Receiver of Many

by Rachel Alexander

  When he tried to dive in again for specifics, Hecate practically shoved him out of her mind. She took a calm breath and plaited her fingers in her lap. “So, Thanatos, why do your thoughts swirl around Merope?”

  “None of your business. This time at least.”

  “I doubt the Iron Queen would be delighted by the thought of her handmaiden and friend in Death’s bed.”

  “By all means, Hecate, give me an alternative. One of yours, perhaps? I seem to be running out of Lampades nymphs to fuck.” He smiled as she clenched her jaw.

  “Intriguing that her name shines above all others like a star in the heavens! How rare and impressive that you can pluck that from among your self-indulgent conquests.”

  “We always want what we cannot have,” he said, shifting on his elbows. “Is that not so?”

  “Ah, cannot? So Aidoneus has named a forbidden fruit in your favorite orchard…”

  “That’s between him and me,” Thanatos said. “And I think it burns you that it isn’t any of your concern this time.”

  “This realm is entirely my garden to tend.”

  “No more so than it is mine,” he said, slinking over to her. Hecate darted her eyes to either side, letting her guard down for an instant that he was only too glad to seize. “Oh, come now, Hecate. We’ve been feuding since before the war, you and I. How many more millennia are we going to continue this? We have precious few left…”

  She glared up at him as he drew closer. “You would ask the hound to make peace with a wildcat?”

  “Think of it more as… a requiting.” Thanatos sighed pleasurably and licked his lips. His wings spreading wider with each step he took to close the distance between them. “All this tension between us… and you with no way to release it.”

  Hecate lifted her chin. “I am not drunk on the desires that besot you, Thanatos. Nor will I ever be.”

  “Mmm. Like blazing Tartarus you aren’t,” he rasped. “What a waste of talent! You’ve spent your life concerning yourself with the… channeling… of those desires even as you stand aloof from them. A master who cannot demonstrate for the apprentice— who ever heard of such a thing? And yet, you still have not taught the Rite to the one student who could truly affect anything in this godsforsaken cosmos.”

  “Their time is not yet come, and my ways are no concern of yours.”

  “They are entirely my concern, young one, and became even more so when those trees sprouted up in Chthonia, growing in the very arrangement that the Protogenoi have always held sacred. My mother entrusts her wisdom to you and you squander it.”

  She bristled at his diminutive for her. “Then try her interest in discussing the matter, Son of Nyx. I have none.”

  “And this brings us back to my far better idea… acolyte,” he said with a smile. “Why don’t you and I resolve this ourselves, hmm? Together. In the ancient way… Communicate what words cannot…”

  She gave him an indignant laugh. “Do you sing these crooked notes to every woman you seduce? Did you soil the ancient ways to have Phaedra? Elektra, Voleta, Lyra, Philinnia? Or any of the other women whose names you’ve misplaced?”

  “Hardly. My words and intentions are for you alone, Hecate,” he said, his palm resting on the column above her head. His gaze was hungry, but refused to peruse her body, instead staring straight into the shifting colors of her eyes. Thanatos quieted his voice as he leaned in to her. “What say you?”

  They had played this game before, and Hecate had learned over the aeons that the only successful move with Thanatos was one that led to a stalemate. If she flinched he would crow triumphantly. If she showed anger, he would delight in her reaction. If she left the room, he would claim victory. His wings spread and curved over his shoulders, blocking the light around them, until he surrounded her. Death licked his lips. Hecate gave him nothing. She straightened against the column and raised her eyebrows. “We both know that sacred vows bind me,” she hissed at him, “and we both know better still that I detest you as the living flame does the howling gale… what pushes your fevered mind into this fantastical abyss?”

  Thanatos chose that moment to trail his eyes down her taut, maiden body, its form echoing the waxing moon. He lingered on her peaked breasts and the flare of her hips. He breathed in her scent of morning fog and aconite. She was ever in control of her reactions, yet her heart beat just a little faster. The corner of his mouth lifted. Close enough to disturb the red curls of her hair, he whispered close to her ear, “We always want what we cannot have.”

