Hades and Seph

by Eileen Glass

  “We are not staying for long,” Hades says quietly, only looking down the hill. He yearns for the chariot, Seph knows, and he might be considering calling his scepter to him as well.

  “No?” Zeus says, and Seph finally manages to step free of his touch. He takes Hades’s hand instead, going to the side opposite Zeus.

  Be patient, he thinks, squeezing.

  “I have only come to assure you that I am well.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “Because I heard you were worried about me, Father. There are whispers that I’m in need of rescue and that Hades’s abduction of me wasn’t lawful and with your consent.”

  Seph chides himself. He meant to be far more blunt than that. But his father seems clueless and pleasant. Friendly. His tone and his expression are nothing but joy when he regards Seph, and Seph is finding himself falling for it—a little. He hasn’t forgotten his purpose here.

  “Uh. Well…” Zeus shrugs his shoulders and scratches the back of his head with one massive hand. “Was it?” he says, surprising them both. Hades actually turns his head and looks at him.

  “I was pressured and perhaps acted too hastily. And Persephone, I did not truly give you away as your father, for I have never known you like a father. Now you are here, and the opportunity is given! I did try to get to know you, remember? Only a true father can marry a son, so…”

  “No,” Seph says firmly, stepping out to face Zeus directly, with Hades in the middle but not impeding his confrontation.

  “Uh, what?” Zeus asks, blinking. His eyes dart to Hades quickly, and Seph can tell he is measuring a prediction of the dark god’s next action.

  “No, your consent for Hades to marry me was lawfully binding. And even if it wasn’t, I am a god anyway, and we both know that gods are only bound by the laws that can be enforced.”

  Now Zeus’s eyes are mostly for Hades though he speaks to Seph. And there is some calculation there—some little sign of Hera or Hades or even the controlling tactics of his mother. He is not just the simple, overjoyed father he pretends to be.

  “Persephone, perhaps I acted too rashly. And you are right, you should not be bound by my decision alone! We should take some time to think about this. Come.” He reaches far across and touches Seph shoulder. “Let me take you to your mother. And when she’s done crying her tears, we will discuss this as a family—”

  Seph can sense Hades about to pull the scepter to him. It is a strange feeling, again like he is standing on the surface of a lake and it goes impossibly deep.

  He speaks firmly before the scepter can appear.

  “I am not bound by your decisions anymore, Father. That is what I came to say. And there is no need to send rescuers after me, or to spread rumors—”

  Zeus waves a hand, and though the point of this conversation is for Seph to establish his independence while he’s in the upperworld, he finds himself naturally falling silent. Zeus dresses like a simple man, and he has none of the jewels of a rich person. He is like a commoner who just happens to look amazing.

  But he is a great and eternal being of immense power. Seph can sense it in him, even if he pats Seph shoulder again like there was no offense taken.

  “I have not sent any rescuers. Though I admit, I think I should have. Where is this coming from?”

  “Two mortal kings, possibly with some magical aid, traveled to the underworld to abduct me. While I was riding in the woods.”

  He feigns shock. Seeing a king’s face so animated is new for Seph, and he can tell immediately that these are mimicked for dramatic effect. The small shifts and little tells might make Hades seem unfeeling, but they are more genuine than this.

  “I did not know this!” He puts a hand on his breast. “I didn’t help them, if that’s what you think. You haven’t come to harm, I hope?” He looks Seph up and down, but rushes ahead, not waiting for any answer. “But Persephone, your mother—and I—have missed you. Your mother has been inconsolable, actually. So regardless of what you say about your marriage to Hades and all that, well…”

  With one hand he waves to the air frivolously. But his grasp on Seph’s shoulder is a little more purposeful. A little more firm and unmoving.

  “Well, I’m afraid I simply can’t allow it to happen. Anymore.” He fixes his gaze on Hades as well. “You see, I am the god of the upperworld and all the creatures in it. And your mother’s grief for you, well, it’s causing a lot of dying. I’m sure you noticed, being down there and all.” He looks backward, towards Hera. “Come, have lunch with us and discuss this more. I have to hear all about you, dear boy! I’ll have couches brought up. Come on!”

