When the titan Kronus escapes his Tartarus prison after thousand of years of imprisonment he declares war - not only on the Olympians who overthrew him, but on the entire world. Hades, harbouring an ancient destructive power of which he is unaware, is stolen from his beloved's side - and now the heartbroken new Lady of the Underworld must entreat the help of the gods and summon the courage to save her beloved…and the entire universe.

Friends will become foes, desire will overcome decency and many will fall in the name of justice. Continues the HADES trilogy.

Hello, constant readers! Miya here, back for a second go at the HADES universe. You don't have to have read the first novel to understand this one, but it would help. Content warning; mild cursing throughout (only one use of strong language), fantasy violence throughout, and a few ifade-to-black sexual scenes, so while the content doesn't warrant a 'mature rating' this is probably only suitable for ages 14+. I'm done now, onto the story. Thankyou!~

Chapter One - The Beginning

A long, long time ago, eons before the 'once upon a time' that begins many a fairytale, when the stars were newly born and heroes like Jason and Theseus were only rookies in the craft of heroism, when the first of a great line of thinkers gazed up at the skies and remarked – without any sense of irony – 'there must be something more'; King Kronus and Queen Rhea ruled over all. This era was known as the Golden Age, and it was a time of apparent idyllic peace and harmony. The earth below flourished, and far above on the summit of Olympus, where the peaks of snow-dusted mountain tops stretched to the sky before plunging back down to the sloping valleys, the meadows and lakes shone with the same incandescence as the royal palace.

But all was not as it seemed.

The palace housed King Kronus and Queen Rhea and their three children, but it also housed a deep-seated unrest within its ancient walls; an undercurrent of fear, paranoia and tension that threatened the once perfect love between king and queen and their growing family. Our dark and turbulent tale begins with their eldest child and only daughter, on a sultry and romantic evening of July…

Silent sunset suffused the gardens of the royal estate, until a wide-eyed goddess, huffing and puffing and dragging two smaller figures along behind her, barrelled her way through the population of white begonias toward her younger brother, shrilling at the top of her lungs.

'Brother, Brother, look here!' she cried, 'I've brought home a friend! Isn't she super, couldn't you just eat her up? Look at her eyes!

The cause of the disturbance was Hestia, a waif of a girl with mighty, wagging dark braids of hair who would've looked as if the very breeze could knock her over, were it not for the sparks of determined fire in her eyes. Despite her bone-rattling calls, the one to whom they were aimed ignored them completely, immersed in his reading.

'Brother?' Hestia reached his side, wheezing and flushed, 'Oh, do pay attention when people are talking to you; you're so rude, it's no wonder Father spanks you! Look at this! Look!'

Poseidon was used to his sister's pestering, and had learned to block it out. But Hestia, used to being ignored, had learned how not to be. With this in mind, she pushed forth her newly-found exhibit, presenting it with an air of triumphant glee. A third and final visitor, a small blonde goddess named Hera, toddled up behind Hestia and peeked around curiously, straining to see what was so important.

'Brother!' Hestia harrumphed. 'Kindly lend us a moment of your time, or you will hurt the feelings of our guest!'
Poseidon peered up at last, begrudgingly forfeiting his rare moment of solace among the rose bushes. His face sceptical – Hestia had new and tedious flights of fancy every other day – he studied what had been thrust before him through half-lidded, weary eyes.

It turned out to be a blushing girl. She had a bland, barefoot kind of peasant girl charm, and wore a plain peplos that did not detract from her slim figure. A bob of dark hair framed her heart-shaped face. She was altogether uninteresting to him, save for one notable and incredible thing: her eyes were deep green and caught the languid orange rays of the sky, sparkling in the dusk's warm light.

Poseidon's mouth fell open in shock.

'Are you a goddess?' he demanded, knowing she couldn't be. Though not yet of age, his voice had already matured to the deep, rich baritone of his father.

'Pretty goddess,' said little Hera from behind Hestia. She was winding a golden ringlet of hair around her finger and gazing up at the girl with reverential awe.

The girl nodded, confirming against all reason that she was indeed a goddess. Hestia squeezed her close, rubbing her cheek against the girl's. 'She is a goddess! Her name is Demeter. Can you believeher eyes? I have never in my life met a goddess with green eyes!'

