“What are we hiding?” he laughed. “You are wounded -- and badly.” Hades said nothing, watching Ares passively. “Chain him!” Ares cried, flinging his hair back. The guards rushed forward and Persephone stood too, attempting to race towards Hades, but Ares grabbed her and pulled her tightly against his body, pressing his erection against her back. “I will deal with you later.”
Ares pushed her away again as he unstrapped a golden whip from his belt. “This came wrapped around you when Cronus vomited you up.” He ran his fingers over the tawny thong, smiling wickedly, his teeth gleaming in the shadows. “I am going to enjoy beating the man who steals from me.”
“Let Persephone leave the room,” Hades yelled, “She should not have to watch.”
Ares pulled her again from the ground, eyeing the ripped front of her gown, “She is not going anywhere,” he snarled. “I think she should watch as I tear the flesh from your bones. This traitor is what you prefer to me? You let him fuck you, I can see it on your face. You are a whore.”
She pushed away, turning to look at her husband. “Hades,” she whispered, reaching her hand towards him.
Ares gave a swift angry inhale, then lifted the whip cracking it hard on Hades’ back. Hades pushed his face into the stone, taking the first blow in stride. Ares snapped his fingers dousing the strap in fire and raised it again, crashing it as hard as he could on the God’s back. Hades let out an anguished but reluctant scream that sounded more like a mortal man than a God, and Ares relished in it.
The scream broke Persephone’s heart and she cried out as the blood spurted from his back, arcing across the room to splatter against the wall. The old scars were pulled open and she remembered how Eurynomos had carved out his flesh. No one had ever protected him and she would not let this honorable man fall at Ares’ knees, -- not for her.
She rushed forward and forced herself to grab Ares’ arm before it could descend again, “Stop this!” she cried. “This was not his fault. He broke no rules! It was me. I was the one wearing the ring when I went above ground. Punish me, not him!” She turned to her husband who lay passive on the floor and she screamed at him, “Hades, stop punishing yourself and start breaking the rules! You do not deserve this!”
Ares sneered at her. “How touching, the little wife protecting her husband.” He lifted his arm higher this time and the whip began to descend but she lifted her palms and vines wrapped around the whip, halting its descent.
She stepped closer to Ares and forced him to look at her. “Your anger is with me,” she said quietly. “I am the one you want to punish. Is it not my blood you want flowing at your feet? I betrayed you, did I not? Leave him alone.” Her voice was persuasive and she poured every ounce of magic she had into it. “Punish me.”
She could see the blood lust and hatred in Ares’ sky blue eyes and he stepped closer to her. “What will you give me if I do?”
Hades struggled against the chains and finally she could see anger on his face. “Persephone, stop!” he cried desperately.
“Anything,” she said, “Everything. Just leave him alone.”
Ares dropped the whip and turned Persephone around, ripping the back of her dress. Two men grabbed her arms dragging her to a rock, chaining her hands to the stone. Hades looked over to his wife and saw fear flash in her eyes, but underneath was something he had not dared to dream.
“Hades...I...” she said with longing.
Just as Ares lifted the whip, Hades tilted his wrist waving his fingers. Time slowed down almost to a stop. Persephone felt a lightness fill her and she watched in shock as they both flew out of their bodies and were standing in the center of the throne room, bathed in gold. She glanced at Ares and the whip moving slowly through the air towards their bodies, still tied to the stones. She saw the chained Hades on the stone with the bleeding, raw back, and then looked at the golden, smiling Hades who stood before her. Her hands were spun from millions of golden threads and their bodies glittered in gold as she lifted a shining hand, touching his face. He looked pure and clean and a smile curved his mouth that reached his dark eyes. He was beautiful and looked like everything she had ever wanted wrapped in one perfectly flawed package.
“What is this?” her voice sounded distant and seemed to echo loudly in the room while being only a whisper in her mind. “How is this possible? Are we dead?”
