AN: A brief announcement before we enter into this chapter.
Yes, I am aware that the 'Greek' canon I present within this story is incorrect. I am aware that true Greek mythos actually involves the Titan Kronos. He swallowed five of his six children out of fear of their power overtaking his own. This caused Zeus, once fully grown, and originally the youngest of his siblings, to rescue them from their father's body. Thusly, as the godly children were returned to form, they re-claimed a new birth order, in which Zeus (or so what I have researched) claimed himself the "eldest". This 'new' order is usually the way many Greek legends are presented and is why it seems as common knowledge for the modern world to think of Zeus as the 'eldest'.
For propriety's sake, here is the original birth order as followed:
Hestia, Demeter, Hera, Hades, Poseidon and finally Zeus.
The Disney movie, as you all are aware, does not give a crap about actual Greek lore (Hell, they made HERA a LOVING mother, har!).
As such, I have crafted a little twist of my own that I believe fits into the Disney canon.
Thank you for your understanding of these changes and please enjoy the ride. C:
The Lord of the Dead could not cry.
Mainly, this was because it was physically impossible for him—fire and water never really mixed well for Hades; this was also because the eons had eroded him. A river splitting a mountain, the sea sheering away the continents, to wither away possibility with indifference, expectation into despair, and any trace of sadness relished as a dark, momentous anger.
Anger was the element of passion. Fury was the element of heat and destruction and change.
It was meant to be the element that crafted the earth. Core, energy, power, violence, magnitude; the earth that he, and his brethren, had now claimed as their own. His eldest brother, Zeus, took the sky, the stratosphere that wrapped the world in a thick blanket of blue. Poseidon, the second eldest, dove deep into the ocean below, spurring the water to his will—equally wondrous and blue.
But Hades, the third brother, did not understand the rewards of this new planet. He felt transcended. He was forced out to seek his own territory, a place that was not blue. His brothers, possessive and jealous, never would dare to share their findings. Hades found he did not care. He did not want the clear, brilliant blue of the earth; he enjoyed the riches found deep beneath its crust. He touched soot and pitch and rich minerals. A surreal, forbidden temptation to claim this obscure discovery as his own.
Unlike his family who followed suit to climb the mountains to Olympus, Hades found himself beyond his kin, drawn to the night, the cold of space and stars—perhaps, he was not of natural origin. Often, he felt like the moon above, for if he be Death—then he was unwanted since the moment of creation, unknown and discomforted beyond all he could see.
In mortal tongue, where time turned to age and had meaning, Hades would have considered himself naïve in the beginning. His kin did not know the rules of the universe but this cold kingdom was meant for him alone. Sacrifices and offers need not be made to him as his brothers—mortals creeped willingly into his domain—and that meant their souls would soon follow—a gift his brothers did not want. Pale, untouchable, curious, Hades explored the innards of the earth and simply looked to the moon above for comfort; it was black and shapeless as he—a new moon for a new world.
Hades settled nicely into his charmed life. If, indeed, the humanoid like embodiments of nature and power could be thought of as 'alive'. Hades seemed to grasp this idea tentatively. He and his immortal family, they certainly did not shy away from the pleasures of living that joined easily alongside the lives of the fragile mortals below them. Mortals that Hades found fascinating and alluring.
Mortals that his brothers thought lesser than their holy bodies.
Zeus, thunder and pride, thought the earth his plaything. He took the form of animals and other humans and created as he see fit. Poseidon, adventurous and boisterous, abandoned humans for a species of his own making. Hephaestus, Aphrodite, Dionysus, the rest—they feasted and drank and celebrated—while Hades, who now frequented the final acts of mortals, grew unsure if there was a true difference that made them 'greater'. The mortals lusted, went to war, and made merry. However, the first age of Zeus's rain echoed arrogantly above the earth in ridicule of Hades' questions—for his brothers could hardly care to question anything. The earthly plane had embraced his dearest family.
They had dismissed Hades. When he arose to Mount Olympus, a brief break from the new densely populated mounting of the dead, his brothers looked at him in scandal. While they glowed and had remained impervious to the hundreds of thousands of moons that had floated through an endless night sky, their brother had changed.