'That's because all gods have the violet blues,' said Poseidon, his gaze burning into Demeter's.

It was true; Olympian gods were born with violet blue eyes, just as surely as centaurs were born with a horse's body, and satyrs were born with a goat's legs. That was just how it was, and how it had always been.
Poseidon was spellbound and disturbed by this new girl. She was like nothing he'd ever seen; bland and yet striking. She blinked at him, her smile demure but nervous, and Poseidon felt his ever-permanent scowl loosening into a return smile before he could stop himself.

This Demeter person was certainly more pleasant than his sister's last visitor presented with flair and gusto – a fat, hairy, vile little satyr that could belch the alphabet – which Poseidon recalled with distaste. 'Isn't he clever?'Hestia had cried, squeezing any remaining foul air out of the wretched beast as she hugged it for its performance (if you could call it that). 'No, disgusting is more like it,' Poseidon had replied. His sister had a tendency to pick up strange beings along her travels the way a drifting whale catches plankton; she had an inbuilt filter for the terminally bizarre.

This girl, who already looked and smelled miles better than the satyr (and probably had more of a claim to sanity than Hestia, Poseidon had no doubt), appeared younger than the princess holding her hostage. She looked about his age…

'Who do we have here?'

Snapped out of his trance, Poseidon bowed his head in respect as the queen strolled across the garden path toward them, several attendants in tow. 'Good evening, Mother,' he said, as she lifted her hand and tousled his already messy hair in a fond way. 'Hestia is delighting us with the pleasure of her newest friend's company.'

And to his surprise, he genuinely was delighted. After the satyr, with its vociferously gaseous emissions, Poseidon never thought he'd say those words without the heavy weight of experienced sarcasm attached.
'Wonderful!' said Rhea, gliding over to Demeter, who was still imprisoned in Hestia's arms. 'How lovely it is to make your acquaintance, my dear. My, what unusual eyes you have! So very pretty.'

She smiled and waited patiently, but Demeter seemed in awe, unable to come up with a polite response. The girl was taking in Rhea's regal manner and dazzling garnet eyes as though being granted a visitation by some majestic spectre. Poseidon, who was used to guests being tongue-tied when they met his parents (who wouldn'tfeel a little overwhelmed when meeting the king and queen of the universe?), was just wondering if he should initiate introductions on her behalf, when Demeter suddenly dropped to her knees. This was impressive, considering Hestia still gripped her in a stranglehold of a hug.

'Thank you, my Lady,' the girl said in polite, reverent tones. 'It is an honour.'

Rhea's lips gently curved upwards as she smiled. 'I do hope you can stay awhile and keep my children company; they seem terribly taken with you. Come alongnow Hestia, you're embarrassing the poor creature!'

'Don't worry,' said Poseidon under his breath to Demeter, as his mother guided his disappointed sister back up the path into the grand palace. 'If you can put up with Hestia for a few more days, you'll soon be free of her when she moves onto her next pet project. She grew bored with Hera soon enough.'

The small goddess, who seemed to have now taken root at Demeter's side, had found she could blow bubbles using her own saliva and was so taken with this newfound ability she didn't even look up at the mention of her name.

Demeter laughed and patted Hera's golden locks. Without Hestia's overblown display of friendship and Rhea's imperial presence she seemed more at ease.

'I don't mind,' she said, 'your sister has been very sweet to me.'

'You don't mind her dragging you around like a pet?'

'Not at all, as I've been acquainted with three lovely, interesting people today,' Demeter replied, smiling. 'Hestia, dear little Hera, and if I may count you too, sir…?'

'You may.' Poseidon smiled again, warmth creeping over his face despite the chill of coming twilight. The girl was gracious but did not address him as a prince, and to his surprise, he rather liked it.

'I am privileged simply to meet you all,' Demeter went on. 'Not every common god gets to meet the royal family.'

'No matter what you've heard,' he said, lifting his shoulders in a jovial shrug, 'we're not all that great.'

Demeter took Hera's chubby fingers within her own slim hands, as they began to walk around the garden together.

'Whoever said I heard good things?' she returned teasingly, and Poseidon had to admit that his mother had been right.

