Chapter 12 - The Past

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Light glimmered through the trees kissing Persephone's soft skin with its rays. She pranced down to the river and kissed the waters with her fingertips, “Tell me you love me,” she whispered to the shimmering stream, “Tell me.”

A hand pushed through the water grabbing her arm and trying to pull her through the glassy water. “Under the Stars,” the river hissed like a snake. The first word reverberated, “Under, under, under…” and then the arm began to pull her down, down, down into hell.

Olive woke her, licking the tears from her face. She grabbed the fawn tightly in her arms, crying desperately, “Oh my beauty, my precious friend. What would I do without you?” Lifting the deer into the air she cried, “Let us stay here today. We will invite Cerberus and feast on fruits and a bit of meat for him and we need not see Hades today…” She bit off her words as she remembered the look of desolation on his handsome face the previous night. How was he feeling today, she wondered? It was selfish and cowardly to avoid him and their problem would not be solved by her hiding. Besides, had she not done that enough in her life? Her almost entire existence had been spent hiding from the world and that had not worked out too well, had it? She gave Olive a gentle kiss on the nose and then set him beside her.

“On second thought, I will not have him thinking I’m recreant.” Jocasta was likely busy and she could manage well on her own. She moved to the mirror and began piling her hair up on her head and kohl rimming her eyes, the little deer watching her. “Olive, find me a dress. One that says I will not bend even if the wind blows!” Morning glories in the room climbed up and she bent her head to greet them and they tilted towards her gently, touching her face with silken softness. Olive’s tiny feet tap danced across the stone floor dragging a dark blue toga that sparkled with starlight constellations as if Nyx herself had woven it. Knowing Hades, perhaps she had, Persephone thought wryly.

Her face lit up, “It is perfect!” she exclaimed. “Thank you, Olive.” She took the dress gently from Olive’s mouth and placed it over her head. “You are right of course, Olive,” she said as she quickly began to pin diamond stars in her hair, “I better hurry, I refuse to let him be first to the throne room.” She lifted her skirt and ran eagerly to the throne, the small, sweet purple flowers of lobelia trailing behind her. She gave a self-satisfied smile when she saw that the room was empty, she had beaten him again! She was enjoying her small victory, however petty it might be. Hearing footsteps and the shuffling of guards, she knew her husband must be approaching and she wiped the smile from her face, quickly grabbing a nearby scroll to hide behind. She listened intently as he entered, keeping her eyes fixed before her.

She heard him approach her and she jumped as he took the scroll from her hands turned it around and had a momentary glimpse of his broad chest before he handed it back to her. “You will find it easier to read when not upside down, wife.” She blushed and raised her chin as she threw the scroll back onto the table. She gave up the pretense of disinterest and studied his face which was paler than usual, and dark circles stood out in stark contrast under his eyes.

“You look wretched,” she said cooly.

“Ah, and a good morning to you too, my beautiful wife.” With an exaggerated bow, he took her hand and at the last minute turned it so he was pressing his cool lips against her palm. She felt her pulse quicken and she knew he could feel it against his fingers as he raised his eyes to look into hers.  "I hope it is acceptable if I kiss your hand - since my kisses are so offensive to you.”

Persephone coldly withdrew her hand and looked back down at the itinerary of the morning, seeing nothing, but making sure at least this time it was facing the right direction. “And will you be reading my mind or just the prisoner's minds today my king?" she asked sweetly.

As before, a servant brought his crown which he placed on his head, followed by the signet ring on his finger. Still not breaking his gaze, he replied, “Well, since I hold you here as a prisoner, I guess I shall be reading all your minds today, my queen.” The judges had entered the room and he took a seat on the throne, putting his hand out as he waited for her to rest hers against his palm, “Come now my wife. Is my touch so disturbing to you?”

She reluctantly placed her hand on top of his and he glanced at her, “Your hands are cold.”

“As cold as your kingdom, my husband.”

His expression was stone as he replied, “But not as cold as your heart, my love.”

The doors opened, and the new arrivals poured in, but he found for once he was too weary and in no mood to greet the new subjects. He rested his head in his hand for a moment trying to summon the strength to speak when Persephone spoke up suddenly, graciously welcoming the dead to their new home. Had she picked up on his weariness? It was a struggle sitting next to her as she smiled at the newcomers. She smelled so fresh, like the earth, like a newly grown garden and her every move made him ache with lust and an unwanted sweeter emotion that was too painful to acknowledge. “Futuo,” he thought. “I cannot focus today.”

