Chapter 19 - The Transit and The Truth

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The transit had finally arrived and Persephone lay in bed, shivering beneath the blankets. She had lain awake all night remembering the look of betrayal in Hades’ eyes. Would he forgive her? Would the potion be enough to keep him safe? Hypnos had seemed gleeful at the thought of the King slumbering and Hades would be locked deeply in his kingdom. She did not trust the God of Sleep anymore than she did Zeus, but there simply had been no other choice. Tartarus was not an option. She pulled herself reluctantly from the bed. Shadows stood out darkly beneath her eyes and she turned impatiently from the mirror, dressing hurriedly. There was much to be done and she had to check on Hades before beginning her day. Leaving Olive tucked in her bed she made her way down the hallway, her footsteps soft on the stone floors. Persephone cracked open the door to her husband's room and she saw his shadowed body thrashing against the sheet.

She moved deeper into the room, disturbed at the violent movements he made in the bed. Surely the poppies were strong enough that he should have been in a deep slumber? His head tossed from one side of the pillow to the other, his black hair matted against his head. She bent down to wipe the sweat from his brow and pulled her hand back quickly with a gasp. His skin burned as if he was on fire. The sheet was thrown to the ground, and his robes were loose, revealing the veins running up his neck and lower jawline that were purple, tinged with black along the edges. She watched his chest rise and fall quickly with gasping breaths as if he were a mortal with a fever. She had seen that rapid breathing before, always followed with the inevitable conclusion of death. Was it the curse he was fighting or the stupor of the poppies? What if she had made the draught wrong and poisoned him? She bit her lip anxiously and with a wave of her hand she pulled out a compress from the air composed of lavender and feverfew, gently patting his forehead. His eyes fluttered and she noticed the color looked different, darker than his usual tone. Taking a candle she bent down, pulling the eyelid apart, to inspect his eye. Red and black veins made their way into the center, obscuring the color of his dark iris and she leaned closer. Suddenly his eye flashed purple and looked straight at her before rolling back into his head. She jumped back almost screaming. He had known she was there, she thought, her heart beating wildly in her chest. How was he even partially consciousness? She hurriedly uncorked a vial of elixir she had brought with her and poured more draught down his throat. At this rate she would run out of the potion before evening. The curse appeared to be advancing rapidly. How was he strong enough to fight against Hypnos’ most powerful poppies? She may need to return to Hypnos, but she was afraid if she entered his somniferouscave again she would not leave a second time. She would join that hidden figure that slept deeply in its depths. She watched him for several minutes and breathed a sigh of relief as his body quieted. Reluctantly she turned to leave, knowing that she must complete his tasks to alleviate as many questions about his absence as possible.

The list in the throne room was long and Persephone fought down a wave of impatience. She would need to check on Hades periodically to ensure he was dosed with appropriate elixir, but how could she do that if she was locked in this room all day? One of the Judges approached her with a frown on his ancient face and she could not be bothered to make the effort to figure out which one it was.

“Where is Hades?” he queried.

“The King wished me to continue greeting the souls today. He has other tasks to attend to. Do you take issue with his judgement?” The Judge opened his mouth and Persephone continued quietly, “Pray be seated. I have no wish to delay the proceedings with needless questions.”  His ancient face took on a deep expression of disapproval and he turned on his heel making his way back to his compatriots, their incensed whispers reaching her ears but she simply did not care. She raised her voice, twisting the ring on her finger. “Bring in the children.”

The hours passed as she gently ushered the souls into their next life, taking the time to comfort those who needed comfort, to sort out the souls who needed special consideration -- but all the time in the back of her mind -- was Hades. Was he sleeping still, locked in the deep embrace of Hypnos’ willing arms? She will destroy you. But surely the poppies would offer him far better protection than being locked in Tartarus.

Part of her had known that if he had entered into that black Kingdom, he would never emerge again. She forced her mind away from her hopefully slumbering husband, seeing that they were halfway down the list and she prepared herself for the next wave of souls.

