The Goddess Legacy

by Aimee Carter

  “Bed,” I whispered between kisses, leaving no room for negotiating. He lifted me up without protest, and I wrapped my legs around his waist as he carried me across the room. I’d sworn to myself I would never go back here, but as he laid me down amongst the silk, I steeled myself against my body’s protests and pulled him down with me.

  I don’t know how long we kissed—long enough for both of us to get undressed, long enough for us to be seconds away from doing something neither of us had thought we’d ever do again. But before we got that far, Hades broke the kiss, his eyes searching mine.

  “You’re sure?” he whispered, and after a split second, I forced myself to nod. He loved me—I could see it in the way he looked at me, feel it in the way he touched me, everything. He loved me in a way Hermes never would, and I was an idiot for throwing all of that away without even trying. I knew what love was supposed to feel like now, and I could have that with Hades if I tried. I just had to want it bad enough.

  He kissed me again, gentler this time, but he still didn’t close the gap between us. “Why now?” he murmured, brushing his lips against the curve of my neck. I let out a frustrated groan.

  “Because—because,” I said, my voice breaking. “Because I want to, and you love me, and—can’t we at least try?”

  Hades pulled away enough to look me in the eye. “And what about Hermes?”

  I swallowed, and something must have flickered across my face, because Hades frowned. “It’s over with him,” I said. “Please, can’t we just…?”

  “Do you love me?” he whispered. I blinked.

  “I—I want to.” I ran my hand down his bare arm, feeling the muscle beneath his warm skin. “Please give me the chance to try.”

  He exhaled deeply, as if he’d been holding in a breath for eternity. “I made that mistake once.” He kissed me again, this time with aching gentleness. “I will not make it again.”

  Suddenly the weight of his body was gone, and he turned away to put his clothes back on. I lay there, exposed and shivering in the open air, and the tears I’d been holding back all evening finally broke through. “Don’t you love me?”

  He flinched, staring at the floor. “I love you, Persephone. More than my own existence. But it is because I love you so much that I cannot do this. In time, if we were to take this slowly, I would be honored. Under these circumstances, when I am nothing but a release to you…” He shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

  I opened my mouth to tell him he was so much more than a release, but I couldn’t force the lie out. If anything, he wasn’t even that. He was a way for me to feel loved. A way to get back at Hermes. And I didn’t care if it made things worse, so long as the pain of Hermes’s betrayal disappeared.

  But whether I wanted to admit it to myself or not, that wound was far too deep for anything to mask it, even sleeping with Hades. I hurt in a way I’d never hurt before, and Hermes had created a gaping hole in my chest that nothing could fill. I curled up in a ball, not caring that I was still naked, and I let out a choked sob. Hades must have been halfway to his desk by then, but instantly he touched my back. It was a comforting gesture, not a romantic one, and it was something I desperately needed.

  “You’re all right,” he murmured, and he wrapped a blanket around me. “Everything will be okay.”

  He could say that as much as he wanted, but he didn’t know. He couldn’t. I buried my face in his pillow, making a mess of the deep blue silk, but he didn’t seem to mind. Instead he lay down beside me and gathered me up in a gentle embrace. “It will get easier,” he murmured. “It may not feel like it now, but it will.”

  That only made me cry harder. Of course he knew what this was like. I’d done this to him again and again throughout our marriage, and never, not once, had he broken down in front of me. He’d kept that pain bottled up, refusing to take it out on me no matter how much I may have deserved it. Between him and Hermes, there was no contest. Hades would’ve never been with Aphrodite. He would’ve never even thought about her that way. He would’ve been there for me every moment of every day—he had been there for me, and I’d just never seen it before.

  And now that I did, now that my eyes were open and I finally understood, I couldn’t be with him. I’d messed it all up. I’d hurt him too badly for us to ever move beyond it. And that wall of hatred and resentment—it would never disappear. Whatever was causing it, whatever had made me feel that way to begin with, we were long past the point of fixing it. That wall was as much a part of me as Hades’s love for me was a part of him. There was no getting around it no matter how hard I tried. If sheer willpower alone could’ve made it crumble, I would’ve managed that a long time ago.

