by Eileen Glass
But… well…
It is not how I would have done it, but there is a certain peace.
A crowded peace for sure, the newly arrived souls having no where to sit or drink or false sleep as they wait to take their oath. Which is their choice and theirs alone. There is also the matter of losing meek little souls who might change their mind once coming here, but Hades is satisfied for now to learn that this boat will not be sending any good ones back to choose rebirth instead.
That seems to be a rare choice, he is guessing, by the sheer numbers of the crowd.
And he can’t argue with the results. No new hunts in over a month. If Hades was in charge, there might be six a day.
That does not mean Hades is a worse king. It only means Seph is willing to make sacrifices he is not, and for now, they seem to benefit everyone.
Of course, Hecate wears a displeased expression as Seph finishes his decree, and the crowd breaks out in lovely cheers. Hades manages a small smile for them, and even touches hands with a few who brave near. Tearful grandmothers and old fathers thank him for his mercy, but Seph gets all the credit.
“What a gentle young king,” says one woman, her hands folded against her heart. “He’s swayed the heart of Hades.”
And others call, “Oh, Persephone, thank you for your mercy!”
“Great King!”
“Honorable Chief!”
“Majestic Emperor!”
The praises come in every language and every honorific.
Even the people far away at the temples seem to bustle more happily. For now, all eyes are on the bard, who breaks into a joyous jig (Seph hasn’t told him the stipulations yet), and Hades can already feel the difference in the crowd. They will lose some. But more will be taking the oath all day, and the plaza at the dock will begin to empty.
“Tell everyone,” Hades says, taking the hands of another brave man. Others are watching him and estimating the cost to express their gratitude. New souls are especially cautious. “Their happiness should be shared.”
“Two kings are better than one,” says the man with a deep bow and trembling hands. “Your wisdom is merciful. Thank you.”
“It is quite unlike our old king, isn’t it?” Hecate says, her expression and tone unfriendly.
“Hecate,” Hades says in a warning tone.
And Hermes speaks.
“I don’t like it either.” A spell from him shuts out the sounds of the crowd at once. Seph dances with the bard’s jig, grabbing for the hands of others to lead them into it.
They are a frail, knobby sort of party. It is heartbreaking to watch, knowing how their stomachs churned on emptiness and they died with the yearning for food in their thoughts. But there are big smiles everywhere. They beam and laugh like the children they are.
Seph finds a small one in the crowd. A little girl, much like the one Hades found in the upperworld before, and he twirls with her on his hip, looking like such a handsome father that Hades wonders if he should inquire about child siring methods for two male gods.
But while he’s thinking all of this, Hermes watches the same scene and says, “I didn’t know the child of Persephone was a cruel one. He was such a sweet boy when I met him. Oh, you should have seen him! He shared with slaves and rescued small kittens. An angel, I thought he was. I thought that’s why you wanted him, dear uncle? Because he was so kind?”
Hades assumes that since the crowd is silent, they can’t be heard either. No new ones approach to touch his hands or express compliments. They must sense that this is a private discussion happening in front of them. And while Hades could have done the same spell on the tent, with a bit of experimentation and effort, it did not occur to him. Different gods have different habits they find their powers useful for. To do this so easily, the trader of whispers must use this spell often.
“You think this is cruel? He’s given the bard what he asked for. He’s had mercy. It is the bard’s own foolishness that causes the disaster to come. What does he expect to happen? His wife is dead. He should have accepted that. He’s taking home a wife with no body, for hell’s sake. If he thinks that’s an acceptable way to do things…”
“Their love is for more than flesh,” Hecate responds. “You’ve done the most wicked thing and spun it as kindness.”
“We’ve taken a small sacrifice to avoid upsetting a great population. It is a politician’s way.”
“It is not your way,” Hermes says. “Not usually. Your fashion of ruling this place is hard to stomach sometimes, but then again, Zeus is worse in my opinion. But Hades—one thing I have always admired about you is that you do not lie to your people.”
