by Aimée Carter
“Of course.” He slipped his hand into my elbow, and while that small amount of contact was enough to make my skin prickle, I didn’t pull away. I hated the resentment and anger that prevented me from loving him the way he loved me, but no matter what Hermes said, I lacked the strength to conquer it. All I could do was open myself up to my new life and hope that in the end, it would be enough.
* * *
I tried.
I tried harder than I’d ever tried anything before. Every morning I let Hades bring me breakfast in my new bedroom two doors down from his. Every day I forced chitchat as he taught me more and more about what it meant to rule the Underworld. Every evening I sat with him as we read or talked about our shared day, and I tried so damn hard to love him that as time passed, I grew more and more certain that one day my heart would burst.
But the wall of resentment inside me didn’t budge. Nothing Hades did or said wore it down, and no matter how hard I tried to work around it, it was always there. It was as if someone had cursed me into never falling in love, or at least never falling in love with Hades. We’d been friends before this, as much as we could’ve been, but even that was gone. Every tie that connected us had been severed, and that wall in my chest blocked every attempt I made to create new ones.
I was stuck. We were stuck. Whenever I looked at Hades, I could see the pain he carried with him, building up slowly from our restrained time together. But how could I explain my unnatural hatred toward him? Wouldn’t it hurt him more if I told him that I didn’t want anything to do with him? That I hated him so much it physically hurt me?
I had to pretend to care. And part of me did—I cared about how badly I was hurting him. I cared that I was lying to him. I cared that he was just as miserable as I was, if not more so. But every time we could have moved into the realm of something more, that wall was there, ever looming, ready to stop me.
Hades tried everything. Breakfast in bed, lavish gifts, even giving me free rein over the palace’s interior decorating. I had a large patch of rock to work with outside as well, and over the years, I created a jeweled garden. It wasn’t anything like the real thing, but it gave me time alone, time I needed to think, and Hades showered me with praise for it.
But nothing worked. We were frozen, not because of him, but because of me. And I didn’t know how to fix it.
The days were endless, and though the seasons passed on the surface, nothing but my hair color changed in the Underworld. The rock pressed down on me constantly, trapping me without mercy, and the few times Hades brought me to the surface didn’t make up for my prison. Mother only visited once, shortly after my tantrum in Olympus, and even then it was simply to make sure I was behaving.
Hermes, however, stuck to his word. Whenever he came down to train with Hades, he spent a little time with me. Playing games, talking, exploring what few parts of the Underworld I was willing to see—he was my lifeline, and things seemed a little brighter when he was there. He was the reminder I needed that life hadn’t stopped completely. That there was still a world up there teeming with it.
One afternoon, I sat in the middle of the observatory, a long room at the very top of the palace that looked out across the vast cavern. It’d been empty when I’d discovered it, but I’d created an armchair for comfort, and the fireplace crackled with flames every time I entered. The entire length of the outer wall was made of glass, and I spent as much time up there as possible. One of my gifts was the ability to see the present, and sometimes, especially after a hard ruling, I liked to sit up there and go from afterlife to afterlife, reminding myself that what we did wasn’t all bad. People lived whatever lives they wanted on the surface, and as Hades reminded me again and again, it wasn’t our job to judge that. It was our job to judge what they thought was right. What they thought their afterlife should be. Most of the time, a soul went directly to their afterlife without any contact with Hades and me. But sometimes they were confused or didn’t know or couldn’t rectify their beliefs with their actions, and that was where we came in.
It was exhausting, judging eternities. But I did the best I could.
A soft knock cut through the room, and I pulled myself back into the present. I’d been watching a girl walking hand-in-hand through the woods with a young man. She’d clearly loved him in her life, and the fact that they’d found each other even after death…I envied her. I envied her so badly that I hated her. “Come in.”
Someone slipped inside—no, not just someone. Two sets of footsteps too light to be Hades’s echoed through the room. Frowning, I twisted around in my chair. Hermes walked toward me, and behind him, Aphrodite followed.
