Page 20 of His in the Dark

HADES

I ’ll never have enough of her. To have her once, completely and wholly knowing what’s to come plagues me. The thought of losing her... I can’t bear it. Of her choosing to stay away if given the chance. Deep in the marrow of my bones I fear she would. That I haven’t provided enough to keep her. Or worse, that they take her from me and her father holding her captive as punishment. I cannot leave the Underworld. If she is taken… I will live an eternity of hell without her.

The thought that preys on the weakness of my mind is that I truly believe I would deserve it. The loss of her and torture of her absence. I betrayed. I have been cruel. But I cannot and will not stand for such things.

I need to meet with the Fates, so I send word, making clear that the request is an urgent one. And one of secrecy.

Only after consulting the Fates will I meet with Zeus. There will be negotiations I’m sure of it. I’m aware of the sentencing following betrayal of Zeus. But I am also aware of so much more as is he. I will not enter a discussion with him unprepared. I will need every weapon possible at my disposal, even if those weapons are only information.

I sense a disaster looming on the other side of the conversation, though I do not know what form it may take. I do not think it is because of this meeting, or the Fates themselves.

These thoughts consume me as I pace the halls. My faithful dog beside me. Occasionally he whines and I stroke his heads. Offering comfort.

How angry are you ? Her voice whispers that question into my ear over and over, but it is drowned out by the sounds she made when I pleasured her. She had not had a man like that before. I could hear it in the low moans and the higher gasps.

I cannot close my eyes without thinking of her sweet mouth against mine. The way she moved against me and shuddered in ecstasy is branded into my memories. It is torture to stay away from her, but I must, because if I go to my rooms, I will not leave the bed.

How would I cross the threshold and leave her there? How would I pass by the enchantments she made for herself? All I want to do is lose myself in her touch and the curves of her welcoming body. I crave to discover what sounds she makes when she is on her stomach on the bed with her legs spread wide, or kneeling above my face, or clinging to the headboard.

My cock grows hard thinking of her, and I close my eyes and pace around the hall where I am awaiting a message from the Fates.

Love or desire?

How can I make her understand that it is desire borne of love? That the desire I feel for her grows stronger with each part of her she reveals to me. It is only going to grow stronger the more I love her.

Because I do love her. The days and nights I watched her, I escaped to her slumber. I know of her in every way. And that which I do not know, I’m anxious and curious to discover.

It is not something I wanted to admit to myself. It was growing in me long before I realized it had surpassed obsession. By the time she asked me that question, my cock nearly touching her sweet, wet entrance, it was far too late to stop it.

Far too late.

I go to the carved window of ancient stone and look out, seeing almost nothing. The pull to her is so strong it almost overpowers my determination to meet with the Fates. If they do not reply soon?—

Then I will wait. We cannot be caught naked, in the throes of passion, if Zeus attempts to attack the Underworld.

When he attempts to attack.

Minox appears less than an hour later. His dark cape dragging along the obsidian floor. Darkness under his eyes I’ve not seen for ages. The depths of what has been done is known to him alone. Regret seeps into the back of my mind.

The Fates will meet with me. I only need come to them.

I do not hesitate once I receive this word. I leave immediately, anxious for their consult.

The Fates are not met through a mirror, as I spoke with Zeus before. I stalk along the path in my realm, careful not to be seen, until a branch shows itself to me. It is not the same every time, nor does it appear in the same place. Still, I recognize it the moment I see it.

I follow that branch until I reach what appears to be a simple yet well-built dwelling in a forest glade.

The moment I step through the threshold, it is as if the forest glade does not exist.

No. It exists somewhere in my realms, but the room that can be found beyond that door is not in the forest glade. It is not even in one of my realms. It is not in Zeus’s realm, either, or the mortal realm. It exists between all the realms and could be considered a kind of neutral ground. So that all may access the Fates.

I march in feeling as if I am going to battle. The dark velvet of my cloak is blown back by the gust of harsh wind. As if I will have to fight to come away with the information I need to protect my queen.

And I would fight. I would tear down any realm if that is what it took to keep her at my side.

I ignore the unease in the pit of my stomach as the door closes behind me and move to the center of the room.

The space is one that could be recognized across centuries. A bright white room, cloaked in protective light. A white marble floor. Walls that disappear into shadows beyond where they reside. It is not a place the way mortals would think of it. If I were to walk towards those walls, they may change, shifting in their appearance. It is not for me to know what their true appearance may be, or if the walls have a true appearance. That is only for the Fates.

The three sister Goddesses wear gold silk garments much like the threads of Fate they weave. Their obsession with the threads of every soul is necessary for order. Their knowledge of what is to come is inescapable. For humans Clotho spins the thread to begin their lives in the mortal realm, Lachesis measures the thread and it is Atropos who cuts it, ending their life. For the Gods and Demigods, there is power still in the Fates. With how the threads are woven and where they lay on the boards.

This place—and the work of the Fates—exists outside of mortal time, and even time on Olympus or in my realms, and the atmosphere reflects that. The air is still. If I think of windows, they appear in the corner of my eye, but they do not look out on familiar realms. Their images change, frequently and the thoughts of the sisters thicken the air.

They look out on the mists of time, which might look like anything if one stared long enough. I cannot I imagine anyone who would come here would care about what was outside the windows. There are more important things to discuss.

I do not bother looking. I’ve come for answers and I pray they have them for me.

I stand in the center of the room. The Fates sit on three chairs across from me, clad in their delicate gowns that speak of bygone eras. Or perhaps they are from future eras that only the Fates have glimpsed. I do not know, nor do I ask. They look back at me with placid, youthful faces.

Here, where the Fates take audiences, they change subtly the longer I watch. I do not let my mind dwell too deeply on how they look, though my eyes snag on the changes, trying to make sense of them.