  Eventually I fell asleep, and during the night, Hades never left my side. When I awoke, his arms were still wrapped around me, and his eyes were open. He’d spent the entire night holding me, knowing we could never be together the way he wanted, knowing I would almost certainly go out and hurt him again as soon as the pain from Hermes’s betrayal healed.

  No. I wouldn’t. Not this time. Hades had already given up too much for me, and no matter how miserable I was, even if it meant an eternity alone, I would never let that wall—I would never let myself—hurt him again.

  * * *

  Centuries passed, and then eons. Every spring equinox, Hermes was there waiting for me when Hades dropped me off, and I walked past him without a word every single time. Eventually we began to exchange glances, and then smiles; after the first thousand years, he finally came to visit me one summer, and we spent the day tending the garden with my mother. Although we began to talk again, it was never as anything more than uneasy friends.

  Without Hermes’s companionship, my summers weren’t much better than my winters anymore. Hades built me several homes scattered across the world, and while I visited each and admired them all, my summers always began and ended at my mother’s cottage. But over time, she grew increasingly distant. Some summers she could pretend nothing was wrong, but I still felt the heat of her disappointment when she thought I wasn’t paying attention. Every glance, every absent hug and kiss—I felt them all, and they wore me down faster than my winter tomb ever could.

  Hades and I never became anything more than we were, though I kept my promise to myself: I didn’t cheat on him again. And that faithfulness gave me what small amount of happiness I could find. I’d made mistakes, I’d been a terrible person, but I could at least give Hades my loyalty now. We ruled together, side by side, and we may not have been deliriously happy, but we were content. I grew better at appreciating the small things, finding joy in our routines, and eventually I accepted my fate. This was my life, and the time to change it had long since passed.

  All of that shattered the day I saw him.

  I was up in the observatory, but instead of watching the afterlives of the dead, I’d let my mind wander to the surface. Though I would’ve rather died than admit it to anyone, occasionally, when I was at my worst, I watched Aphrodite. While I languished in loneliness, she had lover after lover, a whole host of men who would have died for her—and some who really did. She had everything I wanted, and no matter how I tried to console myself, my hatred for her only grew.

  But I never stopped watching her. Sometimes to live vicariously through her; sometimes to convince myself that I had it better. I didn’t, of course, but once in a while I’d stumble across moments that let me fool myself into believing it, if only for a short while.

  This wasn’t one of those moments. As the last vestiges of sunset stretched across the horizon, Aphrodite splashed in the ocean with the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. He was tall and strong, his face perfectly proportioned and his coloring fair. His smile seemed brighter than the sun, and when he glanced in my direction—unable to see me, of course, but still—my heart pounded, and warmth filled me from head to toe. It was the way Hermes had made me feel so many lifetimes ago. The way I wanted Hades to make me feel.

  I was instantly smitten, but I wasn’t t
he only one. As I watched them together, Aphrodite couldn’t take her eyes off him, either. Despite their games, she constantly kept a hand on him, as if she were afraid he would disappear. Maybe he would. Maybe he was some sort of illusion. There was no other explanation for how someone so handsome could exist and not be one of us.

  He tackled her to the sand and tickled her, and her shrieks of delight made my head ache. So she’d won again. Another boy, this time the most perfect one I’d ever seen, and Hephaestus didn’t seem to care. If anything, he’d love her more tomorrow than he did today, because that’s the kind of man he was. Just like Hades.

  “Adonis!” she cried, laughing. “Adonis, no, I have to get back. I’m already late as it is.”

  “Take me with you,” he murmured, kissing her, and she melted against him. Usually this was my cue to look away or disappear, but something stopped me.

  Adonis. That was his name. I whispered it to myself, feeling the syllables roll off my tongue, and I smiled. It was perfect. He was perfect. And I wanted him.