“And I have not,” Hades says, a rash impulse urging him to call the scepter. Of course, he won’t. Not for this small thing. But he’s deeply annoyed to be criticized openly. “Orpheus asked for his wife, we’re giving him his wife. We’re telling him that she will disappear. Technically.”
“If he looks at her, she will disappear,” Hecate corrects. “And you know he’ll—”
“He’ll look. Yes. Of course. It is his own foolishness to think that he won’t. He over estimates himself. This is a tragedy of his own ego.” Hades gestures at the bard, who is listening to Seph’s stipulations now. Hades can see the words form on Seph’s lips.
You can’t look behind you on your way. You can’t speak to her until you cross the threshold of your home. You must always trust that she’s there. And when you’re inside, and you turn around—she will be.
The crowd is happy, but the bard looks noticeably less ecstatic than before. Still, after less than a second of serious thought, he nods his head.
“He has asked for more than he can have. This story, when it’s done, will be a great lesson for mortals. Some things must be accepted. Some challenges they cannot overcome. And the dead do not come back. It is a fair ruling.”
“Well… it is different than anything I’ve ever seen,” Hermes says, crossing his arms.
“And what will you tell Demeter about her son?”
Hermes considers and shakes his head. “Nothing she will believe.” He rubs his chin. “Her son fits here. He’s not the little scamp I used to know, that’s for sure.”
He shrugs and a bit of a smile breaks through. “I thought I’d find him depressedly gazing out a window in your gloomy palace.”
Hades looks at the palace in the distance. It’s not gloomy… sophisticated and elegant, yes.
“I never thought I’d tell you this, but I was half ready to engage in an abduction plan. Zeus put it in my head, you see, and Demeter called on me too, all grieving and begging.”
“You would betray me, nephew? And you admit it so easily?”
“I’m not going to now,” Hermes says, without fear. “There was only a slim chance I would in the first place! I mean, suppose I came and found my cousin horribly abused or something. I know you would never do that on purpose. But Hades, sometimes your rulings are unintendedly cruel. Sort of like this one. You solve problems in a direct but heartless way. I never imagined my cousin would be a match for you.”
He gestures at the scene, the bard playing, the people dancing. A line exits the plaza like an army platoon on a mission. They must be the ones going to retrieve his wife, wherever she is, and many are offering clothing or jewelry or coins to the young couple.
“But I can see that he is happy here. Zeus is going to have to best our sister whether he likes it or not. Do you think he’s up to the task?”
“Pff. No. He can launch storms at her head and throw lightning bolts all day. Zeus is not going to move her. Eventually, Demeter will have to accept that her son is grown and married.”
“And taken away from her…” Hermes starts, but Hecate interrupts.
“Do none of you care about the fate of the girl this bard married? And what about the others following them?”
“Seph and I will speak to each one privately before they go. We will tell them they are wanted and needed. If we cannot convince
them after that… They have chosen to leave. And the wife will be the only one allowed to break her oath, any others I am not abiding. Only the newly arrived can change their mind and go. I am not giving them up easily, Hecate.”
“This is why rulers should be struck down and prevented from ever rising up again. No matter how noble they seem in the beginning, no matter how good their intentions are, they resort to lies and murders eventually. Seph hasn’t even lasted that long, and he is committing this murder ‘for the rest of them’. My master is good, but no one should make decisions for everyone else. A king is always and only corrupt.”
“Ah, Hecate. Your way is selfish. The few strong must look after the many meek. But this is an old argument and a waste of time.”
After speaking however, noticing one of Hecate’s rings, something Seph said comes back to him.
“My husband told me something about vipers today. He said there’s been a lot of ‘viper-related deaths’ lately. And vipers are your favorite pet. What did he mean by that?”
