by Logan Keys
But, she’s going to have to. Hades scratches his head. And he’s going to have to teach her.
“Proceed.” Hades motions his hand at his fellow judges. “Bring the soul forward.”
Dressed in black robes, the three judges, Rhadamanthus, Minos, and Aeacus ignore the moans emanating from the Night Army. The beasts gnash and moan until Hades raises a hand for silence. The three judges take their places at the foot of Hades’ throne, but today, they have to make way for a fourth.
Thalestris, former Queen of the Amazons, stands in her golden-winged chariot. She stamps one solid, greave-encased leg on the side, and puts her hands on her hips. Resplendent white robes cover her battle armor, but it is clear to all assembled that, dead or alive, this woman is a warrior.
“Welcome.” Hades nods to Thalestris. “Your presence is both noted and required by the court.”
With a sneer upon her lips, Thalestris’ cool gaze rakes him. Both know the only reason she is suffered in this room is because Hades is obligated to do so. Today, an Oracle is being judged, and Thalestris overseas the souls of the mysteries.
“Lydia, Child of our Earth Mother.” Thalestris booms out. “Come and receive your reward for a life well-lived. The Elysian Fields await you.”
The other judges stiffen and their robes flutter. It is the only form of censure they can make to a fellow judge when the court is sitting. Hades, however, is under no such compunction.
“You forget yourself, Thalestris.” The cold burn in Hades’ chest seeps into the air. “This soul belongs to me. You cannot grant a decision before the soul has been judged. When I am in attendance, that is my sole domain.”
“Yes, of course, your Majesty.” Thalestris dips her manipulative head. The gesture is almost mocking. “Lydia, you are at the whim of his Majesty. For men always know what’s best for women, even when they kidnap and marry them.”
Hades sucks at his teeth. “I think you mistake me for my predecessor, Thalestris. My wife came willingly.”
“Queen,” a phantom moans. “Our Queen. Persephone.”
“Where is our Queen?” The Night Army takes up the chant until the noise is deafening. Hades rises to his feet and glares until his monsters fall silent.
Thalestris’ lips draw back. “That is a good question from the slobbering congregation. Congratulations on your quick marriage, your Majesty. None of us were offended we weren’t invited. I’d love to hear your wife’s account of the nuptials one day. Only if you allow it, of course.”
Hades’ eyes flash white and the air freezes. The Night Army moans and sways. One gesture from Hades and they’d swarm Thalestris. Although it would be satisfying, he has better things to do than fight with an honorary judge.
“Come forward,” Hades snarls at the soul. “It’s time for you to be judged. Let us bear witness to your life.”
Lydia is on her knees, arms outstretched and forehead pressed to the floor. She still wears the shaved head of an Oracle. Lifting her face, her eyes are sunken by death, but still wear the expression of someone used to deciphering the mysteries of the world.
Thalestris stiffens at his tone, but Hades ignores her. Waving a hand, Lydia’s life flashes before the congregation. Hades peels through her memories: a toddler with all-seeing eyes is taken from a crying-begging mother.
Hades lingers on that image. The distress of both the child and mother is palpable. Slimy grief clings to it, as if it could never be wiped from the memory.
Lydia turns into a solemn child who prays often but rarely smiles. Hades scans the memories, but there are no red flags. It is a life bound by duty and sacrifice, which is now at an end.
“Lydia.” Hades stares directly into those mystic eyes. “Your life is judged as one well-lived. The Isle of the Blessed awaits you.”
“Your Majesty.” Lydia bows her head. “I am grateful that you have judged my life well-lived, but if I may, I’d like to go someplace else.”
“Lydia.” Thalestris’ booming voice sets the Night Army wailing. “Mystics are required to go to the Isle of the Blessed. That is the law.”
“No, it isn’t.” Hades puts his hand up shutting off Thalestris’ noise. “Where do you want to go, Lydia?”
A smile breaks over Lydia’s face. “Your Majesty, if I may, I’d like to drink from the River Lethe and go to the Elysian Plains. I’d like to be reincarnated as a mortal.”