  The door opened, and Persephone stepped through, followed closely by her husband. Hecate immediately stood, Thanatos straightened, and both bowed to their sovereigns. Aidoneus looked from one to the other and scowled, bracing himself for an exhaustive litany of whatever they’d been arguing over this time.

  “I bring no quarrel, my lords,” Hecate said quickly.

  “Neither do I.” Thanatos folded his arms and looking at his fingernails.

  Aidon thinned his lips. They were always quarrelling. He could feel the tension in the room and made his way up the dais with Persephone at his side. Once he reached the top, Aidoneus sat down and immediately regretted doing so, watching his wife fidget for a moment before standing tall beside his ebony throne. There was nowhere for her to sit and he chewed on his lower lip, inwardly berating himself. She should be sitting here and he should be standing. If he stood to offer it to her now, she’d refuse. Instead he sat looking like a barbarian conqueror with his nubile woman draped over the arm of his throne. He put it out of his head for now and focused on the pair standing before him. “What brings both of you here, then?”

  “Separate concerns,” Thanatos said, smiling warmly at Persephone.

  “Who arrived first?” Persephone asked, perplexed. She had heard briefly about their feud, thinking that it had been blown out of proportion by Hypnos. But their barely disguised hostility combined with her husband’s exasperation spoke volumes.

  “She did,” Thanatos said, glancing back at Hecate.

  “By all means, Thanatos,” Hecate said, motioning him to say his piece first. She smirked as he walked forward and folded her arms across her chest. “Wisdom never stands in the way of a fool.”

  “Warming up to the idea of yielding to me, are you?” he shot back with a smile.

  “Enough!” Aidoneus snapped, raising his voice and startling all. “I’ve had a long and trying day and I have no patience to listen to you two bickering like children! So if you don’t mind, I’d like to at least have some peace here before I retire with my wife for the evening.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Hecate?”

  “I beg your forgiveness, my lord.” She stepped forward and took a deep breath. “You need no reminder of the suffering beyond your realm. The Corn Mother shuns all of Olympus. But perhaps she will see me. The future is as a broad delta flowing from the river we now row. Some tributaries end in the frightful auguries you have already seen,” she said, pausing to look pointedly at Persephone, “and others could lead to far worse. The waters run swift, and they are deceptive. Following one stream will stop the suffering in the world above and stem the flood of mortals to your gates. I intend to teach Demeter to read the currents.”

  “Are you asking our permission?” Persephone asked.

  “Yes, my queen.”

  She sighed, thinking about her mother, about her life as Kore and the things Demeter was willing to do to keep her in the world above. Her eyes stung for a moment. Despite all that she knew now, all the ignorance of her true identity that had been forced upon her throughout her life, all the needless cosseting, Persephone loved her. She missed her. Her heart wrenched for a moment as she tried to recall her mother’s soft arms circling around her, her comforting smell of barley and sunlight. The kind, peculiar goddess standing before her was her only link to her mother right now. “I… sincerely hope that she will listen to you, Hecate.”

  Aidoneus shifted. “I am in accord with the Queen. Go with our blessing. I
give you permission to speak on our behalf if you must.”

  Hecate nodded to them and shifted her familiar crimson robes to a darker hue. Indigo. Persephone knitted her brow, realizing that Hecate did so to blend in. Her richly clad mother who always dressed in gold and green and red had donned the colors one would wear to a funeral and forced all of brightly dressed Eleusis to do the same.

  The Goddess of the Crossroads pulled up the hood of her himation, readying herself for the cold, and walked toward the ebony double doors, fading and vanishing before she reached them. Thanatos watched her go, admonishing himself for inwardly wishing her well. He was certain she could hear his thoughts from the ether.

  “Thanatos?”

  He turned and stood up straight. “We have him.”

  Settling back in his throne, Aidoneus rested his chin on the back of his knuckles. “Good. My suggestion was useful, then?”

  “Wrapping the Chains worked flawlessly. Do you plan to send him to Tartarus right away?”

  “No. Sisyphus spent enough time mocking the rules of this realm and thinks himself a god. He’ll wait the customary three days like every mortal. He will have a judgment, and will come before me like all the other kings of men,” he said, thinking. “But unlike the others, keep him bound.”

