The World Above's light was bright: the sun's rays bathed every blade of grass, every stone and gravel path, with warmth and radiance. Too damn bright, Hades thought, gritting his teeth and squinting as the light seared his sensitive eyes. He longed for the quiet stillness of his realm; the gentle illumination of the sun as it refracted through the depths of the Styx, coating the sky of the Underworld in the gleam of sparkling twilight. Yet he had come here for a reason: to investigate the powerful sense of creation that had dug down, deep into the earth, past the layers of magma and fire, past the shadows of Erebus, into his mind—a most unwelcome and yet...intriguing...disruption into his thoughts.
He went to his scrying pool and watched, looking for any sign of the god who had dared to drill so low and enter his kingdom. His eyes widened, catching a shock of red-golden hair moving swiftly through the trees. His lips curled, recognizing the location: Enna. Demeter's home. Was she trying to usurp him now, after all these years? He sighed. No, no—he and his sister got on well enough, and she was never hungry for power...least of all, hungry for power over the Other Side. But then, who? He gazed into the scrying pool, growing more irritated as he watched its liquid bubble and simmer, all the while providing no definitive answer.
Hades' nostrils flared and he exhaled, his breathing labored. Again, he felt that strange power reach down into him; his scalp tingled and his skin prickled into goosebumps. He gripped the edge of his scrying pool, shuddering as another wave of power coursed through him, feeling light-headed. "Enough of this," Hades growled, his grasping hands tight and white-knuckled. He would go investigate the arrogant god who had dared to knock on his door.
And so he cloaked himself in his armor, black and fathomless as the night sky. Finally, after donning his Helm of Darkness, Hades shadow-walked to the borders of Enna, where he had spied the flash of red hair. The wind rustled through the trees, heralding his arrival, though he was still hidden. A dazzling garden of flowers lay before him, their shining color and vibrance reminding him of the precious gemstones that adorned his hallowed halls. A sigh leaked out of him, slowly, almost painfully; for all the beauty of his home, he did miss certain aspects of the World Above. Hades breathed in, sighing harder as the heady scent of lilac and...something else he couldn't quite place, wafted up into his nose.
A soft moan curled around him, and his ears perked up, curious. Slowly, he stalked forward, following the sound as it increased in frequency and strength—until he froze. There was a goddess before him, bathing and...pleasuring herself. His mouth went dry. Who is she? he wondered. He watched her, rooted in place and absolutely transfixed as she poured water over her head, tracing her soft fingers over the lines the droplets made down her collarbone and full breasts. He swallowed hard as she began fondle her nipples, her other hand slowly making its way down her stomach.
I...I should leave, Hades thought, burning with embarrassment. He had not meant to play the part of a voyeur, watching a young woman as she brought herself pleasure. As he began to turn away, another sigh escaped her, and a flower grew; the power of creation seared across his skin, in his mind. He suddenly felt dizzy, watching her, and he no longer had the strength to look away.
She pushed herself up out of the pool, the water glistening and shining on her skin, and he could see her fingers rubbing ever-more insistently against her clitoris. Hades groaned at the sight, feeling his scrotum begin to pull taught to his abdomen, and his phallus begin to fill with burning ichor. More flowers began to grow as she pushed a tentative finger inside herself, once again sending power down into his domain—into him, and he cupped himself, hissing loudly as his cock began to strain against the fabric of his pteruges.
He watched her as her hips rose, flowers growing and blooming in waves, and he shivered. Reaching underneath his pteruges, he wrapped his hand around his throbbing cock, and began to stroke himself. Another flower bloomed, making him moan, and he threw a glance at it, forcing it to whither. He watched her as she writhed and gasped, and he grinned to himself; she had felt his presence. Placing her other hand on the ground, she called forth a verdant bed of vegetation, and its power coursed through him, forcing him to his knees and almost bringing him to climax. He growled at her challenge, bracing his free hand against the ground in turn; he would not be bested by her. Shadows covered the glade then, caressing each and every flower with their withering presence, and the garden decayed around them.
She cried out, rubbing herself harder, twisting on the ground as if she were in pain, and he began to rock his himself into his hand, picturing himself moving inside her. "Who are you, theoi?" she asked, struggling to keep the moan from her voice. "I can—I can feel you in the earth."
