by Eileen Glass
But he ought to go over the edge first. Alive. His essence shouldn’t be wasted anyway.
Hades evaluates the cost of having Seph fall to the ground to finish his task. It would only take a minute. It would be done. And then his attention would be entirely for Seph, and his only focus would be to secure his lover’s health and forgiveness. In that order.
“They are not animals!” Seph finishes, glaring at him even though he is pale and weak. His eyes are not bright as they once were, and Hades’s blood-smeared hand comes close to brushing his brow.
How much did I lose?
The essence can repair itself, slowly, but what if it’s always less than what he was?
Hades will love him no matter what illnesses Seph might have. Will he be like Minthe now? Damaged internally?
Consumed by his inner thoughts, he’s barely listening as Seph says, “They are mothers! And fathers and daughters and sons! They are all the people you’re supposed to take care of! Everyone should go to Elysium! Unless they are wicked or cruel. And you are just dumping them over a cliff as if they mean nothing! For what? Because they have a little ambition! Because they like to compete! Or because they didn’t choose you and your little city—they chose to be reborn! And look what you’re doing to them!”
He grabs Hades shirt, trying to shake him. He can’t stand on his own, and his fists are trembling with weakness and fury. “You’re lying to them! They chose to be reborn. Not this!”
Briefly, Hades checks on Minthe. His ex-lover leaves a long blood trail as he drags his body away, Cerberus following with a continuous growl. The heads of the dog take turns looking back. Sometimes the middle one snaps, not letting the left or right engage. His pet isn’t sure what he should do.
Hades embraces Seph and speaks softly.
“I do not lie to them. They are reborn. But to be reborn, first you must be stripped. Think about it. The humans do not come into the world as some other person, right? They must pass on, Seph. They must flayed of everything but their true essence. Tartarus is the quickest and most merciful way to do that.”
Seph glares at him through tears, shaking with hate.
“You deserve to go in the pit. Not Minthe. Not them.”
Ah. Seph’s tugging on his clothes is not just an emotional reaction to his anger. He truly wants to drag Hades into the pit.
Hades rubs his back. His stallion is sweet and noble and Hades has nothing but admiration for him.
“I can explain my actions, and you can decide how to judge me. I will work very hard to win your favor back, my king. I never meant to hide this place from you forever. You would have seen it, but in the proper light.”
He guides Seph to the ground. There’s nothing the young god can do about it, his strength spent, but he twists his fists in the fabric of Hades’s shirt and seems determined that the god won’t get away.
Hades smooths back his hair. It is sopping wet, and Hades thinks it is not as lustrous as it once was. In Tartarus, the body decays quickly if there is one. It will die and wither, even before the soul has left in the case of a god. Seph is inhibiting a corpse that has only just found life again.
“You cannot understand. And I accept that. All I want is to take you home, Seph. There we will figure out your healing. But first, the creature must be dealt with. What kind of husband would I be to let a threat like that keep existing?”
Minthe has only been spared so far because Hades knows all too well how a single event can grow and fester into everlasting hate and feuding resentment.
He must soften the blow with Seph first.
“He is not just dangerous to us, you know. What if he harmed one of my little souls? What if he brought one of my children down here to teach me a lesson? Anyone who throws another into Tartarus, regardless if it was you or someone else important to me, would meet the same punishment I’ve dealt out. Do you see how that’s fair?”
Unless that person was self-aware enough to experience guilt, repentance, and reformation. If someone can be healed from their crimes and Hades wants them in Elysium, like Narcissus, then they would be put inside the prison. The painful portion of their punishment might last many, many years. But he shall leave out that detail.
“You are a wicked king. If your souls knew, your children would never trust you again. They would never stay! I could tell them all, and we could bend you. Hades—you have to stop this. You can’t do this to everyone.”
There will be no explaining then. It’ll be best to just get it done and soothe Seph in the aftermath.