Hades could hear the sounds of iron dragging against the ground and knew what was coming next and he sat up suddenly. He did not know if he wanted his wife to see this. With her sweet and noble sensibilities she would not like the retribution he dealt out. He remembered how she reacted when he had ripped the man’s heart out and he had done far worse than that before and would still.

“The wicked are coming,” he murmured quietly. “Would you prefer to leave?”

She regarded him but he could read nothing in her expression. “I will leave when you leave,” she finally said.

“Very well then. I will handle these visitors,” he said firmly. “Who better to judge the wicked, afterall.” Before she could reply he clapped his hands and the gates opened once more. Hades’ demeanor changed and all appearance of fatigue vanished from his face as an icy cold gleam came in his eyes. He placed a hand over his wife’s hand and looked to the Judges, nodding. A quiet foreboding hush settled over the room and he felt Persephone’s hand tighten over his. The sound of heavy chains against the floor grew louder until finally a man was brought in in shackles by two guards and thrown roughly to the ground.

Hades stared at him in silence for many moments and then finally said in a silky voice, “State your name to the room.”

"I am King Tantalus," the man replied, his voice booming with a false bravado.

Hades voice was cold “You are not a King here. Tantalus, kneel before me.”

Tantalus was brought before the throne and shoved onto his knees as Hades stepped closer to probe his memories. Tantalus was a selfish and boastful king whose only aim in life was to impress the Olympians, and Zeus had foolishly granted him attendance at Mount Olympus, a rare privilege to a mortal. Hades could see that Tantalus had dined with the Gods and stolen from them, taken the ambrosia back to his Kingdom. But he was worse than a thief. He watched as Tantalus had murdered his own son, Pelops. He had then served his body to Zeus as a surprise at a banquet. The Gods unknowingly feasted on the king’s son’s flesh. He saw Demeter, her face ravaged by grief as she dined at the table, and afterwards how she had cried in horror at the knowledge of what (who) they had unknowingly eaten. And Tantalus enjoyed every bite of meat. Hades forced himself not to glance towards Persephone. He did not need to see anymore.

“Sycophant,” he said in a low voice, “Cannibal. Filicide. You murdered your own child. You filleted the skin off his bones and had your chef harvest his meat and organs to impress Zeus at his dinner table.”

"My son should be honored to be in the presence of the Gods,” he screamed, spittle flying from his mouth. “Demeter herself feasted on his flesh!" He heard Persephone gasp in horror behind him and he twisted his hand lifting the prisoner up into the air until his feet dangled off the ground.

"You disgust me!" Hades yelled, remembering the look of pleasure on his face as he had partaken of his son’s flesh. And the memories blurred as he saw the gleam of pleasure in his own father’s bulging eyes as blood dripped from his mouth. He pushed the visions away as he glanced at Persephone behind him and saw the streak of tears on her face. He lowered his hand and forced his thoughts to quiet.

When Tantalus fell to the ground with a bone crunching thud, he said calmly, "Pathetic excuse of a father, to feast off the flesh of your boy. You are no better than Cronos." Hades stopped, and a sinister smile spread across his face, "And you will join him." He lifted his hand and the king wasted away before their eyes, and he let out a gasp of pain, shrieking mindlessly for food and water.

Hades saw Persephone sink back in her chair, clearly frightened by the scene playing out before her. The evil king’s memories were too abhorrent and Hades felt the need to punish him quickly and decisively. Retribution for the sins of corrupt sadistic fathers. Hades stepped nearer to the prone figure at his feet and bent to his ear to whisper, “This is my punishment for you, the curse of insatiable thirst and hunger. Never again shall food or water touch your lips. Forever will you be surrounded by food and drink - almost able to grasp it - but never able to reach it.”

The king began to sob as the words echoed in his ears and he licked his dry lips. His bony hands reached to Hades robes as he pulled at them helplessly. "You cannot do this to me, I am a King! I am a King,  like you!” he cried.

Hades loomed over the man and replied with a sneer,  “And I am a God.” He ripped his robes from the already skeletal hands of the prisoner and looked to the guards, “Remove this king.” Tantalus shrieked in fear as the guard’s drug him by his arms through the door.

