by Charlie Hart
I look around the room at my daughters.
Before I answer, Rem speaks up. "We need to go kill our fathers. Once and for all.
"Death?" Death is so final. So absolute. "I don't know... The gods could have killed me so many times. But they didn't. It makes me think... they might still have some love for me."
Harlow's eyes widen. "They tried to murder us. Over and over and over again. I may look sweet. Cute. Fun and bubbly. But I'm not a fool. Maybe before I became a siren, I was more easily swayed. Maybe I'm bitter and jaded now. But I have my babies to look after. I'm not going to let anything or anyone come between us. Our fathers need to die."
"What if there was a way we can change their hearts?" I ask.
"After all this time?" Gaia asks incredulously. "You still want to salvage your life with them after they locked in a cage for two decades?"
I love deeply; love fiercely.
I am a fool in love.
And yes, after all this time I want to believe that they might still love us back.
The shift in their feelings was so fast, so swift and sharp.
I think we are missing something.
"We can't kill them. You've all tried. It's impossible. The only hope we have is to change their hearts. It doesn't mean we have to fall in love with them,” I say, "or be best friends, take a family vacation, but it could make them not want to kill us."
Gaia frowns. "You're saying we could find some potion and then force the gods to drink it. Hope it makes them less angry, then we all live happily ever after?"
"Do you have a better suggestion?" I ask. "The last thing I want is a murder attempt gone awry. Harlow and Rem need to lay low. They can't be caught up in a murder scheme that involves four gods. It's a death sentence. We need to try something smarter, something safer."
"Where do you get potions around here?" Lark asks. "I grew up with witches, so I know a few things about them, but I don't know where potions are on Mount Olympus."
"The Fates," I say, just now thinking this through. "Surely they will have a potion and can help us."
"Fates? The women from your story?" Rem asks.
I nod. "They may not have been overly kind to me, but they came to my wedding and made a toast. I think they will help us."
Gaia sighs, not sure she agrees. "I guess there's no harm in letting the Fates decide."
14
Persephone
We leave the hall and outside, all of my daughters' harems are waiting for them.
"Is everything okay?" a dark-haired man with bright blue eyes asks Harlow. She nods, explaining what we are doing.
The other men listen, and one speaks up. He has an arrogant look about him and takes Remedy's hand in his. "You aren't going alone."
"We aren't alone, Callum," Remedy says. "We're all together, my mother and sisters and Gaia."
He presses his hand to Rem's belly, and I see the worry in his eyes. Maybe it wasn't arrogance after all. Maybe it was fear.
There are sixteen men in total, and pride surges in my heart. "You all found love like I did,” I say.
"I guess it is because we are all partly goddesses of fertility," Tennyson says. "Maybe that is why we all..." Her face turns red.
"You don't need to explain," I tell her. "I do understand. Love isn't always one plus one. Our hearts have the capacity to expand broader than most people assume is possible."
"Speaking of which... aren't we supposed to be finding a potion to make the same case for our fathers?" Lark asks.
I nod. "Gaia, shall we?"
She smiles, taking my hand. "I don't know if it is going to be easy," she says.
"Nothing ever is." Then looking back at my daughters' harems, I tell them, "If the gods return before we get back, Lark's hawks need to come find us. Understood?"
"They have names, you know," Gaia tells me under her breath.
I smile, despite everything that is happening. "I know, but it's a lot of names to memorize at once."
Standing outside the Fates' home is a little intimidating. I met them once when I was so much younger, and then they seemed like the epitome of mature. Now I can't help but wonder how they will receive me.
But now, I have four daughters with me too. I need to be courageous for them.
And for the sake of their fathers.
Their mansion is large and ornate, white pillars across the expansive porch. Elaborate hedges line the long drive, and as the six of us walk up the front steps I tell myself to calm down.
If only it were so easy.
I feel like so much is riding on this.
Hearing that the gods had tried to kill their daughters doesn't make any sense. Yes, they were arrogant and egotistical but they also knew how to love. At least, they loved me for the space of a few days. Maybe asking for any more is unrealistic.
But they wanted children. All of them.
So, why turn on the thing you most desire when it is right before you?
I knock on the wrought iron door. Through the other side of the door, a voice calls. "Who is it?"
The voice’s high-pitch shrill causes Gaia and I to share a look, both raising our eyebrows. A pang shoots through my chest -- how wrong I've been about my oldest friend and how good it is to see her again.
"It's Persephone," I say hesitantly, having no idea how they will react to me practically returning from the dead.
"Persephone?" The door swings open and Clotho is standing there with her mouth gaping open and shell-shocked eyes. "The one and only Persephone, in the flesh!"
She looks me up and down I can't believe it's been twenty-one years since I've seen her face.
It feels like yesterday... it feels like a lifetime. When I was in the Underworld, there was no beginning or end or day or night.
I paced a cell, dreaming of a day when I might be set free, feeling my daughters’ hearts beating even though I couldn't see their beautiful faces.
And now I am more glad than ever that I held onto that hope.
