by Logan Keys
This time when Persephone pats the bed, Hades parks himself beside her and stretches out. Laying her head on his shoulder, she traces a finger down his warm, brown skin and rests her hand on his heart. She kisses his neck and wrists where the beat of life pulses under it.
“You were the sweetest thing I’d ever seen,” Persephone whispers. “With your dark hair and soulful eyes, all the golden-haired and suited boys my parents sent me looked like fool’s gold. You looked at me not as some shiny prize, or trophy to be taken out on special occasions or to boast about with your friends, but as someone who would burn for me. I did not know then you were a king. I did not care. In your silent appraisal, you made me feel like a true queen. I saw a life beyond the golden trappings of Summer. Somewhere my heart would be safe and welcome, and I wanted it. I wanted you.”
“I saw you.” Hades kisses her shoulders and back where the wood from the deck burned her skin. “Not just your beauty, but you. I saw the clouds behind the sun and I wanted them, too. Those were the hidden places you would show no one else, but me.”
Hades drags her closer, his legs entwining with hers. “You were always my wife and queen, Persephone, with or without the ceremonies. Know this, my love, the only person in all the worlds I have ever knelt to and will ever kneel to willingly is you.”
Persephone reaches for Hades and he kisses her with a hungry mouth. “They have memorials to our ancestors’ love on earth,” she whispers against his lips. “Did you know?”
“No, I didn’t know that.” Hades’ hands roam her body. It doesn’t sound like he cares much.
Persephone rises and settles on top of him. Hades’ eyes smolder a dark, molten brown. They were the eyes she fell in love with on the river, the ones in their world now covered in frost. “Am I your queen?”
Hades draws himself up until they’re facing one another. Brushing the hair off her face, he clamps her hands behind her back until she is arched toward him. “Yes,” he whispers against her neck. He drops kisses on her collarbone and dips his head further.
Persephone wiggles her hips, backward and forward, then circles until Hades groans. “Then worship me.”
Sunlight replaces the moonlight. It streams into the room followed by an ocean breeze. Hades is fast asleep, his dark hair contrasted against the white of their bedding.
He lies flat on his back, legs stretched out and arms across his chest. In repose, he’s as still as stone. If it weren’t for the sunlight and the tan on his skin Persephone would think their honeymoon was over and the Underworld had reclaimed him.
Persephone traces the planes of his face; they’re softer here. Closing her eyes, images of Hades run through her mind: His eyes burning into her, the words he whispered in ecstasy, the feel of his body against her and inside her. His touch still lingers on her skin.
This has been the best twenty-fours of her entire existence. If Persephone could, she’d stay here forever. Every rock of the boat and beat of the sun brings them closer to return. She doesn’t want to return to an eternity spent apart. A short mortal life making love with Hades is much more attractive than an immortal one where they can’t even touch.
She could listen to the sound of his laughter and raspy human voice and watch him turn brown under the sun where the frost doesn’t live in his eyes. They could stay on this boat and have very human babies.
“Wife,” Hades’ sleep deprived voice grumbles. “I can hear you thinking from here. I can also hear you need food. Your stomach is an orchestra.”
“I forget how weak human bodies are.” Persephone laughs out loud. “Although I’m rather fond of this one.”
“I’m rather fond of your body, too.” Hades’ amused eyes meet hers. “I like the way this body I’m wearing fits with yours. Although I am concerned whether it’s going to last much longer.”
Hades raises the sheets and they take stock of their love wounds. His body is decorated with bruises on his knees and scratches on his back and chest. Hers is marked with burns and bruises on her back, shoulders, and bottom.
“Gods and goddesses.” Persephone laughs. “It looks like we’ve done battle. We’re going to wear these bodies out. How do they do this?”
“Probably not like us.” Hades’ smirk is adorable—part pride, part sinful promises. “Come woman, you need some food.”