After the King, another man came, and then another and another. Persephone had felt pain in her heart when her mother’s name had been mentioned by the depraved and monstrously evil king. How Demeter must have suffered to know that she had fallen prey to King Tantalus’ savage trickery and she found that she could not be sorry for his punishment. There was an eloquence in the fate that her husband had dealt to him. She watched in silence as again and again Hades was faced with accounts of horrific crimes and he showed mercy to none. Each one was sentenced to a lifetime of pain in Tartarus. When the last man was dragged through the gates, Hades let out a quiet, almost imperceptible, sigh. Persephone glanced at him surreptitiously and noticed that the shadows in his face had increased and his eyes held a bleakness that frightened her. Would he not even show himself mercy? His handsome profile was set in a ruthless expression and she wondered just what had happened last night after he had left her. He looked like the cold and remote God he was, but somehow she was aware that underneath his stern demeanor, weariness eroded him. He would never allow himself the luxury of rest, yet somehow Persephone knew that all she had to do was show the slightest indication of fatigue and he would pause the proceedings. She stifled a delicate yawn behind her hand and felt his eyes on her.  He turned to the Judges. "Enough… enough for today," he said.  As the judges and servants filed from the room, Hades slumped into his chair and rubbed his chest, deep in thought. She wondered if she should just leave him there, thinking that he might get some rest in his throne room. She began to rise when he placed his hand over hers. He seemed unaware that his hand smeared her own with his blood.

“Will you dine with me?” he asked quietly, his gaze still staring straight ahead. She paused only for a moment, and then nodded her head. Of course, he knew her answer even though he was not looking in her direction. He stood, keeping Persephone's hand in his and they left the throne room. He led her up a private staircase, opening a discrete door at the top that led into an intimate, warmly lit dining area. They were high in the castle and large windows dominated each wall showing  exquisite views of the Underworld. She wondered just how many rooms this palace held as he pulled back a chair for her. He took his own chair and they sat in silence as the food was served. She shifted uncomfortably in her chair. Despite their often heated arguments, she realized that they rarely had moments of silence between them. A dark lock of hair fell against his forehead and he looked like a lost, lonely boy. What a ridiculous thought, she chided herself. Still, a little conversation may help his dark mood.

“What are the rivers below?” she asked him.

Hades turned towards her and his eyes were almost feverish in the glow of the candlelight. When he spoke, however, his voice was cool and clear.  “Acheron is the ‘River of Pain,’  and the other is the Lethe, which  is the ‘River of Forgetfulness.’ Sometimes the souls drink from the Lethe to forget the hardships they faced above ground.”

“They lose their memories?” she asked in surprise. “But what a sad choice to make.”

“Is there not a single thing that you would like to forget?” he queried.

She did not answer, instead picking through the assortment of fruits and honeycomb on the table thoughtfully as she considered his words. “Have you ever wanted to drink from the Lethe?”

He tore his eyes from her face and looked out the window - his dark hair obscuring his expression, “I woke up next to the Lethe once -- I do not remember why.” She waited for him to continue but his voice simply drifted off, his face still averted from hers as he stared towards the churning river below.

“Is something wrong?” she asked in a soft voice.

He was silent and she wondered if he had not even heard her. He turned towards her suddenly, though his eyes did not meet hers. “King Tantalus…” He paused. “You see, my father, Cronus…” he stopped again. Persephone grasped his hand and was surprised to feel it tremble slightly beneath her own.

“Tell me,” she urged.

He raised his eyes to her face and she saw the fire smoldering in them.  “That man was so much like my father, hungry for power, lascivious, and paranoid. My father, Cronus, feared one of his sons would steal his throne. I was his firstborn. He swallowed me - trapping me inside him. For years I lived in a dungeon, chained to the walls, alone. Demons in my father’s body would tear at my skin and beat me. They shattered all hope out of me. It was an endless death repeated over and over and it was my father who rejoiced in my torment. To betray your child in such a way; it is a crime for which there is no punishment that is fierce enough.”

She stroked her hand gently over his and he grasped hers tightly. "I never want to be like him," he said, the words pouring quickly almost frantically from his lips, "I see too much of my father in Zeus, who swallowed Athena and her brother, fearing they would dethrone him. Her brother is still trapped in Zeus' gullet, and it is repulsive. Everytime I see my brother I want to rip his insides open and free the prisoner inside him. I never want to be like that! I said I would never be like that. But then..,” he paused.

