My Lord Hades

by Beman, Stephannie

  Zeus cleared his throat. “I have the Heavens as befitting the King of the Gods; Poseidon has the sea; which left only one possible kingdom, the Underworld for you. A place that you are intimately familiar with.”

  Hades let no outward signs of the emotions raging inside show. He waited.

  “Besides,” Zeus continued, “the law states, if anyone eats the food of the dead, they must remain in the land of the dead. There can be no exceptions and the law can’t be challenged. You ate the food, you have to return. Don’t you see? It’s the law.”

  “Ancient law?”

  “Yes, well…”

  “Then by your oath and by ancient law, which of your daughters have you chosen to be my

  bride to seal our alliance and bind our kingdoms?”

  “What?!”

  Hades didn’t raise his voice above the soothing timbre, but the rage and violence in his tone spoke volumes. The desire to beat Zeus into a bloody pulp of quivering flesh and tear his viperous tongue from his deceitful mouth, while satisfying, would accomplish nothing. He held himself back from violence by sheer willpower.

  “Since you honor the old ways, the oath you swore on the River Styx is binding. By that oath and by Ancient Law, one of your daughters is mine.”

  “But—”

  “Without me, you wouldn’t have defeated the Titans, you wouldn’t be King, and you’d still be fighting a war. It was my skills you needed to defeat your enemy.”

  Zeus shook his head, curls tumbling over his forehead. “Hades, there’s no reason to make a scene.” He waved his effeminate hand dismissively and turned his attention to the gods with a reassuring smile. “There’s nothing to worry about. Continue your celebration. Now who is

  next?”

  Hades didn’t move. The gods flinched. Zeus might have no sense of self-preservation, but the rest of the room did.

  In a single fluid move, Hades brought himself to his full height of six feet. “We’ll speak of it later.”

  “We’ll not speak of it ever!”

  “You’d do well to remember who I am, Zeus.” Hades kept his voice low despite the rage

  coursing through him. “I gave you your kingdom and I can take it from you. And there is nothing you,” he motioned to the gods in the hall, “or your allies, can do to stop me and we both know it.”

  Luckily for Zeus, Hades had no interest in being the supreme ruler. He wanted peace.

  Something denied to him long enough.

  “I-I’m the King of the G-gods!”

  Hades smiled. A smile filled with promise of trouble to come. “You have made a terrible

  enemy this day and I promise you, son of Coronus, deny me and you will regret it.”

  Turning to the stunned room, he caught a glimpse of Apollo taking a hasty step back, as if touching Hades would condemn him as well. He glared at Apollo, realizing the other god feared him. A swift glance across the room told him they all feared him, as they should.

  He looked back at Zeus. “I will take the Underworld. I will keep your enemies locked away forever. But never think to ask me for another thing. You are not my king.”

  Removing the helmet from his cloak, he placed it on his head and disappeared from sight.

  The gods gasped, none having witnessed the magic of the helmet.

  Hades leaned over Zeus and whispered in his ear, “I warned you not to cross me, son of

  Coronus.”

  Zeus jerked away, scrabbling from the dais.

  Hades’ movements were swift as he turned to the doors that would take him away from this

  place. As if on cue, Hermes, Athena, and Hera scurried from the doorway.

  Just as he was stepping out of the palace, he felt the ripple in the atmosphere of the room. It was unlike anything he’d ever felt on Mount Olympus. It was fresh and sweet, like the taste of cream and strawberries or the scent lavender and honey.

  He halted and turned. Regal as a queen come to court, stood the loveliest vision. He stared at Persephone and which daughter of Zeus’ he would demand. She would be his.

  “PERHAPS WE should walk through the gardens,” Demeter said, pulling on Persephone’s

  arm. “I need fresh air.”

  Persephone disengaged her hand from her mother’s death grip and looked away from the

  room full of gods and goddesses. They were still as statues. She wasn’t sure what was happening, but she could sense the ease of tension.