When she finally left the throne room, her head was pounding. She hurried through the palace and when she reached the doors to Hades’ room, she paused, her pulse racing as she saw the door was ajar. Had someone entered his room? Stepping closer slowly she heard the quiet voice of a woman and she rushed through the doors and then her heart truly stopped. Hades was alone in the room just where she had left him, but he was awake and staring down at his bed. He was scratching at his heart and his clothing was torn, his hair in wild disarray. Deep bloody gashes were clawed over his chest as if he was slowly trying to reach inside his body to rip out his heart and he stood unnaturally still. Movement drew her eye and she realized that she was wrong, he was not alone in this room. There were shadows moving in his bed, writhing in the sheets and she heard a deep groan of pleasure, realizing with a gasp what those shadows were doing. The door closed behind her and the lock clicked loudly in the quiet. Her husband was watching a shadowed couple having sex on his bed, her husband that she had tricked. Her husband who had warned her of his impending madness -- and she was locked in a room with him.

He looked over at her finally and his eyes glowed in the darkness. This was not her husband she thought as she stared at his red gleaming eyes. There was no trace of recognition in his eyes and she felt a tremble travel through her.  She did not know this God.

“How easily the lamb walks into the wolf’s den,” he whispered, finally, his voice vibrating with anger. She turned to grasp the handle to the door, but he lifted a hand and pulled her body across the room towards him. She let out a frantic cry, grasping desperately for the door but the force was too strong and she stumbled towards him. He grasped her painfully and pushed her down into a chair. He stared down at her and then bent to rub his hands through her hair, pulling the strands tightly against her scalp. His breathing was heavy against her face, “Oh, I know you. My little beguiler, my wife ‘in name only’.” His fingers pressed against her jaw.

“You are hurting me!” she cried.

“We would not want that, now would we?” He reached down to his chest and rubbed the blood against her lips and she shuddered as it smeared across her face. “I would not want you to have to bleed, like how you bled when your lover fucked you. When he took what belonged to me.”

“Stop! Stop it!” she said, rage rising in her own mind. She tasted the metallic taste of his blood and she tried to grasp his hand but he grabbed her wrists tightly and she felt the press of his fingertips against her bones. “How did you…”

“How did I what? Wake up?” His laugh was low and deep. “Hypnos says hello. He woke me after I nearly strangled the life out of him.” He pressed his face closer to hers. “You should have made the draught stronger if you wished to lock away a King.”

“Hades,” she said softly, “let me get Charon, maybe he can help us.”

The look he gave her was so filled with scorn it made her gasp. “You think to imprison me. You think I would let you ever have such power over me again. You had one chance and you failed. And when I awoke I could see so much clearer. I can see you so much better now wife.”

She could hear the sounds of the entwined shadows breathing heavily, the sounds of their bodies joining as the larger shadow thrust over and over, and her face burned as the woman let out a deep moan of ecstasy. She pushed against him, trying to avert her gaze from the bed but he shoved her back down, grasping her head between his hands.

“You are such a coward,” he hissed at her. “You are as afraid to look at sex as you are to have it.” He turned her head forcing her to stare at the bed. Her eyes widened as she saw the long dark hair of the woman spread against the pillow and recognized the strong profile of the man. It was an apparition of them! Hades sneered in her ear, “Visions of what might have been. I told you, time is broken here. Does it make you sick to think in another life you fucked me?”

“I do not want to watch!” she cried. “This is disgusting!”

“I disgust you,” he spat at her.

“I did not say that, I said--,” but he had moved away from her, watching intently as the shadowed Persephone mounted her husband.

She closed her eyes, ashamed and aroused at the sight of her fictional being pleasuring Hades. The scent of the poppies made the air heavy and she felt her eyes drift. She had to get out of this room, for her sake and for his. He was enraged by her, consumed by her and it was unsafe for them both.

Hades had warned her, but she had ignored him and now his worst fear had come to pass. There was no trace of her husband in this man’s eyes, only madness lurked in their depths. Her eyes had closed again and this time when they opened she saw Hades lean body standing before her, his heavy erection evident beneath his robes. He pulled her up, pressing her tightly against him.

“Do you know what I want to do to you - to my ‘wife in name only’? I want to water you with my mouth, plant my seed in your garden and watch it grow. I want to fuck you so hard this curse pours out of me and into you. Until you are the one begging for me on your knees like a pathetic bitch.”

