Memories and dreams flashed through his mind, hers mingled with his own until they blurred seamlessly and he did not know the difference between fantasy and truth. The image of his cock deep in her body, parting the soft, pink folds, her mouth taking him deep, his tongue shoved deep in her wet, dripping body. All of the images began to whirl together until he grasped his head, smearing blood with his sweat. “Stop,” he whispered.
She glanced up at him, her eyes luminous and trusting in the candlelight. “I am sorry, did I hurt you? I am almost finished.” She dipped a clean eucalyptus leaf into the bowl. “May I continue?” she asked.
He paused, knowing he should stop her and run from the room like the coward he was, but instead he nodded his head. Or perhaps he was a coward to stay, to let her stroke her hands over his injury while his cock pulsed like a heartbeat in his groin. He was slowly losing his mind. He pressed one hand against the wall and it brushed the soft, pink peonies that had spread across it. Soft and pink, like when she had touched herself. His fragmented mind tried to grasp the memory but it slipped away from him, blurring into the others. But that had not been her, had it? He crushed one of the soft petals in his hands and he closed his eyes against the dizziness.
The flower lay broken in his hand. He destroyed everything he touched, she would leave him, he thought with panic. Force her to eat the seeds. Trick her into staying in this hell. She will leave you -- the way everyone has. Fuck her, until your seed runs downs her legs, fuck her so deeply that a part of you will grow in her womb and she will be tied to you for eternity. It would be so easy, so easy to push your cock into her warm, wet welcoming entrance and she would be helpless to resist. He shook his head against the thought, never. Never. She looked at him with a curious expression on her face and he wondered vaguely if he had said it aloud. He wanted to tell her to run from him, warn her, but he could not find his voice. Her face was swimming before him as blackness began to dance in front of his vision and he pushed away from her trying to stand up. He felt her hands grabbing for him as he felt himself falling to the ground and then… blissful blackness.
Persephone shook him frantically as Cerberus sniffed at his face with a quiet whine. “Hades, Hades.”
She stared down at his pale face and panic filled her. With the shadows under his eyes and the dark crescent of his eyelashes against his snow-white skin, he looked dead. Far away from the world and from her. But he was a God and Gods could not die. Who knew what this curse could do. A trickle of blood escaped from beneath the careful bandage she had constructed over his chest. It moved slowly down his chest, stark crimson against the paleness of his skin. A God could not die, she repeated to herself like a mantra. But then what was wrong with him? She ran to the pool again and gathered water. She dipped a cloth into the water and began to press it against his flushed skin and her heart was beating like a drum.
“Please wake up,” she whispered. Please.”
She bent and pressed her lips to his and lay against him, the moments passing as he lay still beneath her, his heartbeat the only sign of life. Would the light never be allowed to touch him, this isolated King of Darkness? How long he had suffered believing he was a murderer when he held morals so strong. Her heart broke for him, for the things he had seen, and the deeds he had been forced to perform. The smallest change in the rhythm of his heartbeat alerted her and she pulled back to see his eyelashes flutter, her own pulse beginning to accelerate with relief. Cerberus moved closer, the three heads licking his face with renewed vigor. Hades gave him a gentle push and sat up while Persephone moved back on her heels.
“What happened?” he asked.
“You fell, collapsed actually,” she said trying to sound matter of fact, when all she wanted to do was throw herself into his arms with relief. He stared at her and then lifted a hand to her face and she was surprised when she felt the dampness against her cheeks.
“Were those for me?” he asked, an expression crossing his face that she could not fathom.
She wiped impatiently at her face. “I was worried when you fell, almost crushing poor Cerberus.” She indicated the dog who was quite intact and happily wagging his tail. Hades gave him a skeptical look. His dark eyes looked feverish still, and she moved closer to him. “What is wrong?” she repeated for the second time that night.
He raised his eyes slowly to look into her own. “It is worse at night,” he said, gesturing towards his wound. “When you touch me… and when you do not touch me. It is getting harder.”
She looked away from him and bit her lip. “I am sorry. Is there anything I can do to help? I can leave, you can spend the night here so you can rest.”