  “I don’t,” she said. She wouldn’t hide in the gardens and suffer the indignation of having Zeus send Hermes for her. She would met the gods and enjoy her time at Mount Olympus.

  Persephone met Zeus’ gaze as she glided into the room, forcing her mother to follow or be left behind. Demeter followed her. Several gods turned their attention to her, smiling. The goddesses, however, didn’t look so happy to see her. She felt as if she intruded in a place where she didn’t belong and the urge to fade into the shadows was squelched by the humiliation she would bear if Zeus dragged her back. She’d play nice no matter how frightened she was.

  She smiled back at the gods, searching the crowd for one familiar face, and hid her

  disappointment when she realized Hades wasn’t among them. She’d hoped she might see him

  here and talk to him again, even though he made it clear that he wouldn’t see her again.

  Zeus disengaged himself from the three petite and pretty goddesses standing around him and pushed his way through the crowd to stand before her. He took her hand, placing a quick kiss upon it. “I’m glad to see you. Let me introduce you to the others.”

  Despite the cordial nature of his words, Persephone sensed an underlying meaning to his

  statement. For the next hour, he took her from group to group, presenting her to various gods and goddesses. Lastly, he led her to a small group of three gods and a goddess. The three gods turned to Persephone with big grins. It reminded her of the badger she’d once roused from sleep.

  Taking in their appearance, she found their physique appealing and noted the similarities among the three men. They were tall and muscular, with broad shoulders and strong arms. They each wore a woolen tunic of white with a leather tie to accentuate their narrow waists.

  “This is Apollo,” Zeus said, clapping his hand on the shoulder of the golden haired, brawny god on the woman’s left. “And Hermes,” he pointed to the curly auburn haired, lanky god on the woman’s right. “And Ares,” he gestured to the thick russet haired, beefy god standing beside Persephone.

  Persephone recognized the names and was happy to place those names with faces.

  “Flora is the goddess of flowers.”

  The slender, dark haired goddess gave her an encouraging smile.

  “Apollo, Hermes, Ares, and Flora, may I introduce you to Demeter’s daughter, Persephone.”

  A wide smile crossed Apollo’s face. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  Ares took her hand in his sweaty hand and kissed her palm. “It certainly is.”

  The picture of maggots wiggling on carrion popped into her mind. She shuddered, pulling her hand out of his and discreetly wiped it against the cloth on her skirt.

  Flora slipped to her other side. “I hear you like flowers? Would you like to see the gardens?”

  She nodded.

  Ares placed a hand on Flora’s shoulder. “Hold on. We just met Persephone. There’s no need to haul her off.”

  She jerked her shoulder from his grasp. “I do not haul things!” she spat. “That’s your barbaric job.”

  Zeus grasped the arm of the distraught Demeter tighter. “Maybe later. Right now, Persephone needs to mingle among others her age.”

  Sighing, Flora crossed her arms across her chest. “By that you mean you want to marry her off to one of these louts?”

  “Yes.”

  Flora glanced at the gods, disgust plain in her eyes. “Very well. We’ll talk later, alright?”

  The prospect of being surrounded by the three gods frightened he
r. Their strange staring and grinning unnerved her. “You don’t have to leave.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  She left. Zeus dragged the reluctant Demeter away, calling out to Athena as he went.

  Persephone experienced a slight panic as Apollo and Hermes scrambled to stand where Flora had been, arguing.

  Ares slid his arm around her waist, startling her. “Don’t mind them. They like to compete for the attention of a lovely woman.”

  She smothered the cringe his touch triggered as well as the impulse to flee.

  “Don’t you have Aphrodite to tend to?” Hermes growled.

  Apollo elbowed Hermes in the side. “I don’t think he’ll venture near her after Hephaestus found him in bed with Aphrodite.”

  Persephone frowned. She didn’t understand their meaning, but knew it couldn’t be good by

  the snickers Apollo and Hermes shared. The nymphs reacted the same way when they couldn’t discuss certain details. It made her feel left out.