Persephone wraps a sheet around herself. Hades has no such modesty. “Husband,” she chides, “in the mortal world, people wear clothes or at least cover up.”
He slings a towel around his waist and cocks an eyebrow. “Satisfied?”
“Very.” Persephone glows under his laughter. She’ll miss it when it’s gone.
Breakfast is on the deck in all its splendor. Persephone admits that there are benefits to magic, like kings charming boats to deliver feasts and comforts on a whim.
“Are you ever going to tell me what’s on your mind?” Hades frowns. He piles his plate high with food and picks at it suspiciously.
Persephone claps a hand over her mouth. “If your subjects saw you they would not believe you’re the Dark Lord.” She spoons delicious scrambled eggs into his mouth. “Try these. I’m sure you’ll like them.”
Hades grins. Another mannerism his subjects would tremble at. “They’re good.” He snatches the rest off her plate and eats until they’re all gone. “Are you worried time is running out, wife?”
Persephone loves the way the word ‘wife’ sounds on his lips. His hair lifts in the breeze before settling back on his shoulders. It’s no longer dead straight, but has a wave to it and if they stayed, the tips might turn brown from the sun on the ends.
“How much time do we have left?” Persephone brings a glass of orange juice to her lips. “I’ve been trying to keep track, but it runs differently here. Faster.”
“We have time, Perse.” Hades reaches over and lays his hand on hers. His smile is gentle and says: everything is all right, but his eyes say something else.
“What if we could stay here?” Persephone swallows, hard. “Forever. Would you?”
“Are you asking me if I’d give up immortality?” Hades’ face is unreadable. “Become mortal and stay here with you?”
A frisson of fear sparks in Persephone’s stomach. She’d never considered that Hades wouldn’t want to be with her. That he would choose something different, but under his even stare she’s unsure.
“Yes.” Her voice is small to her own ears. In this moment, she feels as tiny as a speck.
“Yes.” Hades nods. “Without hesitation.”
“Even if we grew old?” Persephone captures his mouth in a hungry kiss. “Even if we withered and died?”
“I have no fear of death.” Hades mumbles against her lips. “Not if I got to live a full life with you.”
“Those are exactly the right words I wanted to hear.” Persephone pulls away from that hungry tug. “What if we asked all the Lands and Kings now?”
“I did ask.” Hades voice is quiet, but his hands are taught. “I appealed their decision when they refused to allow us to be together. I offered to give up all my titles to be with you. I said I’d even become mortal if you agreed to it.”
He hesitates, avoiding her eyes. “Your father refused. He called me selfish and told me if I truly loved you I would let you go, rather than take you away to die.”
Persephone’s very human legs begin to shake. “I didn’t know. He had no right to do that. I would’ve said yes.”
Hades’ puts his hand on her arm. “Perse, he loved you. Don’t blame him. And he was right. I was being selfish.”
“If you were being selfish, so was I.” Persephone speaks over the lump in her throat. “I would’ve done it in a heartbeat. Let’s do it, Hades. Let’s just ask them when we get back.”
“Perse.” Hades’ tone makes her stomach sink. “In those days, you weren’t the Blood Heir of Summer. They refused when you were solely the Harvest Queen. They’re not going to agree now when you are doubly important to the Lands.”
&n
bsp; A band settles around Persephone’s chest and squeezes. They’re trapped, well and truly. “To Tartarus with that,” her voice cracks. “Someone else can reap for Summer. Someone else can keep the souls. The Demeter line will die with me, anyway. They’ll have to choose another heir because there will be no children between you and I, and I won’t accept another husband.”
Hades winces. He tilts his head toward her. His face is remarkably mobile in this world, open and honest, not closed off and severe.
Persephone closes her eyes. Her intention wasn’t to hurt Hades. If she could, she’d lash out at the Lands and all those who could help them but choose not to.
“We can’t now.” Hades moves his knees until they’re touching her legs. “Not when your life has been threatened. Not when war and conflict are on the horizon. Not when the Lands need to be secure.”