He laughed mirthlessly, running his hand through his hair, smearing the blood on his face. “It does not matter where I am, Persephone. You haunt me. I do not rest, even when I sleep -- I see you. The thought of you… there is no escape for me. It was… overwhelming. It is overwhelming now.” Something flared behind his eyes and she felt fear pricken her skin.
“Would it not be easier if I left here? Left your palace?” she asked in a small voice. “Maybe seeing me makes it--”
His hand shot out and grasped hers painfully and his face was twisted in rage. “If you think to leave me I will find you and I promise you, you will not like the consequences.”
She jerked her hand angrily but he did not let her go, his breathing rapid and his glazed eyes blazing into hers. She gave another tug and this time he released her. “Do not threaten me! I am not your enemy, Hades.”
“Sometimes I wonder,” he said, keeping his burning eyes focused on her face.
She began to rise when his hand caught her wrist. “Please do not go,” he said quietly. “I am sorry. Stay with me. Just lie with me. Help me keep the demons at rest, I am tired of fighting them.”
She was not sure how long they stayed that way, his hand a shackle around her wrist as she stared down at him, on her knees. Was it an imprisonment though? She could break the easy grasp he had around her. But maybe she did not want to, maybe she wanted to offer him what small comfort she could.
“All right,” she whispered.
Without further discussion he pulled her to him and she toppled to the floor. He rose above her staring down at her and she caught her breath, but then he carefully turned her on her side as he curled his larger body around hers. They lay on the plush rug before the fire and she could feel something wet soaking into her gown, blood or sweat, probably both, and lower down her body, his large erection pressing into her back. A shiver went down her spine, whether of longing or fear she did not know. Her emotions were too confused and too disordered; she could not begin to analyze them. She felt his hand travel down her arm and graze her breast and she gave a small jump.
“Tell me you love me,” his dark voice breathed into her ear. S
he tensed, wondering if she had heard him correctly.
“What?” she asked, her voice a mere thread.
“Tell me, Persephone, that you love me.”
She caught her breath and felt tears fill her eyes. She could not love, she was incapable of it. “It would be a lie,” she whispered.
“Then lie to me. Tell me the sweetest lie your lips can conjure. You can live with a lie and I cannot live without it. Lie to me and it will be better than any truth.” She said nothing as she felt his hand on her face, tracing the tears. “Please,” he said, biting the lobe of her ear. His hand moved to her breast and he touched it gently, tracing her nipple through the soft material. And she wanted him to stop, was desperate for him to stop, afraid of the sensations that were rising in her.
“I love you.” The moment the words left her lips she wished she could take them back. They felt wrong on her tongue, a mockery of the declaration, and she had felt him catch his breath, but in pain or pleasure she did not know. She tried to turn to look at him but he forced her back down as he pressed kisses to the side of her face and she wondered at the dampness on his skin. “I am sorry,” she said.
She felt him pause above her and closed her eyes tightly as tears threatened to fall again. She looked up at him finally, and his dark gaze shone oddly in the firelight.
“Oh, Persephone,” he whispered, “if only you could lie with your eyes.” He stood then and she heard him leave the room. And as she remembered the dampness on his face and the sheen in his eyes, she realized that it had been tears that had shone in their depths.
Chapter 13 - Elysium
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The handmaidens worked furiously that morning preparing their mistress for her journey to Elysium. Her body was scrubbed so thoroughly that her skin was pink and raw by the time she emerged from the bath, her hair brushed with such vigor she was surprised to see any remained on her head, and even her poor toes were subject to their meticulous ministrations. They dressed her in a sheer, cream colored toga that plunged down the front, a golden chained belt was fastened around her waist, and gleaming bands were placed on her upper arms. Her hair was kept loose about her face and her lips were darkened with the crushed petals of her roses. Persephone had watched carefully, making sure they did not take too many petals to cause harm to the plant. They were giddy with excitement at her visit to Elysium and they were full of both questions and advice as they nestled flowers in her curled tresses. Persephone let their chatter flow around her and she hoped it would settle the sick feeling in her stomach. Jocasta had tutted when she had not touched her breakfast again, but everytime she thought of last night she felt sick. Why had she said those words to him? Why had he asked her to?
Hades And Persephone: Curse Of The Golden Arrow Page 17