  He tries to bring Seph forward and hold him around the waist again. No doubt, he’s masking an evaluation—his side versus their side. At the dinner table, Hades is likely to notice that he’s outnumbered.

  Seph pushes his hands away, deciding to be done with the polite games.

  “I am not here to discuss anything. Especially not with you. You are not a true father, which you’ve even admitted.”

  Zeus is a good actor. When he shows hurt, too exaggerated to be real, Seph must ignore his instincts telling him he’s overstepped. But he also knows that he’s right.

  “Your mother never let me—”

  “Being a father is more than just looking at your son occasionally and making sure he’s fed alright. If you are a parent, you should have had an equal partnership with my mother. But you do not. Not for me or any of your sons and daughters.”

  Zeus makes a light scoff at first. Then he thinks it over. Beseeching the, like he regrets having to give the bad news, he says, “Well, I have a lot of sons…”

  “No. You have offspring. You do not have any sons. And even if I was your son, I don’t wish to give you the right to marry me. Or to un-marry me in this case either.”

  Their eyes meet, Zeus’s delicate features contained behind thick bushy brows and a thick bushy beard. He looks more like Hades than he wants to let on, only the broadness of his muscles and the wideness of his neck being the most stark difference. He has fully embraced human Greek culture, even though there are many to choose from, and Seph notices now, for the first time, that this must be why so many gods follow the same fashion.

  Only Hades is noticeably different, staying in his northerner’s garb, even here.

  “Before you challenge us, Father, I would like to remind you that you are the one who gave me away. You are the one who caused this to happen. And you are the one who is incapable of calling Demeter to obey your laws.”

  “I understand you’re upset with me, boy…” His expression is mostly frozen and not furious or threatening—not yet. But his voice is mildly losing its friendliness.

  “Now, if you can’t command the simple Goddess of the Harvest—your own sister, your ex-lover, and the woman you claim isn’t as powerful as you—if you can’t command her to listen, what makes you think you can command me?”

  “Do not speak carelessly with me, son. A war amongst the gods is bad for all of us.”

  “Then do not think you can remarry me, and you won’t start one.”

  “But son, apparently your mother cannot live without you.” Zeus is sounding like he could live without Seph very well. His hands have drifted back to themselves. Seph’s first impression, whatever it was, has been rescinded.

  “And that is the second thing I’ve come to tell you. I am going to convince my mother to warm the Earth again since you cannot. I will be here in the upperworld, going to see her, and any sort of assistance from you is not necessary. I do not want to see an abduction attempt made on my life. I do not require any visits from you at all.”

  Zeus chuckles mockingly. “Well, you’re just a little Titan, aren’t you? You know, I’ve had plenty gods both young and old tell me to stay out of their business. And you know what I say?”

  “No,” Seph admits, though in reflection he wishes he had stayed quiet.

  He leans forward in what he must imagine to be
an intimidating way. But Seph is unaffected. He still has Hades by his side.

  “I am the King of the Earth, boy. And it is not you who gives me an ultimatum.”

  Seph does not tower over him in kind. Nor does he call upon Hecate to strike him with her acid whip. It does not seem necessary yet.

  “And I am Persephone, King of the Underworld and partner to my husband—King Hades of the Underworld. Tell me, King Zeus, why did you become desperate when my mother refused to listen to all pleas for mercy?”

  He pauses, but does not hold out for a reply.

  “It is because you are only a king until the Earth dies. You have taken a temporary position. And who controls the time span of that position? Why, it is us. If I choose, I will bring all the souls of everything home for their final rest. You will watch your kingdom be covered in snow and finally die.”

  “Is this your plan all along?” Zeus addresses Hades, who doesn’t answer. His husband is being quiet, letting Seph control the conversation. He didn’t expect this, but he hasn’t felt like he needs help yet.