“Afternoon,” said Hermes, giving me a boyish grin. “You look like hell.”
“I feel like hell,” I muttered, trying to push the thought of the girl away. She was mortal and dead, and she’d probably never held a jewel the size of a fist in her life. She was happier than I would ever be though, no matter how many gifts Hades gave me. “What are you two doing here?”
“What, I’m not allowed to come by anymore?” he said, perching on the arm of the chair. Aphrodite wandered toward the window, setting her hand on the glass and smudging it. I winced, but the unseen servants who staffed Hades’s palace would clean it later.
“You know what I mean,” I said. “Why did you bring Aphrodite?” She practically glowed with eternal satisfaction, and seeing her only made the fire of jealousy inside me burn even hotter.
“Because I think I can help,” said Aphrodite, turning to face us. “If you let me, I mean.”
“Help how?” I said warily, finding Hermes’s hand. I didn’t trust Aphrodite, for all her good luck and happiness, but I did trust him.
“Hermes mentioned you’ve been having trouble adjusting,” she said with a hint of mischievousness that probably drove every man on earth wild. “How often do you and Hades sleep together?”
Just the thought of sleeping with Hades again made my skin crawl, and I narrowed my eyes. “Once. To consummate the marriage. If you tell my mother, I’ll rip your hair out.”
Aphrodite blinked, clearly stunned. “Why haven’t you two slept together since?”
I shrugged. I’d spoken to Hermes about this a few times, but it never got easier. And I didn’t know Aphrodite half as well as I knew him. “I don’t know. It’s just—I don’t love him. And every time I think about doing that kind of thing with him, it’s like a wall forms. I can’t move past it no matter how hard I try.”
“A wall?” she said, frowning. “But weren’t you two friends before you got married?”
I nodded. At least someone understood how little sense all of this made. “I don’t like the Underworld. It makes me feel trapped. And sleeping with him—it was horrible.”
“Everyone’s first time is horrible. Except mine, but, you know. Goddess of sex. Can’t really help it.”
“How did you do it?” I blurted. “How did you make yourself fall in love with Hephaestus?”
“I didn’t make myself,” she said. “I didn’t want to at first, you know. I mean, that’s why Ares and I ran away. But in the end…” She shrugged. “Heph and I just fit together. We work, you know? There’s really no substitute for that. I have lovers on the side, of course, but in a way it helps us.”
Hermes snorted, and Aphrodite gave him a look. “I’m serious,” she said. “I love him. I love what we have together, and he’ll always be my home. At the end of the day, it’s because of my affairs that I stay with him. It’s because of them that I don’t feel trapped.”
If only it were that easy for me. I stared at my hand intertwined with Hermes’s. “Hard to have an affair when I’m stuck down here the entire time,” I mumbled.
“They’re not for everyone,” she agreed, twirling a lock of blond hair around her finger. “But there are other ways I could help you, if you’ll let me.”
“Help how?” I said. “Make me fall in love with him?”
She scoffed. “No one can make anyone fall in
love with someone else. In lust, sure—Eros is really good at that. But I mean trying to help you break down that wall. Giving you a little nudge in the right direction.”
I had no idea what she meant, and the more she talked about it, the tenser I became, until Hermes had to practically yank his hand from mine. While he was busy flexing his fingers, I said, “I don’t know.”
“Of course you do,” she said. “You want to love Hades, right?”
I hesitated. I wanted to have the chance to choose for myself, and if that included falling in love with Hades, yes. But what if it didn’t? What if, given the choice, I would’ve fallen in love with someone else? “I don’t know what I want.”
“You want to be happy. That’s what everyone wants. And if you can’t get out of this mess—”
“You don’t know that I can’t. Maybe Hades will change his mind and—”
“It isn’t his mind to change,” she said, and the moment she said it, her eyes widened, and she pressed her lips together. What the hell was she talking about?