“They already know, my love. Why do you think so many make the sacrifice to run? Do you think it is selfish desire to see their babies again? When they’re supposed to be dead? What a frightening experience.
“The parents leave to try to tell their good children a message—don’t choose rebirth. Go to Elysium. They offer their life for the eternal life of their children. That is what motivates them.”
Hades stands to leave, and Seph clings around his leg like a begging child. It would be simple to separate him, but Hades only watches a moment, stunned to see him fight while being so weak.
I could not even fight after something like this. Not for the murderer who caused my fall.
The fate of the reborn souls must be more harrowing to him than Hades can understand, and he wonders what he should do.
Should I take Seph home first and find Minthe after?
That is another risk. Letting Minthe out of his sight a third time would be highly irresponsible.
Inexcusable.
“He left you for dead, my love. Let me finish with Minthe. It shall not be long. And then we can discuss the fate of the souls in our palace. You can turn Elysium against me, if that is your wish. I promise, Seph, whatever you want to do is logical and fine. But surely you won’t miss this rotten little murderer if I toss him over the edge?”
“Why? You abandoned him. You were lovers. And you left him for me. Why?”
Again, Hades checks on Minthe. Now is not the time for this. Minthe seems to be losing consciousness, and now is the time to throw him over.
“Later, my love.” He reaches down to pry Seph’s hands off and step away. Your mother will thank me, even if you don’t forgive me. “We will talk at length. I will do everything in my power to make amends to you. But now—I must be a king.”
He leaves. He notices but does not react to stepping in fluid to catch his victim. He gathers Minthe’s arms by the elbows and carries him backwards. Minthe kicks feebly and groans, crying. But he is much too weak to put up a fight now.
“I will not forgive you!” Seph shouts from the ground, barely in a better state than Minthe. “You are nothing but a monster! You hear me?! You have no soul! No kindness, no love, just like my mother said! You are like Zeus. All of you! All the gods are just cruel, wicked beings!”
Hades pauses. His accusations are not much. Hades has been called many things. It hurts the most when it comes from the children he has cherished. But it does not affect him beyond that, certainly not in a way to change his mind.
But in Seph he sees himself. Desperate. Pleading with a father who is insane.
The wrong should be punished.
A king should take action.
Inaction is worse than anything.
But is the loss of Seph’s love worth it?
I brought Seph here to challenge me. Not necessarily to be his friend and romantic lover. But… in order to have an equal king, I must give him equal power. He can’t stand up to me on his own.
My father ate his own children because he could not abide another being with equal power.
He puts Minthe down, while his instincts tell him he is wrong.
“All right, Seph. I’m listening. You are my king. How shall I punish your murderer?”
Seph can’t hate Hades if he chooses the punishment himself.
“Just let him go! Heal him and let him go! I don’t want anyone to go into the pit.”
“That is unaccep
table.” Damn it, Minthe’s eyes roll back and close. He should have felt the terror of flying over the edge. This inaction has cost him, but he must find a balance with Seph and decide a punishment as a couple. “He has done something terribly wrong, and as a king, it is my duty to punish the terribly wrong. Releasing him creates danger for others. We have a kingdom to protect. And Seph—I have let Minthe go before. Twice. This is the second time he’s come back, and look what he’s done.”
Seph cries. He curls up on the ground where he is, and Hades wonders if this is too much.
That’s it. I’m leaving with him. Cerberus will watch the murderer. Maybe he’ll kill Minthe for me while I’m gone. It wouldn’t matter.
“Nevermind, Seph, we are going home.”
“Banish him,” Seph says, looking up from Hades feet. “Just send him away. Not into Tartarus. He won’t cause any trouble up there right? So just send him to the upperworld. Don’t kill him. Please.”
Hades wants to growl the same as his dog.
Cerberus sniffs the ground, approaching, and Hades orders him to sit with a snap and point of his fingers. The dog slinks with submission and does as commanded.
