by Aimée Carter
“Persephone. You didn’t.”
I breezed past her. I’d cleaned up in a stream, of course, but I needed my comb. “Don’t worry about it, Mother.”
“Of course I will. This is your marriage.” She followed me through the small cottage. “Sweetheart—”
“Don’t.” I whirled around to face her, brandishing my comb like a sword. “I’m not with Hades right now. I haven’t been with him since we got married, and right now, I can do whatever I want. I’m supposed to do whatever makes me happy.”
“Even if it destroys him?” she said, and I shook my head.
“You don’t get it, Mother. He made this choice, and it isn’t my fault he loves me, all right? It isn’t my fault we can’t be happy together. I’ve tried, we’ve both tried, but it isn’t working.”
She sat down on the edge of the bed, and I pulled the comb angrily through my hair. Leave it to her to ruin an otherwise perfect night. “Do you even intend to go back?” she said quietly.
“Of course,” I snapped. “I won’t abandon him, but I’m not going to waste this chance, either. I finally get to be happy, Mother. Why aren’t you okay with that? Because it isn’t the happy ending you wanted for me?”
“Because it isn’t a happy ending at all,” she said, as gentle as ever. “And as long as you continue down this path, you’ll never find it.”
“And you think I will with Hades?”
“Yes. Otherwise I would have never asked you to marry him.”
“You didn’t ask me to marry him. You told me. And you were wrong, Mother—I’m sorry, I know it must break your heart, but you and Zeus were wrong. We aren’t happy. I’m not happy, and the more you try to pretend, the more it’s going to hurt all of us. So just let it go, all right?”
I stormed into the cooking area, starting the fire with a wave of my hand. I wasn’t hungry, and we didn’t need to eat, but the ritual of cooking calmed me, and I hadn’t had the chance in a very long time. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. Mother was supposed to understand, even if she didn’t like it. That’s what she always did: she understood. And there was nothing wrong with me and Hermes. He made me happy, and if she was so worried about it hurting Hades, then he would never have to know. I certainly had no intention of telling him.
“Persephone.” She set her hand on my shoulder, and I shrugged it off. “We all make mistakes—”
“This isn’t a mistake.”
“Rarely does a mistake feel like one at the time,” she said. “All I’m asking is that you don’t jump headfirst into something you can’t stop. And by hurting Hades—”
“I already hurt him. Every second I’m down there, miserable and alone and hating it, I hurt him. At least this way I can be happy, and we both get what we want.”
“And how does he get what he wants?” said Mother.
“By me not being so miserable, even if it’s just for a while.” I turned to face her. “Please, Mother. Just give me this. Let me be happy.”
Her eyes locked on mine for the space of several heartbeats, and at last she sighed. “I cannot condone it, but I will not forbid it, either. If you insist on letting this happen, then I must also insist that when you return to the Underworld, you act as you should. You rule beside Hades without complaint, and you let this happiness bleed into your time down there, as well. Can you do that?”
I nodded. If it meant I could spend the summer with Hermes, then I would. “Thank you.”
She pressed her lips to my forehead. “I want you to be happy, too, my darling, but not at the expense of others. Just be careful. You’re playing a dangerous game.”
“I know.” I let her hug me, resting my head on her shoulder as she ran her fingers through my hair. “But he makes me happy.”
She sighed. “Then for your sake, I hope that is enough for us all.”
* * *
That summer was the best of my life. Mother and I spent every day together, sometimes with Hermes, sometimes without; but he and I spent every night together, as well. We explored the forest, swam in the cool lakes, and never once did I feel an ounce of guilt about betraying Hades. How could I, when he was the one who wanted me to be happy?
But it couldn’t last forever, and finally the autumnal equinox arrived. Hermes and I both agreed we would halt our affair while I was with Hades, though of course I would see him often in the Underworld as a friend. The prospect of getting to spend time with Hermes no matter what realm I was in made giving up the surface a little easier to bear.