“A mortal?” Thalestris shrieks. “Surely, you jest?”
“She doesn’t strike me as a woman who jokes, Thalestris.” Hades locks eyes with Lydia. “Is this what you truly want, Lydia?”
The Oracle nods, the smile still upon her lips. “It is, your Majesty. It’s what I truly want.”
Hades finds himself smiling back. This is a soul who hasn’t had much choice in life of what she wants. Here in death, she’s finally asking.
“Very well.” Hades raises a hand. “Your wish is granted. I command you to be taken to the River Lethe and drink of its waters. You will not remember this life and when all the elements are assembled, you will be reincarnated to the mortal realm.”
“Marriage has made you soft.” Thalestris does not even attempt to hide her disdain. “Your Majesty.”
“And you mistake being bitter and aggressive for strength.” Hades can’t keep the satisfaction out of his voice. “Thank you for your attendance, Thalestris. Your presence is no longer required.”
Hades raises a hand before Thalestris can protest. Her head turns with a warning glare as her chariot rises into the air and shoots like an arrow out of Hades’ sight.
Lydia steps forward in the wake of Thalestris’ departure. Walking slowly to the foot of his throne, the Oracle drops to her knees. “Your Majesty, before I drink from the River Lethe and forget, they want me to tell you that there’s a garden here. It’s ancient, fallen to rack and ruin, but it was made by the original Hades for his beloved. It’s neither hot nor cold, dark or light. It follows the same time of the Lands. Summer and Winter can meet there.”
It’s unusual for Hades to show gratitude to a soul in this room. Usually, they’re begging or cursing him. “Thank you. Safe travels, Lydia.”
Hades flexes his hands underneath his wedding gloves. The door to Persephone’s room is more ominous than a thousand cursed souls. Cerberus whines, a pitying mournful sound for a creature that inspires fear.
Placing a hand on Cerberus’ middle head, Hades puts a finger to his lips. “Your song is unwelcome. We’re here on a peace mission to bring happier times.”
Hades’ knock is tentative and the time it takes for Persephone to open the door is an eternity. His heart stutters at the sight of his wife on the threshold. Her eyes are wide and her mouth is open. Her golden hair still tumbles over her shoulders, but it isn’t as shiny as when she first arrived.
“Perse.” Hades put his hands up. “I know I’ve behaved abominably. I’ve been avoiding you and not because of anything you’ve done, but because I’m selfish. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Persephone folds her arms. “Well, that’s a good start. Please, continue with your poor attempt at an apology.”
Hades draws in a long breath and lets it out in a rush. “In this body, my emotions are slower than yours. It takes me longer to process and understand how someone with normal feelings would react. I thought keeping my distance would… help.”
Persephone’s mouth quirks at the corners and her smile rivals the sun. She rolls her eyes. “It hasn’t. And I think on the emotional scale, you’re slower than time itself.”
Leaning forward, Persephone crinkles her nose. “You’re forgiven. I’ve missed you.”
A soul who forgives easily in the Underworld is a rare thing. It could be her motto. “I’ve missed you, too,” Hades confesses. “I have a peace offering, but you’re going to need your wedding gloves and something warmer.”
“Why?” Persephone’s eyes narrow, but she’s already changing. “Are you taking me somewhere?”
“I am.” Hades cocks hi
s eyebrow. “But it’s a surprise. Brutus can come, too.”
They stand in the dark tunnel: A king, a queen, and two hellhounds. Persephone slips her hands in Hades’. “Close your eyes and hold on.”
They land in an overgrown garden with a warring sky. Storm clouds gather but the sun is shining, casting blue and purple hues over the land. Bleak trees surround a crumbling temple and statues. A dried-up fountain is barely visible through a thicket of vines.
Cerberus and Brutus tear off through the vegetation chasing one another. They disappear into the distance, two dark specks on the land.
Persephone lets go of Hades’ hand and snaps some leaves from the ground. “This is mint.” She thrusts it under Hades’ nose. “What is this place?”
Hades grins. “This is the Grove of the original Persephone. Hades gave it to her and she turned it into a garden of wonder.”