Hades feels like the same is being done to him. And for what?! Juvenile feelings of kindness and mercy. The same youthful goodness that somehow convinced Hades to deliver a rabbit to the upperworld.
Not just to deliver it, but to make sure it ended up with a happy family.
What has this boy done to me?!
“Hm.” He purses his lips before he speaks.
“Then you will come home with me. You will let me see to you and heal you and give me a chance to explain myself and everything about Tartarus. I know you are feeling scared and betrayed, but your unwillingness to listen is aggravating. Seph. I will listen to you. …And you will listen to me. That is a fair deal. What do you think?”
Seph frowns miserably. Another wail picks up as a ferryboat goes over the edge. It will be silent very soon, but not for long. The souls on the incoming boats are nervous and suspicious, but not panicked initially. They don’t start to scream until the end of the river is in sight, and Hades has planted the bank densely to make sure the forest is dark. Many will jump to swim ashore, but they will not make it. The current is strong, and the boats are only held at their steady pace by the chain and track they’re attached to underneath.
“Tartarus is necessary,” Seph mumbles, not looking at him. “I will… I will try to understand.”
Thirty-Six
I can’t believe I’m doing this.
Of all the people who have deserved mercy from him, Minthe is not one of them. Yes, Hades does feel some measure of guilt and sympathy for the being who did not choose to be born like this. But ultimately, that is Hades’s own personal problem. Those feelings barely made him hesitate.
He would have done it and grieved about it later. Briefly. He would not have blamed himself (not for the execution anyway) because in the end Minthe’s actions are his own. And Hades is the ruler of this place. He has to act in the appropriate fashion.
He will feel more guilty for the damage done to Seph. And in the following days, he will analyze his actions upon discovering Minthe and wonder if he should have done something different. Should he not have banished him the first time, but executed him instead?
What about the second time, when Minthe was sneaking around his palace?
That makes what he is about to do especially ironic. Bitter tasting to his sense of justice. But he made Seph a promise, and it was for a good reason. As with the relocation of the silly bunny, Hades does not want Seph to hate him. Not in this place, where they’ll be eternally bound to one another.
I’ve become… attached.
No. Looking at the boy now, just checking on him because it’s hard to walk away—seeing him so weak and desperate—it’s a lot more than attachment.
When Hades pulled the young man out of the pit, he felt like the heart had been ripped out of him. And now he feels like it was shoved back in the hole left in his chest and is struggling to beat.
With his magic, he dissolves the spear in Minthe’s body and heals him at the same time. Some. Enough to keep him alive and keep him from hobbling. Many of the lashes from the whip will stay.
Hades stands over Minthe with his scepter, the weapon’s true form. He holds a hand over him with his fingers spread out.
“Wake.”
Minthe gasps at once, turning over, grabbing his abdomen where the spear poked through.
“I-I’m still here,” he mumbles. “I thought I died.”
“You most certainly will die,” Hades says, frowning. He can feel his features being as impassive as stone. While he did not relish killing Minthe because of how they know each other, Hades has not changed his mind or altered his decisions in a long, long time.
“But it will not be by my hand, Minthe. You will die somewhere else. Not in this world.”
“You are letting me go?”
If Minthe were a regular man, he’d be running already. But Minthe only looks confused.
“What is wrong with you?” he says, one arm raised up as if to protect from another lash.
It is tempting, in a way. Hades feels compelled to enact some form of justice, and Minthe’s physical pain certainly would have been prolonged had he known he would be letting the nymph go instead of throwing him into Tartarus.
This is the worst thing I’ve done since coming here.
And by worst, he means unfair. Above all, Hades prides himself on being a fair ruler. A good king, though not in a nice sense. He strived to become the eternal ruler that the God of the Underworld should be, fairness above all else, including personal ties and grief.
But now that shall be put on hold for the sensitivity of a colt.
“Did you mean to kill yourself by my hand? That is the only thing that makes sense,” he wonders aloud. “You cannot have expected me to spare you out of love.”