“Stop it!” she cried, standing unsteadily from the chair. “Do not speak to me like that. This is not you, Hades. Do not do this.” Her voice was slurred and she tried to move away from him but her limbs were heavy as she fell against him and his fingers dug into her flesh.

He laughed into her ear. “Or what, you will drug me?” He bent low jeering in her face. “You have drugged me with flowers, and you have drugged me with love. What will happen when you fall asleep my enticing wife?” He forced her face up and pressed his lips against hers, kissing her roughly and she made a sound of pain against his mouth and she felt him swallow it greedily. It was too familiar, this forceful embrace, and she kicked at him but it only incensed him more. She heard her clothes rip as his hands began to tear at her and he gave a punishing bite against her lower lip, pulling so hard she feared it may burst between his teeth. Then he threw her down onto the bed as she tried to cover her exposed breasts.

“You still try to hide yourself from me. I am very sick of your maidenly modesty.” He began to unfasten his toga. “I do not need to watch a vision when I can have you here and now. Spread your legs like you did for your lover and let us continue where we left off.”

She sprung up from the bed and slapped him hard across the face, drawing blood from his lip but he did not even pause. As he came nearer to her she drew back her fist and punched him as hard as she could while delivering a swift kick to his groin. He fell to his knees and she hoped he would stay there.

“Hades, stop,” she said again. “Stop this, this is not you!”

He stood up from the floor and slowly put a hand to his face, blood dripping from his nose. He looked down at his fingers then drew them into his mouth, his tongue licking the blood from his skin, smiling at her. Wind whipped through the room and his eyes glowed red as the symbol of Pluto appeared on his forehead, glowing white against his pale skin.“If a lamb strikes a wolf she better kill him.” His voice was low and demonic, echoing against the walls as he stepped closer and closer to her. “You and I have crossed the threshold. You make me weak and I detest weakness. I detest you. I cannot have something around that makes me so... infirm. You are the source of all my suffering and if I do not destroy you, you will certainly destroy me.”

The Fates’ voices echoed in her mind as he wrapped his fingers around her neck and they tightened briefly, her breath catching before he lifted his hand. She was slammed onto the bed and she gave a helpless cry as she was unable to shift against an invisible, immovable force. He stood over her, menacing and evil and so much like the figure from her nightmares. She felt herself spiraling, dreams converging with reality until she wanted to scream out in anguish. But the nightmare from her dreams was not him, just as this man who stood over her was not her husband. The wind rippled through her hair and clothes and she saw the fire flare in his eyes and it seemed to crackle in the air. Flames began spreading up the curtains of the canopy and the heat was painfully close to her flesh. Tears filled her eyes as the fear and anger slipped away and she saw the fire reflected in the darkness of his eyes. She had brought this powerful God to his knees, this good man who loved children, who mourned his mother and was gentle with animals. What had he become because of her? She pulled wildly at the invisible chains restricting her, and he watched out of hooded eyes. She gave up with a vicious curse, the chains immovable against her, and she looked into the mad King’s eyes.

“Hades, do not make me hate you.”

He climbed onto the bed towering over her and grasped her legs in his hands spreading them apart, “You have always hated me. Now I will make you love me.”

She moved her fingers and reached into the belt of her dress, feeling the cool handle of the blade he had given her last night. Opening her palm, a small plant grew from the center, black berries hanging from the green leaves, the belladonna concealing the Acheron dagger that she clasped tightly in her hand. She saw his eyes flash to the plant and she knew that he had seen the dagger hidden inside the delicate leaves.

“You fucking bitch,” he growled. He made to reach for the dagger when she shot vine after vine from her fingertips, the strongest, thickest vines she could grow. He tore one branch off and another took its place, then another as if it were the Hydra, and she felt his hold on her loosen. She sat up from the bed and hurled her body towards him and together they toppled on the bed as he struggled to remove the dagger from her hand. Suddenly he gasped and grabbed his side, looking down to see a twisting vine pushing the dagger through his flesh, breaking the skin. He looked at her hand and saw that it now held only the plant, the blade missing from beneath its leaves.