“Oh.” Persephone’s disbelief is apparent on her face. “I can see it must have been beautiful in its day.”
“It was.” Hades motions with his hand. “Walk with me.”
They walk into a ground covered with weeds until they come to the edge of the garden. “Hades placed this where it borders with Poseidon’s realm. If you concentrate really hard, you can smell the ocean.”
Persephone closes her eyes and drags air into her nostrils. “It might be my imagination, but I think I can smell the ocean. Truly.”
“Imagination.” Hades nods. “That’s what this place needs and it’s yours to create.”
“Mine?” A slight frown sits on Persephone’s face, but her eyes sparkle. “It has a lot of promise, but by the gods and goddesses, it’ll take a lot of work.”
“It’ll take work of a different kind.” Hades casts side eyes at her. “I forgot about this garden, Perse. You see when I say Hades gave it to Persephone I mean that in all senses. This place only thrives with the Queen of the Underworld’s magic. Yours, not mine.”
Persephone skips ahead of him. Cerberus and Brutus bound toward her. Picking up a branch, she throws it and it disappears out of sight.
“Wow.” Persephone points. “Did you see that?”
“I did.” Hades nods. “You’re strong and powerful here, Perse. You can turn this back into a wonder, but you have to use your magic as Queen of the Underworld. The other thing about this place is it runs on the same time as the Lands. Day and nights, but its temperature is set to spring. We could live here together, Perse. Not all the time, but most—if you want.”
Persephone bites her bottom lip. “I like that idea very much, but I don’t know how to use the magic of the Queen of the Underworld. The only magic I can use is the Harvest Queen’s and I have to be energized by the sun.” She winces and squeezes her eyes shut tight. “Hades, I’m so sorry about when we returned from our honeymoon. I had no idea that energy would burst out of me and hurt you. I haven’t been able to use it since I’ve been in the Underworld, so I was just as surprised as you. If I’d known I’d have made sure I was a safe distance away.”
Hades walks over and runs a finger down her cheek. “If you have to apologize then so do I. You’re stuck in an environment that is dangerous to you. Neither of us can help our natures, Perse. We’re both doing the best we can.”
“That is the truth.” Persephone pops some mint into her mouth and chews. “It’s tasty. I thought it would taste like sadness, but it doesn’t.”
Hades can’t keep the smirk off his face. “There’s actually quite a story about that mint. There was once a naiad named Minthe who was bedazzled by my predecessor. She tried to seduce him away from your ancestor. When the queen found out, she turned the naiad into mint and planted her in this garden.”
“Puh.” Persephone spits the mint on the ground. “River witches, you can’t trust them. But I don’t want to eat them, not even as a symbol.”
If Hades could laugh, he would. Persephone eyes him. Mischief sits on her mouth and in her eyes. “My ancestor must have been fierce in her day. So, tell me how to be Queen of the Underworld so I can create.”
“Underworld magic is different from Harvest energy.” Hades puts his hand on her shoulder. “You have to command it.”
Persephone goes rigid. “I don’t know how to do that. I don’t think I can.”
“Yes, you can.” Hades stands behind her and takes a large sniff of her golden hair. “Take your gloves off, Perse. Close your eyes and bend this garden to your will.”
Persephone closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and lets it out. “Did anything happen?”
Hades surveys the unchanged garden. “No.” He puts both hands on her shoulders. “This isn’t ritual, Perse. You’re not a vessel like you are with Harvest energy. Here, you are the Queen of the Underworld. You need to rule. Let your imagination run wild and then bring it into form. Control it.”
It starts in fits and bursts of colors. Wildflowers of reds, purples, yellows, and blues cover the ground. White jasmine flowers pop out of the vines and the bleak trees bloom. The garden has the makings of a paradise that Persephone can call her own.
“Open your eyes, Perse,” Hades whispers in her ear. “Look at what you’ve done. It’s amazing.”
“Oh, gods and goddesses.” Persephone points. “I did that?”
