Page 22 of His in the Dark

HADES

A gitation grows within me. From the message of the Fates to the God of Thunder’s demands. I cannot meet with Zeus through the mirror this time.

No— he will not accept a meeting through an intermediary that keeps such distance between us.

I would rather have much more distance between us. The desire to end him is strong. If only I remove him, no one would know. But the Fate’s tellings pull me back.

He must sense as much, because he is satisfied with meeting where the Fates dwell.

Between realms. Neutral ground. I follow the path to their dwelling-place with my teeth gritted and my eyes focused straight ahead. My hands do not move from their clenched position.

We will meet. We will discuss what has happened. And afterward, Zeus will attack the Underworld or he won’t.

Oh, there’s no need to pretend. He will move against me. The only thing left to be decided is the method.

Or perhaps he’s already made up his mind.

For the Fates to warn me not to fight… I fail to heed their warning in my mind but I close my eyes, having faith that they see another way. They see her with me. That is all that matters.

I follow the path to the dwelling, stride up to the door, and go in without knocking.

My blood freezes as I gaze upon the dwelling. Zeus waits inside. His long white robe and golden cloak at odds with my darkly mirrored attire. His golden silk to my thick velvet. The stark white to my pitch black. I take a moment, as the door closes behind me with a soft click to note the darkness under his eyes and the growth of his beard. He is plagued and for a moment I feel certain sympathy for him.

“Hades,” he greets me and in his tone there is desperation. My head tilts as I answer him, “Zeus.”

Zeus sits in the center chair, but gets to his feet. A quick glance at the walls says they are more solid than they seemed before.

Perhaps that is Zeus’s wish. He wants them to seem like the walls of Olympus. As if he owns this place, too.

He does not.

The Fates are nowhere in sight, though their influence is all around us in the stillness of the air, as if they’re watching.

Zeus tampers his scepter on the old floor and his crown, a wreath of olive leaves, slips slightly. A challenge, of course. I can tell from his eyes that he is sizing me up. That he did not think of this as a meeting between equals, perhaps. That he thought this would be a chance for him to issue commands

If he thought so, he is discovering now that he is wrong. This is not a meeting between equals, nor one where he is free to issue commands.

I am more than he is. I am more than he will ever be.

Because I have Persephone.

She is what makes me more. She is what keeps my back straight and my mind focused. Together we will rule. The Fates told me so, if only I allow fate to be.

I clear my throat and pull a chair back, taking a seat across from where he was. My own crown of celestial bronze doesn’t slip as I lift my chin in gesture of him retaining his seat.

The silence stays heavy between us for some time before Zeus lowers his chin just slightly and he retakes his seat. He was already looking into my eyes, but now his gaze has a different intent.

“You have her,” he says. It is not quite a question.

“How is it that you come to ask?” I ask, my tone just as light.

Something flashes in his eyes, and he spreads his hands in front of him. “I did not know, but I was hopeful she was in your hands.”

“ Were you?” A glimmer of hope lights within.

“It will be easy to acquire her back.” The glimmer is quickly vanquished by his statement. I rub my forefingers against my thumb, watching him, waiting for more but he does not offer it.

There are no words to express the rage I feel at his easy words, but I let nothing show. I let it burn inside me.

“I will not return her,” I answer and all air leaves my lungs.

There is a pause while Zeus takes this in, reacting only with a blink.

“I do not wish to be on opposite sides of a war with you,” he says.

“There is, perhaps, a deal to be made here,” I offer. There is no deal that will include me handing Persephone over. One does not hand over a queen.”

Zeus shakes his head. “You stole her. The terms have changed.”

“Have they?”

“What of Demeter?” Zeus questions, his brow furrowing. “What of the loss she has suffered?”

Ah—that is the change in the terms, then. Demeter’s sadness. Her demands. She has impressed her wishes upon Zeus.

Whatever Demeter feels, it will not sway me.

“Inform her of what you must. I will not live without Persephone.”

Zeus lets out a short scoff, a break in his usual control. “War is what it will come to.” His voice rises in disbelief. “ War , Hades. I cannot stop her! You have not seen what terrors she’s already unleashed!”

“I will suffer the losses of war then,” I say simply. And the warnings of the Fates hiss at me. Consuming me. Demanding my words to be taken back.

“The losses of war could be beyond?—”

“It would be nothing, ” I interject, cutting him off with more feeling than I had intended to show. It is difficult not to show more , but I resolve to keep a tight leash on my voice. “Nothing at all compared to the loss of my Queen. We do not need to fight. Do not take her from me. She is at peace in my realm. She is a Queen. She must stay.”

Zeus’s expression shifts. It is a slight change, but I am watching for it. His eyes widen subtly and his lips part as if he cannot decide what to say. He controls it within a heartbeat, but I have already seen.

It’s fear. That’s what is written on his face. A small part of me wants to gloat at this small victory. Zeus should have known he was fucked from the moment he entered this room. He should have known what Persephone meant to the realms of the Gods and the Underworld—and to me.

But of course he did not see, did he? So often, it is his habit to dismiss what is right in front of him, only to be shocked when it slips out of his grasp.

Zeus takes a heavy breath, his expression slipping back into calm even as his hands tighten around his scepter.

“Hades,” he begins, as if dealing with a stubborn child. “You can choose from any and all. There are multitudes, if only you would?—”

“I chose her.” My own control is fraying. I wish to end this discussion and return to Persephone. I wish to let out the frustration I carry locked deep inside, near all the wounds that have not healed from the past. That may heal from the past, if Zeus would stop trying to take my queen from me. “I choose her. It is done. She is mine.”

