Page 25 of His in the Dark

PERSEPHONE

A hum of satisfaction leaves me as I grip the luxurious sheets. I’m rewarded handsomely for staying at Hades’s side.

I did not expect to feel so treasured. A greater Goddess would have been able to see what was hidden behind Hades’s power and rage from the beginning. Would she not? I heard stories after all, of his power, his judgement… but not of this side of him. The sensual needs of a God.

I arch up underneath him, into his touch, as his breath whispers along the side of my neck, hot and humid. I’ve lost track of the amount of time he’s spent circling my clit with the pads of his fingers. Hades’s touch was so soft at first that I did not think he could make anything from it.

I was wrong.

Because the longer he moved his fingers, the more deeply I fell into the sensation.

This is a true reward— to be allowed to dwell in pleasure, riding the waves until they peak and crest and I come on his fingers. Once. Twice. I lose track.

How could my feelings for him not grow?

They do. They catch like a wildfire.

And I can tell—I can feel—that his feelings are growing as well.

Those emotions transform into something like peace.

Something like being at home.

The days have past and my cup flows over.

As the morning light peers into the bedchambers, he strokes his fingers between my legs until my thighs tremble, then pushes into me without a word, thrusting into me until he comes with a growl. His heat inside me is like another fire, sending every nerve ending to a scorching burn, and it makes me so needy for him that my desire refuses to settle even after Hades has come. It takes a few more orgasms quaking through me before at last I sprawl on the pillows, naked, sated and bared to him. The only thing I am wearing is Hades, stretched out next to me with one arm across my waist.

He lifts his head and kisses between my breasts, following a path down the front of my body, leaving opened mouthed kisses. Goosebumps follow in his wake.

“My Lady,” he says, then kisses again. “My Goddess. My Queen. I have a gift for you.”

“What gift?” I blink up at the ceiling. It must be a joke of some sort. What more could he possibly give me after the pleasures of this morning? There can be nothing left in all the realms.

“I have arranged for you to meet with the Fates.”

He brushes a kiss under my belly button, his breath warm and sensual. It is difficult to think when he kisses me like that. It could so easily become more , and I would accept it gladly.

Eventually, his words make it past the delicious haze subsuming me.

A chill comes over me. The last meeting of the Fates summoned to my mind.

“The Fates ?” I say, and put my hands on either side of Hades’s head, pulling him up so I can see his face.

“Yes,” he confirms, and kisses me sweetly. He smiles against my lips as I struggle to understand why. Why have me meet the Fates? Those who stated I would be a nymph and no more.

“I do not know that I wish to see them,” I confide in him

“What you were before, you are no more. You will meet them as the Queen you are,” he tells me and the smoothness and certainty of his voice nearly convinces me.

“I met with them. They wish to see you as well.”

My heart hammers but he assures me, “It is a wise decision to consult the Fates.”

My mind riddles with so many questions. Most of which take me back. I do not wish to ask the same questions. I do not wish to even think of that fear. I am different now. And I do not know what I would even ask of the Fates. All the while the questions in my mind lead back to my mother, back to Olympus, but not back to who I once was.

We bathe and dress in a blur of kisses and touches, then Hades offers me his arm and escorts me to the path.

It is the same path I have walked before. After a short distance, Hades must sense that I am questioning our destination.

“When I must meet with the Fates, I do so on neutral ground. There is a forest glade in which they dwell. It appears to be part of the Underworld, but it is not. It is not part of any realm, which makes it suitable for private conversations.”

A branching path appears a few steps ahead of us.

“Here,” Hades says, and steers us onto it.

We follow that path until it opens into a forest glade, just as Hades said it would. The dwelling in the center is not large, but it is elegant. Its white walls remind me of Olympus. Perhaps this place is why Olympus looks as it does. Perhaps the Fates were the inspiration. It is so different here compared to the other times I have met with them. They do not know time and space, for they are Fate.

Hades takes me to the large iron decorated wooden door and opens it for me. We step inside together, all the while my blood rages in my ears. My pulse quickening. I do not know what to ask. But I think of my mother. I think of the vision I had.

The room inside is comfortably dim in comparison to the daylight outside. There is a certain stillness in the air, as if time itself is being held in place.

There are the Fates—three beautiful women, each in dark gowns, each sitting on a chair like a throne on the opposite side of the room. Each holds a golden thread gracefully in her hand, or crooked over a finger, or pinched between thumb and forefinger. Those threads glow, giving off light that reminds me of fireflies in a summer garden.

“I will be here, just outside, when you are finished.” Hades bends to kiss my temple, then leaves, closing the door behind him.

I approach the Fates with my head slightly bowed to show my respect for them. I hope my racing heart is not obvious.

The Fates rise from their seats, gold threads in hand. “Persephone.”

I cannot tell which one of the sisters has spoken, or if it was all of them at once.

“I do not know why I have been given this gift,” I admit.

“We have a message for you.” My heart jumps to my throat. A message? It would be the first one I have received in the Underworld. From my mother? My father?

“I would like to hear it. Very much.”

The Fates pause, then speak again in that strange chorus of a voice.

“You may thrive in death as much as you would have thrived in life,” they say. “But neither life would be complete, regardless of which you choose.”

What? That is not any message I had expected. All the warm, hazy feelings that stumbled upon me drop to the floor and are replaced with cold confusion.

“There is no way for me to have a complete life here? Is that what you’re saying?” I whisper, thinking of the powers I lost. The longing for them back has not withered as my flowers surely do.

“That is not what was said,” they answer calmly. “You must listen.”

“I will listen,” I murmur attempting to remember what they said word for word.

