THE FEAST WAS DELICIOUS, THE CHAMPAGNE - SPARKLING, BUT HADES’ MIND WAS CLEARLY SOMEWHERE ELSE.

The candle light cast shimmering pools of molten gold in his eyes as a storm brewed behind them, grey and furious in its nature.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his voice too silent. His food was untouched, his glass was still full. The bejewelled tablecloth caught the lights of the chandelier, casting shadows over his high cheekbones.

“It’s alright.” I took another bite of the delicious dinner, revelling in the feel of molten butter off my tongue, washing it down with a swig of wine.

“It isn’t,” Hades muttered. “It’s unacceptable. I’ll have a word with her tomorrow.”

“No,” I whispered. He looked up, brows knitting. “I can protect myself.”

“Just because you can, that doesn’t mean-”

“No, Hades. Please,” I murmured gently, sighing deeply. “I… I don’t want to fight. And I… I don’t want her to hate me more than she already does. So - please. Just leave her be.”

My fingers toyed with the end of my braid, curling the smooth ends nervously around my finger.

“Hecate doesn’t hate you,” Hades said at last, leaning back in his gilded chair, fingers crossed. His skin was paler than marble, and sadness dwelled in his eyes like a living monster. The perfect image of a fallen, broken god. The sight of it broke my heart.

“Finish your food, Polydegmon.”

He sat up straight, playful annoyance crossing his features for a minute. Then a deep, throaty laugh burst out of his lush lips, a laugh so beautiful that could make the angels weep.

“Very well. As you command, my Queen,” the King’s lips twitched up in a smirk, mischief gleaming in his eyes. Inside of me, whatever had shattered seeing him so lost pieced itself together again. A distraction. That was what he needed. Anything - anything to distract him from the dreary gloom weighing down on his strong shoulders.

The meal was over in minutes as we stood up, Cerberus trotting ahead of us. His paws were near silent on the glossy tiles as he trotted down the hall. Hades pulled out my chair, holding out a hand for me. A corner of my lips pulled as I let him slide his arm around my waist, inhaling in the scent of death, of manliness, of darkness as it swirled around me.

The door closed behind us with a soft click as I noticed Cerberus curled around the fireplace, his tail twitching. He blinked lazily as we entered, one eye closed as a satisfied growl ripped from him.

I was conscious of Hades’ fingers as they skimmed across my waist, lingering at the small strip of exposed skin from the geometric cutouts of my gown. I thought he’d be cold, but he wasn’t, no. His touch left burning trails of want, of desire across my flesh - desire which had me curling my toes, imagining all the things that might happen if I let him have his way with me.

He smirked, as if sensing my thoughts.

Heat rose in my cheeks.

“You look lovely when you do that,” his voice was low, aching with need. You look delicious, I could hear the longing beneath his words. I want to ravish you, Persephone.

“When I do… what?”

“When you imagine all the things you want me to do to your body.”

My breath was ragged, breaking in my throat as I struggled to find a voice through my need. There was something raw, something wild in his gaze as it roamed over my body, lingering at the vein pulsing at my throat.

Oh god - gods.

I had to stop it. Stop thinking about it.

“I don’t imagine anything,” I whispered, but my words were high pitched, and sounded nothing like me.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” he chuckled, a hoarse sound that began deep in his throat. I almost melted in his arms, grateful for the wall behind my back. It wasn’t the fact that I couldn’t stop thinking about the heat of his arm, the goosebumps on my flesh that his fingers left in their wake - no, no, it was the raw danger of it - the thrill, the very thought of giving in to those desires, of acting on them. “And for the record, Persephone… you’re free to give me orders whenever you like.”

Gods… gods save me. Mother save me.

Mischief sparkled in his eyes like stars on a still night.

I hardly recognized myself as I tugged the lord of death closer to me, even closer, my wrists gripping around the collar of his inky shirt, pulling him even closer. All the tales I’d heard all my life swirled around my brain like the last remnants of a well aged wine.