He laughed. “Clever girl. I will make a queen of you yet.” She stared at him, horrified at the smile on his face, aghast at the blade that was held against his pale skin by thickened green vines. Suddenly a strong voice invaded her mind. “You don’t have the courage wife.”

“Forgive me, Hades,” she whispered, and she twisted her hand and the vine pushed the dagger deep inside him -- up to the hilt. His back arched and twisted as he let out a scream.

His eyes opened suddenly, pain and panic glazing his vision, and in his black gaze she saw her husband staring back at her. He was fighting against the demon inside of him, struggling to rise to the surface, but the red was already reclaiming his eyes.

“Persephone…run.” He raised his hands and blasted the doors open, and she hesitated, but his eyes were already fully red and she jumped from the bed, running away from him. Do not look back. She heard his voice in her mind and she did not know if it was real or just  another memory, echoes of dreams that would always haunt her. She swept past her room and did not stop running, out, out, out of the gates of Hell.

She rushed from the castle and shook her head, clearing the tears from her eyes as she paused before the gates of the Underworld. They were inexplicably open. Every step she took from him was a painful pull against her heart and her stubborn feet paused before the threshold. Persephone. She shivered at the longing of the whisper in the wind. Gold glittered in the breeze and she remembered the stream of gold she had watched from her window at her mother’s temple. If she left him would he die?

“Hades,” she whispered, closing her eyes, the wind pulling at her hair, pulling her back towards him. Low dark laughter bellowed behind, cursing her name as she forced herself past the gates. She reached the cliff that Orephus had climbed and began to make her way to the top. Up the rugged rocks she sped, as fast as she could and she could hear movement behind but she dared not look back. “Do not look back.” Orpheus had not heeded his warning -- but she would! The sky grew closer and closer as she climbed up the treacherous mountain towards the light. She reached the very precipice and then froze.The landscape was blanketed in thick snow, the trees barren and the flowers dead beneath the heavy white blanket. She took a step out of the cavernous darkness towards her freedom in the sun. A hand reached out and grabbed her pulling her back into darkness.

Hades pulled her tightly to his chest, cradling her in his arms as blood seeped into her gown. “Forgive me!” he cried.

She jerked away from his grip, fear and shock making her step back from him. “Let go of me!” She stumbled away from him and her arm was flung out of the cave, the signet ring on her finger glaring brilliantly in the rays of sunlight.

He grasped her arm quickly and pulled her back into the shadows and she looked up at him with wide, horrified eyes. “I am sorry, I forgot that I was still wearing your ring!” she gasped in fear. He looked down at her and she saw the love reflected in his gaze.

He grabbed her hand, gently pulling the ring off her finger, placing it back onto his own. “Say nothing, Persephone. They are coming.” She mouthed no, trying to grasp the ring from him but he kept his hands in hers as a painful sound filled the air and the sky turned an eerie shade of green and gold. Persephone pressed her body against Hades as shivers began to wrack her. His hands ran through her hair and she felt his fingers trace the bruises on her lips. “Forgive me,” he whispered again.

Their bodies were separated as six armed guards thudded down from the skies and Persephone fell to the ground as Hades was shoved against the wall. She looked around and she closed her eyes tightly. They were Ares’ soldiers. The Earth shuddered again and one last figure flew down from the sky and thudded to the ground. She knew who would stand before her and when she opened her eyes she saw he was there. Ares had found them.

His blond hair escaped his metal helmet and his blue eyes were gleeful in his beautiful face. He circled Persephone on the ground and then turned to Hades; his face twisted as he looked at the God of Death.

“What do we have here? A lover’s tiff? My father explained the rules to you, Hades. Your seal is never permitted above ground. Take him!”

The guards grabbed Hades’ hands, pinning them behind his back and Ares wrapped his fingers tightly around Persephone’s arm. She pushed against him but he slapped her so hard that her head hit the wall and her vision blurred. She heard Hades snarl but then Ares pulled her roughly to her feet.

“I could take you to Mount Olympus,” he said with a smile, “and deal your judgement there. But I think it fitting to return the little couple to their land of bliss, so I can rip the flesh from your bones in your own Kingdom.” He approached Hades and kicked him with the sharp edge of his boot. “Get up, King,” he sneered. “Your subjects await.”