  “If you wish it. Isn’t he more Alekto’s and Tisiphone’s concern, at this point?”

  “The Erinyes have no shortage of other tasks.” He put his hand up before Death could say anything in response. “I know you have been busy, as well; we all have. But I’m charging you and your brother with detaining Sisyphus.”

  He nodded. “Any reason to keep him chained and guarded?”

  “He robbed Merope of her immortality and is clearly ageless, possibly deathless, now. That’s never been done before; not even by Tantalus. As such, my friend, I don’t want to take any chances. You are the Minister of Death. If he tries anything, I trust that you will stop him.”

  “So done. Anything else?”

  “Yes. Do not go to his wife, Thanatos.” He watched Death grind his teeth for a moment, then school his expression and nod in acceptance. Hades continued. “I don’t want to disturb her by telling her that her tormenter is here. And she will guess as much if she sees you. Once Sisyphus has been escorted past the Phlegethon, you can go to Merope and let her know that justice has been done.”

  Death raised his eyebrows at this. “Three days, then.”

  “Three days. Keep Sisyphus chained.”

  Thanatos nodded and walked across the hall, his sandals clacking against the granite, the room otherwise silent. The door closed loudly behind him and Aidon and Persephone were alone once again.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?” she said. Aidon grabbed her around the waist and twisted her into his lap. She squealed in surprise and smiled wide, until she looked at his face. He gave her an abbreviated grin, then let his face fall back into the muted expression he’d worn before. Her mirth dimmed as she sat in his lap. Persephone looked away and leaned back into him, gazing out at the river lands of Acheron.

  Aidoneus regarded her. How did she see him now? Would he now simply be the Fates-consigned lover of the Queen, at her call only when she had need of him? Aidoneus wanted all of her. He wanted to possess her as thoroughly as she possessed him. But with what they had been told, he knew that was impossible now. His place in the this realm was forever changed after today. This wasn’t his— this had never been his. At the division of the cosmos he had pulled a hollow twig. What did that mean for him? As his mind wandered, his fingers absently brushed her bare skin at the open side of her peplos.

  She giggled and her side spasmed at his touch and jerked away from his hand. Her lilting laugh was a pleasant distraction from his thoughts. A smile raised the corner of his mouth and he mischievously teased her again. Persephone shrieked and batted at his encircling arm, his fingers dancing along the inward curve of her waist once more while she writhed in his lap. He stopped and grinned, but it looked strained. “I want you with me in three days.”

  “Where?”

  “Here.”

  “For the judgment of Sisyphus…”

  “Yes.”

  “In your lap?”

  He playfully hesitated. “…Maybe.”

  “Sitting right here?” she wiggled against him, feeling him sigh in response. He held her at either side to still the gyration of her hips.

  “I’ll think of something,” he retorted, speaking through his teeth. His body started rebelling against him, even in its tired state.

  “I don’t think Hera sits in Zeus’s lap at court, does she?” Persephone flirted.

  “No. Her throne doesn’t even sit on Zeus’s dais.” He saw her face fall.

  “What about Amphitrite?” she said. “Does Poseidon tell her where to sit?”

  “Based on the one time I met Amphitrite, I don’t think Poseidon can tell her to do much of anything. And if he did, I doubt she’d listen.” He thought about his brother’s sharp-tongued wife. Persephone would get along with her, he thought. The sea nymph was a famous wit, yet didn’t make waves with her husband, even though Poseidon had had countless dalliances. There were even rumors that rulers of the sea kept the peace by sharing lovers.

  Hades and Persephone watched a warm magenta tinge the mists above the river, the Styx lighting up at twilight. The colors dimmed to a brilliant orange red. Persephone felt him breathe in, his mouth widening into a yawn. She tucked a wayward curl behind his ear. “You’re exhausted, Aidon.”

  He nodded in acknowledgement and rested his forehead on hers. “You?”

  “I’m getting there.” She covered her mouth, her eyes squeezing shut as she muffled her answering yawn. Persephone lifted herself from his lap when she felt him shift restlessly underneath her.

  “Come. There are a few things you and I must do before we go to sleep tonight.”

  Her mouth twisted up.

  “Important things,” he said, dispassionately.