Death is not a lover. Death is not a lover. Death is not a lover.

“The bed. Now.”

My hands closed around his tie as he willingly let me tug him to the edge of the lavish four poster. Oh mother, if only you could see me now. Everything she had saved me from, every little lie she protected me from - here I stood with death himself wrapped around my finger, mine for the taking.

His palm found a way up to slide against my heated skin, cupping my face - his eyes boring right into mine. As if he could stare into my very soul.

The want in his gaze was iron.

Tender flowers of loneliness swelled up and rotted in my insides. It was as if I had never felt, never experienced emotion - nothing like this. Nothing like how I experienced it right now. It was as if the reflection of my life in Olympus was but a mere shadow, as if it barely existed. Here in the Underworld - everything was sweeter, and shinier, and more forbidden than ever. Forbidden fruit was the sweetest, and it dangled all my wants in front of me like an overripe peach.

His fingers lightly skipped over the surface of my lips, as if examining the petals of a tender rose.

“I could make you scream in pleasure. Or pain, if you want. Would you like that, Persephone?”

Never had I felt so strongly, wanted for anything so bad but for the man in my hands to completely, devastatingly ruin me.

Behind us, the fire died down, slowly shrinking to embers glowing red hot. I looked around in wonder - reeling from the recesses of my power as it faded away, gone as quickly as it came. A single black rose wilted in its glass vase, the head drooping to the floor, bent in reverence.

Hades still held my gaze. As if daring me to break away, as if challenging me to stop him from taking what he claimed as his.

I held his demanding stare with one of my own.

I picked up the dead flower.

How vulnerable. How exposed it was. No leaves, only thorns. A drop of blood welled on my finger as the thorn broke the skin.

Death was such a beautiful thing.

To see another being at their lowest - to see their most broken, vulnerable self… it was a privilege. It was sacred. It was a thing of beauty. It was a burden. Something that only the strongest could bear on their sole shoulders and still walk away with a smile on their face.

I stuck the rose between his teeth, pressed a kiss to his cold cheek, and poured myself a glass of ambrosia.

My heart pounded loudly in the silence as I inhaled the scent of darkness. It smelled like leather, metal and all things forbidden. His lips skimmed the back of my neck, and goosebumps erupted like wildfire on my skin as his phantom touch left me wanting for more.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Hades whispered, his words a dark promise.

He turned to vanish into the shadows, but I held on to his hand.

“Stay,” I whispered.

He scratched his chin, lust gleaming in his eyes. Chin tightening, he clenched his jaw, then shook his head.

“If I do - I’ll… we’ll - no. No.”

“Tell me about Hecate,” my voice was a plea.

From beside the fireplace, Cerberus lazily turned his massive head to look at us, the light throwing his face in sharp relief. He barked once, dangerous - as if threatening to make Hades stay.

A silver smile played on his master’s lips.

“Very well,” he crooned softly, white fingers plucking a shrivelled petal off the rose. It drifted through the night air, landing on the floor with a soft sigh. Tossing off his boots, he slid off his inky gloves, unclasping his cloak and draping it over a high backed chair. I watched the mess he made with a hand on my hip, arching an eyebrow.

“What? They were in the way,” he muttered.

“Sure thing.”

Hades rolled his eyes as I disappeared behind a painted silk screen to change. I whipped off the wisps of lavender, realising just how many of those damned ribbons were there. Suddenly, I found myself wishing for the handmaidens who helped me dress each morning, their fingers quick and nimble. Frustrated, I made short work of the gown, tearing a stitch in the process.

Well. I didn’t like those bright colours anyway.

I emerged minutes later to find Hades propped up on an elbow, settled into the plush cushions carelessly scattered across the bed. I almost drooled at the swell of his muscles under the shirt, watching them flex and strain with every movement he made.