He shook his head. “These are our spirits, Persephone. Our bodies lay still on the rocks, but I released our souls to allow them to commune. Your spirit has something it wishes to tell mine.” He looked at her smiling, his voice reverberating against her. He lifted his hand to her face and leaned close to her, seeing the confusion on her face. “You are bearing your soul to me,” he said with a beautiful smile.
Everything around them moved in slow motion except them, and the fear and the pain disappeared until there was only him. Only her. Only Hades and Persephone covered in gold. He took her hand and placed it against his chest that was covered in smooth, healthy flesh. His wound had vanished and she rubbed her fingers in wonder against his warm skin.
“Why did you take my punishment, Persephone?” he gently asked.
“I… I do not know,” she said helplessly.
“Do you not?” he again queried.
“I could not let him hurt you. I could not bear it! I am sorry Hades, so sorry for bringing you to this point.” A golden tear travelled down her face and he bent to kiss it away. She watched in shock as he pressed his palm against hers and their threads began to intertwine, weaving seamlessly until she felt him inside of her, until she was part of him, their consciousness so close she could not seperate where she ended and he began. Echos of his thoughts began to play in her mind. It was as if he knew his penalty would bring her barriers down and she felt every moment that had led to this, a carefully plotted game of chess that had led her to her soul’s desire. In this glittering form, as their threads bled into each other, she knew the truth; she had found her soul’s mate.
Hades leaned forward to kiss her, his lips soft against hers. As a warmth filled her from the inside, she suddenly remembered the golden figures that she had seen, embracing in this room -- exactly where they stood now. She felt his love and she kissed him back, pouring everything she had never said into the touch of her lips. Her heart began to pound and she looked down to see it was illuminated in her golden chest, a crimson glow with a small thread of darkness in its beating center. Hades lifted his hand to place it over the wound and she grabbed it, suddenly frightened.
“This is where my darkness seeps in. I have tried so hard to hide it, even from myself.”
He whispered, “I do not fear the dark. Share your darkness with me as I have shared mine with you.” He took his hand and placed it over the wound in her chest.
The mark began to flutter and vibrate and shone with a brilliant light as memories flooded his mind’s eye. He looked into her past and saw Persephone make her way to the river to wait for his letter, instructing what time they would meet. She was smiling, Olive trotting next to her and she bent down to rub his soft fur as they walked to her destiny. What if he was displeased when he actually met her? What if he changed his mind? She forced her feet forward, anxious to meet this man who occupied her thoughts and dreams, desperate to meet the man she loved. When she arrived, a man with tawny hair was standing by the water holding the letter, and he rose.
The man, no a God she realized with a shock, turned from the shadows holding the letter. It was Ares and his face was beautiful in the dappled sunlight.
“I could not wait for you any longer,” he said, his pure voice strong in the twilight night. The wind touched the golden strands of his hair and she felt it pulling her back towards the temple.
She smiled uncertainty, hovering at the edge of the water. “It is you? You have been the one writing me?”
“It is, my beloved. I will kiss you under the stars,” Ares said with a smile as he opened up his arms wide. Persephone ran into them and kissed him in the forest,
under the darkening sky, pressing her lips against his over and over. “I love you!” she cried. “I have waited for you for so long,” she whispered, pressing her head against his chest.
They stood under the trees kissing one another and any misgivings she had at the discovery of his identity she pushed away. If he was not who she had imagined as her lover, his letters showed his true nature. His compassion, his cleverness, his wisdom were all there, displayed into every word of his writing -- and she knew him. She loved him. He was as much a part of her as her own heart. She drew back as she felt his tongue touch the seam of her lips and his hand fondled her breast. “Would you like to meet my mother?” she naively asked.
Ares started laughing. “I do not think Demeter needs to be present for this, unless she wants to join in the fun.” Her brows furrowed, confused by his words, when he lifted his hands to her neck and wrapped his long fingers against it, squeezing tightly.
She pulled desperately at his hands even as her vision became blurred from fear.“Stop,” she choked out.