"Atropos, Lachesis," Clotho screams over her shoulder. "Persephone is here! She's been raised from the dead!"
The other two Fates rush to the porch, and I see that all three of them look as if they haven't aged a single day. Now, I look older than they do. They are still beautiful, with bright red lips, heaving bosoms, tightly cinched waists, their hair piled high upon their head. Gauzy silk drapes over their bodies, skimming the floor.
"Who is with you?" Clotho asks. She peers over my shoulder and sees my entourage.
"These are... my daughters."
The Fates look at one another, eyes gleaming. "Daughters? I thought there was a tragedy the night they were born?"
"There was. But now we are together once more. What was wrong has been righted."
Suddenly the porch feels cold, the Fates are looking at one another with fear in their eyes.
"What is it?" I ask.
"Oh, nothing. Nothing at all," Atropos murmurs.
But Lachesis glares at me. "Why exactly are you here?"
"We have some things to discuss," Gaia says, not interested in small talk. "Time is of the essence."
"Well, we're busy now," Atropos says, closing the door on us. I haven't come this far to only get sent away.
If I don't do something to change the hearts of the gods, their daughters will kill them. But the girls don't know the way it felt when I fell in love with their fathers. It was so real.
Maybe I am as naive as ever, but when Gaia and the girls described the vengeance in their father's eyes, a thread of doubt began to unravel in my mind.
There has to be more.
"I don't care if you're busy," I say, pushing my hand against the door, and stepping inside their home. "We need to talk."
They purse their lips together but don't deny me entry. I realize that maybe they can't. Between my daughters, Gaia, and I, we are a force to be reckoned with.
The interior of their home is just like the outside. Grand and gorgeous. Tapestries hang from t
he walls and rich dark wood tables and chairs are placed pleasingly throughout the home.
"I had no idea you had such a nice place," Gaia says briskly.
"Yes. Well, we have excellent taste." Clotho’s tone is neutral, but her face is set in a glower.
I look at my daughters, trying to gauge their comfort levels. It is Rem who seems most uncomfortable as we walk through the house and into the living room. From the things I've learned about her, she has had a difficult childhood. Maybe she is more jaded, guarded -- wise.
"So, what brings you here?" Lachesis ask as we stand awkwardly around the pristine living room.
I look around the room all I see is leather couches and marble counters, gilded chandeliers dripping with crystals and tile floors. "We need help with a potion," I explain. "A heart potion."
"A heart potion," Clotho says. "That's sweet."
"No," I tell her. "It's not sweet. It is a matter of life or death."
"Sounds important," Atropos says, tapping her fingers on her chin. "Who is this potion for?"
"For my husbands."
The Fates stop moving, turning to look at me. "Oh?"
"Yes. They have become wicked men, toward their daughters, and I want to help them. I want them to be the way I remember."
"Impossible," Clotho says, crossing her arms.
"You have to help us," Harlow says. "It's for our family."
"Why would I care about your family?" Atropos asks.
"Because you care about the gods," Gaia tries.
The Fates cackle. "We don't care about the gods. We only care about ourselves."
"Truly?" I ask. "You don't care about anything else? About love? About what is right? About second chances. About forgiveness?"
The Fates frown. "No. We only care about pleasure." They look in their eyes though tells me they are lying. Everyone cares about more than just pleasure. Otherwise, they would be twisted and dark souls, not fit for Mount Olympus.
I start to speak. But Lark cuts me off. "Look," she says. "The room, it's changing." As she points, the Fates run from the room, turning their backs on us.
She points to the corner of a wall where it is fading away. "What's happening?" I ask, as more of the room fades away, leaving us in a small cottage with dusty floorboards and cluttered shelves, filled with jars and herbs. And beyond that, there are piles of strings everywhere. From the rafters, from pegs in the walls, everywhere you look are the strings.
The strings of life.
The Fates have so much control.
"They must have put a glamour over their home, concealing the truth," Lark says in a whisper.
"If they were hiding the truth of that," Remedy asks, "what else are they hiding?"
15
Ares
When Hades came for me, he wasn't alone. With the daughters distracted with finding one another, he was free to come after us. They all left their realms.
But now, we are free to go after them once more.
"Finally," Hades growls. "We're all here."
We look at one another, considering our next move. We've been in an alliance ever since we took our wife and locked her in a cage twenty-one years ago.
We felt Persephone leave her prison. It was like a rush of energy moving through the world as she emerged from the Underworld.
"She's on Olympus," Zeus tells us, his eyes filled with righteous fury. "I feel her presence there, in the sky."
"Then what are we waiting for?" I ask, looking around at the men who I vowed to protect until the day we died. Our wife, though, she ruined the love between us; now we only hold vengeance in our hearts.
"Nothing. It's time to finish what we started," Poseidon snarls. "Those girls think they are as strong as us. They haven't a clue. Being kept in a cage for so many months has only allowed my powers to grow. They've only been held at bay and I am ready to unleash them."
I wonder what Persephone will think when she sees us. Will she see that she is the reason we're against her? She didn't ever really love us; she only wanted us for our seed. She wanted a child, but we wanted her heart, mind, and soul.