Mother led me to the clearing where Hades had dropped me off the spring before, and he was there waiting for us, his hair shining in the morning light. He really was beautiful, in a way Hermes would never be, but Mother had been wrong. My time away hadn’t made me any fonder of him, and the moment our eyes met, that unyielding bitterness returned. There was something new on my side now though—contentment, and not the sort I had to fake. We might never be able to break down the wall between us, but at least we could both accept our fate.
“Persephone,” he said quietly, offering me his arm. I kissed Mother goodbye and took it. “You look well.”
“I feel well,” I said, and I did. Even the dark power that surrounded him couldn’t spoil my good mood. I felt lighter somehow, and Hades must have sensed it, because he gave me a small smile.
“I am glad.”
The trip into the Underworld wasn’t so bad this time, and the rock that surrounded us didn’t feel quite so heavy now that I knew it wasn’t permanent. Half a year, that was it; then I would be free to be with Hermes again. I could do that.
I expected the usual round of duties when we returned to his palace, but instead he stopped me in the antechamber that led into the throne room. For a moment he said nothing as he stared at the floor, his face stony. I frowned. What was going on?
“You are happy, yes?” he said. “With…”
My entire body went cold. Hermes. He knew. Had Hades been spying on me?
No, he wouldn’t. He may have been many things, but a sneak wasn’t one of them. Mother had told him—she must have. Why? To hurt him? To make me feel guilty? To make sure I couldn’t play him like a fool?
But I didn’t think of him as a fool, and neither did Hermes. I’d kept this a secret not to hurt him, but to make sure I didn’t. And Mother had to go and ruin it all.
I swallowed, the words stuck in my throat. “Yes,” I finally said. “I’m happy. And—that’s just the summer, all right? Down here, you and I are…whatever we are. These seasons are yours.”
He nodded, not quite meeting my eye. “Very well. So long as you are happy, that was all I wanted.”
The pain behind his words coiled around my insides until it nearly suffocated me. Why had Mother done this? She must’ve known how much it would hurt him. “I’m sorry Mother told you,” I said quietly. “I never meant for you to find out. I knew it would hurt you, and we weren’t going to continue it down here, and—”
He shook his head. “Your mother did not tell me.”
I blinked. “Then who?” Who else knew?
Hades was silent, and he took my arm as the doors into the throne room opened. Rows of the dead turned to watch us, and at the end of the aisle, standing beside Hades’s throne, was Hermes.
Of course. He was the only other person who knew. Why had he told? Absolution? To ease his guilt?
Whatever it was, I glared at him as Hades and I reached our thrones. Did you really have to tell?
Yes. His voice whispered through me, for my mind only. I don’t want us to be a secret, not from Hades.
You hurt him. Badly.
We both did.
I sat down in my throne, tearing my eyes away from him and focusing instead on the faces of the dead awaiting judgment. The first one moved before us, her head bowed as Hades addressed her, but I was deaf to his words. I wish you hadn’t.
I’m sorry. I respect him too much to go behind his back like that.
Yet you don’t respect
him enough to keep your hands off his wife in the first place?
You were free to do whatever you wanted then. But I won’t keep it a secret from him, either. He deserves better than that.
He did, and I hated myself for agreeing. He knows we aren’t together while I’m down here?
Yes.
And he’s all right with that?
As all right as anyone could be. He loves you. He wants to see you happy as much as I do.
You have a strange way of showing it.
Hermes didn’t reply. Between us, Hades sat stiffly, his eyes blank as the woman talked about her life. Slowly, as if it were the most casual thing in the world, I set my hand over his. I hadn’t meant to hurt him, but I’d been a fool to think I never would. There were consequences for everything. Even happiness.
As much pain as it caused him though, that was a price I was willing to pay.
* * *
Despite that first day, Hades and I settled back into our old routine, this time with genuine friendship between us. I managed to carry the contentment of my summer into our time together, and as the years passed and I went back and forth between him and Hermes, I continued to do the same.