Hades was thinner. Hades was prying and loquacious and laughably unaware of his own shameless, mortal-obsession. He was also weaker than his kin. The lingering pressure of his kingdom under the earth clung to him like the scent of mortal sickness, causing most to wrinkle their nose in disgust whenever he was not looking. At first, Hades' feigned ignorance. He knew, however, what was distant and unspoken in the air between him and his brothers. He had little freedom and time to be outside the realm of the dead. The way the mortals complained of a painful, breath-taking force inside of his caves that threatened to stop their hearts, Hades could comprehend a similar feeling.
The earth and Olympus—exerting himself in the act of residing with his family had begun to hurt him.
Pain. True pain. The way mortals felt…
There was much whispering and little understanding. Zeus thought it a fun game, to so easily push his brother around, back into his terrible, lonely lair— away from making a fool of himself at his lavish parties. The rest laughed at the abuse; Hades as well. First in jest and then in realization:
Fear, disease, mortality, weakness…his brothers did not understand—and what was worse, they continued to refuse to understand. There was no longer a physical distance—sky, sea, earth—that separated Hades from his family, but an unspoken emotional one.
Hades oft returned to his kingdom, his bony fists curled to his sides.
They thought lesser of him.
Another shifting sphere of the moon, another lingering disquiet where there was once contentment. His kingdom, once new and untamed, became his purpose for eons, buried beneath the earth. As Hades' establishment grew stronger, his underworld became smaller. It was a cage. A cycle that he was meant to embody. Alone. Now, barely any offerings were made to him. Not when his brothers' brought so much life and happiness to the earth above.
There were even fewer beings to talk to.
New feelings replaced his curiously.
He resented Zeus's ignorance. Zeus ruled the earth so carelessly while Hades slaved to control the restless souls teeming below. He was bitter towards Poseidon's freedom. The water that encompassed the earth was endless compared to his small, darkened world. The more Hades became aware of what he had become compared to his family, the more he felt irreversibly changed. There was a dark, foul humor that unfurled inside of Hades. A large pit inside of his soul that whispered that he was right. His kin, his brothers, they were foolhardy to ignore him.
He saw the beloved gods for exactly who they were.
And they pretended to never see him.
It was not as if they, too, did not grow in power. Hephaestus learned the power of creation. Aphrodite could court whomever and whatever she chose. Hades could not gain such joyous abilities—but he certainly learned to master his own. He mocked the sanctity of life, studied the locked away Titans and begged his extended family to lend him the failures of their creations—hellish, demonic, half-dead things to fill his empty halls. He had grown to understand mortals so well that now they bored him. It brought more amusement to manipulate and watch their struggle to survive—or more commonly—struggle to let go of a soul that already belonged to him, than to ask questions of their quest, their families, their shallow, quick lives.
Hades aged further—cunning and talkative from the years of solitude—and a touch cruel. Cruelty, it would seem, ran in his family's blood, and there was no denying that it was a part of his nature that connected him back to the beings he loathed.
However, the eons had taught him well.
His brothers thought him weak, so Hades would find more power.
Isolation had made him desperate, so he would find his own company.
This world had foraged his being and forced a change in him too perverse to hide.
The gods would know him, power and fury and vengeance. They would know of why the mortals trembled in his wake; they would know fear and isolation.
They would know Death.
"Don't you ever wish for anything different?" She had asked him.
Her hair was plaited in gold ringlets, rings of false-ivy and earth. Her robe, pale as her glowing flesh, hung ever so loosely off of her right shoulder.
Hades, learning against the column in Zeus's magnificently beautiful court yard, leapt his yellow eyes over the stranger beckoning his attention.
The other gods made good time to avoid him. What did this twerp of a goddess possibly want with him?
"The chocolate fountain is that-a-way," Hades said, thumbing a bone finger over his shoulder.
She pressed her lips together, resisting a faint smile. "I'm not asking for directions to the hors d'oeuvres. I'm asking if you want anything different than going stag at every party?"
"Every party?" Hades rose a fiery brow at her observation.
"You didn't notice me but I noticed you; you've been to every baby shower that our family has ever had. Poseidon's next daughter being born doesn't seem to have changed much about how you behave, I see."