“If you wanted to get out of your dress, you could have just asked me,” he muttered appreciatively, his voice low. I had wrapped myself in a dressing gown the colour of smoke on a deathless night, embroidered with tiny silver sequins that gleamed innocently like stars.

“Hands to yourself, mister,” I smirked, watching his gaze stay on me - on my neck, on my breasts, feeling it follow me right down my chest to where my legs met, leaving an aching, hungry yearning behind.

I realised that I liked this.

Liked teasing him. Liked making him want it. Want me.

He wordlessly handed me another glass of ambrosia, still smirking.

“So,” I leaned back into the velvet pillows. “Hecate.”

“Hecate.”

“Why is she like this? What… what made her like this?”

Hades closed his eyes, picking up the bottle and taking a long, deep sip from it.

“Hecate is… her own woman. I’ve known her since millenia. She is too hard, too bitter for this world. And that is the only way she survived.”

“My mother told me she was one of the Olympians. A long time ago. Did she… leave? Are people just allowed to leave?”

His eyes snapped open. Was that - anger? Or annoyance? It was there for a second, and gone in a flash. Did he know?

I was one of the Olympians too, Hades. And you took me away. Are you even allowed to do that?

“Hecate was not an Olympian. She existed for thousands of years before even Kronos was born. She’s pre-Olympian. Older than I am, older than even Zeus. Perses and Asteria where her parents, so she’s probably part Thracian.”

“Yet, she serves you,” my sentence was a question and answer, both in one.

“She… let us say - we have an arrangement.”

“What kind of arrangement?”

Hades put down the bottle, looking off into the distance.

“You see, Hecate is powerful. The Olympians mostly saw her as a deity of witchcraft and evil. But she’s neither a witch, nor is she evil. Her power, though - it extends over heaven, earth and sea. My brother, Zeus - he worshipped her. When he came to the throne of Olympus after we threw Kronos into Tartarus, a lot of the Titan’s minions caused trouble above earth. Hecate is the only reason Olympus survived. I was an outcast by then, already feared by most gods, but Hecate… they knew her. Trusted her. So, while I built my kingdom under the ground, she helped my brother stabilise his above. Due to her connection to the spirit world, to its ghosts and the dark moon - she used her witchcraft to effectively chase out any last followers of Kronos. And my brother honoured her beyond anything, because she is the only reason Olympus as we know exists today.”

“What happened, then? If my father himself was on her side, how did she end up here?”

Hades looked at me, eyes darkening slowly.

“Rumours started. She was too powerful. It was Ares and Apollo first, then Demeter, then Poseidon. Hera led them on. She believed that Hecate whispered in Zeus’s ear by day, and seduced him by night. In fact, her delusions only grew stronger and stronger the more Zeus lauded Hecate - convincing her that the goddess was using her witchcraft in pursuit of a greater evil. Hera was so sure that Hecate had an ulterior motive - that her end goal was to poison Zeus’s mind with rotten thoughts and topple him from his throne when his hold on his kingdom was weakened. And given just how far the might of her power extended, the deities of Olmpus found it too easy to believe those lies.”

My heart sank a little. I had a hard time picturing the scowling, hardened goddess in the pomp and finery of Olympus, in a world too bright, too loud, too small to contain the monstrosity of her power as it darkened her around the edges, shrinking her into a mould to make her fit into that fake world.

“Mortals began to perform rituals in her name. Curses began with her name as they offered blood and death in her memory. She was livid. Hecate is not a goddess to be invoked lightly. She is not a goddess to be enraged, not once, not ever.”

Well, that I could easily believe.

“Hera grew more and more convinced that the dark goddess was slowly reaching out to take Olympus in her grasp, that parts of her plan were slowly coming to fruition. The mortal world was in tatters. They’re a frivolous bunch, thriving on gossip and living on rumours. They built temples in her name, invoking her to fuel their fury, enraging her even further.”

He sighed sharply.