“Aphrodite,” said Hermes in a warning voice. “Spill. Now.”
She sank onto the other arm of my chair, her expression falling. How was it possible that she could look so damn pretty all the time no matter what mood she was in? “Daddy decided you had to marry Hades because he was jealous that Hera was spending so much time with him, and he didn’t want her to get any ideas.”
My eyebrows shot up. “Wait, what?”
“It’s exactly what it sounds like,” said Aphrodite. “Hera spent some time down here, remember? And Daddy was afraid she was having an affair. She wasn’t, of course, but it’s obvious she loves Hades—”
“As a brother,” I said. Everyone knew that. “Not as a husband. She’s married.”
“Yeah, well, so am I.” She gave me a little grin. “And whether Hera likes it or not, she’s as fallible as the rest of us. She just doesn’t act on it, that’s all.”
I shook my head. The idea of Hera being in love with Hades was ridiculous. “I don’t believe you. She might love him, but that doesn’t mean she’s in love with him. He’s a nice guy, and Zeus isn’t. No wonder she ran down here to get away from him.”
Aphrodite inspected her nails. “If that’s what you want to believe, so be it. I could be wrong.”
“You are,” I said. “And even if you aren’t, Hades loves me.”
She arched an eyebrow. “So although you don’t love him, you relish the fact that he loves you.”
“Not relish.” The word sounded bitter on my tongue. “Just—it’s a fact. He does.”
“Yes, he does,” she conceded. “More than he’s loved anyone. And this is hurting him as much as it’s hurting you—”
“You think I don’t know that?” I snapped, my temper frayed. Whether it was from her spreading lies about Hera or the way she treated all of this like a game, I didn’t know. Maybe it was jealousy. But either way, the thought of accepting her offer made me sick to my stomach. “I don’t need your help, Aphrodite. If this is going to happen, it won’t be because you decide it should.”
She frowned. “That’s not how—”
“I don’t care, all right? All I want is my life back. And if you can’t give that to me—if the only other alternative is tricking me into feeling like I love him even though I don’t—then no thank you. I don’t want to be a slave to illusion.”
Two pink spots appeared on her cheeks. “Fine. If you’re not even open to the idea, then there’s no point.”
“You’re right, there isn’t.”
Huffing, she stood and ran her fingers through her hair. “I’m going back to Olympus. Hermes, are you coming?”
“Go on. I’ll catch up,” he said, and though he’d been quiet for most of the argument, he took my hand again.
Aphrodite stormed out of the room, and as soon as the door clicked behind her, a dam broke inside me. All of the frustration and anger and despair I’d swallowed since the day I’d married Hades flooded out, and I burst into tears.
After a moment’s hesitation, Hermes pulled me into an awkward hug, and I buried my face in his chest. It wasn’t fair. Aphrodite thought she had it all figured out, but she wasn’t stuck down here. She could leave whenever she wanted, and she had a husband she loved as much as he loved her. Her arranged marriage had worked.
But mine was failing. I’d tried everything—forcing myself to love Hades, letting myself grow into it, and everything in between. Nothing was working, and I was never going to have the chance to live the life I wanted.
And of course it was Zeus’s fault. Everything was. I’d never been ashamed to be his daughter before, but now, knowing what he’d been willing to do in order to protect his own interests, to keep Hera as caged as I was—
“Hey,” said Hermes. “You’re all right. Everything will be okay.”
But no matter how many times he repeated it, he was wrong, and neither of us could change a thing. “This can’t be my eternity, Hermes.”
“It won’t be. I’ll do whatever I have to do to make sure it isn’t.”
I held him tighter, my shoulders shaking with sobs. I wasn’t supposed to break down like this. Mother had raised me better—she’d raised me to adapt, to accept that not everything would go my way, but I couldn’t be that girl right now. Somewhere in the middle of that bitterness and pain, I’d given up on her, and now the only person I could be was me.