Hades scraped his yellow eyes over her. She had to be very 'young' for an immortal, or at the very least, the prettiest wallflower he had met in over a millennia. Which equaled a grand total of none. People didn't exactly talk to him at these kinds of things.
"I like going stag." Hades propped himself a little taller, enjoying the way her eyes stared up at him in an unconscious submission.
"Right. Like it's a choice." The goddess replied. She looked around at the rest of the party as if this confirmed her suspicion. Not one of the other members turned their eyes to even glance their way.
Hades snorted. A small burning tingled his nostrils. "Every decision, even if not preferable, is still a personal choice."
"Is that what you tell yourself?'
"I tell myself a lotta things, toots. I'm a master conversationalist."
"At talking to yourself?"
"At talking. Period." Hades allowed a thorny smile.
"Are you excited to see the baby?"
Hades dropped his smile. "I hate kids."
"You do? You don't want any of your own?" She looked genuinely curious.
Hades gestured at himself—chest to feet—with two sharp pointer-fingers. "Not exactly my forte."
She rose a shapely brow. "Then, what is?"
Hades wanted to laugh straight into her face. What was with this kid? He ran a single hand over his head, smoothing the flames. "Hades. Lord of the Dead." He grasped her delicate hand without warning. "Pleasure."
"Lord of the Dead? As in mortal death? Shall I address you by your full title every time?"
"Only if you really wanna get on my good side."
"Does this death have a good side?"
"Ah, a pessimist after my cold, unfeeling heart. You've got moxie, kid. I think I like it."
She smiled radiantly. The courthouse seemed to agree with her. It, too, seemed all the more gorgeous, just by her standing there alone. "Persephone. I don't have any titles." She met his eye and held his stare with a fearless gleam. "Yet."
Hades stared at her. Eons of attending this meaningless shindigs, countless drunken assaults of making an utter fool of himself, the glares and attention like a sauna, wafting of greed, shameless showboating for those idiots that couldn't be damned to think at all, and here Hades stood, silent. He snorted again, looked away, and then looked back.
She was still smiling.
He gave a roll of his eyes. "Look...there is this unspoken rule. About me. About my brothers. They really don't like it when I chat up the locals. You should scoot your cute boot away from me."
"Oh. I'm not out here just to spy on you. I'm here to escape my mother. Demeter. Heard of her?"
"…Perhaps."
"…Well, she's...controlling. I guess she has a right to be. She does make beautiful forests and pressures the climate and—"
"…I was kidding, kid." Hades cut in. "She's basically mother nature. Believe me. I'm aware of her. And her entire, large, cunning reach around this entire blue world. It's, hah, hard to ignore her. But I suppose, you, being mommy's little girl, can't help but begrudge her, hm?"
Persephone looked at him, perturbed at being interrupted. Hades merely smiled back at her, glossy and wide, showing off the points of his teeth. What a little princess, you must be.
Silence. A very awkward silence.
Hades gave a small cough between them. "So, Poseidon is having a bratty little girl. What else is new? He already has one. Nauseating."
"Children are wonderful!" Persephone added distinctly, her head held high. "They're new life! New everything. A total, fresh start. Like flowers and birds and nature! They change you for the better."
"Uh, no."
She made a rude sound with her mouth, fluttering her eyelids in a petite show of dismissal. "Please!"
"'Please', what?" Hades snapped, his yellow eyes dancing with passion to tear into this little brat. "Do you think this changes something inside of the people around us? Please. Zeus has about a thousand kids—then some—where are their celebrations, hey?" Hades flared his nostrils, allowing the smoke to rise up from his mouth, into his hair, his own little rain cloud on Mount Olympus. "One day, he's gonna make some little sunspot, and then, hah, then we'll talk about real change…I just need him to actually care. And these people, they never do."
"And am I to presume you, alone, see everyone here for exactly what they are?" Persephone exclaimed, her voice loud and threatening to draw attention, but her eyes remained affixed to Hades' face, clearly uncaring. "As if you understand what is different—how could you when everything you've ever known is dead? Do you? Huh? Are you the least bit curious to what it could be like to be wrong?"
Hades went quiet. She had yelled at him. This little piece of nature itself. She was actually mad.
He actually got a reaction out of her, so concerned with his own lack of caring, like she took it a personal insult to so heavily disagree.