Persephone stands. Hades’ gazes up at her, eyes pleading. She puts her face within inches of his.
“Tell me, when have the Lands ever given a damn about us? I would give up all rights to the title, gladly, willingly, but that’s not good enough. They expect us to give and bleed with nothing in return. We never asked for much, Hades. We just wanted each other and they couldn’t even give us that.”
Hades grabs her arm and drags her to him. She sits ramrod straight on his knee. Her back is to his front and his arms are around her in a vice-like grip.
“I don’t want to fight with you, Perse.” Hades’ warm breath grazes her skin. “This is more important than you know. We have to keep the balance of the Lands. Otherwise, we risk losing everything. The balance is the only thing keeping out the old gods and goddesses.”
“Old gods?” Persephone shifts back to her own seat.
“Yes.” Hades sighs. “The magic that created the seasons, stopped the old gods and goddesses from warring, and separated them from our realm, depends on us maintaining the balance in our Lands. That was the price of the magic. If we don’t keep it, they could come back and reclaim it.”
“By the stars, I didn’t know.” A chill crawls up Persephone’s spine. “What have we got to do with it?”
“I’m not sure,” Hades confesses. “But Perse, what are the odds of a Hades falling in love with a Persephone, not once, but twice in our history?”
Persephone gapes. “Rare.” She rubs a hand over her face. “My parents were warned the name was unlucky, but an Oracle insisted.”
“My name came when I inherited the Underworld.” Hades’ soft gaze is on her. “But you and me falling in love? That was something different. I’m not a man influenced by the words of Oracles. They come to my domain the same way other souls do and are judged as everyone else is. A prophecy, even unvoiced or inferred, could not have made me fall in love with you. I did that all on my own.”
Hades stretches his legs out. “Thanatos believes that forces are aligning to destabilize the Lands. We have to try and negate the threat. Secure the peace and then we can appeal to be together. I’m just asking you to wait.”
Persephone’s heart sinks in stages until it threatens to spill out onto the wooden deck. They’re immortal; all they have is time. But they might not have forever.
“Fine.” Persephone’s vision wavers. “I’ll reap the harvest, you keep the souls, but I want you to promise me something. When I go to the Elysian Fields, you bring me back to our honeymoon. I want to relive it together.”
Hades leans forward and kisses her on the shoulder. “I thought I was the gloomy one. No one is going to lay a finger on you while I have life left in me. I promise.”
Persephone touches a finger to Hades’ lips. “I don’t want your reassurances as my husband, Hades. I want your promise as King of the Underworld. When I don’t have life left in me, this is where I want to be.”
Hades is as still as stone, as still as he will be when the day ends and they return to their Lands. “I don’t want to think about your death, but yes. I promise. This is where we’ll come when our lifecycle is over.”
“Come, husband.” Persephone grabs Hades warm hand. “We still have time here and life left in us. Let’s celebrate.”
A storm rolls in from the sea, bringing the tang of magic with it. The boat rises and crests on unnatural waves. Persephone and Hades lay facing each other on the bed, their eyes locked on one another without blinking.
Persephone jumps as the air rumbles with thunder. A breeze that’s picking up speed blows through the windows. The whirlwind is coming and there isn’t a thing she can do about it.
“Perse,” Hades whispers. “Look at me. Don’t think about anything else.”
She clasps her hands around Hades’ face and commits every detail to memory. She’ll miss the warmth of his hands and body. Those lively molten brown eyes will be closed off and hidden behind frost.
“Perse,” Hades begs. “We’ll work this out, somehow. I promise.”
Color breaks over the room leaving it awash in hues of gold and silver. A white mist follows raising the hair on Persephone’s arms. She claims Hades’ lips, holding on as the air draws back and then she’s swallowed whole.
Persephone is dragged backward in a wave of mist. She spins until her insides churn, her bones rattle, and her teeth ache. She screams for Hades, but her voice is lost in the roar.