Fifty-One
Though using his magic makes Hades feel a bit like he’s trapped under a boulder, his magic straining, pushing to roll the giant rock off of him and keep from getting crushed, he likes Seph’s suggestion that he fly them home in his arms. A horse won’t guide itself out of the air and back onto the ground easily, and he is eager to get to the bedroom and skip the stables. So the best method to get home quickly, and avoid a chatty, overly enthusiastic crowd between here and there, is to levitate directly to their balcony which overlooks the bathhouse courtyard.
Hades carries Seph in his arms like a bride, and his husband leans his head against his chest trustingly. They do not exchange words, though Hades lowers his lips to his hair once they’re mostly out of the crowd’s sight. The world up here is quiet, especially without the usual sound of horse’s hooves, and the absence of wind. There’s not even the slightest breeze. It is quiet with all the busyness and necessary stress seeming to be left below them, on that surface layer of the kingdom. Above, it is only them, and Hecate disappears quickly with the horses, guiding them to the stables.
Hermes will stay in the palace another day or two, he says. To make certain that Seph is alright and not in need of unlawful abducting. His nephew promises he won’t make an effort, and after his admission, he would not find an abduction attempt to be made without the utmost violence.
Hades may have let the moment go, but he already plans to have a future conversation with his nephew that will have some threatening overtones. He plans to have the other side of that conversation now, with Seph, but his young husband is out of his arms as soon as his boots land on the balcony tile.
“Can you believe it?” Seph says excitedly, making a turn with his arms spread. He couldn’t look any happier with that big grin stretching his face. “We convinced all of them to stay! All of them!” He laughs as he opens the door to their bedroom and disappears inside.
“Except the wife, of course,” Hades says, and follows more stoically. He can’t even begin to imagine being so expressive and moving around so much with his actions, no matter how pleased or surprised or devastated he might be. The emotion does not matter.
In this case, however, stoic fits his mood perfectly.
“Seph, I have to talk to you about something,” he says, removing his cloak and tossing it over the back of an armchair. He hears Cerberus whine and scratch at the door to his living quarters. Briefly, since Seph doesn’t seem to have heard him anyway, he leaves the bedroom to let in the dog.
The ridiculous, stupid dog.
Cerberus can fly as well, but having no consciousness of that fact, he followed at a running space below them. At one point the dog must have ventured a guess as to where he was going (this isn’t the first time he’s come home this way), for he exceeded their pace and likely barreled through the palace to get to the door in time.
“Come in, mutt,” he says, though he reaches down and kindly scruffs the heads, taking time to scratch behind six ears, and grudgingly murmuring soft affections.
“No. Get away from that,” he says sternly when Cerberus sniffs the new addition to the furniture in his den. An enormous cage shaped like a house stands at waist-to-shoulder height. Even for royalty, he assumes Hibus must be the most spoiled bunny. The ghostly rabbit hops out of the hidden part of his home, a nest box, and sits on his haunches, sniffing.
He looks exactly like the old Hibus did, except that his eyes are completely white. And in the dimness of the underworld, a soul’s eyes always emit a subtle, eerie light.
The rabbit is supposed to be a surprise, but he doesn’t want to distract Seph any further. They have some things to talk about.
“Sit on your bed for now.” He points to the new cushion where Cerberus stays. Which is plush and large and extravagant enough that Hades would feel comfortable sitting a mortal emperor there without causing offense. But Cerberus makes a dissatisfied grumble as he turns and lowers himself onto the cushion.
“I’ll play with you in a bit,” Hades says, retrieving a bone from within a cupboard. Another gift Hermes brought with him, but this one required no bartering.
The desk calls to him while Cerberus slathers on the bone.
Ugh. Work.
The work is necessary, but it is costing him. He and Seph have not been together as much as he’d like. And Seph is right. They are close to becoming overwhelmed.
Demeter had better come to her senses soon. She can’t kill the whole planet just for her son.
Yet at the same time, knowing how much he cares for Seph, he also has the thought: She might.
“Seph, we need to talk.”