It wasn’t simple, but the uneasy truce between the three of us became all but permanent. Years turned into decades and decades into centuries; before long, I’d lost all track of time, my only benchmarks the beginning of spring and the end of summer.
But we were happy. Even Hades eventually adjusted, and I no longer saw pain in his eyes when he met me in the meadow every autumn. Instead he seemed pleased to see me once more, and slowly I grew to be happy to see him, as well. I hated the Underworld, and that wall between us was as strong as ever, but his understanding made me more accepting of his world.
Nothing changed for a long time. But one day, as I lingered in the observatory after we’d finished our judgments, I closed my eyes and did something I’d done thousands of times before: I found Hermes. Summer was only a short time away, and I was anxious to be with him again.
He was in his chambers in Olympus, standing on his balcony as the sun reflected off his light hair. And he wasn’t alone. That wasn’t anything unusual—he was social by nature, the complete opposite of Hades, and he usually spent a great deal of time with our brothers and sisters. But this time it was Aphrodite who stood beside him.
And she was naked.
Not that that was anything unusual, either, but the way she hugged his arm to her chest, the way he touched her—
I was going to be sick.
Hermes and I had never talked about what he did during the winters. He knew I wasn’t with Hades, not like that, and I’d always let myself believe that he waited for me. Maybe most of the time he did. But we didn’t have any rules about our time apart, and I had no right to feel as furious as I did.
It was Aphrodite though—the goddess who had everything. Love, satisfaction, a perfect life, a happy marriage. And now she was taking the one thing I had that was mine, the one damn thing in the world that gave me any amount of real joy.
But Hermes certainly didn’t seem to be complaining.
How dare you. I pushed the thought upward with every ounce of strength I had. It still took ages to reach Hermes, but when it did, his eyes widened, and he immediately moved away from Aphrodite. His cheeks turned red, and when she tried to rejoin him, he sidestepped her. So he knew he was doing something wrong, after all.
“Persephone, please—I’ll explain everything later.”
Like hell he would. Like hell I would let him. What would he say, that Aphrodite had accidentally slipped into his arms? That it was only a onetime thing? That he’d missed me and he was lonely, and he couldn’t wait any longer?
This is over. Don’t bother to come by this summer, because you and I are done.
“Persephone?” said Aphrodite, and she looked around. “She’s watching?”
I didn’t bother to wait for Hermes’s response. I pulled myself back into the observatory so quickly that for the first time since mastering my powers, I grew dizzy. I sat there for a long moment, my head between my knees, and struggled not to break down.
What else had I expected? He was Zeus’s son as surely as I was Zeus’s daughter. Cheating was in our blood. But no matter how many times I’d done it to Hades, that slap in the face—that complete and utter betrayal—had never hit home for me before.
My face was hot, and tears prickled in my eyes, but I refused to let them go. Instead I forced myself to breathe in and out slowly, counting each breath. Hermes loved me; I was certain of that. But why had he gone to Aphrodite? Was half a year really so long to wait?
Or had she seduced him? Were Ares and Hephaestus and Poseidon not enough for her?
Of course not. This was Aphrodite. She could never have enough, and she took whatever she wanted without a second thought. Mother may have considered me selfish, but I was nothing compared to my sister.
The door to the observatory opened and shut, and I wiped my dry cheeks angrily. I wanted to hurt something. I wanted to wrap my hands around Hermes’s neck and squeeze. It wouldn’t kill him, but it would help me feel a hell of a lot better.
“Persephone?”
And now I might have my chance. I straightened, my eyes narrowing as I focused on Hermes. He looked as if he’d dressed in a hurry, his clothing rumpled and his hair a mess. At least he’d bothered at all. “I told you not to come.”
“Actually, you didn’t,” he said, shuffling his feet. “You said we were over, but—”
“And we are, so you have no business here,” I snapped. His expression crumpled.
“Persephone, come on. I’m sorry. It was just once—”
“And I happened to peek in at the exact wrong moment?”
“You never said I couldn’t see anyone else during the winter.”