  Ares’ grip tightened and she couldn’t hide the wince. She was about to demand he release her when Apollo took her hand, pulling her out of Ares’ grasp. The flash of a gorgeous red apple with a rotten core flashed before her eyes. “You should know Ares can be a real brute.”

  She smiled at him, edging away from the group, her heart crying out for Hades. Why wasn’t he here? Why couldn’t he be with her? Why wasn’t he one of her choices for husband?

  She wrapped her arms around herself, feeling vulnerable. She scanned the room, looking for an escape. There were a few other gods staring at her and the goddesses didn’t seem to be particularly pleased by this fact. For some reason, she imagined a warmer reception. Well, the gods seemed welcoming. Maybe too welcoming.

  Mother had the right idea. I should never have come.

  Chapter 9

  THE HEAVY, stale atmosphere of the Underworld was an oppressive torment that had Hades

  cursing the supreme ruler of the gods as he strode over the overgrown white stone path of the Elysian Fields. It was a strange place. Imitating the world above with fields of emerald gems covering the ground like grass, and flowers and tress created entirely of jewels, or the dim light of the artificial ‘sun’ that couldn’t hide the giant stalactites hanging from the ceiling a mile above his head or the cavern that spanned for miles with no end.

  Five rivers flowed through the various parts of the Underworld, although none of them spoke of the freedom of the seas but stagnant death. Closing his eyes, he recalled the smell of salt water and the feel of the tide as the water crashed around him. The current swirled around him, fluctuating warm then cold with the waves. But here, the temperature was neither hot nor cold, and the air was unnaturally still.

  How could Zeus condemn him for his aid in ending the war with imprisonment? Why had he

  allowed Zeus to play him for a fool? He shouldn’t have accepted the Underworld. But he had.

  Not that any other place would have been better for a Phlegethon daemon without his mate to fill the centuries with joy. Everywhere was a prison, be it the heavens, sea or the Underworld.

  At least in the Underworld, he could make some changes and improve the afterlife of the

  dead. He could free the unfairly imprisoned souls of Tartarus. He could reward Leuce, her family, and others with paradise.

  The white stone steps ended at the steps of a rundown palace, fading into a black stone path leading to the towering eyesore of Tartarus. He turned away from his former prison and faced his current one. Studying the single level ruin of grayish marble flecked with precious jewels that was his palace, he shook his head at its disrepair. While the location of the place was ideal, the palace had been abandoned centuries ago and, upon closer inspection, not willingly. Scorch marks on the stone told him plainly, there had been a battle here.

  Breathing deeply, he removed all occupants and personal items from the palace with a

  thought then gathered his power for the task of restoring the indefensible ruin.

  What took seconds to destroy, took hours to rebuild and when he finished, he was exhausted yet happier with the results. Black obsidian roofs and pure white marble walls arched upward and spiraled outward in a defensive maze with plenty of room for the occupants of the palace to fill. Four towers at each corner gave him the added advantage of knowing what happened in his kingdom at all times.

  In a field of color, his palace would be the beacon calling all enemies to him. Hopefully, any army would attack him and not the innocent occupants of the Underworld.

  He walked up the steps of his palace and entered his new home. A plush rug of deep scarlet ran the length of the hall, muffling the footsteps behind him. Silver mirrors, five-feet-tall-by-three-feet-wide, interspersed with smokeless torches, lined the entry hall, creating a glowing ambience of light.

  As freeing as it was to create his own palace in his new kingdom, it changed nothing. He was still a prisoner in the Underworld. Sure, this was a better set up this time, but it was still hell.

  “Hey, nice redecorating,” a man’s voice said appreciatively at his shoulder, “Though, the ebony and cherry wood furniture is a tad dark for my tastes. But I prefer it to white trimmed in gold or silver.”

  Hades glanced at the god with spiky platinum blond hair who shivered dramatically as if in dread of the hated decorating faux pas. He grinned at Hades. “Thought for a moment I made a wrong turn at the path. But since it only leads here…What happened to the gaudy atrocity I use to live in?”