“But then?” she whispered.

“I see how I have trapped you here, holding you as my prisoner and I realize I am no better than my father. I was born from incest and rape. I could hear my mother’s screams from inside my prison when Poseidon and Zeus were conceived.  She was terrified of Cronus but completely under his control. He would beat her, rape her-- he cared for no one but himself and he delighted in her pain. And I was powerless to help her.”

Persephone brought her hand to his face, brushing his matted hair from his forehead. He leaned into her cool hand, closing his eyes briefly and she could feel the feverish heat of his skin against her palm.

"It was not your fault, Hades. I am sure your mother understood that. You were but a child and your father was a monster, a God that no one dared to cross. Try not to think of these things," she said, "What good will it do?"

His eyes blazed open at her words and she felt fear creep up her spine at the expression in them. "I cannot forget it. The sons are never free from the sins of the father. His blood runs through my veins. That same seed of madness in him was planted in my mother -- and I grew from that seed, like the sickening perverted fruit from an aberrant tree. You have seen it, Persephone. You saw it on Olympus. The God's, they take what they want - not caring who they hurt. Just as I have done. Their subjects are playthings for their amusement. Zeus changes lovers as often as a man changes his clothes. He rapes and he torments and he will never be checked.”

“You are not your father, Hades,” she said in a quiet voice.

He smiled at her mirthlessly. “You do not know that, Persephone. You fear me. I have seen how you look at me; I see how you look at me now.”

“Well,” she said lightly, “do not let it go to your head. I am afraid of everything.” He gave her a look and she was pleased to see that a small smile touched his lips. “What of your mother, Hades?” she asked softly.She wished she had not said the words when she saw the pain in his eyes.

“Rhea,” he breathed. “My name was ‘Aidoneus’ then. During those grueling ten years of the Titan Wars, I was given a ‘God killing’ sword by the Cyclops, along with a helmet of invisibility. A twin sword was gifted to Zeus. The Cyclops had chosen us to be the only two God’s that could call upon the two deadly blades. We were given these with the knowledge that they were to be kept safe and secret. These are the only two weapons that can destroy a God.” He took a sip of his wine and his hands trembled. “After the Olympians defeated the Titans and the war was over – Cronus was thrown into Tartarus. I saw my opportunity to destroy the man who had tormented me and my brother. I snuck down to Tartarus and drew out the sword - I fought Cronus with all my might, lifting the weapon to deliver the fatal blow, but when I lowered it to strike him, my mother threw herself in front of the blade.” Persephone gasped in horror but Hades did not seem to notice, locked in painful memories long repressed.

"I carried her body outside the gates of Tartarus,” he continued. “I asked her why - why did she do it? She told me she did not want to see me become a murderer like my father. It was too late for that. She laid in my arms, dying. Her blood seeped into the ground, and a pomegranate tree blossomed over us, red like her blood. Zeus and Poseidon found us. We helplessly watched her eternal existence fade away into the ether. To be immortal and experience this helplessness was insufferable - it was an emotion none of us had ever felt before, so... powerless. They were furious at what I had done. My punishment was to rule over the dead, never see the sunlight or walk amongst the living -- for eternity. They held me down and forced me to eat the fruit of the tree that had grown from our mother’s blood. They chanted a curse towards the heavens, ‘Aidoneus, you shall be known henceforth as Hades, the ‘Unseen’. Never to be spoken of above ground, to be written out of history and so feared on earth that men dare not utter your name. Destroyer of life, you have become king of death.’ My fate was sealed, and I was once again, a prisoner. I, their wicked brother, must judge the wicked men and to remember every day my place in this wretched world. They slipped the rubied signet ring on my finger and concocted a story about us drawing lots to divide up the kingdoms – Never could anyone ever know that there is a weapon that can destroy a God."

Persephone felt herself flush with anger at the injustice of his brothers. Instead of comforting their brother, they did their best to push him over the edge of reason, blaming him for their mother’s death. Instead of compassion, all they offered was more pain. Before she could think better of it, she rose from her chair and knelt before him, taking his face into her hands, turning him gently towards her.