"…You surprise me." Hades said. His voice was very quiet.
In fact, everything had gone very quiet. The party had moved inside. The birds and gentle rumbling of the clouds high in the mountain peaks were gone. It was just them, entirely alone, together.
"My mother cares about me. Very much." While she said this coldly, there was an air about her tone, as if she was both impressed that Demeter could be so powerful, so strong, and equally maddening to under the thumb of such a mother.
Hades lifted up a corner of his mouth into a sharp smirk. "Mothers, am I right? Maybe you should think about leaving the nest sooner than later."
Persephone matched his smirk. "Is that an invitation?"
"To ditch this party?"
"To go with you."
"Ha-ah. Hah. Ha…" Hades' chuckled, the sound awkward and unsure, over his lips. "No. I'd don't do company."
"Will you think about it?"
"Once I'm gone from here, babe, I don't come back much."
"Oh—I think you'll come back. Here."
Then, without warning, she grasped his hand, intervened their fingers, and gave a small, mocking spin, as in a dance. Then, she let go.
"See you, Hades."
Hades looked at his hand, where she had touched him, and resting in the center of his palm was a single flower. It didn't move when he touched it. It didn't shrivel and die like every living thing. It stayed strong, fixed to his bony grip, and clung to him.
He lifted it to his lips, pulled in the sickeningly sweet scent, and, for the first time in eons…
Hades was changed once more.
Megara was no longer with Belle. Once seated on a throne of gold, she was lifted in mid-air, suspended by her throat, as if Hades had lifted a single finger, summoning her here without a second thought.
"Meg, Meggy, Meg," Hades crooned at her. "Where have you been?"
Her hands scrambled to find purchase in the air. Hades' strength all but gagged her. He swung her forward, his terrible teeth set into a mocking smile of pleasure.
"Were you aware that we had company today?" Hades prodded further. He lifted her to the side of his head. The blue flames licked at her cheek, posing Meg as if she was to whisper her answer into his ear…
Meg would do no such thing. She growled and hissed, frothing with rage, squirming inside of his grasp. Perhaps it was too late. Here she was, an inch from Death himself, crushed under his will, and Belle was nowhere to be found. She squeezed her eyes shut, pushing away the images of what was to come next—Belle. If he knew…
A low scoff interrupted the pair.
Persephone stood a hand at her own throat, rubbing the skin there sympathetically, as if she really felt pity for Megara.
"Hades," she pouted. "Must you play with each mortal like a kitten with string?"
Smoke blew in Meg's face from the force of Hades' exhale. She sputtered into his face and turned away, disgusted.
"Would it please my wife that I punish dear, sweet Nutmeg in particular?" Hades purposed. He moved to face his wife, a hand stilled over Megara's throat.
"It would please your wife if you did not take your anxiety out on helpful slaves."
His yellow eyes flickered to Meg, swayed, but careful. His smile tightened. "And here I thought she hated you." He murmured for only Meg to hear.
Gently, Meg felt Hades' grasp over her body fade. She was set over the rocky flooring near Hades' writhing, misty robes. Meg rubbed sorely at her throat, turning to gasp in the thin air swirling around her.
Again, Meg knew Persephone was staring at her. Fully at her. Not through her, as before. The goddess seemed in one of her more forgiving moods today. A rare, fighting form that made Meg wearier than usual.
For all her resentment, Persephone was a match made in hell; if she was willing to play nice, she was after something…
…But what? Hades thought. He swept his way to Persephone's side. Making no move to touch her.
"We have company?" Persephone asked. Her tone was light and brisk. She lifted a finger to run it along Hades' arm.
"Yes." Hades growled. "My brother."
From the floor, Meg faked passivity. Brother? Then, Hades did not mean Belle…
Persephone perked at the news. She shoulders her long hair, pursed her lips; the gloomy picture of disinterest once more. "Whatever for?"
"Nothing for you to be concerned over, my pomegranate."
His wife mused faintly. "Then why summon her?"
Hades was stolen by the restlessness held by her lips. Persephone had been scornfully distant this notable stay within his kingdom. Hades had waged to guess that of their 'together' time this year, Persephone had yet to touch him once. Until now. And she was still so close…
The Lord of the Dead snaked an arm around Persephone's shoulders. He waited for a mortal heartbeat, then relaxed. She did not flinch away.