He shuts the door to the bedroom since Cerberus might start barking, giving his opinion of the matters discussed if he senses tension in their words. Cerberus is tolerating Seph in his master’s bed for now, but they have a ways to go before they bond.
“What about?” Seph asks picking up the platter of fruit Verah keeps on Seph’s end of the table. Now that he’s recovering, Seph as an appetite. “Are you not happy with the decision I made?”
He nibbles on a pomegranate seed and pulls it away from his lips. “She was one soul, Hades. I didn’t want to lose her either. I got on my knees and begged her to stay—I begged for her life! But I am still happy, overall, with the outcome. We cannot let our citizens wander away freely, of course, but I don’t think we should have to hunt them down either. People should want to live here.”
Hades waves a hand to dismiss his concerns, sitting on the bed next to him. Seph offers him a couple pomegranate seeds from his fingers, and Hades takes his lover’s wrist, moving his mouth and tongue over Seph’s hand, sucking the sweet juice into his throat, and eyeing Seph’s body for more.
Gods damnit. Work can wait.
But can it? When Seph’s life was nearly lost today?
Seph watches him with a dazed expression, his mouth slightly open. And Hades starts quickly on the buttons of his own shirt, recognizing that two bodily needs are warring with him at the moment. Seph looks very, very nice. And so do the blankets and the pillows.
So he says hurriedly, compromising by fitting in two tasks at once, “Hecate says you were attacked today. By two men.”
Seph was leaning in for a kiss. But the words make him distracted. Hades takes his lips anyway, enjoying the surprised oof and clumsy to the start of the kiss. Only to have his lover give in and move his mouth and tongue against him fully.
“This is a really weird time to mention it,” Seph says with heavy breath when they part. “But yeah. Yeah, I was. I wouldn’t really call it attacked so much as molested though. I didn’t see Theseus until he was already on the ground and disabled. I’m guessing Hecate turned into a snake and bit him? I’m not really sure. Can she do that?”
“Hecate mostly keeps her powers unknown.” And Hades thought he would never say her name as he was undoing the crotch on his pants. He stumbles and toes out of his boots as well, saying, “What I want to know
is why you didn’t tell me first. You should’ve come to me immediately. Dear husband. And I am ashamed that you thought I was too busy to hear about this attack and make sure you are safe.”
Seph hasn’t been undressing at all. Lazy boy. Whether dressing or undressing, he lets Hades or the servants do it for him. He always used to seem put off by Verah or Sefkh wrapping a chiton around him, but since Minthe’s attack he has become more comfortable letting others do things for him.
Hades doesn’t mind at all. He doesn’t even get his trousers undone all the way, just loosening them to make room for his erection, and then he goes to his knees in front of Seph, his hands reaching up and under his clothes.
“I will always make time for you, Seph. It doesn’t matter how busy I am. You should always come to me.” And cum for me, would have been added as a joke for his own amusement, if his mouth was not already open for something else.
He is disappointed. Seph, always so modest before and after, is wearing underclothes. A design he’s borrowed from one of the human cultures.
“Why do you wear these?” he asks, irritated.
Seph chuckles, taking the crown off of Hades’s head. He holds it with two hands, glancing from the crown to Hades’s face, and then up and down Hades body.
He says, “I didn’t avoid telling you. I would’ve told you now—or before.” He shrugs. “I’ve just been very busy. One thing right after the other seems to take our attention. And those guys barely touched me.” He sets the crown aside. With his thumbs, he removes the stupid, pointless underclothing. “I can tell you all about it now if you like. One of the guys, Pirithous, put a blade to my neck. But he could never seriously hurt me.”
Seph curls over Hades, holding his chin and stopping him from wrapping his lips around Seph’s cock (for now). They kiss at an awkward angle, and Seph puts his chiton up around his waist with his other hand.
Hades hates multitasking. Seph has a beautiful clock, and it’s thick enough to fill his entire mouth, long enough to almost make him gag. But from down here, he has to say, looking up at Seph sternly, “I will always make time for protecting you. I am never too busy—”