In answer, he sent shadows forth from his body, caressing her skin like he would if she were next to him. A tendril touched her mouth and he shuddered, feeling the softness of her lips. Another trailed down her quivering abdomen, tracing feather-light touches against her skin until it reached the soft folds of her vulva, whereupon it entwined itself around her quaking fingers. "Who do you think I am?" he asked, speaking to her and touching her through the shadows.
"I do...not...know," she whispered, rubbing her clit with increasing speed and pressure. "You...radiate p-power...and—and death—" she gasped, sticking two fingers inside of herself as she rolled her hips up, seeking the heady friction his shadow-touch provided. "...You...you are the Unseen One," she finished, causing flowers to bloom in waves as her orgasm overwhelmed her. Hades exhaled through his teeth as she cried out, pumping his hand furiously, in time with her movements, until he himself spilled upon the ground with a ragged cry. Swallowing hard, he watched her as her eyes searched for him in the glade. "Reveal yourself," she said, covering her hands over her breasts, suddenly shy. Around her and over her, he appeared as smoke, and she trembled underneath him. "You are shaking. Do I frighten you, sweet goddess?" he asked her, leaning his head down to her ear.
"N-no," she stammered, biting back a hiss as he took a nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud. "Hmm, how very brave," he teased, kissing back up her collarbone and neck. Her breath hitched, and he shuddered as he felt her power set his skin aflame once more. Cautiously, he cupped his fingers on her cunt, making her moan as he gently massaged her wet folds.
"I would see your face, Lord," she said, grasping at his body through the smoke and shadows. Gazing down at her, taking in the look of defiance and bravery in her green eyes, he smiled. "As you wish." He removed his helm, placing it beside her head. Slowly, she cupped his cheek, and her touch burned him. "Why have you come here, Lord Hades?" she asked.
Why had he come here? He didn't know. His mind felt foggy, yet his body hummed with energy. A flower bloomed next to him and his breath caught. The power of creation; of life. He shut his eyes, reveling in her healing presence. "You summoned me," he said, breathless. She canted her head to the side, curious, and before he could think to stop himself, he leaned down and kissed her softly, tenderly. Moaning, she opened her mouth to him, and their tongues caressed each other. He pulled back from her, pressing his forehead atop hers, and they shared their breath. "I've fallen in love with you," he said. She laughed, rich and sweet like honey. "How is that possible? You do not even know my name. Do you mean to seduce me and steal my honor with your sweet words?"
"Tell me your name, then," he said, twirling a lock of her hair around his finger. Her hands were running through his hair, and he continued to gently massage her vulva, taking care not to push too hard; taking care not to frighten her. There would be a time and place for his darker appetites—and only if she would willingly indulge them. He sensed that she would: she created life, while he engendered its decay, and they would always challenge each other in an intoxicating dance. He smiled, kissing her neck; he eagerly awaited to test her will once more.
"I am...the Lady Demeter's daughter..." she whispered, shutting her eyes as his thumb lightly began to rub circles around her clitoris. He chuckled as he felt her nails begin to dig into his back. Oh, yes, he thought, wickedly, We will make quite a pair. "...Kore," she ground out.
Kore. Zeus' first child, though not considered royalty. Hades shut his eyes, reflecting on the day Demeter birthed her; the way she had cried when Zeus refused to acknowledge his daughter, whom he named Persephone, as his legitimate heir. 'She will be powerful,' Zeus had said, 'and that will have to be enough for you, Demeter.' Powerful indeed, Hades mused, shivering at just her touch. He kissed her next once more, on her beating pulse, and smiled as she writhed beneath him. "I do know you," he whispered, cupping her face with both hands, and she sighed in response, pressing her naked breasts against the hard bronze of his cuirass. With a thought, he burned away his armor, the tunic and pteruges he wore underneath, and together they gasped in unison as skin met skin. His newly-heavy arousal nudged against her folds, and she twisted her head away from him. Reaching down to touch her jaw, he turned her head back towards him. "Are you afraid I am going to hurt you?"
She swallowed hard. He could see her pulse beating wildly in her neck. "You are a god, Lord Hades. Such is the nature of your kind. Take what you will of me and leave."
