by Lucas, Naomi
Few knew that he breathed down the necks of all the undying in the room, held them tight within his hundred jaws, and could rend them into oblivion.
The dress he’d chosen for Cyane was for Hades and Hades alone.
Or was it? A streak of tension gripped Cerberus.
“You’ve outdone yourself,” Hades said, his lord leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “The mortal reminds me of the first time I saw Persephone. So sweet; so easy to pluck and possess.”
Cerberus nodded stiffly.
Hades rubbed his lips with his finger. “I look forward to her gift most of all.”
Something dark and ominous filled him at his lord’s words. It circulated through him like curdled blood and sharpened his thoughts. Cyane shrunk away from the centaur, Chiron, and sought Cerberus’s gaze from across the room.
So sweet, so easy to pluck and possess.
Yes. Yes. That’s what she was.
This is what it’s like to be a god.
He realized he wanted her gift too. Whatever she intended to give to Hades, he wanted it. Cerberus’s mood darkened further. He wanted her gift for himself alone.
The mortal hugged herself and skirted around the men and women engaging her.
“Lord Hades, Ruler of the Underworld, I humbly offer you my life,” a lesser Arae, naked from the waist up, said as she bowed.
“Great Dark King of Tartarus, I bring with me the endless blood waters of my husband, Acheron, for another millennium of servitude,” Gorgyra tilted her head and said as she placed a ceramic pot at Hades’s feet. Acheron’s serpentine nymph smiled and slipped away.
One after the other, those who celebrated with Lord Hades continued to offer him precious, pricey items and endowments. Menoetes offered him the best cattle stolen from above. Hermes offered a burned-out bolt from Zeus’s own arsenal. Even Zeus himself had a gift sent from above of godly garments crafted by Hepheastus. Time passed far too slowly for Cerberus.
At one point a rain of dead flowers fell from the ceiling to bury them, brought on by Demeter’s pain.
Cyane caught them in her hands in wonderment. Cerberus couldn’t tear his eyes away from her, at least not for long. She was unlike any of the other creatures that resided in this place. His eyes dipped to her body, and his jaw twitched. Why had he picked that dress out for her? Everyone could see her through it.
Hades swept the flowers away with a hearty laugh.
Hecate enchanted Hades’s two-pronged bident with the power to command moonlight into his realm for a time. The lower undying offered up more of the same—enchanted jewels, stolen art from above, a rare relic of power—and on occasion, someone would offend Hades with their gift and vanish with a flick of his lord’s wrist.
Cerberus watched and detested them all. They came one-by-one to appease his lord with everything but loyalty. Muses and their ballads and poems, Furies and their prophecies and dreams; it made his ears ache. When Cerberus was nothing more than a monster, he never had to attend these festivities, he’d been free to do his job like Charon. But times had changed, and so had Hades’s requirements of Cerberus.
This gift of manhood was not something he could turn his back on. His brothers, Chimera and Hydra, had perished like all the ancient beasts of old.
Cerberus was the only one left.
The only one except for his father, Typhon, who was imprisoned far below.
The last of the supplicants approached to offer their gifts, but Cyane hadn’t stepped forward. He instructed one of his canines to prod her into action.
The music swelled, and those who had survived Hades’s displeasure had become drunk on nectar and ambrosia and were enjoying the festivities freely. Cyane, who had been hidden behind the white curtains, shakily stepped forward.
Cerberus’s hands tensed.
She held a cup in her hand, one he hadn’t realized she’d picked up, and he watched her polish it off and set it on a table. His eyes narrowed, wondering what a gods drink would do to her.
She slowly made her way toward the dais, dodging drunken nymphs and daemons, flitting along like a lost maiden. Her chestnut hair fell in wavy curls down her back and arms, nearly bleeding into her white dress. Cerberus’s jaw twitched, and he had stepped forward when another guest rammed into her but stopped when Cyane caught herself, straightened with an inhalation that captivated him and weaved forward.