“You… you punish yourself… They had no right to deal such a punishment to you. They, who practice cruelty like it is a skill to be honed. Your mother had a choice, Hades. Just as we all do. You are still punishing yourself and she would not want that. She gave her life so that you could be free from the chains of your father. With his blood on your hands you would be tied to him for eternity. You sit on your throne dealing out judgement but it is really yourself you are sentencing day after day. Stop following protocol and start breaking the rules. Do not let your brothers dictate the course of your life.”

He shook his head. “My damnation stains me, Persephone, with you...with all of you. A crimson stain, a cursed badge I forever have to wear. My history is written in your world - it will always paint me as a monster until I become the very thing I have been pictured to be.”

She gave a grumble of protest at the stubborn set of his jaw and then she did the only thing she could think to do to break him from his painful confessions. She brushed her lips quickly over his. It was only the slightest touch and she pulled back before he could even react. She stood up and then turned around to look at him shyly, but her voice was pragmatic.

“I think you should show me the different realms tomorrow. Take a break from your duties.” She paused and re-phrased her sentence. “Or, perhaps have a different kind of workday by showing your queen around the Underworld. We can start with the Asphodel and then head to Elysium.”

“Adopting me to your menergie of injured creatures? I am not one of your helpless animals,” he countered.

“I do not think anyone would call you helpless,” she replied lightly. “Prove you are not a lone wolf by accompanying me tomorrow.”

“I could warn you about the dangers of letting a wolf loose with sheep,” he replied with shadowed eyes.

“Will you come?” she insisted again, ignoring how her pulse quickened at his warning.

“How could I resist the temptation?” he murmured, and she could not tell if he was being derisive or earnest, and which was worse.

She held out her hand, “You need to rest. ” He placed his large hand in hers and stood, towering over her and yet she felt strangely protective of this enigmatic, powerful God. She pulled at him insistently and to her surprise he complied, following her lead.

They walked in silence, hand in hand, back to her room. Step by step, dark hunger seized his mind. He should stop and insist that he return to his own rooms. This was madness, barely controlled desire...lust; he tried to push the sensations away, but sweat began to pool on his forehead and he felt the maddening pulse of arousal at the touch of her small hand in his. He had to leave, but when she opened the door to her room and willingly allowed him to enter, the temptation was too overwhelming to resist.

She turned back smiling at him, “What do you think?” she asked with an earnest expression on her beautiful face. She had no idea the derangement that was closing in on him. His wife would not look at him with such trust if she knew the raging erection he concealed beneath his robes.

A wolf with a lamb, he thought with disgust, remembering Aphrodite’s warning. And how he wanted to devour her. He forced himself to look around her room and saw the beautiful garden she had created and it seemed a stark contrast to his tormented, twisted and depraved thoughts.

He pulled his hand gently from hers on the pretense of inspecting her creations. He needed distance between them, so he moved to the fireplace scrutinizing the vibrant pink and violet flowers that wrapped around the hearth. “Persephone, these are lovely.” He turned to see his wife had lit a few candles, proud to show off her work.

She beamed at him and grabbing a handful of cherry blossoms, she came closer to him once more and said with a laugh, “Yes, it is so much better.”

He stared at the curve of her lips and then turned away from her, “I should leave.”

“Oh no, wait,” she exclaimed, “I made something for you.”

“What?” he asked harshly, wincing inwardly at the rude tone. He watched as she took a bowl from near her bed and threw the cherry blossoms into the mixture as she ground them carefully and a soothing aroma filled the air.

“For your wound,” she replied. “I know I cannot heal it, but it may help a little.” She was pushing him towards the chaise and like a helpless fool he let her steer him when he should be fleeing from her.

“You really cannot help yourself, can you?” he asked as she settled him carefully against the cushions. Cerberus appeared suddenly in the doorway and jumped onto the chaise, curling against his side with a contented sigh. “You would try to help a hydra if you could.”

She gave the dog a pet on the closest head. “Oh surely you are not comparing yourself to a hydra, your majesty.” She had pulled his robes from his chest, and he knew he should stop her. Her touch was only making him ache more fiercely, causing the wound in his chest to trickle blood. But it felt so good to feel her cool fingers on his body. It was a testament to her innocence that she did not notice the portion of the robes over his groin, and then he frowned. But she was not innocent, he remembered as he recalled the lover in her memories. His attention reverted back to her as she gave a small gasp and her eyes widened in shock at the state of the wound. It was a raw, bloody mess, and instead of healing had only grown in size since the arrow had pierced his chest.