The guards hauled Hades to his feet and Ares kept his hand painfully tight around Persephone as they descended down the steep cliff she had just climbed. She prayed that the gates would be closed but they remained opened and they entered the Underworld as easily as she had left it. She glanced quickly at Hades but his head was bowed, his dark hair obscuring his face. Why had he not closed the gates? She bit back a frustrated fearful cry as they entered the palace, wanting to shout a warning to any of the subjects who remained in the castle. The guards footsteps echoed loudly in the hall, which was mercifully empty. No sign of any life was present in the darkened palace.  When they burst into the throne room, the guards threw Hades roughly to the ground and he lay on his side, his face pale as he looked up at Ares. The effects of the drugs, the curse and the transit had weakened him and Persephone cursed herself. Ares pushed her to the ground, dismissing her as inconsequential and then he slowly approached Hades. Taking his sword he cut the back of Hades’ toga, ripping it from his body. He walked around Hades sizing him up,  his eyes gleaming as he noticed the arrow wound and claw marks. Blood dripped down Hades’ arm and the black veins now ran completely up his neck spreading to his lower face.

“What are we hiding?” he laughed. “You are wounded -- and badly.” Hades said nothing, watching Ares passively. “Chain him!” Ares cried, flinging his hair back. The guards rushed forward and Persephone stood too, attempting to race towards Hades, but Ares grabbed her and pulled her tightly against his body, pressing his erection against her back. “I will deal with you later.”

Ares pushed her away again as he unstrapped a golden whip from his belt. “This came wrapped around you when Cronus vomited you up.” He ran his fingers over the tawny thong, smiling wickedly, his teeth gleaming in the shadows. “I am  going to enjoy beating the man who steals from me.”

“Let Persephone leave the room,” Hades yelled, “She should not have to watch.”

Ares pulled her again from the ground, eyeing the ripped front of her gown, “She is not going anywhere,” he snarled.  “I think she should watch as I tear the flesh from your bones. This traitor is what you prefer to me? You let him fuck you, I can see it on your face. You are a whore.”

She pushed away, turning to look at her husband. “Hades,” she whispered, reaching her hand towards him.

Ares gave a swift angry inhale, then lifted the whip cracking it hard on Hades’ back. Hades pushed his face into the stone, taking the first blow in stride. Ares snapped his fingers dousing the strap in fire and raised it again, crashing it as hard as he could on the God’s back. Hades let out an anguished but reluctant scream that sounded more like a mortal man than a God, and Ares relished in it.

The scream broke Persephone’s heart and she cried out as the blood spurted from his back, arcing across the room to splatter against the wall. The old scars were pulled open and she remembered how Eurynomos had carved out his flesh. No one had ever protected him and she would not let this honorable man fall at Ares’ knees, -- not for her.

She rushed forward and forced herself to grab Ares’ arm before it could descend again, “Stop this!” she cried. “This was not his fault. He broke no rules! It was me. I was the one wearing the ring when I went above ground. Punish me, not him!” She turned to her husband who lay passive on the floor and she screamed at him, “Hades, stop punishing yourself and start breaking the rules! You do not deserve this!”

Ares sneered at her. “How touching, the little wife protecting her husband.” He lifted his arm higher this time and the whip began to descend but she lifted her palms and vines wrapped around the whip, halting its descent.

She stepped closer to Ares and forced him to look at her. “Your anger is with me,” she said quietly. “I am the one you want to punish. Is it not my blood you want flowing at your feet? I betrayed you, did I not? Leave him alone.” Her voice was persuasive and she poured every ounce of magic she had into it. “Punish me.”

She could see the blood lust and hatred in Ares’ sky blue eyes and he stepped closer to her. “What will you give me if I do?”

Hades struggled against the chains and finally she could see anger on his face. “Persephone, stop!” he cried desperately.

“Anything,” she said, “Everything. Just leave him alone.”

Ares dropped the whip and turned Persephone around, ripping the back of her dress. Two men grabbed her arms dragging her to a rock, chaining her hands to the stone. Hades looked over to his wife and saw fear flash in her eyes, but underneath was something he had not dared to dream.