  She cast her eyes down and away from him.

  “Persephone, I didn’t mean it like that,” he quickly said, lifting her chin up and studying her face. “But given all that happened with the Keres, this is absolutely necessary.”

  26.

  Aidon wore the same granite expression he’d had in Tartarus. She kept her eyes fixed on her feet as they walked back to their antechamber, wondering what thoughts played through his head. Persephone worried that those thoughts included a deep resentment of her now that they knew she was ultimately responsible for him drawing the lot for the Underworld. She took his hand as they carefully climbed the slippery last flight of winding stairs behind the falls. They came at last to their chambers, situated high above the throne room, and Aidon shut the heavy doors behind them.

  He traced his thumb across the ridges of Persephone’s fingers the way he usually did when he was taking her to their bedroom, but his face showed nothing. She watched the last of the twilight fade into blackness as color drained from the Styx. The torches in the antechamber flared to life, highlighting the starry ceiling he’d made so long ago. He would have been the king of the heavens if it were not for her, she thought. Instead of building this palace stone by stone beneath the earth, he would have ruled in the great citadel of Gaia and Ouranos that the Olympians had claimed as their own during the Titanomachy.

  Aidon walked out to the terrace with his bronze water thief and dipped the perforated sphere into the catchment beside the falls. He filled it, then capped his thumb over the narrow top, walking it back to their room. She followed him back to the bedroom, stepping around the sporadic drops of water it spilled and stood next to their hearth. At least this moment was a comfort. It was the ritual they partook in after practice that she had come to love and know so well. He stopped up the small drain in the sink and released his thumb, filling the basin with water.

  “Blood is a dangerous thing in Asphodel,” he said, pulling off his himation. “The shades crave it without knowing
that they do. If they drink it— no matter how small the amount— it unravels the effects of the Lethe, sends their minds into turmoil, and makes them relentlessly seek out more. Ichor, immortal blood, is especially dangerous.”

  He took her hand and drew her close to him, unfastening the fibulae that held up her peplos and setting them in the sink. Her garment hung down her waist, and she could feel her skin tighten against the cool air. He pulled off her girdle and set it aside, letting the cloth fall to the floor. Aidoneus quickly pulled out the pins of his tunic and undressed until he was as naked as she. She heard more metal drop into the sink as he pulled off his rings. He turned back and wrapped up all their clothes into a tight ball around their sandals and walked over to the hearth fire.

  “Wait; what are you—”

  “Neither the cloth nor the leather will burn,” he reassured her calmly, holding their garments within the fire. Their hearth flickered hot, the room growing brighter. Orange Phlegethon flames licked around his hands without burning him or causing him pain. She heard drops and hisses in the fire, like fat falling off spit-roasted lamb. When their clothes stopped sputtering he pulled the bundle back, steam rising from it. “Instead, the River of Fire purifies them.”

  Persephone sat on the wide edge of the hearth once the fire died back down, her muscles relaxing as its warmth melted the tension in her back. Aidoneus occupied himself with meticulously folding their clothes, saying nothing, then knelt down to scrub roughly at his skin with a sea sponge, the beige mass tinted with the rust of dried blood. She stared into the fire, recounting their day. Persephone shuddered when she thought about the Keres tearing her husband to pieces, his sword flashing in the dark. No marks remained on Aidon’s skin. Still, his cries of pain filled her ears as surely as if they were still in the Pit.

  She didn’t know how long she stared at the fire, but she startled when a wet sponge met her shoulder. Aidoneus rolled it across her back tenderly, his eyes calm and caring, but still distant. He was already clean, his hair wet, having washed the violence of Tartarus from his body while she was meditating upon it. Aidon held out one of her arms and she felt her skin prickle as the cold water washed the remnants of his ichor from her skin. Persephone remembered holding him to her, his body slumped over, injured and exhausted, his palm smearing blood down the front of her cuirass. Her eyes watered when she thought about how she had almost lost him, how they had almost pushed him off the ledge into nothingness. And now that they had returned with the inescapable knowledge that she ruled here, that he was tied here because of her, she wondered if she'd lost him all over again. Her breath hitched and a tear rolled down her face.