No sense can be made.

I push aside the strange stillness of this room—this space— and bring what matters to the tip of my tongue.

“Does Zeus know, or does he not know that Persephone resides with me?”

The Fates glance at one another as if they are communicating thoughts with only a look. The one in the center—her dark hair is the feature that stands out most—meets my eyes.

“Zeus believes, but he does not know entirely,” she says, although the words seem to come from all of them at once. The smooth, regal voice is soft, but fills the room. It does not echo, though there is little else in the chamber. Perhaps there is, but I cannot see it. “Ignoring him is not wise.”

“I am not ignoring him.”

“Are you not?” they ask and their glare seems to dare me to lie to them.

“No. I am making the necessary consultations. That is prudence, not avoidance.”

“So you have come to us.” The Fates rise from their chairs and stand together, the hems of their gowns turning hazy, much like the mists of time. I remain where I stand. There is no wind inside this chamber, but their gowns move as if in a breeze. They reach for each other’s hands, touching and pulling back. “You believe a change will come about when you meet with him.”

“I know it will.”

I do not offer more of my thoughts on the matter. Things always change when two forces meet with opposite desires.

Love or desire ? Her question resonates through me, as if the Fates have pulled the question from my memory themselves.

I feel Persephone’s absence in painful longing, watching the Fates stand together. I need her beside me. It is a desire I will not allow myself to feel in this place. My emotions are too strong as it is, and they are balanced against those years of isolation. It is not like me to wish for the touch of another, especially one so casual as what the Fates are sharing now. Yet I find myself wanting it.

Only from Persephone. No one else.

I do not flex my hands against the urge, but it is there.

For a few moments, it seems the Fates are waiting for me to speak. Perhaps they are remaining silent to encourage me to do so.

I do not speak, I wait for their consult as they pick through my mind. I think of my hands on Persephone’s skin. I think of her heels in my back. I think of how she tasted, and how she sounded, and how she took me into her body and let me find pleasure there. I did not think it would be like it was between us. I did not expect to be able to let myself get lost enough to have such a powerful release.

My mouth goes dry remembering it. Dangerous, to let my mind wander at a moment like this, but the Fates must decide that I am not going to continue.

“Do not underestimate the power of the Goddess.” I am not sure which one of them speaks. It could be all of them. It could be none of them as the voice seems to come from deep within my mind. “The more support you give her, the less she will need from you. The more powerful she will become.”

Those words do not inspire desire in me. They inspire pure irritation. The less she will need from me? Why do the Fates insist on misunderstanding me? Why can’t they see these threads when they can see so many others?

"I do not wish for my wife to require my hand," I say sharply. "I wish for her to desire it above all else. Is such a partnership in your visions?"

The Fates shiver, as if a stronger breeze has come through the room, but I do not feel a change in the air. I would welcome it if I could.

"It's a dangerous game you're playing," they say, a warning edge in their tone.

I laugh. It cuts through the stillness and echoes back at me. “Yet we're playing it nonetheless. Such is the way of Gods.”

The sound of whispers fills a room. Is it the Fates, or souls out of time? What are they discussing? I cannot make out a single word. The Fates themselves shift in their places, their hands brushing against one another’s, eyes on me.

“Zeus would win if it came to a war,” one of them says. “Only in the sense that you would be trapped in a hell of your own making.”

The voice splits in two. “The dead will be the undoing,” another adds, tone sharper. “For all mortals will perish.”

All mortals would perish. My eyes widen with what they predict. It is not possible for the mortal realm to be barren. Demeter. The singular Goddess’ name echoes in my mind and a chill flows down my arms.

“ And ,” says the third, “the underworld will be no more than ash.”

The voice snaps back together. “—with the screams of the souls that once were.”

The ominous foretelling is not what I had hoped for. New fear creeps through me.

I feel it all down my spine. My arms. My legs. The dread does not stop until it has filled every place in my body that is capable of feeling it.

“I will not give her up,” I state. Knowing the pain that will come of me. Perhaps we are all meant for pain.

“We did not say you must give her away.”

“Your words are not clear.”

“You should avoid war, my king,” the Fates say as one. “For the fate of all. War will end us as we know it.”

“How?”

“That is not for you to know. It simply must be.”

My anger rises again like a flame that will never be extinguished. It is useless. “I want to fight for her, to protect her, to keep her.”

“If you fight to keep her, you are not the only one who will perish.”

“What must I do then?”

“Meet with Zeus, it is the start of her destiny. Offer her the seeds of the Underworld. You may tempt her with them but she must consume them of her own will.”

“And what will come of the meeting?”

“Demands and anger. Threats and betrayals.”

A grunt leaves me. “What do I leverage? What can I offer? Give me something, I beg of you. You see the path to what I desire.”

“You must release, what you resist will persist. You must allow Persephone to rule her fate and only then may she choose you.”

“I will not let her go.”

“It will not be your call, My Lord. You must offer her the seeds, you must allow the future to unfold without your control.”

A furious rage consumes me. “Do nothing but give her seeds? That is your will?” I question with a trembling tone that darkens the room. “There is no point then in discussing matters with Zeus.”

“You must or she will die.”

My throat is dry with their tellings.

“If you fail in any of these ways, she will die.”

“Do not resist, release, and allow her to follow her fate. You prayed for a queen to stand beside you, she will enter fires of her own making. She must become what you have both asked her to be.”

“And what can I do!?” I scream the question feeling lost without actionable cause.

“You will bring her here in the coming days, only then will we provide you the seeds of the Underworld.”

The Fates echo in unison, “What you resist will persist. Tempt her with the seeds and allow fate to unfold, without your control.”

And with that, the light closes around me and I’m left in the cold darkness of the forest, with little but anger and doubt that fuels a thunderous scream to billow from me.