  “Hades, you know the world can become so much more beautiful in time. You know the humans shouldn’t be called home yet! And you are letting this one spout declarations of war!”

  “No, not war. It is an empty threat. Before following through on such an ultimatum, my husband and I would replace you first. Or did you forget, King Zeus? Hades lets you have this place up here. We can claim it any time. Since it has not been managed effectively—”

  “I am getting about tired of your bullshit.”

  “Since you have not managed it effectively,” Seph continues, “we would seek to replace you before dooming the Earth entirely. Or we can start a war now. On behalf of your hurt pride.”

  “Brother,” Hades says, speaking for the first time, “remember what you told me after we defeated our father? You want to be the protector of the weak. If that is still true, see past these aggressive words. Nothing needs to change. You know I am content to keep the eternal world. And the war between us now would damage an already ailing Earth. I think we would annihilate it.”

  “You have come into my home…” His tone is reserved, but Seph does not think many get to see him with a stern face. In the arguments with his mother as Seph was growing up, he was always mocking, never truly furious.

  In the distance, Hera stands from her couch.

  Seph says unapologetically, “Prevent your wife from interceding on our discussion. Or it will be said Zeus, the Thunder God King, is spineless against women.”

  Zeus shouts over his shoulder, and Seph trembles invisibly.

  There is power in him. Raging, uncontrolled power.

  And Seph gave it a command.

  “Hera, go back to your place and wait for me!”

  Her obedience is far more reluctant. In fact, she is not fully obedient at all. She stays at a distance, just out of hearing, and crosses her arms, watching.

  “If I’ve convinced you I don’t want to be friends, Father, then perhaps this will be easy. Don’t visit me. Certainly don’t remarry me—that won’t go well at all. We would have to assert for everyone who the strongest power is. And in the underworld, you are facing two kings instead of one.”

  “Get out of my house.”

  “Gladly. That is all we’ve wanted since we stepped in it. Just make sure you stay out of my business and away from me and my mother.” He could leave it to there, but the moment to assert himself is now, or it will forever escape his tongue.

  “Do a better job convincing us that you are the all-powerful king of the land in the upperworld. If more of your subjects contest your rule—successfully—well, then you’re not a king at all, are you? We will have to appoint someone else.”

  He leaves. And the sky above the garden grows dark and cracks with thunder. The red deer and the ponies move away. The gardeners also cover their heads with shawls and run to the nearest shelter.

  Seph walks calmly, his head exposed. Hades protects them from a little rain that begins to fall. A lightning bolt at his head might be very tempting for the thunder god, but Zeus is not entirely evil.

  It is true what Hades said and what Zeus himself believes.

  He wants to be everything he pretends to be. Cheerful, untroubled, the protector of the weak. He’s trying to be perfect, and he doesn’t want that war among the gods.

  But he has no affection for Seph or anyone individually. That part is true as well.

  Sixty-Two

  Leaving Mount Olympus, it seems that the chariot flies level and the rest of the Earth gets farther away underneath them. The upperworld looks almost exactly like the underworld from this vantage point, though a lot less colorful. It is all white and bleak. And somewhere, among a memory of Seph’s, while he’s thinking that the air and the wind smell familiar somehow, Seph realizes that it isn’t supposed to look like this. The Earth isn’t supposed to be buried in snow and blank everywhere.

  He looks for one of the human cities, but does not find one. They are too far up. And Hades takes him into the clouds where the ice particles are like little needles stinging his cheeks. Seph lifts his cloak to protect himself.

  Hecate huddles miserably behind them in the chariot, but she’s shielded by their bodies. Hades does not dodge the ice at all, and he begins to look like a true mythical king of the underworld as snow begins to collect on his features.

  On his stony, somber features.

  Seph angles his back toward the horses and the barrage of icy flecks. With his hands, which are always warm, he brushes at Hades’s brows and his cheeks, wondering if he should command Hecate to guard his husband from the cold for them both. Hades is not unable to spend his magic, but he is lost in thought.