“It is horrible, isn’t it? Perhaps you would prefer the hydra?” he inquired politely.

He watched as she tried to school her expression into calm once more as she replied, “Oh, I do not know, the hydra may give me less trouble.” She stepped away and went to the pool of water in her room and brought a bowl back when she began to gently clean his chest, his stomach, his arms. Did he imagine it or did her fingers linger over his skin?  He closed his eyes and let the sublime sensation of her cool, small hands wash over him. He felt feverish and chilled at the same time and her touch seemed to both soothe and torment him. The sweet scent of crushed petals filled the air as she applied the paste over his gaping flesh, and though the pain did not abate, the sensation was still amazing.

He glanced over her bent head and his eyes drifted to the bed. A lock of long, dark hair tickled his stomach and he had to suck in his breath to keep from inhaling her scent. Lust was crawling into his brain like an insidious worm, whispering to him to “take her,” to wipe the other man from her mind until only he was in her thoughts; He wanted to consume her as she consumed him. He wanted her to burn with want, to know the pain that pulled at him until he was senseless with need, no better than a rutting animal. Memories and dreams flashed through his mind, hers mingled with his own until they blurred seamlessly and he did not know the difference between fantasy and truth. The image of his cock deep in her body, parting the soft, pink folds, her mouth taking him deep, his tongue shoved deep in her wet, dripping body. All of the images began to whirl together until he grasped his head, smearing blood with his sweat. “Stop,” he whispered.

She glanced up at him, her eyes luminous and trusting in the candlelight. “I am sorry, did I hurt you? I am almost finished.” She dipped a clean eucalyptus leaf into the bowl. “May I continue?” she asked.

He paused, knowing he should stop her and run from the room like the coward he was, but instead he nodded his head. Or perhaps he was a coward to stay, to let her stroke her hands over his injury while his cock pulsed like a heartbeat in his groin. He was slowly losing his mind. He pressed one hand against the wall and it brushed the soft, pink peonies that had spread across it. Soft and pink, like when she had touched herself. His fragmented mind tried to grasp the memory but it slipped away from him, blurring into the others. But that had not been her, had it? He crushed one of the soft petals in his hands and he closed his eyes against the dizziness.

The flower lay broken in his hand.  He destroyed everything he touched, she would leave him, he thought with panic. Force her to eat the seeds. Trick her into staying in this hell. She will leave you -- the way everyone has. Fuck her, until your seed runs downs her legs, fuck her so deeply that a part of you will grow in her womb and she will be tied to you for eternity. It would be so easy, so easy to push your cock into her warm, wet welcoming entrance and she would be helpless to resist. He shook his head against the thought, never. Never. She looked at him with a curious expression on her face and he wondered vaguely if he had said it aloud. He wanted to tell her to run from him, warn her, but he could not find his voice. Her face was swimming before him as  blackness began to dance in front of his vision and he pushed away from her trying to stand up. He felt her hands grabbing for him as he felt himself falling to the ground and then… blissful blackness.

Persephone shook him frantically as Cerberus sniffed at his face with a quiet whine. “Hades, Hades.”

She stared down at his pale face and panic filled her. With the shadows under his eyes and the dark crescent of his eyelashes against his snow-white skin, he looked dead. Far away from the world and from her. But he was a God and Gods could not die. Who knew what this curse could do. A trickle of blood escaped from beneath the careful bandage she had constructed over his chest. It moved slowly down his chest, stark crimson against the paleness of his skin. A God could not die, she repeated to herself like a mantra. But then what was wrong with him? She ran to the pool again and gathered water.  She dipped a cloth into the water and began to press it against his flushed skin and her heart was beating like a drum.

“Please wake up,” she whispered. Please.”

She bent and pressed her lips to his and lay against him, the moments passing as he lay still beneath her, his heartbeat the only sign of life. Would the light never be allowed to touch him, this isolated King of Darkness? How long he had suffered believing he was a murderer when he held morals so strong. Her heart broke for him, for the things he had seen, and the deeds he had been forced to perform. The smallest change in the rhythm of his heartbeat alerted her and she pulled back to see his eyelashes flutter, her own pulse beginning to accelerate with relief. Cerberus moved closer, the three heads licking his face with renewed vigor. Hades gave him a gentle push and sat up while Persephone moved back on her heels.