The vortex has her and she can no longer feel Hades’ presence. Currents rip at her and she twists in the turbulence, thrashing until she stills. It’s quiet in the eye of the maelstrom and then pressure hits, squeezing, until there’s no air left in her lungs.
Persephone’s vision blurs. She’s not going to survive this. A circular hole appears where shapes and shadows loom behind the swirling mist.
A hand with dark gloves and a hint of cold grabs her. The grip tightens until she steadies. They land on the edges of the marsh where their wedding ceremony took place a lifetime ago. Their witnesses are still there: Zeus, Thanatos, and Cyane.
Persephone flinches as they cheer around them. Her clothing lengthens and her body lightens. She’s in her wedding dress, a heavy crown upon her head. Her eyes go to her husband and history is repeating.
Hades’ face changes shape. The rounded softness disappears replaced by angles and sharp planes. His hair straightens and darkens to his normal inky black.
Those molten brown eyes are on her and she watches them frost over, but not before she sees a tinge of blue. Persephone steps toward him, but her body surges. Harvest Queen energy bursts out of her and she glows and radiates. Golden light streams in striking rays.
Hades drops her hand and lurches away, turning his back to her. He shields his eyes and steps into the darkness. He stands in the gloom before straightening up, but still, he keeps his eyes away from her.
Persephone chokes back a sob. Just like that, she’s lost him. Their witnesses are silent. They know mourning when they see it.
Hades straightens his clothing and puts his hand out to her. “Come, my queen. You need to rest.”
Persephone takes his example. She gathers her wits and keeps them under wraps. She’s a dual queen now and queens don’t break in front of witnesses.
Placing the tips of her gloved fingers in Hades’, they walk in silence until they reach her room. Hades casts a little glance her way and squints. He bows his head to her before walking away down the darkened tunnel.
“Hades,” she whispers. “Is that it? Are you just going to leave me without a word?”
He halts his step but doesn’t turn around. “You were right, Perse. This is torture, but I meant what I said. I’ll suffer so long as I know you’ll live.”
Hades
The Place of Judgment is gloomier than usual. Mist rises from the frozen ponds and water drips down the black walls and pillars. A glimmer of light appears over Hades’ throne—not enough to burn his eyes, but a tempting reminder of what he’s just left.
If he concentrates, Hades can imagine a boat. Above is an azure sky where the sun shines through the clouds. The greatest treasure languishes in a bed.
Persephone: hair tumbling over her shoulders, sweet words from her beautiful lips.
Hades’ hands clench on the arms of his obsidian throne. Cold, uncomfortable, and biting, just like the place before him. Just like he was before Persephone.
He hurt her, took the shine out of the sun. Persephone is now the moon, light surrounded by darkness. Every cycle she remains here will reduce her luster.
A gong sounds and drumbeats echo, a signal that Hades is sitting and Court will be in session. The Night Army filters into the room in a long procession of monsters. Minor gods and goddesses: those who prefer darkness to light. The Fell: daemons with red eyes and deformed beasts of myth and legend. And the Lost: ghosts, some who remain in phantom form or those who wear the skeleton of their former bodies.
Hades’ shifts in his throne. These are his to command. Persephone’s, too. As Queen of the Underworld, his lawful wife, these are her subjects to do with what she wishes.
Never has it been more apparent that Persephone doesn’t belong here, but there is no other place for her to go. She is not safe above or below and if Hades doesn’t defeat Narcissus, the mortal realm will offer no sanctuary either.
In that instance, the only safe harbor for Persephone will be the Underworld. Narcissus could not enter here—not alive anyway. As Queen, she will rule and her duties would require this.
Hades mulls it over. Persephone judging souls and sending them to the infernal realm of the abyss… Hades can’t see it. A woman who ties ribbons around a hellhound on her wedding day is too soft hearted to send souls to eternal damnation.