Tipsy or not, she made it to her destination.
Cyane stopped a short distance away and looked straight at Cerberus, making his body grow rigid with want. Her eyes were dewy and lightly glazed. Her hands gripped the sides of her dress, and her mouth opened like she wanted to say something, but then she glanced at Hades before looking back at Cerberus in question.
She’s asking me permission to come forward. Cerberus nodded stiffly. The thrill of her obeying him flushed through him, tightening his loins in a shocking, damning way. They pressed against his trousers painfully.
Damned! He didn’t understand it. Not even goddesses and naked, wanton nymphs made him react like this.
She shifted on her feet. Her tipsy courage urged him to take advantage, to assert his control over the situation and send her away, but it also made him wary, curious. He could smell her fear, her slick. When she appeared as though she might run, Cerberus left his place by Hades and went to her.
If she ran, he’d have no choice but to chase her. He didn’t know what he would do if that happened. Though something hard and shallowly buried inside him was increasingly delighted by the idea.
“Cerberus,” she breathed when he approached, “I’m scared.”
“You are a guest, there is no reason to be scared.” He fisted his hands tighter to keep himself from reaching for her. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“And the others that vanished? Where did they go?”
“Wherever Hades decided they needed to be. Come.” He tilted his head towards the dais. The sooner this day was done, the sooner he could take her back to the gatehouse and away from Hades, away from everyone else’s eyes.
She stayed rooted in place. “My gift is bad compared…”
His curiosity piqued.
Cyane nervously tugged her hair. “Can you unsheath your sword?”
He eyed her, intrigued by her request. Did she want to share a gift with him to give to Hades? Cerberus’s undying servitude and loyalty was his lord’s, but Cerberus hadn’t thought to share a gift. He tugged out his blade and held it firm between them.
Cyane’s eyes flickered up and down its length, and pride filled him. But then she lifted a lock of her hair and pressed it taut against his weapon, slicing it off with ease. She held one curled strand while several wisps fell to the floor.
She clutched the lock of hair to her chest. “I’m ready.”
Her gift.
He sheathed his weapon. The thrill darkened. She doesn’t plan to share her gift with me.
He nodded, annoyed, and escorted her to Hades. Cerberus took his place at his lord’s side when Cyane bowed before the God of the Dead.
Something else filled Cerberus, something he didn’t like. He wanted to take his sword back out and slide it through Hades’s back, push his lord’s bloody corpse aside, and take his place.
“God Hades,” she said, head still lowered. “My name is Cyane. I’m honored to be in your presence.”
Hades leaned forward eagerly.
Cyane took in a deep breath before she continued. “I do not wish to dishonor you, but I have little to offer. Please take this lock of my hair, a piece of me, a part of my identity.” She held out her open hand and meekly peered up at his lord. The curled, silken length of hair lay in the center of her palm.
Hades reached forward and took the gift with a smile. “Beautiful. I gladly accept your tribute, mortal Cyane, but your presence here is the greatest gift of all. Please stand.”
“I don’t understand?”
Hades didn’t answer, instead, he played with her hair between his
fingers, rapt in his one-sided game. Cerberus scowled furiously as Hades wrapped Cyane’s hair around his middle finger, where it tied itself into a band.
Cerberus’s hands twitched at his sides. Had he enjoyed Cyane’s hair like that? He’d never taken off his gloves when he’d touched her, and although his fingertips were bare of material, he’d only felt her at their tips. His chest tightened for the piece of her he’d failed to take for himself.
Red threatened to cloud his vision.
Hades stood and approached the edge of the dais.
Cyane shifted uneasily on her feet.
Hades's voice boomed, “The Day of Gifts is coming to an end, let it be known that my queen and I are pleased with your tributes. This year, unlike so many years before, will mark a change that I have longed for—longed for hungrily as I await Persephone to descend and come to me freely. This year, unlike the countless that preceded it, I will receive the gift that I have always wanted. And this year, I will give a gift in return.”