  “Mmm, you know I would, but Daddy would kill me,” said Aphrodite, stealing another kiss. “I mean it this time—I really have to go. I have a council meeting.”

  I blinked. Adonis knew she was a goddess? Not that men didn’t usually suspect when it came to her, but to actually mention the council…

  “Very well,” he said, releasing her with one last kiss. “I will see you again shortly?”

  “Soon,” she promised. “I do have to spend some time with my husband, you know.”

  He grinned, and she blew him a kiss. A moment later, she disappeared, and Adonis stared at the spot where she’d last stood. He had a wistful look on his face, as if he were thinking about a future he could never have. And if he were really mortal, then he was right. He couldn’t.

  Before I could stop and think, I slipped through the barrier between us, and I arrived on the beach in exactly the spot where Aphrodite had stood. Adonis’s eyes widened, and he blinked several times.

  “Who are you?” he said, but he didn’t step back. That was something.

  “Persephone,” I said. “I didn’t mean to barge in—”

  “Persephone? Queen of the Dead?” he said, and now he did stumble backward. Damn. “Am I dying? Am I to be punished for being with the goddess of love herself?”

  I snorted. “Please. If every man she slept with died because of it, there’d be no men left in the world. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m not here to carry you off to the Underworld or anything.” Though he had the good sense to fear it, at least. “I just…”

  What was I supposed to say? That I’d been spying on him and Aphrodite? That he was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen? That I saw my future in his smile, that light and warmth and heart—that I wanted a piece of that happiness, no matter how small?

  Oh, please. Love at first sight was the sort of thing Aphrodite believed, not me. I should’ve never come.

  But the thought of returning to the Underworld and leaving him behind made my shriveled heart twitch in protest. He was a stranger, but at the same time, when I looked at him, I saw the familiar. I saw everything I’d ever wanted in those blue eyes, and I couldn’t tear myself away.

  “You just what?” he said, his voice gentler now, as if he could feel whatever drew me toward him, as well. Maybe he could. Maybe this was another one of Aphrodite’s tricks, designed to humiliate me in front of everyone.

  I needed to go. Or come up with a better excuse that had nothing to do with the truth. I took a breath, weighing my options. Not much of a choice. I could no sooner leave him than I could throw myself into the bottomless pit of Tartarus. “You looked—lonely, that’s all. I’m sorry. Please don’t be scared.”

  He eyed me, and as the sky turned from rainbow to purple, he relaxed. “It takes loneliness in oneself to recognize it in another.”

  “Yes, well. I don’t exactly have a whole host of people in the Underworld begging to come to my parties,” I said wryly.

  That got a smile out of him, and it was just as beautiful as the ones he’d given Aphrodite. Maybe even more so, now that this one was meant for me. “I am Adonis,” he said, stepping forward. Though he hesitated, he took my hand and brushed his lips against my knuckles. “I am afraid I do not know the proper protocol for addressing royalty.”

  “This isn’t my realm,” I said, “and right now, I’m not the queen of anything. I’m just Persephone.”

  That was technically a lie; I still had a month to go before spring, but Adonis didn’t need to know that. “Well, just Persephone, it is the greatest pleasure and honor of my humble existence to set eyes on a creature as beautiful as you.”

  I blushed. “Please. I know you’ve seen Aphrodite.”

  “And yet I speak the truth.”

  No wonder Aphrodite liked him. He could probably talk his way out of the Underworld. “Do you live here?” I said, and he nodded.

  “Aphrodite brought me here to keep me safe,” he said. “Though safe from what, I’m afraid I do not know.”

  I did. One look at Adonis, and it was obvious Aphrodite was worried someone else would claim him for their own. “What about your home? Your family?”

  He shrugged and took my arm as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “I have none.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry.”

  Adonis shook his head, and his blond curls fell into his eyes. “Don’t be. All the more time to spend with you. Do goddesses eat? Might I interest you in dinner?”