Hestia was not the only one taken with their visitor.

Demeter spent the next few days in the gardens of the palace playing with Hera, being mauled by a fawning Hestia and talking with an enraptured Poseidon, and to the future God of the Ocean, it felt like she'd been with them for years.

Demeter articulated and discussed rather than just blushing and giggling like most of the small-minded goddesses Poseidon had the displeasure of courting, and she didn't seem afraid to have her own opinion, instead of simply leaning against his shoulder and agreeing with his. Poseidon was constantly reminded by his father of his duty to take a bride upon reaching maturity and assume sovereignty over the ocean, although he had no misconceptions of fatherly concern. He was aware that his father merely wanted him out of the way, taking care of his own kingdom so he would never be tempted to steal Kronus'. With little time left and the days of his youth ticking away Poseidon had always rued the inevitable of choosing a bride he didn't love. Yet now; in the floral fog of Demeter's scent when she stood close by and spoke to him as though they'd been friends all of their lives, for the first time he began to comprehend that the prospect of marriage might be tolerable if it were with the right woman.

A woman like her.

When he and she were in company they were happy to sit quietly side by side, but when they were alone, Demeter would instantly open up to him like a flower in bloom. That was until one day, when he asked the wrong question.

'Tell me about your family,' Poseidon asked as they strolled among the greenery. Demeter's green eyes saddened, and he felt a rush of remorse. 'Oh, you don't have to-'

'It's fine.' Demeter shook her head. 'I'm afraid that my relatives don't think all that much of me. They've done their utmost to keep me hidden away; they believe I was born under a bad sign.' She smiled, as if to apologise for it. 'They consider my lack of violet blues to be a most menacing omen, and then there is this hobby of mine which they feel brings shame upon the family…'

'What hobby?'

Demeter stopped walking, and put her finger to her lips. 'You won't tell anyone?'

Poseidon nodded, and she took a step closer to him.

'I am simply fascinated with humans! They're such intricate and extraordinary creatures. I've been teaching them how to farm, how to sow, how to reap; they learn so quickly and are thriving!'

Poseidon almost immediately felt a jealous twinge. Demeter's eyes never lit up with that radiance when she looked at him, and the ridiculous proposal that humans could be more entertaining than what he had to say made him feel rather resentful indeed.

Seeing his frown, and sensing he was less than enthusiastic about her confession, Demeter busied herself with picking a violet and running her finger along the edge of the petal. 'I know you're fond of their literature, but have you never gone down to earth and walked among them?' she asked, and her tone was now strenuously light.

'I have been down to earth several times, but I have never cared for humans. They seem such petty creatures, arguing over the land as though they were the ones who created it, then killing each other for no reason at all. I let my father handle the humans.' Poseidon cleared his throat, trying to suppress the edge of hostility that had crept unbidden his voice. 'I'm much more interested in the sea.'

'I love the sea too,' said Demeter, and he felt sparks fly as she touched his arm. She was happy again. The natural joy in her face returned, and her good humour restored his. 'I hear that you will be the ruler of it some day.'

'Yes, that was my oracle.' He removed the violet from her hands, relishing in the brief instant when their fingertip heat met, and tucked it behind her ear. It was perfect for her. So colourful. So unappreciated. So modest. 'What was yours?'

Demeter seemed to glow as she considered the answer to this question. 'I am to have a daughter,' she said, stroking the blossom in her hair with the dreamily light touch of one deep in thought. 'She is to be a very special daughter, or so the Moirae tell me.'

Over the weeks that followed, Poseidon did all he could to make his intentions clear, and yet his quarry remained elusive. His eager plans to see Demeter every minute, every hour, every day were shattered by her obstinacy in claiming that she was busy with other things, which only served to further his frustrated fascination with her. The only time she was certain to come to him was as the soft dusk whispered its way through the leafy branches of the gnarled, aged olive trees, and the sun flickered out and faded over the horizon. He waited for her every evening without fail, and at the sight of her his heart always missed a beat without fail.