“Hades...I...” she said with longing.

Just as Ares lifted the whip, Hades tilted his wrist waving his fingers. Time slowed down almost to a stop. Persephone felt a lightness fill her and she watched in shock as they both flew out of their bodies and were standing in the center of the throne room, bathed in gold. She glanced at Ares and the whip moving slowly through the air towards their bodies, still tied to the stones. She saw the chained Hades on the stone with the bleeding, raw back, and then looked at the golden, smiling Hades who stood before her. Her hands were spun from millions of golden threads and their bodies glittered in gold as she lifted a shining hand, touching his face. He looked pure and clean and a smile curved his mouth that reached his dark eyes. He was beautiful and looked like everything she had ever wanted wrapped in one perfectly flawed package.

“What is this?” her voice sounded distant and seemed to echo loudly in the room while being only a whisper in her mind. “How is this possible? Are we dead?”

He  shook his head. “These are our spirits, Persephone. Our bodies lay still on the rocks, but I released our souls to allow them to commune. Your spirit has something it wishes to tell mine.” He looked at her smiling, his voice reverberating against her. He lifted his hand to her face and leaned close to her, seeing the confusion on her face. “You are bearing your soul to me,” he said with a beautiful smile.

Everything around them moved in slow motion except them, and the fear and the pain disappeared until there was only him. Only her. Only Hades and Persephone covered in gold. He took her hand and placed it against his chest that was covered in smooth, healthy flesh. His wound had vanished and she rubbed her fingers in wonder against his warm skin.

“Why did you take my punishment, Persephone?” he gently asked.

“I… I do not know,” she said helplessly.

“Do you not?” he again queried.

“I could not let him hurt you. I could not bear it! I am sorry Hades, so sorry for bringing you to this point.” A golden tear travelled down her face and he bent to kiss it away. She watched in shock as he pressed his palm against hers and their threads began to intertwine, weaving seamlessly until she felt him inside of her, until she was part of him, their consciousness so close she could not seperate where she ended and he began. Echos of his thoughts began to play in her mind. It was as if he knew his penalty would bring her barriers down and she felt every moment that had led to this, a carefully plotted game of chess that had led her to her soul’s desire. In this glittering form, as their threads bled into each other, she knew the truth; she had found her soul’s mate.

Hades leaned forward to kiss her, his lips soft against hers. As a warmth filled her from the inside, she suddenly remembered the golden figures that she had seen, embracing in this room -- exactly where they stood now. She felt his love and she kissed him back, pouring everything she had never said into the touch of her lips. Her heart began to pound and she looked down to see it was illuminated in her golden chest, a crimson glow with a small thread of darkness in its beating center.  Hades lifted his hand to place it over the wound and she grabbed it, suddenly frightened.

“This is where my darkness seeps in. I have tried so hard to hide it, even from myself.”

He whispered, “I do not fear the dark. Share your darkness with me as I have shared mine with you.” He took his hand and placed it over the wound in her chest.

The mark began to flutter and vibrate and shone with a brilliant light as memories flooded his mind’s eye. He looked into her past and saw Persephone make her way to the river to wait for his letter, instructing what time they would meet. She was smiling, Olive trotting next to her and she bent down to rub his soft fur as they walked to her destiny. What if he was displeased when he actually met her? What if he changed his mind? She forced her feet forward, anxious to meet this man who occupied her thoughts and dreams, desperate to meet the man she loved. When she arrived, a man with tawny hair was standing by the water holding the letter, and he rose.

The man, no a God she realized with a shock, turned from the shadows holding the letter. It was Ares and his face was beautiful in the dappled sunlight.

“I could not wait for you any longer,” he said, his pure voice strong in the twilight night. The wind touched the golden strands of his hair and she felt it pulling her back towards the temple.

She smiled uncertainty, hovering at the edge of the water.  “It is you? You have been the one writing me?”

“It is, my beloved. I will kiss you under the stars,” Ares said with a smile as he opened up his arms wide. Persephone ran into them and kissed him in the forest, under the darkening sky,  pressing her lips against his over and over. “I love you!” she cried. “I have waited for you for so long,” she whispered, pressing her head against his chest.

