HECATE'S WITCH GREEN EYES SHONE LIKE MOLTEN EMERALDS IN THE HUNGRY DARKNESS.

"That's... not possible," I rasped, my traitorous gaze travelling over the innocent form of the maiden fast asleep on the silk duvets.

Persephone.

Her chest rose and fall slightly. A molten hunger rose in me at the sight of her parted crimson lips, as sweet as a tender cherry, ripe for the taking.

"If that truly is her," Hecate curled her full lips, "...you do remember what Zeus asked of you, yes brother?"

Those forest eyes sparked with a flash of magic, the glimmer of deadly intelligence settling in them like a heavy blanket. She was a wild, lethal thing - a goddess that spoke with voices of poisoned honey and bewitched glass. The eerie deity had terrible, terrible powers. Magic. Witchcraft. Necromancy.

"Are you thinking what I am thinking, Hecate?"

Her hard jaw twitched slightly, and she turned to me, clever eyes lost in thought.

"If Zeus wished for you to marry her..."

My only thoughts were on the sleeping goddess sprawled over the luxurious sheets, her face an epitome of pure innocence. Her body shone with a dewy glow, a polished sheen that lit up her unforgettable features. Those freckled rose checks, that lovely, sculpted neck; far more graceful than an eternal swan, far more smoother than the marbled floors of Hecate's heavenly temple.

"...then marry her I must," I quietly finished.

The lilac of her vulnerable chitton was more fragile than a wisp of pure air, sliding over her exquisite body. Like a delicate figurine of porcelain, she lay on the embroidered silk cushions. Bare and vulnerable.

"Marry her you will," chuckled a dry voice from the doorway.

The Fates.

Their cackles bounced off the ceiling and the gold hammered walls, making the glowing candles sway to and fro in the crystal chandeliers.

"Out with it," I bit out, sharp. "What do you mean?"

Clotho tipped back her ancient head and laughed, the boom echoing hollowly as her sisters slowly joined her. On and on the three hags laughed in their stark white robes, unflattering voices dripping with amusement.

It was Lachesis who finally spoke, crinkling her old brow. A satisfied giggle still escaped her as she straightened her back to look at me with a darkness in her eyes that was older than the universe itself.

"Why," she snorted with a grunt, "you've finally found her. It was your destiny, Polydegmon!"

"His destiny?" Hecate let out a bark of loose laughter. "Do you even have the slightest idea of who you speak?"

"Indeed," Atropos shrilly chimed in, pushing back her silver stained hair, tossing her gaze right back to the young goddess on the bed. "Destiny, indeed. She is destined to be your Queen, Lord Hades."

"Queen?" I exhaled a breath I did not know I was holding.

Everything here in the Underworld - everything - it belonged to me. The riches hoarded in the metal vaults, the fruits growing in the sweet orchards, the very souls of the damned cast to the gates. Mine. All of it.

Her as well.

"Your lives are entwined as one," Clotho dropped her voice by an octave, the tone like grated steel. "One spirit. One life. One soul."

Together, the three let out another unnerving laugh.

And then they were gone.

"It is done, then?" Hecate asked with a sense of finality, cocking her head.

I wanted her. With her lily eyes and her lily lips, her sublime grace. I wanted the blooming sunset that she was, I wanted the thorned rose that she was. I wanted her, and her, and no one else - only her.

"Persephone will be my Queen."

My voice was steel lined with thunder.

I lingered there for another second, head spinning with careful thought. She was an Olympian, her blood warm with the memories of summer. That pitiful excuse of her dress could have hardly shielded her from the biting cold. My hands rose to drape the heavy coverlets over her, tucking her into their welcome warmth.

"Call me as soon as she wakes," I barked, tearing my gaze from her and striding out of the chamber.