Another moment of silence, this one heavier than every silence before. Zeus’s eyes burn into mine. The fire in my chest has nothing to do with Zeus.

“The bonding ritual is done?” he questions and my heart beats heavy in my chest.

This time, he is asking, with a note of hope in his voice. He hopes there has been no bonding ritual. He hopes he still has a fucking chance.

I will crush that hope beneath my heel.

“It is done,” I lie smoothly. I pray he cannot hear my racing heart.

Another long silence descends on the room. I do not look at the windows to see if the mists of time have arranged themselves into another form. I do not look at the walls.

I watch Zeus.

He watches me.

“Simply leave us be.”

“I cannot.”

“I cannot let her go,” I answer and I hear the warning yet again: what you resist persists. The hissing of the Fates clouds my judgement and for a moment, I think Zeus may have heard something as well.

Make your choice, I will him, swallowing thickly. I have made the choice that matters most in all my years. There is no backing away from it. There is no returning to how things used to be.

Unless…

I brush away the warning of that voice in the back of my mind. Unless nothing . There is nothing in all the realms of existence that could turn back time, or erase my feelings for Persephone. If Zeus is waiting for some sign of that, then he will be waiting for the rest of eternity.

Finally, Zeus answers, “You leave me no choice, Hades.”

“There are plenty of choices, Zeus. She is a daughter you were willing to lose. Don’t forget that.”

“You do not understand the anger of Demeter.”

I narrow my eyes at him. Does he mean this? Does he mean for me to cower because of the anger of Demeter ? Such a giving and kind Goddess. One who bestows blessings to those who do not even ask it of her? He can bend to her whims all he wants. It does not mean anyone else has to follow his lead.

And it is not as if hers would be the first anger I faced. The first wrath I suffered. Far from it.

“The Goddess of Abundance? Of Harvest and fruitfulness?” I scoff. “The Goddess of?—”

“You have stolen her daughter.” His voice is deadly low.

“You knew I would have her.”

“It is not as we discussed,” argues Zeus. “I cannot tell Demeter what transpired.”

Well. If Zeus wanted it to be another way, perhaps he should have fucking planned for that in advance. It is no worry of mine.

“Demeter will find peace when she hears her daughter is well and loved.”

“Hades.” Now he is trying to convince me. Appeal to some better nature he believes I have. “You do not know the anger of a mother torn from her child. She cannot come here. But Persphone can return.”

“No. I do not know the anger you speak of.”

His lips part again, hesitant for a moment.

“Nor is it my concern,” I continue. “You will fix this.”

“I cannot?—”

“Need I remind you, Zeus, you are the one who started this.” My blood turns to fire as I remember his words.

Zeus nods, seeming to forget himself for a moment. It is not like him to accept responsibility for agreements he has made. Why would he when it is so much more convenient to toss the blame on others? It is probably Zeus’s habit on Olympus, where those around him have no choice but to shoulder whatever he throws at them.

“You do not want me to finish this, Hades,” he warns.

I lift my chin. It is impossible to straighten my back any further. “I recommend that you do confide in Demeter swiftly then. Persephone flourishes here.”

His tone echoes disbelief, “In a realm with no new life! She cannot be herself in the Underworld. Not as the Goddess she was.”

“She can as the Goddess she is now!” I bite back.

“With what power?” he questions and my words leave me. For I know what I have taken from her but I wish to give her so much more.

He huffs, “If you truly loved her, you would feel the pain she has from the loss of the gift of Gods and the loss of her mother and life as she knew it.”

Silences stretches between us as I attempt to deny the truth he speaks. “I have never claimed to be a selfless God.”

Zeus glances at the windows, as if he might reach out through one of them and bend the mists of time to his will. That is surely beyond him, and if this problem could be fixed by doing so, there is no need to discuss it with me first.

Perhaps he is only thinking of a way without war.

Is there some path he could take that I have not considered? Thoughts riddle in my mind. Perhaps I offer a gift. Persephone accepts the seeds, and I will grant something for her mother. A letter, a vision, a way for her worries and loss to be soothed. Before I can speak, he interrupts the silence.

“I need her returned,” he murmurs, his gaze piercing my own.

I cannot accept her loss. I do not reinforce this by repeating myself. I have been perfectly clear.

Zeus meets my eyes once more, a glint there that speaks of determination. “Let me see her.”

“No.” My refusal is echoed in my mind with a chorus of agreement. No , the voices in my head say.

Zeus will not have my invitation. No matter what excuse he fumbles for to get it, I will not give it.

The urge to be with Persephone grows stronger. I need her where I can see her. Where I know Zeus has not gotten to her through some other method.

“I can only confide in Demeter with truthfulness if I can see Persephone myself.”

This is laughable, but I do not offer him humor. Bring her here within his grasp? Let him talk to her? Let him try to convince her that his way is the only one?

There is not a chance in any realm of that.

“Since when has truth been a requirement for your persuasion?” I ask him.

Zeus's mouth thins into a grimace, and then his expression breaks into the anger he has been attempting to subdue all this time. Outside the windows, a bolt of lightning cracks through the mists.

“Let me see my daughter,” he demands.

“Not at this moment, perhaps shortly.” I lift my eyes to his, “There is another way. I know it.”

“Time is not on our side,” Zeus warns.

“I require it.” Abruptly I stand, “Tell Demeter what you must. I will speak to Persephone.” With that, I leave him. Ignoring his screams of profanity and the thunderous bolt at my back that the light prevents from harming me.