They stood under the trees kissing one another and any misgivings she had at the discovery of his identity she pushed away. If he was not who she had imagined as her lover, his letters showed his true nature. His compassion, his cleverness, his wisdom were all there, displayed into every word of his writing -- and she knew him. She loved him. He was as much a part of her as her own heart. She drew back as she felt his tongue touch the seam of her lips and his hand fondled her breast. “Would you like to meet my mother?” she naively asked.

Ares started laughing. “I do not think Demeter needs to be present for this, unless she wants to join in the fun.” Her brows furrowed, confused by his words, when he lifted his hands to her neck and wrapped his long fingers against it, squeezing tightly.

She pulled desperately at his hands even as her vision became blurred from fear.“Stop,” she choked out.

“You do not like hands around your throat, my beloved?” His face was leering at her, his beautiful blue eyes narrowed and fanatical as a shadow passed over the setting sun. Olive began butting Ares with his head and Persephone gave a moanful cry and reached for her little friend. Ares picked up the little fawn and grasped his thin brown neck and a sickening crunch filled her ears. She screamed and fell to her knees, staring in horror at Olive’s empty eyes.

Ares covered her mouth with his hand as she struggled to break free. She began to claw at him when Ares pushed her roughly to the ground, throwing Olive’s body near the river like he was refuse, like he had not been her dearest friend.

“If you keep screaming, I will break your neck like that fawn,” he promised, smiling down at her. She pushed at him but the God of War was strong and he held her arms down. “I will enjoy taking what should have been mine long ago.”

Hades watched as he pulled up her skirts running his hand up her pale thighs, as the other hand covered her full mouth. She bit his hand hard, drawing blood, and he slapped her face and she hovered on the edge of consciousness. He began to beat her in earnest, punching and kicking her, hitting her breasts and the delicate point between her legs, until Persephone curled into a ball, tears streaming down her swollen face. Olive’s lifeless eyes stared into hers.

“Why must you make me hurt you, Persephone?” he asked, his voice calm as he finally drew away from her, licking her blood from his knuckles.

“Let me help my fawn,” she pleaded.

He handed her a scroll telling her if she wanted to help Olive to write another letter. “Tell me I am a monster that no woman could ever love. Tell me you curse the day you met me. Tell me everything I touch brings death and destruction. Tell me you hate me!”

“I do not understand!” she cried, earning another slap to her bruised face.

“Write it,” he breathed into her mouth as he bit her lip so hard that blood filled both of their mouths. He laughed and sat behind her with his hands around her neck, kissing her as she wrote the letter. With the last word written, he turned her around to face him and she sobbed, her tears smearing the words, and she lifted her hand, asking him for coins to place over the dead fawn’s mouth.

“Shh, my lovely.” He said crushing a black rose between his hand, spreading the petals against the ground.  “Do not to make a sound.” The sun shone behind him and he looked like a giant black demon above her.

He pushed her back to the ground, tearing at her clothes and she pushed and kicked at him but he was too strong. He lifted her skirts and forced himself inside her, tearing at her protective barrier and she felt the hot blood running down her thighs as she cried out at the burning pain. He thrust into her over and over again ripping the soft tissue. He bit her breasts and pressed his mouth against hers, drinking in her screams, sweeter than ambrosia on his lips as he swelled inside of her, licking the tears on her cheeks.

“This is love,” he told her. “This is our wedding night, let me kiss you under the stars my love. Let me fuck you under the stars.” And he began to laugh as his hot seed filled her, mingling with the virginal blood on the ground as he spasmed over and over.

She lay in the dirt, her body and spirit broken. She looked into Olive’s dead brown eyes.

“I wish I would die,” she cried.

He turned her face towards his, squeezing her face brutally until she gave a small moan of pain, and he smiled. “Oh you will, Persephone,” he replied, “but not yet.” He reached down, squeezing the soft mound between her legs and she whimpered. “I will return for you, this is far from over.”