I cannot quell my frustration, and it seems the Fates don’t feel any at all. I fold my hands together and clasp them tight to keep from making fists. There is no running from Fate and I do not know that I am entirely ready for mine. It feels as though I’ve just found footing again and that they’re here to throw me off balance.

“I miss my mother,” I say finally, the grief of missing her twisting in my gut. It is easier to ignore it when I am in bed with Hades or at his side in court, but she is my mother. I had never been apart from her before I came to the Underworld. All that separated us were the secrets I kept from her. I wish she knew I was well. I wish I could see her again. Tears prick at the back of my eyes and I swear whatever magic exists in the bedchambers has been broken in this room, for I feel like a child again.

“She misses you as well.” The Fates sound reassuring, though their words only make me miss her more.

I do not know what to say, but I gather myself as much as I can.

“Tell me again, please,” I ask. “So that I may remember this message.”

The Fates tug at the strings in their hands.

“You can thrive in death in the Underworld as much as you can in life on Olympus.” They speak more slowly this time. “But neither life would be complete.”

A lump aches in my throat. “How am I to be complete, then?”

What they are saying makes no sense. Two halves of a life? How could I choose between them? In the Underworld, I have some control over my powers. On Olympus, I have my mother but my powers will go and surely I will be swept aside.

“To simply be,” the Fates reply. “You do not need to choose.”

I let out a harsh laugh as tears slip from the corner of my eyes. “But you have just said that I will never be complete no matter what I choose. That doesn’t make any sense.”

“It does, my Queen,” the Fates say. I want to scream at how calm they sound. “Find your power. It is then that fate will find you.”

Hades

I know Hermes is in the underworld the moment he arrives. I had been returning to Persephone, who came down the path some time ago, but when I sense Hermes on the path, I change directions and go to find him before he can find her.

Whoever granted him passage will hear from me next.

It is not difficult to locate the God of War and Conductor of the Dead. His eyes are on the side of the path as he walks in loping strides, and he is not attempting to conceal himself. He guides souls to the River of Styx, he is not permitted on these grounds though. He should not be here and I can only imagine why he’s ventured this far. Zeus.

“Hermes.”

The youthful God boasts an athletic yet slim build under his cloth tunic. His winged sandals mark him as the messenger. He rubs his beardless chin with one hand, grasping his gold staff with the other.

He turns at the sound of his name, a smile on his face. “Hades.” His tone is one of greeting. As if I do not know better. His arrogance is infuriating.

“I did not know you planned to visit my realms.”

“I am here at the behest of Zeus,” Hermes announces. He’s always honest…when it suits him. “Tell me. Where is your queen?”

“Not available to you.” My tone is harsh intentionally although the God does not change his demeanor.

“I’ve come to convince Persephone to return to Olympus,” Hermes says. Apparently there is no need for subterfuge.

“You will not,” I say flatly.

Hermes glances around the grounds. “She was here. Wasn’t she?” He stares at me a moment, “Persephone,” he says as if I need reminding.

“Do not speak her name,” I warn. “Lest you wish to get her attention.” Anger bristles inside of me and I imagine her in her throne, her righteous anger.

“Persephone?” Hermes says. Chills run down my spine at the thought of him taking her. “She is here, then. Here in your realms.”

“She will not return,” I tell him firmly. “She is my wife.”

Hermes squares his shoulders and faces me. A moment passes and it’s then I realize my hands are in such tight fists that they pulse. “I would like to see her and speak to her myself.”

I put my two fingers in my mouth and let out a sharp whistle. Cerberus will hear it wherever he is in the Underworld, and he will come to my side.

Hermes narrows his eyes. “You have called the three-headed dog.”

“Yes. And he comes…. You can go now.”

“I do not wish to go. I wish to see Persephone so that I may speak with her.”

“Then you will want for much,” I offer him and settle on a calm exile of the God. “No one will take her from me.”

Hermes darts a glance towards the river where Cerebus will come from. He knows this all too well. His voice lowers as he attempts to reason with me, “Someone needs to confirm her presence, Hades. Time has passed. Gods and goddesses grow uneasy.”

“I think it is you who should feel uneasy.”

“Fine.” He bows a farewell towards the castle and moves quickly. “If you insist on war, I will not stand in your way.” I follow Hermes down the path. He turns back to warn me, “You should know, the dead are many now, and it is your doing and your doing alone.” I search his eyes for deception, but find none.

The dead are many.

It takes me a moment to realize he must mean the mortal realm. Demeter .

We leave the glade behind, and he disappears onto the main path just as a crack of lightning rends the sky in two.

The decision is made for me, then. I will not follow him further.

I go back the way I came, toward Persephone.

I am nearly back at my home when she appears on the path ahead of me, her brow furrowed with worry.

“Hades.” She hurries to me and takes my hand. I curl my fingers though hers and keep us moving. I want to be within the walls. Persephone cranes her neck to look over her shoulder, then looks up at the sky. “What was that?”

“It was nothing.”

As if to taunt me, another thunderous crash of thousands of screams is heard overhead. It is loud enough to ring in my ears. Persephone stops on the path, staring up at the dark crack that has been left in the sky. This one lingers for several beats, only beginning to fade against the brightest light of the sun.

Slowly, her eyes drop to mine. “What was that?” Persephone asks again. “It is not my father.” She states although there’s uncertainty there.

“That is the sound of mass deaths and the imbalance of life and death.”

“What does that mean?” she questions, her eyes wide and her body breathless with worry.

I stare up at the sky, wanting to deny Hermes’s judgement. “More of the dead are coming.”