“What happened?” he asked.

“You fell, collapsed actually,” she said trying to sound matter of fact, when all she wanted to do was throw herself into his arms with relief. He stared at her and then lifted a hand to her face and she was surprised when she felt the dampness against her cheeks.

“Were those for me?” he asked, an expression crossing his face that she could not fathom.

She wiped impatiently at her face. “I was worried when you fell, almost crushing poor Cerberus.” She indicated the dog who was quite intact and happily wagging his tail. Hades gave him a skeptical look. His dark eyes looked feverish still, and she moved closer to him. “What is wrong?” she repeated for the second time that night.

He raised his eyes slowly to look into her own. “It is worse at night,” he said, gesturing towards his wound. “When you touch me… and when you do not touch me. It is getting harder.”

She looked away from him and bit her lip. “I am sorry. Is there anything I can do to help? I can leave, you can spend the night here so you can rest.”

He laughed mirthlessly, running his hand through his hair, smearing the blood on his face. “It does not matter where I am, Persephone. You haunt me. I do not rest, even when I sleep -- I see you. The thought of you… there is no escape for me. It was… overwhelming. It is overwhelming now.” Something flared behind his eyes and she felt fear pricken her skin.

“Would it not be easier if I left here? Left your palace?” she asked in a small voice. “Maybe seeing me makes it--”

His hand shot out and grasped hers painfully and his face was twisted in rage. “If you think to leave me I will find you and I promise you, you will not like the consequences.”

She jerked her hand angrily but he did not let her go, his breathing rapid and his glazed eyes blazing into hers. She gave another tug and this time he released her. “Do not threaten me! I am not your enemy, Hades.”

“Sometimes I wonder,” he said, keeping his burning eyes focused on her face.

She began to rise when his hand caught her wrist. “Please do not go,” he said quietly. “I am sorry. Stay with me. Just lie with me. Help me keep the demons at rest, I am tired of fighting them.”

She was not sure how long they stayed that way, his hand a shackle around her wrist as she stared down at him, on her knees. Was it an imprisonment though? She could break the easy grasp he had around her. But maybe she did not want to, maybe she wanted to offer him what small comfort she could.

“All right,” she whispered.

Without further discussion he pulled her to him and she toppled to the floor. He rose above her staring down at her and she caught her breath, but then he carefully turned her on her side as he curled his larger body around hers. They lay on the plush rug before the fire and she could feel something wet soaking into her gown, blood or sweat, probably both, and lower down her body, his large erection pressing into her back. A shiver went down her spine, whether of longing or fear she did not know. Her emotions were too confused and too disordered; she could not begin to analyze them. She felt his hand travel down her arm and graze her breast and she gave a small jump.

“Tell me you love me,” his dark voice breathed into her ear. She tensed, wondering if she had heard him correctly.

“What?” she asked, her voice a mere thread.

“Tell me, Persephone, that you love me.”

She caught her breath and felt tears fill her eyes. She could not love, she was incapable of it. “It would be a lie,” she whispered.

“Then lie to me. Tell me the sweetest lie your lips can conjure. You can live with a lie and I cannot live without it. Lie to me and it will be better than any truth.” She said nothing as she felt his hand on her face, tracing the tears. “Please,” he said, biting the lobe of her ear. His hand moved to her breast and he touched it gently, tracing her nipple through the soft material. And she wanted him to stop, was desperate for him to stop, afraid of the sensations that were rising in her.

“I love you.” The moment the words left her lips she wished she could take them back. They felt wrong on her tongue, a mockery of the declaration, and she had felt him catch his breath, but in pain or pleasure she did not know. She tried to turn to look at him but he forced her back down as he pressed kisses to the side of her face and she wondered at the dampness on his skin. “I am sorry,” she said.

She felt him pause above her and closed her eyes tightly as tears threatened to fall again. She looked up at him finally, and his dark gaze shone oddly in the firelight.

“Oh, Persephone,” he whispered, “if only you could lie with your eyes.” He stood then and she heard him leave the room. And as she remembered the dampness on his face and the sheen in his eyes, she realized that it had been tears that had shone in their depths.