“She had never wanted any of that. All she wanted was to work in the shadows, to use her powers to help. She never asked for this gift, but she knew she had to use it for the greater good. Even if it meant that the Olympians hated her. Even if it meant that they thought she was grappling for power. Hecate is a protector - a protector of the vulnerable… the hunters, the shepherds, the virgins. Not motherly, no - but protective in her own way. A goddess who will exact vengeance on any who cause to harm those under her protection.”

The room was so silent that I could hear Cerberus snore.

“So she left. Her spirits told her what was about to happen, and before they could banish her, she left of her own free will. With every drop of her dignity intact. I saw this as an opportunity, Persephone. I cannot bear to see talent wasted. So I offered her a place to work at my court, and in return she would give me her full loyalty. There is no judgment here, no fear. I know what it feels like. How it feels to not be able to take two steps without feeling that you do not belong. How it feels like to take a breath without feeling eyes on you. We accept her for what she truly is. She has never found a home, a place to live without being spat on - so I am proud to say that yes, she lives in my home and I call her my family. And since then, she has hated the entire, cowardly lot of them with a bitterness deep in her heart ”

I gulped. I couldn’t bear to imagine what it felt like. Hades and Hecate… they were similar because of their misery. Of the things they did in order to survive. They did not let the pain break them into pieces, no. They used the pain to emerge stronger, and better, and deadlier - and to show the world that they could not, would not let them knock them off their feet.

“And the arrangement you have?” I asked slowly, blinking once, twice. His voice was like an eerie melody, trying to drown me, shutting out the voices and colors of the world.

“It’s simple. She works in the shadows beside me and gives me her full loyalty. I give her a place in my home and stay out of her business.”

“Her business? Does she… have another job?”

A hoarse laugh.

“I built her a temple in the Forest of the Furies. That is where she resides, conducting her other work - besides the tasks she does for me. She is goddess of witchcraft. Mortals do call on her help every now and then, with rituals and ancient magic long forgotten.”

“And what does she do for you, exactly? What… tasks?”

“The dirty work,” he said quietly. “Thanatos is the reaper, yes - but Hecate is the one I call when I want someone gone without a trace. An enemy investigated. A poison slipped into the right drink. She is loyal, and cunning, and her mind is more sharp than a wicked blade. Anger her once, and she will ensure you do not cross her ever again. Charon pissed her off once. What happened next wasn’t pretty.”

“I see.”

Old friends, then. Close ones too. They clearly trusted each other to the ends of the earth.

“She doesn’t hate you, Persephone. She only resents where you come from. The idea of what decision you will make once this one month is up.”

I went still. Beside me, Hades was a statue. The elephant in the room, the topic we had both been avoiding since the past two and a half weeks… he had finally brought it up.

Ten days. That was all I had left to make a choice.

If I wanted to go back home. Or stay in the Underworld in its glorious darkness forever.

Both these possibilities terrified me.

Could I even go back home? Did I have that sort of courage in me? If I went back to Olympus and faced my mother… would she even take me back? Would she disown me? The darkness has touched you and taken you for itself, my child. I cannot have you back into my home.

I shuddered, and it was not from the cold.

And if she took me in? What then? Could I ever truly go back to being her prized possession, her trophy, her treasure for all the world to see? To be shown off and paraded, not unlike a gift horse? And would I still let her rip me into shreds just to keep her whole? The untamable void inside of me, would I let its emptiness echo into my heart forever? Was that what I was made for?

And if I stayed here? What then?

My head turned back to look at Hades, who merely observed me, an eyebrow arched. There was something cold and beautiful about the way his eyes gleamed - the way he merely gave me a sarcastic smile, before going back to running his fingers through Cerberus’s fur, who had somehow ended up on his lap at the foot of the bed. The bloodhound just watched the two of us intently, softly growling in approval as Hades scratched him behind his head, content and at ease.

Death sat not inches away from me, and yet I was not scared.