She is a deceiver.
And it's time she understood that we won't let her, or her daughters win this game.
We are off, toward Mount Olympus, one aim in mind. Find Persephone.
16
Persephone
The Fates have turned from us, but as the room comes into focus for what it truly is, I realize they are deceiving us, at their core.
They aren't to be trusted.
"What have you done?" I ask, pulling on Clotho’s shoulders, spinning her around to face me. I recoil in horror as I see her face. It is gnarled and ruined, rotted teeth and discolored eyes. She is an old woman, more ancient than the days, and I can't look away, though I am disgusted with her.
"Mother," Tennyson screams, grabbing my arm and pulling me to her. "Careful now."
Behind me, Lachesis has grabbed a handful of strings and laughs maniacally. They were so beautiful, the Fates, only minutes ago, and now I see them for what they really are.
Old, broken women who are relishing the chance to torment me.
"What have you done?" I ask again. I am trying to remember why they could have wanted to hurt me, but seeing them like this, I know they have lost their wits. There is no sense in their eyes, only menace.
"You think you are so pretty, sweet Persephone," Atropos sneers at me. "A body any god would crave, a face too beautiful to deny. But no one gets everything they want, precious Sephy. It isn't the way the world works."
Clotho laughs beside her sister. "At least no one gets that when we are the ones in charge of life and death."
"Tell me what you did! Tell me. Did you do something to my husbands?"
The Fates hold their bellies, laughing so hard there are tears running down their sunken in cheeks. They are relishing this moment and I won't let them enjoy themselves at the expense of my daughters.
"Seph, maybe we..." Gaia is pulling away, scared. "The girls, Rem and Harlow, they are pregnant. They need to be safe," she whispers.
I nod, knowing she is right. What was I thinking, bringing my girls to the Fates?
"No," Lark says, her massive wings filling the room, her form shifting to that of a phoenix, her grandeur overpowering even the Fates. "We won't go until you explain. What did you do?"
Atropos grins, revealing brown and broken teeth. She presses her palms together, her bony fingertips tapping gingerly. "We are in control of the strings of life, sweet little goddesses. Are you sure you want to play this game?" She lifts a single string in the air, dangling it before us.
"Whose string is that?" I ask, panicked.
Atropos lets her brows, loving that I am right in the palm of her hand.
"You'd like to know, truly?"
"Yes," I scream, desperate to know whose life she is playing with now. I don’t want anyone else to suffer at their hands.
"It's Gaia's string," Clotho says. "And I'll tell you what I did, but you will lose your long-lost friend."
Her tone is mocking and vicious and I scream in anger, clawing for the string.
But Gaia simply shakes her head. "No, Persephone. You have your girls. I have no one. Let them cut the string so you can finally have answers."
"No," I scream, reaching for the Fates, desperate to reach the string before it is cut. Before my dearest friend pays the ultimate price for our friendship.
But it is too late.
Scissors are held in the air. The string is sliced.
Gaia falls to the floor.
17
Poseidon
We take my chariot, all of us flying toward home. We land at the hall where we first met Persephone. There is a strong pull toward the place, and in the last year, that pull has meant our daughters are close.
When we land, though, the mood shifts.
"It's not the girls," Ares growls. "It's their mates."
"Dammit," I hiss. "Mere mortals? This isn't right. Why a
re we drawn to these men?" We jump from the chariot, ready to face down whatever these men may be planning on bringing.
"Where are they?" Zeus calls.
A pack of the men draws near. "It's you," one screams at Hades. "You fucking creep."
But Hades merely draws back his shoulders and narrows his eyes. "It's been so long, Hawthorne," he says with an even tone, stepping toward the man. "Last time we met, you were a demon, but now you are an immortal?"
The man puffs out his chest, and Hades frowns. "Yes, you wanted me to be your pawn, but I fell in love with your daughter. And now I am immortal. You can't hurt me."
Hades cackles. "Perhaps, but I can hurt the one you love, can't I?"
Hawthorne jumps toward Hades, tackling him to the ground, and that is all it takes for an all-out brawl to be unleashed. Fists are thrown and threats are shouted.
Harlow's sailors draw near me, and I stand upright and tall. These mortal fools, trying to outmaneuver a God of Olympus, Poseidon, ruler of the sea. As if they stand a chance.
"You think you can kill me?" I ask them.
"It's not death we're after," the dark haired, blue eyed one tells me, throwing a punch at my shoulder. His fist connects but I will need more than a few swings to take a fall.
As his fist connects with my jaw for a second time, it dawns on me: he's the sailor I killed. He should be buried in the sand, not standing here.
Rage courses through my veins at whoever is trying to outmaneuver me.
Gaia.
That bitch.
Getting her hands all over Persephone, meddling where she doesn't belong.
Suddenly my desire to kill the men before me is replaced with the desire to make that snake who calls herself Mother Earth pay.
"We're after the wrong people," I shout to the gods. "It's Gaia we need to get first, then the daughters. After that? We go after our wife."
18