Hades looked directly at Cyane, and his smile turned terrible.
Cerberus stepped forward as the crowd roared. He reached out to Cyane and jerked her to his side.
“What’s happening?” she asked.
He shook his head.
Hades’s voice assaulted the air. “Let the Day of Battles commence!”
The large doors to the ballroom slowly creaked open. Everyone turned at once to watch them. The hush that had settled over the room was broken by giggles, whispers, and a few misplaced claps as excitement built for the surprise.
Cerberus’s scowl deepened as he scanned the ballroom.
The Day of Battles always began after a pause. There’d be a lining-up of fighters, and then they were chosen and pitted against each other in tests of strength. Those who did best rose in the hierarchy of Tartarus, while those who did poorly were humiliated until they could redeem themselves the following year.
But this year was nothing like those that had taken place before.
A giant head of a wooden horse appeared between the doors, monstrous and sharply angled. Smoke billowed from its nostrils as it pushed through the widening crack and rolled into the room.
Cyane pressed against him as the beast’s head slowly rolled from side to side, considering all the guests in apt hunger. The rest of it remained solid and still.
When the horse finished passing through the doorway, it stopped at the center of the obsidian dancefloor. The doors shut with a resounding bang. The horse continued to creakily take in the partygoers that gathered around it and touched its enormous hooves with glee and curiosity.
“The Battle of Troy?” Cyane murmured with awe.
Hades turned around. “Very good, Cyane. The Trojan horse burned up in flames long ago, and like all dead things whether they were alive or not, ended up here in my realm. And like all dead things, it can be revived.” Hades sat back down on his throne; his smile was gone. He played with the ring of hair around his finger. Cerberus gritted his teeth.
The hounds gathered around them from the shadows, surrounding the dais.
“I don’t want to be here anymore,” Cyane whispered beside him. “Please.”
Cerberus glanced down at her.
“This is not for you, mortal, this is for them,” Hade said, his voice carrying across the ballroom, bringing with it snickers and clapping. The clapping grew louder, drinks were spilled, and Cerberus unsheathed his weapon for the second time that hour.
The horse reared up on its hind legs and slammed its front legs down on the Arae before it. The claps transformed into screams as blood splattered across the floor. It thrust its head down, snatched up several daemons in its jaws, and crunched them between its blunt, wooden teeth.
Cyane shrieked, and Cerberus gripped her arm to keep her from fleeing.
Hades was the only one laughing now as everyone ran for the walls, clawing at them to get out.
“Why?” Cerberus stepped forward.
The horse killed the Arae behind him.
“We have to get rid of the old to make room for the new,” Hades said.
“The gods will look upon this unfavorably,” Cerberus swore, feeling Cyane shake against him.
“The gods? They’re spared such deceit. Take in the scene, Cerberus. The horse is not bothering the gods in attendance. This is a place of death, of darkness. We’ve had too much life here that is not of my own making for far too long. How can we bring in new life when the house is full of meaningless swine?”
“Is that your plan? To bring in new life? Is that why Cyane is here?” Cerberus wrapped a protective arm around her as she clung to him.
“Hmmm…” Hades lifted his hand and eyed the ring made of Cyane’s hair. “So many questions, and in front of the court.” Hades’s gaze shot to Cerberus’s as the pounding of the horse’s hooves beat down like a drum.
The crunch of bones and the snap of its jaw filled Cerberus’s ears. The screams ebbed as the death count rose.
“I did not think you had the courage to confront me,” Hades said. “Should I demand you to renew your tribute, old friend of mine? Aren’t you hungry? I’m surprised you’re not itching to join the Trojan horse in its feast.”
Cerberus snarled. A part of him did want to join in. The part of him that Hades himself had buried deep under Cerberus’s man suit. Copper scented blood filled his nose, making his mouth water, his teeth ache. If he opened his jaw wide enough, he could hear the screams of all the souls he’d devoured still trapped deep within.