He left her in the forest, bloody and battered, blood staining her white cotton dress. She lay there in the darkness until finally she began to cry, calling out her mother’s name. Demeter found her lying in the dirt and she did not need to tell her mother what had happened when she had met her lover in the forest. Persephone could see the rage and disbelief in her mother’s eyes as she took in the blood staining her pale thighs, the bruises covering her flesh, the bite marks on her breasts.

“Please,” Persephone whispered, closing her swollen eyes against the horror on her mother’s face.

“Who was he?” Demeter asked, her voice shaking with barely suppressed rage.

“Mother,” Persephone’s voice was a plea.

“Tell me and I will ask no more questions, I promise. All I ask is his name.

“Ares,” she said, her voice so light she wondered if Demeter would hear her. “I am such a fool. Because of me, Olive is dead.”

“No,” her mother whispered fiercely. “Your only crime is that you trusted a monster. You are innocent my love.” Snow rained down on the summer wind as her mother wrapped her gently in her arms. “Come my child, we will return for Olive after I see to you.” Unable to stand, Demeter carried her broken child back to the temple and Persephone felt her mother’s tears falling against her face. Her heart twisted strangely in her chest and then was silent as she remembered Olive’s blank eyes and she felt something inside of her die. Hope. Love. Faith. She would never trust again! Persephone let her eyes close as Demeter’s temple came into view.

Hades had seen enough and he lowered his hand from her chest. Aphrodite had told the truth. Persephone had loved him all this time, she just did not realize it.

Their spirits ricocheted back into their bodies as the whip flew through the air, crackling with blazing fire as it descended towards her. Hades pushed himself from the rock, grasping the flame laced thong in his fingers before it could crash down on Persephone’s back. The leather wrapped around his wrist and fingers, his flesh sizzling as the whip marked him. Ares stared at him in shock before Hades pulled the whip from his hands, flaying it against the floor with a loud thunderous crack against the marble. The God of War stared down at the scorched floor in horror before raising his eyes to the gleaming purple gaze fixed on him.

“You will never touch her again.” Hades growled, his purple eyes blazing into the azure eyes of Ares. “You will never speak her name.”

The King of Death began to smile and he was bathed in a violet light as he lifted his burnt, slashed hand into the air and pulled from the shadows a blue-flamed sword held tight within his bloody grasp.

Ares gave a cry of disbelief, then lifted a blade from his armor  and the guards surrounded him, lifting their spears and shields high, shielding the God from Hades’ view. With a twist of Hades’ hand, Persephone was lifted off the ground and pushed out of the room, away from the deadly weapon. For the briefest second their eyes met until every entry into the room slammed shut with a deafening boom. The locks turned in synchronicity with a click, click, click until each golden door was barred and Hades began to laugh, a deadly and menacing sound. His face twisted in macabre delight, as he pointed the flaming blade at the soldiers.

“Fools!” he hissed. “You dare enter my domain, I am the master of death, wielder of spirits! I collect souls and watch them burn. All I see before me are terrified, mewling, dead men. Your souls... are... mine.”

The guards viciously began their attack and Hades swung the blue flamed weapon at his adversaries, slicing their souls in half. He picked up the whip, cracking it around another guard bringing him close and ripped the life straight from his chest, throwing his dead lifeless body to the ground. With a flick of the wrist he snapped another man's neck. The guards were attacking in droves, seeming to multiply and he was throwing one body after another to the floor. He pushed through the men and looked for Ares but could not find him. Hades finished them off one by one until they were annihilated. He searched through the pile of bodies tossing them about the room, but Ares had vanished. “The coward ran away and left his men to die,” Hades snarled.

Fists pounded on the door echoing through the burnt tomb and he waved his hand to unlock the hatch. Persephone stood staring at him from across the room. One heartbeat passed, then two heartbeats. She stood still, looking at the guards littered on the ground, the blood smeared across the marble, a grisly mural of death. Hades dipped the silver blade back into the shadows and he wondered if she would run again. He could have hidden their bodies, denied who he was, but he did not want to lie to her. There had been enough deception and she deserved the truth from him no matter how frightening. So he stood there, amongst the dead, blood pooling at his feet, waiting to see what she would do. He heard her breath hitch and then they were running to each other and she fell into his arms as they tumbled to the ground. For the first time since he could remember, he was happy.