At last I managed to stop crying, and he kissed the top of my head. “You’re my best friend,” he said. “You matter to me. You matter to all of us, even if it doesn’t feel that way. Don’t forget that, all right?”
I nodded. Even when everything else was falling to pieces, Hermes would be there. I was sure of it.
Once he left, I took a shaky breath and righted myself, gazing out across the cavern. The River Styx flowed through the stone, carving a path older than all of us. What would it be like to be on the other side? To live knowing there would be an end someday? Mortals didn’t all know about the Underworld, and those who did only suspected, really. They believed, but they’d never been down here, and once they died, they never left to tell their family and friends about it. What would it be like to face that inevitable unknown?
In a way, I envied them. No matter how terrible their lives were, they would have a chance to escape it in the end. I wouldn’t.
Closing my eyes, I let my mind drift. I couldn’t stomach going back to the happy couple in the woods, so instead I focused on someone I wanted to see—Hermes. I slipped into a vision, viewing the present as it was happening, and my heart skipped a beat. Hermes stood in the throne room, empty except for Hades, and he stared my so-called husband straight in the eye.
“If you don’t let her go, she’s going to wither. You know that. You see it every day. So why delay the inevitable?”
Hades frowned. “You speak as if you know exactly what is happening.”
“I know you love her so much that you’re in agony,” said Hermes. “I know she doesn’t love you, but she’s trying to force herself to anyway because she knows how much it’s hurting you. I know you’re doing everything you possibly can to make her happy, and I know despite that, she feels trapped down here. And I suspect that you feel caged, too.”
I held my breath, wavering between anger and relief. At least someone was finally saying everything Hades needed to hear, but it should’ve come from me. Not Hermes. I owed Hades that much.
But I couldn’t interact with the present; all I could do was watch, and though it occurred to me that I could end this vision and join them, I was too much of a coward to do so. This way, Hades could make a decision without my interference. Or at least, that’s what I wanted to believe.
“And what would you have me do?” said Hades quietly. “Abandon her? It may be difficult for both of us, but given time—”
“You’ve both had plenty of time,” said Hermes.
“One cannot expect change to happen quickly. It may take centuries, eons—�
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“You’d do that to her?” said Hermes. “You’d trap her down here for that long, knowing how miserable she is?”
Hades hesitated. “It is none of your concern.”
“When my best friend feels like she’s being held hostage, it is damn well my concern,” he snapped. I winced, and so did Hades. Wrong choice of words for sure, but in a way, it was the truth. Except now I knew that it wasn’t Hades holding the key.
“Leave,” he said in a low voice that by itself wasn’t much, but combined with the thrum of power that filled the throne room, it was deadly. Hermes opened his mouth as if he was going to protest, but at the last minute, he closed it again and turned on his heel.
When the door slammed shut, Hades closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. Whether to calm himself or work up enough courage to talk himself into something, I couldn’t tell, but after three heartbeats, he disappeared.
Oh, hell. No doubt where he’d gone. I pulled myself back into the observatory just in time to see Hades arrive beside the armchair. So much for privacy.
“I am sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” he said, a hint of a break in his voice. Whatever he was thinking, he was struggling with it.
“You didn’t,” I said, straightening. “I was just—you know. Watching.”
“Anyone in particular?” he said, and I shook my head. No need to let him know I’d heard everything.
He stood there awkwardly for a long moment, his hands folded in front of him, and together we stared out the window. At last, when I was certain he wouldn’t say anything at all, he cleared his throat.
“Are you happy?”
I blinked. He really didn’t know? “No. Not because of you,” I added hastily. “But—it’s this place. It’s suffocating.” Whether my hatred for the Underworld had become nothing more than an excuse or if it really was the root of my unyielding bitterness, I didn’t know. And I didn’t particularly care either way. I’d already done everything I could think of to fix it.