  “That was dangerous,” Hades says, never letting go of the reins or putting up the hood of his cloak.

  “You know my reasoning. He would’ve been a nuisance. And you never would have been able to trust me and focus on your work while I am gone if I hadn’t stood up to him.”

  “Yes, but I did not realize you would imply that I would replace Zeus. Replace him with whom? There are not any gods suited for the job. Except maybe Poseidon, but he is…” Hades shrugs. “He prefers the sea over people. He has disdain for the land. Zeus is not the best, but he is all there is.”

  “And if it came to it, I would let death take the Earth now, and Zeus—and Poseidon — would become our subjects. Now my father knows that I know that. That is all I wished to communicate.” Imagining he enacted such a threat makes Seph sad. He understands why his husband might be disturbed by this. “I didn’t wish to remove Zeus from power. I just wanted to remind him that we could. That is all.”

  “And you did.” Hades grabs him around the waist with one hand, managing the horses with the other. He pulls him close, and while Seph acknowledges the sheer frigid temperature from the outer shell of his clothes, his body contained warmly in wool within, Seph’s less-dressed physical form absorbs this and exudes heat.

  Seph cuddles close, pushing his chin above Hades’s shoulder, wishing he could share this innate magic with another. He tries to force it to happen through his physical touch.

  And Hades says, “That is what surprises me so. You left Zeus at a loss. He was not expecting you. And I was not expecting you.”

  “You’ve made me stronger than what I was. I can feel it. There is the sense that… I was less. It’s hard to explain. But I’m more now.”

  “You were not so willing to seek power. It is true. But you are still everything else.”

  “Then I am glad the nymph tricked me. Because you deserve a mate who doesn’t depend entirely on you. I am your instrument as well as your partner.”

  Hades picks at Seph’s hair. While his body is warm, ice has been collecting. It clings to the golden chariot and thickens the harnesses of the horses too.

  “Just be sure you are not like that fool, Icarus. Do not reach too far for power, my lovely-but-young king. Zeus did not expect you this time, and
so you won. I think you are his only son to publicly stand up to him. The rest are smitten or cowed. Zeus defeated our father, Chronos, and I did not. Don’t forget that.”

  “I think I have enough of him in me that we would defeat Chronos together. But do not worry—I hear you, my king. My Hades.” Seph cups his face. “I think Zeus will leave me alone. And if he does not, I will come to you before I face him again. I was not fearless in our meeting. Zeus was terrifying. He is a great god. But he is heartless in a lot of ways.”

  Seph continues, thinking on what he felt as he spoke to his father, “He does not want to be a bad person. And so, he is a dishonest one. He tries too hard to be perfect.” He blinks twice, realizing the depth of an early lesson. One that justifies Tartarus and everything else about Hades. “To be good kings, we have to enact cruelty sometimes. To be kind to everyone is a selfishness.”

  “I am still selfish,” Hades says, and kisses him. But it is not a good or even passionate kiss. It is far too cold for that. It is claiming and possessive and matter-of-fact.

  “Then I must be cruel to you, Hades, in equal measures. When you drop me off, I want you to leave. You must go back to the underworld and wait for me. I will send Hermes with a message if there is something urgent to say. Otherwise, you must manage the underworld by yourself and let me solve the problem up here. If you come with me, it will only cause my mother and you to fight.”

  “I would kill her…” Hades mutters, but it is off to the side and without intent. He is hiding much behind his blank expression. He hasn’t cried again since that day he lost Hecate’s duel, but Seph knows his husband well enough now to notice all the little signs that he’s hurting. Hades isn’t a mystery to him anymore.

  Seph takes his hand and they face forward together, the ice rushing at them and making it seem that they go faster than they really are. To Seph, it is like he’s gazing ahead into the long years of his reign with Hades.

  They are only just beginning, but the time will fly at them just as fast, and side-by-side, Hades and Seph will stand steady. They won’t erode to the discomforts of ice, darkness, and a little pain.