"Persephone, my heart of darkness, no need to be so paranoid. I only have eyes for you…" He was leading her away from Megara. He rose a free hand to give a snap of thin fingers—
Megara rose. Megara slid her hands into her dress, checking every nook, every dip shamelessly. Her face flashed in hatred at her Master; none of this she performed willingly. When she finally tore her hands away from her own body, she found she had three gold coins slipping from her fists. They must have slipped into her dress while she sat. They clinked along the floor as they fell.
Persephone froze at the sound. She snapped her head upwards to give Hades a cold stare. "Really?"
"'Really', what?" Hades asked. His back was rod straight.
She shrugged out of her husband's grasp. She stormed towards Megara. "What were you doing in my cell?"
"Your bedroom," Hades deadpanned.
"My prison!" Persephone gritted out. She glowered at the coins, her fists two hard rocks at her side. "Can't you stay away from me for once, Megara?"
"Your bedroom." Hades insisted. He tried to wrap his arms around her again but Persephone rose up her arms to shove him back.
"I thought you didn't care about what was in there," Megara reminded her, her voice thick with contempt. 'You never go in there."
"You pretentious little—"
"Ladies!" Hades cut in. His yellow eyes wide. He collected Persephone's hand within his own. "Honey, Persey, where's the fire, babe? I asked Megara to check on some of those dusty old trinkets—I've decided to do some late spring cleaning and make use of them."
"And did you think to ask me first?"
His hands tightened slowly, digging into her wrists, but he remained controlled in his voice as he responded: "I tried. Once before. You spat in my face."
A dark look crossed the goddess's face. She looked at Meg and dropped her eyes to the floor. "You made those…for me."
Hades swallowed thinly, his eyes tight. "Yes. And now they are Poseidon's."
Megara looked to Hades as well. The coins were to be a part of one of Hades' deals? She moved one with a toe of her sandal. To what end?
And what consequence? A small, fearful voice flashed through Persephone's mind, but she willed her question to appear frivolous. "Oh, so that is what he is here for?"
"With some good luck." Hades continued. "But Poseidon can be the worst to bargain with of my siblings."
"And what will you get in return?"
Hades smiled coldly. "Nothing he won't miss."
"Hades!" Poseidon called, with his great voice echoing around the empty cavern. "I haven't seen you since the birth of—"
"Your fifth daughter," Hades finished for him. "I stopped coming after that." The Lord of the Dead folded his arms over one another. He gave a click of his teeth. "You do have so many."
"They are my pride and joy," Poseidon gave a hearty laugh.
Poseidon was a large man—rivaling Zeus in every absurdly masculine way. He had a smooth, flat plain of stomach muscle from guiding the ocean under hand and body. His eyes were wide set, lids heavy with every blink, as if he was used to spurring the sun. His smile, while open, was full of grit. His large face seemed more hair than skin. A thick, magnificent beard coiled down to his waist. Ever set to his person, Poseidon held his instrument of power. A long, golden trident, which pronged in three separate directions. His hair had grown more ginger than brown these days—the eons of baking in the golden glow of the sun, tanning his skin, crinkling the smile lines of his face, and waxing him closer to a human man's appearance than he ever had before.
…Not that Hades would dare to mention that these days…
"How is your lovely Athena holding up these days?" Hades asked briskly, his yellow eyes sizing up his brother.
"Oh, lovely. Just lovely. She says hello to you, Hades." At this, Poseidon gave another jolly laugh. "She said—get this—she said—'tell him to not feel so blue—because we've got seven oceans worth of that!'" Poseidon roared again in laughter, so powerful, Hades' felt his own chest rattle from the force. "Do you get it? Because—you're so depressed—and the ocean is so blue!"
"...How charming." Hades allowed. His lips were so tightly pressed together they hardly stood out along his face at all. "I'm sure that one took her a good thousand years to think of."
Poseidon sucked in a great breath to respond in kind. "She is very funny." He then gleamed his eyes along the cavern, as if suddenly struck at its darkness, its tight narrow passages—and the lack of Hades' own wife. "Where is your wife, anyhow? Are you two still, uh…"
"…We're just peachy." Hades concluded. Persephone had fled away not long after their prior conversation. "Tell me, is Athena usually so witty?"