In that time of quietly approaching dusk they would walk rings around the garden, conversing about everything and anything. Day by day he grew bolder and began to speak of deeper topics; matters that some men never share with their wives even after a lifetime of commitment. His dreams, fears and wishes; he shared all with her with a straightforwardness that shocked him. Around her he felt totally at peace, as though her laid-back nature rubbed off on him and freed him of responsibility, but Demeter always seemed preoccupied with one thing beyond his reach. She spoke of her love for the human race, and the beauty of the wide and vast earth below. Perhaps it was her way of bonding with him, but Poseidon had other things he wanted to discuss with her.

He wanted to turn their friendship into a courtship, and was impatient to do so.

In the early evening Demeter and Poseidon were sharing their regular walk around the grounds, and Poseidon was trying to work up the courage to take her hand in his, when Hestia rushed wide-eyed up to them, oblivious to the personal moment she had destroyed.

'You have to help me!' she cried, her cheeks flushed hectic pink as she doubled over to catch her breath. 'Hades has scarpered. This is twice now since he got his oracle last week. If Father finds out he's run away again-'

Poseidon inhaled sharply, forgetting all about holding Demeter's hand. 'Don't worry Hess, we'll find him. Check every room in the palace, and we'll look out here.' Hestia ran off, her wavy black braids wagging wildly in the breeze, and Poseidon turned to Demeter. 'Will you help me?'

'Of course,' she said, suddenly practical. 'But I don't understand why…'

'My baby brother got his oracle last week. He won't tell any of us what the Moirae said, but he's been hiding in his room ever since. He tried running away the day before you came, and Father was furious. I can't believe the little brat is doing this again-'

He cut off, shaking his head, enervated by worry and fury. 'I'll take this half of the garden, and you take the other half beyond this oak tree.'

As Demeter dashed away into the trees he watched for a moment in admiration of how efficient she was in a crisis, how beautiful she looked with her eyes blazing so seriously. Then he too was gone.

Demeter searched every inch of the garden, scouring further and further out through the verdant maze of wild thyme and foxgloves. She found an abundance deer, squirrels and owls, but there was no sign of a little runaway god. Running out of places to look, she renewed her search in the periphery of the lustrous floral estate and finally came across a hole in the fence, leading to the outer plains of Olympus. Demeter crawled through it, barely fitting, and wandered through the sloping open field. The whole of the valley spread out below her, the rustic village that was her home was pooled in the vast cup of the surrounding hillsides, wispy smoke rising from cosy stone chimneys. Upon the far distant peaks of the proud mountains the sinking sun was speared like a sacrifice of worship, flooding the inky sky with its crimson blood. Demeter looked around her, stepping carefully through the hummocky terrain, so as not to twist her ankle. There were large, flourishing buddleia bushes around the fence she'd climbed through, and drifting out from under them was the near-inaudible sound of sobbing.

Kneeling down before them and lifting aside a branch, Demeter peered in and found a little boy with his knees drawn to his chest, his head lowered. He was crying noisily into his arms.

Demeter bit her lip. 'Lord Hades?'

The boy looked up, startled. Demeter's heart ached to see his violet blue eyes bloodshot and tear filled.

'Who are you?' he asked.

'My name is Demeter. Are you okay, Lord Hades?'

With a large, gasping sniffle the boy wiped his face on his sleeve and regarded her with uncertainty. 'Don't call me Lord,' he said, trying to raise his chin with whatever dignity he had left. 'I don't care for formalities.'

'Then, just Hades?'

'Nobody uses my name.'

Demeter smiled patiently. 'Then what may I call you?'

The little boy cogitated deeply for a moment, blinking the damp mulberry hair from his eyes. 'My big brother calls me runt,' he said. 'Hess and Mother call me Little One. You can call me that too, if you want.'

'Little one it is,' said Demeter, and offered him her hand. Hades hesitated, and then allowed her to pull him out from his grotto of shrubbery. She gently removed the leaves from his tousled head; it was incredible, she mused, how much he looked like a miniature version of Poseidon. With his red raw nose, diminutive stature and cloak of foliage, he also might have been mistaken for a garden gnome. 'I'm surprised they picked such a nickname for a big strong boy like you,' she said kindly.

'They call me that 'cause I'm the baby of the family,' Hades muttered in disgust. 'But Mother says we'll have another brother or sister soon, so I won't be the littlest anymore. I'll be a big brother.'