“I never said you could, either.”
He exhaled. “What’s really bothering you? Did you have a fight with Hades?”
I stared at him. He really didn’t get it, did he? “What’s bothering me is the fact that out of all the girls and goddesses in the world, you had to sleep with Aphrodite.”
“And what’s wrong with her?”
“She’s Aphrodite. She has Ares, she has Hephaestus, she has every damn person she wants. You’re mine. You’re the only person I have, and she—she steals you like it’s no big deal—”
“Nobody stole me.” He knelt down in front of my chair, careful not to touch me. “I’m still yours. I’ll always be yours, and I’m sorry about being with Aphrodite. You’re right, it wasn’t fair to you, and I should’ve asked you first.”
I took a deep, shaky breath. “It doesn’t matter. We’re over.”
“Persephone—”
“No.” I stood and moved around him, narrowly avoiding kneeing him in the chin. “I was happy because of you, and I can’t be that happy ever again, not when I know what you did with her. You stole that from me—you both stole that from me, and I will never forgive you for it.”
“Persephone, come on, don’t be like this—”
“Don’t be like what? Angry? Upset? Hurt?” I whirled around to face him. “Why did you do it? Out of all the girls you could’ve slept with, why her?”
He hesitated, looking to his left for a moment. “Because—I don’t know, all right? It’s Aphrodite. If she wants you, you can’t say no.”
I balled my hands into fists. “Wrong answer.”
As I stormed toward the door, the sound of his footsteps scrambling behind me echoed through the long room. “I’m sorry, all right? She was there, you weren’t, and it isn’t fair, but it won’t happen again. Ever. I love you.”
“If you really loved me, you would’ve never touched her in the first place.” I flung open the door. “Hades would’ve never done that to me.”
I glanced over my shoulder in time to see the stunned look on his face. “Hades? You’re really going to compare me to Hades now? You don’t even love him. You don’t even
want to be with him.”
“If you’re my only other option, then maybe he isn’t so bad after all,” I snapped. “Leave, Hermes. I don’t want you here anymore.”
With as much dignity as I could muster, I walked out of the room and down the spiral staircase that led to the lower floors. My eyes brimmed with tears, but by the time I reached my destination, I’d blinked them away without shedding a single one. Hermes wasn’t worth it. I would’ve given him everything, but if he couldn’t spare me honesty or fidelity—
I was an idiot for expecting him to stick with me. No one ever did. Not even Mother had much love left for me anymore, not after my failed marriage and centuries of being with Hermes. The only constants in my life were the seasons and Hades. No matter what I did to him, no matter how I acted, he was there for me without complaint. Always.
I should have loved him. I should’ve loved him so much that I ached over the thought of having hurt him. I wanted to so badly that part of me did, but that wall was still there, preventing anything real.
I hated that wall, and if it were possible, I would’ve ripped it down with my bare hands. Loving Hades should’ve been the easiest thing I’d ever done. He was a good man. Better than me, better than Hermes, better than every god and goddess who dared to call themselves Olympians. In a pit of deceit and jealousy, he was the one thing that hadn’t been tainted by time. And I’d hurt him again and again.
Without bothering to knock, I burst into Hades’s chambers. He sat at his desk, shuffling through scrolls and parchment, and he looked up as I strode over to him. “Persephone?” he said, a hint of confusion in his voice. No wonder, either, since I hadn’t stepped foot in his chambers since our wedding night. “To what do I owe—”
Before he could finish, I crawled into his lap and kissed him. Not the kind of hesitant kiss we’d shared few times before, but the burning kisses I’d shared with Hermes. The kind that filled me with fire, all-encompassing and eternal. The kind that begged for more no matter how much I’d already fed it. It was the kind of kiss that no one, not even Hades, could ignore.
And he didn’t. For a long moment, he didn’t move—he didn’t touch me, he didn’t kiss me back, he didn’t react at all. But at last his hands found my hips, and his lips moved against mine with equal fervor.