"She's as witty as the rest of our girls. They each take after their mother—and." Another happy gleam entered his brother's eyes. "We're expecting another girl, just between you and me and the rest of the dead in here."
"Of course you are," Hades' drawled dully. Then, he brightened. "I mean, congratulations! So, let's not waste time getting you back to them. Let's talk shop—and sea."
"Yes…I am curious about those coins you mentioned."
"Yes—yes," Hades crooned. He led Poseidon into the small treasure cove, lingering long skinny fingers over the cold metal of the gold. "Here is the gold. Eight hundred and eighty-two pieces to be precise."
Poseidon studied the gold from where he stood, refusing to touch. "Did you make these? How?"
"I have access to many fine minerals down here. And heat. It wasn't hard. A true labor of love. For you. From my family—to yours."
The god of the Sea carefully moved a giant hand to push the gold out of the way—the way they glided and shivered in the cold light of the caves—their tiny skull-like faces, each with skinless, minute smiles. "…Beautiful…" Poseidon murmured. He then curled his hand away. "—and cursed."
"Only to the mortals, Poseidon. Only to them. Really." Hades purred, turning around the tall pile of gold, his smile bright and clean. "You have nothing to fear from me, brother."
Poseidon moved his eyes to Hades, his expression flat. "I see no need why I would use them."
"Oh," Hades puffed the word happily. "I do."
"Whatever do you mean?"
"You—and the rest of the family—do not get to see the mortals as I do," Hades narrowed his eyes, suddenly concerned. "You do not realize how much the humans are advancing in their ways…it is no longer sticks and stones, brother—but they are building ships."
"Ships?" Poseidon intoned. "Hardly. They are merely canoes upon my waters. I can crush them without ease. I have nothing to fear from mortals, Hades."
"Not now, perhaps," Hades agreed. "But soon. You blink and they'll be out, roaming the world—filling in all that we already can see…they shall attempt to control you, those pesky mortals, no longer chained to the land…their fleets and ships. They grow with every century. Pillaging your seas."
"I care not to control the humans. Only that they leave me and my people be."
"Yes…" Hades' drawled once more. His eyes burned a hole into his brother. "…But they won't. Even those that are living have found and entered into my domain, they will seek yours."
Poseidon drifted back, as if unnerved. "They will never find me. Nor my kingdom."
"Mortals are very resourceful, brother."
"You and your fear mongering," Poseidon urged. "I know of your strange fascinating with the mortals. I ask that you leave me out of it."
"You can say no, of course, of course," Hades continued. "But what of your wife?"
Poseidon looked struck. "…Whatever do you mean?"
"Well, you just mention how friendly and happy she is…surely, she might disagree. What if she wants to greet these mortals—when they come—what if she doesn't see an issue? After all…she is not fully immortal. She, too, is only half, clinging to a humanity that you deny…"
Poseidon frowned heavily. "I will see to it that nothing of the sort enters into her mind."
"You cannot control your wife, Poseidon. Surely, I can teach you that much."
His brother swallowed with little relief. "…I do not need your help in my private affairs. I don't even know what you could possibly want from me—"
"A single ocean." Hades proposed. He kept his eyes light over his brother. His hands coiled along the coins. "Nothing more. Nothing less. A single sea—for me alone." He looked about the cavern, gesturing into dark and dim. "Traveling space is tight here. I'm thinking—"
"Never." Poseidon answered. He laid the word calmly between them.
Hades forced the smoke deep into his chest. His eyes gave a little spark of red at the pupil. "…Why?"
"Whatever would you need it for?"
Hades fixed his teeth into a thin row. The smoke eased out between the gaps, spoiling the room. Poseidon gave a deep cough to rid himself of the ruined air. "…Because I need it." Hades fumed again, tightening his grip over the coins. "I am planning something nice for my wife, and I need your help."
"The oceans are mine. Forever. That is agreed by all."
"Do you not trust me, brother?"