Hades’s eyes widen.
That’s exactly what I’m doing! Sparing him out of love! Only it is for the love of a different person.
I hope I haven’t destroyed what we could’ve had forever.
It might be too late.
“I didn’t expect you to spare me,” Minthe says. “You wouldn’t be the man I love if you did. But I also needed to save you from yourself. From him. When I saw what he was like—saving rabbits!—I knew you had somehow become a fool.”
He rubs his chest where the spear would be. He gives Hades a look that is both weary and mistrustful.
“Hades, what have you done?”
“I am not the man you love. I’m going to be the man he loves. Maybe. I hope.”
And that is as much emotional sharing as he wants to do with Minthe. It is time to send him away. He has to see to Seph.
Minthe shakes his head. “Hades, you lovestruck fool. You’ve doomed the underworld if that is the case. Take me instead of him! I can be better!” He crawls toward Hades.
Again, Hades is reminded that Minthe is sick. He does not look right, his hair disheveled, his eyes enormous. He throws himself at Hades’s feet, and the king sets a foot back.
“I am not a god, and I won’t pretend to be! But I am better than that sun-kissed fool. I know your darkest places, my king. A nymph understands what you did for this place! Normal minds cannot comprehend—they’re too naïve—”
“And it is my job to make sure he understands.” Hades separates Minthe with the bottom end of his scepter. He is firm and does not go out of his way to cause more pain. Though the image of him beating Minthe one last time does cross his mind.
Punishment must be dealt.
It is what his instinct says.
His hands and spirit, however, seem to be shackled to whatever Seph wants.
“You have the sun-kissed fool to thank for being alive, Minthe. I know you don’t appreciate that. But understand that your begging has no effect. If it weren’t for him, you would already be in the pit. Vanished. Gone.�
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Minthe looks a bit like a snarling animal as he eyes Seph, who huddles miserably on the ground, still trembling. Hades can see what he thinks—now is my last chance—and if Minthe were to lunge right now he would discover that invisible shackles have come around his feet and hands.
They will dissolve soon, once Hades speaks his terms.
“My dog is coming after you, Minthe. I will leave you here, and you’re free to do as you please. But once I’ve reached the palace with Cerberus, I will send him after you on a hunt. And I will not be following to call him off. You would be wise to travel to the gate as fast as you can. I do not keep nymphs imprisoned here, so the dogs will let you pass freely.”
Cerberus is not his only guard dog. Just his personal one.
Minthe tries to move, and his ankle stays in place. He tugs at the invisible shackles, but does not look confused. Only disappointed at first. And then hateful.
“What is it about him that you like so much? His golden skin? His pretty lips and tongue? Or is it his youth? A virgin is only untrained for so long.”
This is Minthe’s version of pleading. Always, it is an attempt to draw Hades into a wicked, controlled fantasy.
When he grew suspicious long ago, he hoped it wasn’t true. He didn’t see Minthe’s evilness right away. Like a thief, Minthe is good at distraction.
“You are banished to the upperworld, Minthe. And the punishment for ignoring banishment from now on is death. My sun-kissed colt had mercy on you, so do not waste it. Whether I kill you or Cerberus kills you—or if you jump into the pit yourself—I do not care. I have to look after Seph now.”
This is spoken only so Minthe can hopefully understand that his words are true. There is no romance left between them, and Seph is his only concern.
I have wasted enough time on the murderer.
My husband is nearly dead.
So Hades leaves the nymph, setting his scepter to hover vertically close to him as he bends to collect his mate. Seph does not look so angry at him anymore. Only bewildered, weak, and frightened. He clutches to Hades like a scared babe as the god lifts him up. He can do some things to make this easier, like making Seph’s weight lighter. But he cannot return strength to the young god’s body. And most importantly, he cannot return his mind or restore his essence with the power that makes all things seem possible to a mortal’s mind.