“You do not like hands around your throat, my beloved?” His face was leering at her, his beautiful blue eyes narrowed and fanatical as a shadow passed over the setting sun. Olive began butting Ares with his head and Persephone gave a moanful cry and reached for her little friend. Ares picked up the little fawn and grasped his thin brown neck and a sickening crunch filled her ears. She screamed and fell to her knees, staring in horror at Olive’s empty eyes.
Ares covered her mouth with his hand as she struggled to break free. She began to claw at him when Ares pushed her roughly to the ground, throwing Olive’s body near the river like he was refuse, like he had not been her dearest friend.
“If you keep screaming, I will break your neck like that fawn,” he promised, smiling down at her. She pushed at him but the God of War was strong and he held her arms down. “I will enjoy taking what should have been mine long ago.”
Hades watched as he pulled up her skirts running his hand up her pale thighs, as the other hand covered her full mouth. She bit his hand hard, drawing blood, and he slapped her face and she hovered on the edge of consciousness. He began to beat her in earnest, punching and kicking her, hitting her breasts and the delicate point between her legs, until Persephone curled into a ball, tears streaming down her swollen face. Olive’s lifeless eyes stared into hers.
“Why must you make me hurt you, Persephone?” he asked, his voice calm as he finally drew away from her, licking her blood from his knuckles.
“Let me help my fawn,” she pleaded.
He handed her a scroll telling her if she wanted to help Olive to write another letter. “Tell me I am a monster that no woman could ever love. Tell me you curse the day you met me. Tell me everything I touch brings death and destruction. Tell me you hate me!”
“I do not understand!” she cried, earning another slap to her bruised face.
“Write it,” he breathed into her mouth as he bit her lip so hard that blood filled both of their mouths. He laughed and sat behind her with his hands around her neck, kissing her as she wrote the letter. With the last word written, he turned her around to face him and she sobbed, her tears smearing the words, and she lifted her hand, asking him for coins to place over the dead fawn’s mouth.
“Shh, my lovely.” He said crushing a black rose between his hand, spreading the petals against the ground. “Do not to make a sound.” The sun shone behind him and he looked like a giant black demon above her.
He pushed her back to the ground, tearing at her clothes and she pushed and kicked at him but he was too strong. He lifted her skirts and forced himself inside her, tearing at her protective barrier and she felt the hot blood running down her thighs as she cried out at the burning pain. He thrust into her over and over again ripping the soft tissue. He bit her breasts and pressed his mouth against hers, drinking in her screams, sweeter than ambrosia on his lips as he swelled inside of her, licking the tears on her cheeks.
“This is love,” he told her. “This is our wedding night, let me kiss you under the stars my love. Let me fuck you under the stars.” And he began to laugh as his hot seed filled her, mingling with the virginal blood on the ground as he spasmed over and over.
She lay in the dirt, her body and spirit broken. She looked into Olive’s dead brown eyes.
“I wish I would die,” she cried.
He turned her face towards his, squeezing her face brutally until she gave a small moan of pain, and he smiled. “Oh you will, Persephone,” he replied, “but not yet.” He reached down, squeezing the soft mound between her legs and she whimpered. “I will return for you, this is far from over.”
He left her in the forest, bloody and battered, blood staining her white cotton dress. She lay there in the darkness until finally she began to cry, calling out her mother’s name. Demeter found her lying in the dirt and she did not need to tell her mother what had happened when she had met her lover in the forest. Persephone could see the rage and disbelief in her mother’s eyes as she took in the blood staining her pale thighs, the bruises covering her flesh, the bite marks on her breasts.
“Please,” Persephone whispered, closing her swollen eyes against the horror on her mother’s face.
“Who was he?” Demeter asked, her voice shaking with barely suppressed rage.
“Mother,” Persephone’s voice was a plea.
“Tell me and I will ask no more questions, I promise. All I ask is his name.
“Ares,” she said, her voice so light she wondered if Demeter would hear her. “I am such a fool. Because of me, Olive is dead.”