"I trust that you have grown mad down here, Hades." Was all the Poseidon said. "You and your conniving with the mortal-kind. We've all heard of your deals. Do not think us hypocrites; when we make deals, usually the morals know they are fated to lose. You tempt them with the unnerving possibility of greatness, of escaping death—the one thing that separates us from them—you are a betrayer just to make these coins—what might they do, Hades? Tell me true—what befouls these coins?"
"I never wish to cast anything ill between us, Poseidon." Hades hissed. "There is no war. You and you wife are so happy—why do you think I summon you and not anyone else?! Because I want what you have, brother. These coins, alike human currency, they can make sure you will maintain control over any who seek you! They are protection! All I simply ask is one, tiny sea!"
"Never!"
"There are seven seas! I'll take any of them! Give me any! The dead sea is fine!"
"Never, Hades. I should have known better than to think your methods noble." Poseidon gave a final look at the gold piled before him, as if he were to spit into it, before he turned his back. "I am leaving."
….The heat from Hades' hands had begun to melt the gold, smelting it down, dripping it, unfathomably hot, between fingers…
From the hall, Hades burning glare caught the curved outline of Persephone, held fast to the door, her eyes staring back at him…
"You know, immortality is a fragile thing in the children of the gods." Hades began. He walked alongside the retreating footsteps of his brother, merely a moment behind.
"Are you to threaten me while my back is turned, Hades?" Poseidon drew himself upwards, towering over his young brother, his great face as daunting as an unforgiving sea.
"I seek to reason with you. Of what my deal represents. Your daughters are only half of what you are—half of what your precious wife hopes they might be—make no mistake, Poseidon, you will watch your daughters die."
Poseidon riled at those words, twisting the trident in his fists as if he meant to snap it into two. "Stop your insolent—!"
"They may be safe now, under Daddy's powerful protection—" Hades eyes stared at the instrument of power in his brother's grasp, the golden trident—"but you cannot hold them back forever. You have the gall to come into my home, tell me about tampering with death—but it is you who is afraid of what will come to pass—once I am right—as I will be—I will find them. The mortals will find them for me, and once they strike—call it an 'accident' but you cannot mask them from me for all time. Unlike your loyal subjects, children are so tricky to control." At this, Hades turned to meet his wife's eyes.
"ENOUGH!" Poseidon thundered—and, with a clap of an impossible, ancient call, like that of a great sea creature, he was gone, effortlessly escaped from the Underworld with the will of his strength.
And, just like that, Hades and his wife were alone once more.
Persephone shook her head, her long hair lifeless at her back. "I overheard everything…"
Hades sneered away, the flames about his head writhing like coals. "Perfect. Then I need not explain what when wrong."
A short pause. One in which Persephone held her husband's brutal glare. "How dare you speak to him about his own children? How could you say that?"
"I only speak the truth that is denied by all." He moved to her, his hands reaching up to cup her chin, bring her close to his lips. She recoiled away, offering him nothing more but cold outline of her face in the flickering, red light of his hair. "They will always want more than you can ever hope to give them."
AN: I am unsure if perhaps I am not a strong enough writer to convey this, but I'll list this here just in case so I can prevent confusion. I deeply apologise if I did not make this clear in prior chapters. That is very much a fault on my behalf.
Belle: Belle, as she is traveling in the Enchantress's book, is going into 'The Past'. Back into Greek history, where the Hercules Arc has yet to take place. Everything she sees, everything she touches, and everything she learns when she returns to the Present, has 'already happened' or is the start of what 'is going to happen'.
Adam/The Prince: Adam and his fever dreams and interactions with Hades are 'Present Day'. In where, the past in which Belle travels is very much behind Hades and the rest of the cast. I know this is tricky as, Greek gods, what do they need with any sense of 'aging'? I understand that most would argue that gods are 'constantly all seeing'. But not in my fanfiction. Not in this particular story. Hades has events that happened in his past. It is not as if he lives in omnipresent consciousness. He works as any character would – he has a past and he 'lives' in the present.
I hope this makes sense.
Thank you all SO very much for enjoying! Considering this chapter more of a backstory, part …I can't have all my villain(s) be totally one-dimensional, can? I'm doing my very best! Lots of fun hints were dropped in this chapter. And, all I can say is, if you're thinking one thing or another, you may just be right. Heh!
Back to Belle and Adam next chapter!