'That will be nice for you.' Demeter finished dusting him clean. 'If you don't mind my asking, why were you crying?'

'I wasn't crying,' came the adamant reply. 'I had something in my eye.'

'It is okay to cry if you're sad.'

Hades looked up at her properly for the first time.

'It is? Father doesn't like us crying. It makes him angry.'

'Why of course it's okay to cry. Even the strongest person gets sad sometimes. I'll bet your father does too.' She patted the soft grass beside her and Hades sat down. 'Were you sad about something, little one?'

The boy's large eyes filled with tears once more, and Demeter placed a comforting hand on his back. 'I got my oracle a few days ago. They said that I am going to be in charge of death. Do you know what death is?'

Demeter nodded in an understanding fashion, and Hades' face darkened.

'I didn't, so the Moirae showed me. They showed me these people in the human world…dying…'

As his shoulders began to shake Demeter wrapped him into a tight, motherly embrace.

'That isn't something a child should see,' she said firmly, stroking his hair. 'You poor thing.'

'I don't want to be death,' said a tiny voice muffled by her chest. 'I don't want to kill anybody.'

Demeter tilted Hades' head towards her own. 'You may be destined to rule over death in the human world, but you are not, I repeat not death itself, do you understand me?' There was silence as Hades' sobs subsided.

'You promise?' he asked in barely audible voice.

'I do. You mustn't feel responsible for death. It happens to all mortal creatures eventually, and is very important to natural order. I imagine it will be your job to manage the souls of the departed after their death. That is a wonderful and noble job indeed.'

Hades didn't seem to completely understand all of this, but he nodded slowly. 'There's one more thing. Theykeep following me now.' He pointed a stubby finger at a large, glowing butterfly feeding at a buddleia flower. 'I don't like them. They're scary.'

Demeter laughed and took his hand. 'They don't look scary to me. Here, hold out your hand. Its okay, you see? I'm holding out mine too.'

As though answering her call, the butterfly fluttered down from the flower and landed, perching on Hades' outstretched hand. He flinched, his arm shaking, and Demeter steadied him from behind.

'There you go. They're just saying hello to you.'

Hades smiled cautiously as the creature flapped its wings. 'Hello,' he said softly. 'Were you just greeting me? You're not so bad at all, I am very sorry I thought you were scary.'

Demeter felt her heart softening for the lonely, well-spoken and sweet child. Her affection only increased when the butterfly flew away and he turned to her, his round face lit up as he smiled genuinely for the first time.

'You have very pretty eyes,' he declared, with the unashamed sincerity of youth.

When they returned to the garden, Poseidon was pacing at the oak tree and looking very worried. He gave a cry of relief as he spied Demeter walking hand in hand with Hades, and ran to his little brother.

'What the hell are you playing at?' he snapped, falling to the ground and shaking the boy's shoulders. 'Do you know how much trouble we'd all be in if we couldn't find you? Hestia is nearly out of her mind, we looked everywhere…'

Hades' expression reflected contrite apology, and gritting his teeth, Poseidon pulled him roughly into a hug. 'Don't do this again,' he grunted, as a pair of small arms wrapped around his waist. 'Real men don't run away. If you've got a problem you come to me, okay? That's what big brothers are for.'

'Kay,' said a quiet reply, and then enquired even more quietly, 'Is she your new girlfriend? She's nice.'

Poseidon laughed, and squeezed his brother. He lifted his head over Hades' shoulder, his eyes filled with silent gratitude. Demeter nodded graciously – you're welcome – and it was then that Poseidon realised without any degree of surprise that he'd fallen in love with her.

He pulled back, his anger calming.

'Don't try and change the subject,' he said to Hades. 'If I lose you it's just me and Hess. Would you like it if I left youall alone with Hess?'

Hades shook his head vehemently, pulling a face, and Demeter hid her smile with her hand.

'Alright then,' Poseidon sighed, ruffling his brother's hair. 'No more playing silly buggers.'

Motioning to Demeter to follow, he hoisted Hades onto his own broad frame for a piggy-back ride and together, the three of them went inside to call off the search.

From that day, through some kind of unspoken agreement, the goddess Demeter belonged to the god Poseidon, and he belonged to her in return. And for the time being at least, both seemed more than happy with this arrangement.