Hades flushed at her words. The gods were indeed cruel. But—he was not his father, and nor was he his brothers. "Sweet Kore," he whispered, kissing her forehead tenderly, "daring Persephone," he kissed her mouth, shuddering as hooked a leg around his hip, "know that I love you, from this day forever more, and would never harm you."
"How can you love me?" she asked him, again pouring the power of life into her touch. "We have only just met."
Destiny, he thought. The will of the Fates—no, he shook his head; no, the will of his own heart. She ruled over life, as he ruled over death, and they would become one. "We are meant for each other," he said, once again enveloping her in smoke and shadow as he kissed the top of her collarbone, her breasts. She moaned, exhaling faint breaths, and his cock ached with an ever-growing need to sheath himself inside of her. "Meant for each other?" she asked, panting as she rocked her hips up, experimentally, against his swollen flesh.
"Aye," he growled, capturing her mouth in a searing kiss that had him rutting against her, but not-quite inside her. His hands settled on her hips, stilling her before they could abandon all sense and cross that threshold. "You rule over creation, over life itself," he said, pressing his forehead to hers, "and I rule over Death and the dead. We are opposites...but equals, all the same, and so…" he gazed into her eyes, excitement brewing in him as he saw her breath hitch, "...you have captured my heart, sweet goddess—and I will never be able to give it to another."
He looked down at her, waiting. The air stilled around them, so that only their breathing could be heard. Time slowed, and it felt like they were the sole two beings in the cosmos. Moments passed; he waited. "...Do you...do you accept my love?" he asked her, finally, cautiously, and his voice wavered. Please say yes, he thought, desperate. Please choose me. Her lips turned up slowly, almost imperceptibly...and then she smiled, radiant, and she answered him with a kiss; and Hades held her tightly, even as she turned into mist in his arms and disappeared; even as the glade around him vanished, and he appeared in a red room.
He sat back on his knees, looking down at himself: he was wearing a charcoal gray, three-piece suit. The suit he'd been wearing when he was murdered. "What is this?" he asked, thoroughly alarmed. Where was he, just now? The image was blurry and far away, obscured by what felt like eons of time. There was a woman in his arms—had he been dreaming her?
"Welcome, Hades." He turned his head up to the sound of the voice, and saw a woman in a white dress standing over him. She held a spindle in her hand, and the threads there glistened and shone like mercury. He bowed his head to her, instinctively, and asked, "Who are you, my lady?"
"Inevitability," she answered.
He swallowed. "Lady Ananke." One of the primordials; daughter of Chaos themself. She peered at him, and he struggled not to look away from her. "Do you love your son?"
Son? Hades wondered. Green eyes flashed in his mind; his mother's easy smile, and a deep calm swept through him. Zagreus. His son. He remembered. "Yes," he answered. "With everything that I am."
She cocked her head to the side, arching a graceful brow. "So I see. You sought to defy my daughters for him."
"He is my son."
"As you say, young Hades. Yet his life does not belong to you—nor indeed, even to himself."
Hades' hands shook, fear crawling across his skin like a legion of spiders. "I do not understand."
"You will see soon enough that as you gain strength, as you return to who you once were, he fades—"
"No!" Hades stood, shouting. "Do not tell me this!" Darkness poured from him, uncontrolled. Ananke looked down at him mildly, assessing him; slowly, she turned the spindle in her hand. "He was never meant to live. You know this."
"He is my son!" Shards of darkness erupted from him, hurtling towards her, yet she did not move, even as they impaled her body. Hades' chest burned, and once again he could feel the warmth of red, mortal blood coating his skin. "He is my son," he repeated, tears welling in his eyes, blurring his vision.
"It is only the inevitable," Ananke said, fading away, "and you would do well not to defy the inevitable."
He shut his eyes, and when he opened them, he held Zagreus in his arms, once again as a stillborn babe. "My son," he said, pressing the child to his chest, rocking back and forth on his heels, "my son, my son…" In Hades' arms, Zagreus aged into the young man Hades had met only briefly...though he was just as lifeless. Inside, Hades burned; inside, he felt himself break. Black liquid started pouring from the ceiling, through the cracks in the walls, through the tile beneath his feet, and it rose, flooding the room. Soon it was at his waist and then at his chest, but Hades did not move, even as it began lapping at his neck and his nose, overtaking his senses. He shut his eyes, welcoming the oblivion.