His hounds, all around, salivated from the shadows, watching the slaughter with their own yearning.
Hades’s twisted smile returned to his lips. “You do want to join it. Go ahead. This gift is as much for you as it is for me. You can leave the mortal with me. I promise she won’t be hurt. It’s been a long time since you’ve had a real meal, hasn’t it?”
Cerberus clenched his hands, scanning the bloody ballroom as his hounds crept forward eagerly. Cyane cried silently against him.
“Unless she’s stopping you? Interesting.” Hades took in the mortal clutched rigidly against Cerberus. “Your choice—take her away or enjoy the battle. I’ll enjoy it either way.”
“This isn’t a battle, it’s a massacre.”
Hades turned away. “Perhaps.”
Cerberus peered down at Cyane, hunger hollowing out his gut. He tried to cup her cheek, to lift her face to his, but she wouldn’t let him, hiding deeper into him. His gloved palm came away slightly damp, and his eyes narrowed upon it.
Her tears had gathered upon his armor.
He hungered for more than souls. Her tears looked delicious. The thrilling feeling returned to claw away at his insides, making him shudder.
I am hungry.
Starving.
He made his choice.
Cerberus pulled Cyane tight against his body and gathered the darkness around them. He slipped her away to safety just as his hounds rushed forward to join the giant, rabid horse.
Hades’s laughter followed.
Power
Cerberus held Cyane. She wavered on her feet, and he wasn’t certain if it had to do with the nectar she’d drunk or being privy to Hades’s evil nature.
Cerberus had taken her back to the gatehouse tower a short while ago, but she wouldn’t move away from him, gripping what she could of his armor with hands that turned increasingly white. She silently cried and shook. The longer she continued to do so, the more he realized he had no idea what to do.
She wouldn’t unbury her face from his chest, nor move away, and so he remained where he was and let her take what she needed from him.
He understood sadness and confusion. He even understood fear. He’d seen and even felt such things himself now and again over his long life, but comfort? Comfort was foreign to him. Comfort was something he’d only seen between his lord Hades and Queen Persephone and only on the rarest occasions.
Queen Persephone had cried often at the beginning of her reign. Though, even
tually, her grief had turned to love.
Cyane’s grip loosened upon him, and he lowered his arm.
Slowly, she removed herself from his side. He remained silent as he watched her reassure herself of her surroundings.
Part of him wanted to grip her in his hands again, to pull her back upon him, and feel her mortal heat seep into his armor. Another part wanted to force her back to her knees.
Such a strange thing...
She wiped her cheeks with the backs of her hands and looked back at him.
Her brown eyes were even more glazed then before. Tears were a beautiful adornment to her soft features.
She flinched when he reached up to touch her hair with the tips of his fingers.
“I don’t want to die,” she said, shuddering.
Sudden anger flashed through him at Hades’s intentions. Just because he hadn’t intended to kill Cyane at this time didn’t mean Hades wasn’t going to eventually. Cerberus never cared for the lives or souls of mortals beyond his scope of making sure they did not linger in Styx or try to return above. The gods and titans of Olympus adored and abhorred mortals equally, as they had often shaped the world as it was today.
Atlas kept the world afloat for them, holding a burden Cerberus could not fathom. Prometheus had defied Zeus to give them fire and was still punished for it.
Cerberus pinched Cyane’s lustrous hair.
“I would like a gift from you,” he rasped, still bristling at the thought of her death. Meanwhile, his hounds ate the corpses of the undying as they spoke.
Cyane drew back. Cerberus’s fingers pulled at her hair. They didn’t let go.
Her eyes widened. “A gift?”
He’s completely unfazed by the horrible bloodbath.
She could still hear the screams, could still smell the blood.
Her mind whirled around Hades’s words… This is not for you, mortal, this is for them.
The only thing that had stopped her from having a nervous breakdown was Cerberus. He’d blocked it all. He continued to block it all. Every time she was near him, the world righted itself, just a little bit.