“No,” her mother whispered fiercely. “Your only crime is that you trusted a monster. You are innocent my love.” Snow rained down on the summer wind as her mother wrapped her gently in her arms. “Come my child, we will return for Olive after I see to you.” Unable to stand, Demeter carried her broken child back to the temple and Persephone felt her mother’s tears falling against her face. Her heart twisted strangely in her chest and then was silent as she remembered Olive’s blank eyes and she felt something inside of her die. Hope. Love. Faith. She would never trust again! Persephone let her eyes close as Demeter’s temple came into view.
Hades had seen enough and he lowered his hand from her chest. Aphrodite had told the truth. Persephone had loved him all this time, she just did not realize it.
Their spirits ricocheted back into their bodies as the whip flew through the air, crackling with blazing fire as it descended towards her. Hades pushed himself from the rock, grasping the flame laced thong in his fingers before it could crash down on Persephone’s back. The leather wrapped around his wrist and fingers, his flesh sizzling as the whip marked him. Ares stared at him in shock before Hades pulled the whip from his hands, flaying it against the floor with a loud thunderous crack against the marble. The God of War stared down at the scorched floor in horror before raising his eyes to the gleaming purple gaze fixed on him.
“You will never touch her again.” Hades growled, his purple eyes blazing into the azure eyes of Ares. “You will never speak her name.”
The King of Death began to smile and he was bathed in a violet light as he lifted his burnt, slashed hand into the air and pulled from the shadows a blue-flamed sword held tight within his bloody grasp.
Ares gave a cry of disbelief, then lifted a blade from his armor and the guards surrounded him, lifting their spears and shields high, shielding the God from Hades’ view. With a twist of Hades’ hand, Persephone was lifted off the ground and pushed out of the room, away from the deadly weapon. For the briefest second their eyes met until every entry into the room slammed shut with a deafening boom. The locks turned in synchronicity with a click, click, click until each golden door was barred and Hades began to laugh, a deadly and menacing sound. His face twisted in macabre delight, as he pointed the flaming blade at the soldiers.
“Fools!” he hissed. “You dare enter my domain, I am the master of death, wielder of spirits! I collect souls and watch
them burn. All I see before me are terrified, mewling, dead men. Your souls... are... mine.”
The guards viciously began their attack and Hades swung the blue flamed weapon at his adversaries, slicing their souls in half. He picked up the whip, cracking it around another guard bringing him close and ripped the life straight from his chest, throwing his dead lifeless body to the ground. With a flick of the wrist he snapped another man's neck. The guards were attacking in droves, seeming to multiply and he was throwing one body after another to the floor. He pushed through the men and looked for Ares but could not find him. Hades finished them off one by one until they were annihilated. He searched through the pile of bodies tossing them about the room, but Ares had vanished. “The coward ran away and left his men to die,” Hades snarled.
Fists pounded on the door echoing through the burnt tomb and he waved his hand to unlock the hatch. Persephone stood staring at him from across the room. One heartbeat passed, then two heartbeats. She stood still, looking at the guards littered on the ground, the blood smeared across the marble, a grisly mural of death. Hades dipped the silver blade back into the shadows and he wondered if she would run again. He could have hidden their bodies, denied who he was, but he did not want to lie to her. There had been enough deception and she deserved the truth from him no matter how frightening. So he stood there, amongst the dead, blood pooling at his feet, waiting to see what she would do. He heard her breath hitch and then they were running to each other and she fell into his arms as they tumbled to the ground. For the first time since he could remember, he was happy.
Chapter 20 - Scars
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He took his wife’s hand and pulled her to her feet. “Come,” he said softly. They walked to the stables and he quickly readied Orphnaeus knowing his wife preferred to ride bareback. He lifted her onto Aethon then jumped onto his mount. “Follow me,” he said, his pale face ghostly in the shadows, blood staining his skin like war paint. Orphnaeus raced from the stables and Aethon needed no command to follow. They galloped, side by side, and Persephone realized he was taking her a way they had never travelled before. He brushed her arm, drawing her attention to the murky river adjacent to them and the horses began to slow.
Hades And Persephone: Curse Of The Golden Arrow Page 25