  I should’ve said no. Hades would miss me before long, and I’d promised myself I would never betray him again. But Adonis made me feel as if I was flying—one look, one smile, and that was enough to wash all of the bad away. This was what I’d missed since Hermes. This was what I’d craved. And no matter how much I loved him, Hermes was nothing compared to Adonis.

  “Yes,” I said. “I think I have time for dinner.”

  He beamed and brushed his lips against my cheek. The spot where he’d touched me seemed to sear itself into my skin, and as he led me toward the edge of the woods, I hugged his arm. It wouldn’t hurt to miss one evening with Hades. I’d make it up to him, stay an extra day after the spring equinox or something. But nothing, not even my soul-crushing guilt, could make me walk away from Adonis.

  * * *

  Each evening, after Hades and I finished our judgments, I visited Adonis. Sometimes I stayed for a few minutes, sometimes for hours, always timed to make sure Aphrodite would never find us. But she stayed away more and more, always grumbling about Ares or Hephaestus needing her attention. Adonis never complained, and she never asked why.

  But I was that reason. The time I spent with Adonis was bliss, and from the way he lit up upon seeing me, I knew it wasn’t just me. Together we explored the island hand in hand, and we talked about everything. My life, his, the role the council played in the lives of mortals—Aphrodite had told him far more than we were permitted to tell mortals, and that made the conversation much easier. I wasn’t bending any rules she hadn’t already broken, and Adonis seemed to enjoy hearing about what we did.

  Mortals already told stories about my family—some true, some embellished, some outright ridiculous, and Adonis took great joy in relaying them to me. We made a game of it; he would remove or replace the names, and I would try to guess which member of my family he was talking about. I’d never laughed so hard in my entire existence.

  I didn’t kiss him though, and while we held hands, he never pressed for more. I couldn’t give it to him, not while it was still winter. Not while I was still Hades’s. Being here was enough betrayal on its own. I couldn’t make things worse no matter how tempting Adonis was.

  I ached for spring to come. We talked about Mother’s cottage and how we might get one of our own; Adonis had never had a home before, not a proper one he’d chosen for himself, and he relished the idea of seeing the place that had become my summer retreat. As spring neared, I grew giddy with the thought of showing him m
y home and sharing my summer with him. He, in turn, was never too embarrassed to tell me exactly how excited he was, as well.

  That was the best part about being with him—the honesty. The openness. After millennia of enduring the lies and secrets within my family, even down in the Underworld, it was a relief not to question every word he said. He was everything I’d ever wanted, and even if I could only have him as a friend, that would still be more than I’d ever thought I’d have.

  But I did want more. I longed to kiss him, to touch him, to bask in his outer beauty as much as I enjoyed the beauty inside. We were perfect together in every way, and as soon as I could, I would steal him from Aphrodite and give him the life he wanted. The life he deserved. The life we both deserved.

  Days before the spring equinox, he and I sat together on the beach, our hands clasped as we laughed over a story he’d told me about his childhood. I was oblivious to our surroundings, barely aware of time passing at all, and it was only the look on Adonis’s face that alerted me to the fact that something was wrong.

  I turned. Standing in the sand, her arms crossed and a scowl on her pretty little face, was Aphrodite.

  Lovely.

  “I wasn’t aware it was spring already. What are you doing here?” she said in a sickeningly sweet voice.

  “Talking to a friend,” I said, not bothering to match her tone. Adonis knew exactly how I felt about her. “What are you doing here? Cheating on your dozen boyfriends?”

  She scoffed. “Only a dozen? You severely underestimate me. Hi, love,” she said to Adonis. “Is Persephone bothering you? I can make her leave, if you’d like.”

  I bristled. “Make me leave? How? By cooing at me?”

  “Don’t you have a husband to get back to?” she snapped.

  “Don’t you?”

  She sniffed. “He knows exactly where I am, though I’m willing to bet Hades has absolutely no idea where you are. You do know who she is, don’t you, Adonis? And who her husband is? He controls your afterlife, you know. Are you really willing to risk that?”