  Hades shook his head. He’d never understand the god known by many as Death. Thanatos

  was so contrary to his fearsome reputation, it was disturbing. Although as a child he’d wanted to be just like Thanatos.

  When Hades said nothing, Thanatos turned to the two goddesses. “I leave for a few hours and you all decided to change things on me!” he said in mock fury.

  Hades walked away, but it didn’t stop the constant prattle. If Thanatos hoped to draw Hades into conversation, he would be sorely disappointed because Hades didn’t feel like talking.

  Entering the throne room, the torches flared to life, reflecting the truth of his longing. Two thrones sat at the end of the hall, a small table on either side of them. The one on the left was black obsidian with a cushion of bright red for him while the one on the right was an iridescent white with a cushion of dark red for his Queen.

  He threw himself onto the throne, casting his legs over the side, and lounged back into the cushions. He had to put Persephone out of his mind long enough to focus on the tasks ahead of him. The entire Underworld needed some restructuring and organization. While reviewing the records of Tartarus and the Elysian Fields, Hades dispatched summons for all those who weren’t among the dead and made the Underworld their home to come to him.

  ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

  STEPPING OUT of the stifling suite of rooms and into the cool night air of her mother’s

  garden, Persephone sighed with relief. They’d been on Mount Olympus for nearly a week, and Persephone was tired of enclosed spaces and groping gods. She dreamed of the wide open spaces that the valley provided her and Hades.

  She had yet to see him and she found herself missing him. He was the only god or goddess

  that didn’t treat her like a child, an invalid, or an object to fight over. He didn’t make her uncomfortable like the thief Hermes did, or the full-of-himself Apollo, or Ares who slept with married Aphrodite.

  Although she came to the conclusion that she couldn’t fully believe the all the accusations the two goddesses heaped upon men, she couldn’t dismiss them either. The nymphs and Aphrodite loved and sought the attentions of men. They couldn’t be all bad.

  Staring up at the full moon, she promised that if it was in her control, she would retain control over her life. She would be her own woman, and she’d make her own decisions about men. Her fate would be her own.

  Small goose pimples rose on her arms and her flesh tingled. The smell of sandalwood and

 
vanilla reached her nose and she knew Hades had joined her in the darkness of the garden.

  Smiling, she raised her hand, palm up, and breathed, “Hades.”

  He appeared before her, a strange look crossing his face. His calloused hand caressed her cheek and his warm mouth slanted across hers, demanding and hard. His arm slithered around her waist, drawing her closer. She stiffened and melted in equal measure. Her heart raced in a heady mixture of fear and pleasure. Just as she was starting to think Demeter was right about men, Hades ended the kiss.

  He rested his forehead against hers; his entire body shuddered once, before he stepped away.

  Wrapping his cloak tight around him, he hid his face. “I’m sorry. I should go before…”

  “Before you ravish me?”

  She hadn’t meant to say it, but the moment the words left her lips, she was glad she had. His head jerked up, his face stricken, and his beautiful blue eyes met hers.

  “Yes,” he hissed. “Yes. Is that what you want to hear? That you set me aflame! That I want you as I have never wanted another woman! Does that please you?!” he snarled.

  She felt the pain, the shame, and the fear in his voice and in his words. She wanted to soothe him, to make all right in his world, but she didn’t know how. Taking a hesitant step toward him, she reached out to touch his face, to caress the haggard look from it. She saw herself, an image through his eyes. Her long hair pooled around her head, a beatific smile curling her lips.

  “I don’t understand, Hades.” He shook his head, turning away, and she panicked. “Please

  don’t go. I want you to stay. I want to…” What did she want of him? And was it fair to ask it of him? “I’ve so many questions and I know you can answer them for me.”

  “It would be unwise, Persephone.”

  “Probably. But it would be nice to know men aren’t the monsters everyone keeps telling me they are.”

  He remained with his back to her so she glided toward him and did something that placated her mother when her mood was foul. She wrapped her arms around his waist and snuggled up to his back. He stiffened.