Pride bursts in Hades’ chest. “You did and you can do so much more.” He turns her toward him, so he can see her luminous turquoise eyes. “You are Queen of this realm, Perse. Every subject here is at your command. The Night Army, Cerberus, Brutus, the souls awaiting judgment—you have nothing to fear from any of them. They will all bow to your will.”
Persephone’s eyes glitter. “What about you, husband? Are you mine to command?”
“My queen, I am forever your willing subject.” Hades bows with a flourish. “Now, how about we create a home we can live in together?”
Persephone runs laughing through the wildflowers. It’s an image Hades won’t forget. She stops by the crumbling temple and spins in a circle.
“Here, Hades. This is the perfect place for our home. We can smell the sea.”
Hades holds Persephone’s happiness to his heart and savors it. He needs to get her ready. In three days’ time, he will answer Narcissus’ challenge on her behalf. His queen needs to be able to rule with or without him.
Persephone
The day breaks clear overhead as Persephone puts the finishing touches on her masterpiece. It’s taken three cycles of the sun, multiple trials and errors, but she’s done it. A small white palace now stands where the eyesore of a temple used to reside.
With a curved roof and arched windows, ivy grows over the front and sides. It’s both ostentatious enough for her severe husband’s tastes and bright enough for hers. The restored fountain sits in the middle of a pond lined with flowers and fruit trees.
Persephone walks over and dips her fingers in the water. It’s chilly by Summer’s standards, but not frozen by Winter’s. A green naiad bursts out and sprays water through her lips.
Scowling, Persephone points a finger. “You can stay, water witch, but if you try to seduce my husband, I’ll make you a plant.”
The naiad giggles and dives underneath the water. A bubble of joy sits in Persephone’s chest. Life is beginning to gather in her garden.
Hades has given her such a gift. This is the first real home of her own. One she’s designed solely from her imagination and she couldn’t have done it without him.
His belief in her has been resolute. As her powers grew under his tutelage, so did her confidence. Waving a hand, Persephone changes a field of flowers to red poppies, Hades’ favorite bright color.
Brutus bounds toward her and rubs around her legs. Scratching the hound’s head, she smiles at his mane of hatchling snakes gazing up at her. “Look at what Mama’s built. We need to show Daddy how clever I am. What do you think?”
The hound runs inside and Persephone follows. She banned Hades from the house wanting it to be a surprise. The interior is subtle white and gray with tapestries on t
he walls and warm rugs on the floor. The symbols of their houses, the sun and the bident, hangs over the fireplace that will never be lit while her husband is in residence.
“Brutus,” Persephone orders. “I need you to go get your father. I want to show him our home.”
Our home. Never have two words been more magical to her.
Persephone waits for Hades and Brutus to reappear, but there’s no response. Not even a flicker. It’s unlike the both of them. If Hades can’t answer her summons, he usually sends Brutus back with a message.
Persephone shivers and it’s the first time she’s felt cold in three days. Heading into her bedroom, she claps her hands and flames burst in the fireplace. A black envelope on her white pillowcase catches her eyes.
Snatching it up, Persephone brings it to her nose. It smells of mint and jasmine, their combination. Hades must have been here, but didn’t stop to see her. She scans his bold handwriting:
Persephone, I love you. I always have and always will. I once wished to swap eternity for one real day with you. We know the gods and goddesses are cruel, but I got my wish and I will treasure it. I hate to leave you. If I had the choice, I would stay, but I have urgent business to attend to. I promise to see you in the Underworld.
Your loving husband, Hades.
Fear lances up Persephone’s spine. Hades is always economical with language, but this note is loaded with meaning that she’s missing. Her stomach knots and twists until the pain threatens to take her out at the knees.
Brutus reappears and nuzzles Persephone’s legs. Her eyes flick to where Hades should be. Instead, Zeus stands in his brother’s place.
Persephone never realized just how alike Zeus and Hades look. Zeus is fuller in the face, less angular than Hades. Smiles come easily to the King of Above, but he has none of the King of the Underworld’s nobility and honor.
“He’s answered Narcissus’ challenge and is fighting in the arena on your behalf.” Zeus’ golden voice crawls around Persephone’s skin. None of his words make any sense.
