Chapter 1
Hades
Mount Olympus shone like a beacon for all the world to see. To see and to envy. Nearly all wanted to be there. Whether for power, lusts, or comfort, most mortals and immortals would give up anything for a seat in Olympus. Except me.
If I had my choice, I would never set foot in the gaudy Olympus. I knew I was despised there. I could see it in their eyes whenever they accidently met mine. It was usually accompanied by a shudder, and their eyes would quickly dart away. Or maybe they would even let a look of outright disgust show.
Unfortunately for me, my pompous brother Zeus liked to show off too much. Being King of the Gods, he had it in his power to command us all to attend meetings or, apparently, feasts.
This day, it was a feast to celebrate some idiot hero. I didn't care. In fact, I purposefully avoided learning anything more than I had to. All that mattered to me was that I had to put up with the stupidity of Olympus for an entire night.
The feast was held in one of the temples that dotted the mountainside. Zeus's personal temple, actually. He used it when he wasn't at the pantheon, which was the largest temple and sat at the very top of the mountain.
The temple we were in now was essentially a glorified pavilion, with a high, elaborately carved ceiling and tall, wide pillars supporting it. Yards upon yards of gauzy material hung from the outer edges of the roof, billowing slightly in the wind. It was a nice building, I suppose. I didn't really care for it, though, or for much of anything above ground anymore.
The feast was only just starting, but I was already tense and on edge. As the ruler of a realm, I had to sit at the high table with all twelve Olympians. I had chosen a spot far from the traitorous Originals by the second generation of Olympians. Most of them were Zeus's bastards, but I could tolerate them better than the other gods.
The one I hated least was Ares, the god of war. He was hot headed and crass, but he was confident in his own strength. He didn't fear me. That either made him brave or stupid. Probably stupid, but I wasn't going to complain. At least there was one idiot that I didn't mind talking to.
At the moment, however, he was talking to Athena about a recent war. Unsurprisingly, it was quickly turning into a fight. Most conversations with Ares tended to turn into fights. This time the argument was almost legitimate, since Ares and Athena had supported opposite sides.
"My men were all heroes!" Boasted Ares with an empathic pound on the table. "Each of my warriors easily killed ten of your schoolboys. Better men never walked this earth."
At Ares's words, the cold fury of the maiden warrior's steel eyes flared.
"You call them heroes," Athena cut in. Her voice rang clear as the morning air. "But I doubt that they had ever done a thing in their lives worth honoring. My men, on the other hand, lived lives that were virtuous. They deserve the title of hero more than your brutes do."
As they argued, Nymphs brought in ambrosia and nectar, swaying back and forth as if branches in the wind. One was brave enough to come forward and serve me. I was so entertained by Ares and Athena's argument, I almost didn't notice the girl's trembling hands or how she flinched when I raised a hand to grab my cup. Almost.
"Fine," Ares was saying, "if it's a matter of who had the most heroes, we can settle this with ease. Hades!" Ares turned to me and slapped me on the back. I choked on my drink in surprise. "You're the Lord of the Dead. Who has more warriors in Elysium? Me, with my warriors who were nursed on blood, Athena, with her milksops who chose to follow a woman to battle?"
Through the coughing fit that took me, I glared at Ares. He knew that I disliked being brought into the spotlight. I suppose I could see why he did it. Frightened of me as people were, they would probably not contradict anything I said, thus ending the argument one way or another. It was an unusual tactic for the straightforward and rather blunt god of war. In general, he would bellow his opinion over and over again until his opposers gave up in frustration. This new strategy caught everyone unawares. Especially me.
All eyes turned to me. Their attention made me wish I could put on my Helm of Invisibility. I had it with me in case I wanted to make a quick escape. It wouldn't help me now, of course.
"Both sides had good men." I answered carefully. I didn't particularly want to make either Ares or Athena mad at me. "Many ended up in Elysium."
"Come, Hades," called Apollo from down the table. "That is hardly a satisfactory answer."
I stared him down until his smile disappeared, and he shrank back into his chair. An awkward pause followed.
"Many died," said Athena after a moment, "more than needed to." She gave me a cold glare that could have frozen the fires of the Prometheus.
I couldn't repress rolling my eyes. She was supposed to be the goddess of wisdom; I shouldn't have had to explain this to her.
"Athena, I don't choose who dies and who lives. I only decide where their souls go. If you're looking for someone to blame, Thanatos is the actual god of death. And anyway, the Fates decide what we all do." I waved a hand towards the three aging women who huddled together and the edge of the room. They stared eerily at individuals, muttering to each other ominously occasionally.
Athena spared a glance towards the Fates, dismissing them with a disdainful curl of her lips.
"I believe a person's fate rests in their own hands."
I shrugged. Who was I to argue philosophy?
Athena let the matter drop. With the argument between Ares and Athena brought to such an abrupt end, conversations moved to other subjects. I became bored with the dull minds of the Olympians. All they ever seemed to talk about was Zeus. Zeus and his affairs or which hero had risen to occupy the spot of honor is Zeus's eyes.
Zeus, Zeus, Zeus.
And my younger brother was the last person I wanted to talk to, talk about, think about, see, or hear.
All this talk about Zeus was making me lose what little appetite I had. I stood abruptly and left my food untouched to wander around the room. Wherever I went, I was given a wide breadth by all the minor gods and goddesses, heroes, and lesser deities that littered the room.
At the High Table, where I had just left, were the twelve major gods and goddesses. Zeus was at the head, with Hera, his queen, on his right. They were, at first appearance, the perfect couple; a blend of aged learning and youthful beauty. In reality, Zeus often found companionship in the arms of others, much to Hera's continued annoyance. Even now, in front of his wife and all his guests, I could see Zeus pinching one of the serving girls.
Along the table sat Poseidon, the Sea god. With his long beard spilling down his bare chest and his prized Triton in his hand, he looked the very image of an old fisherman. I had little to do with the man, and we were both happy to mutually ignore one another.
The messenger god, Hermes, was done eating and plucked softly at his lyre, adding what even I had to admit was a pleasant tone to the indistinct chatter. A frequent messenger to the Underworld, people considered him one of the bravest gods. I, however, took a perverse satisfaction in the knowledge that he usually left my kingdom trembling in fear, mostly thanks to my efforts.
Apollo sat next to his twin sister, Artemis. They played out the dance of sun and moon, respectively, every day together. Even now, he radiated with all the brilliance of the sun and she glowed gently with a silvery sheen. They were newer additions, so I hadn't spoken to them much. Even so, they struck me as more empty headed than the rest of the pantheon.
Demeter, the goddess of the harvest, ate gracefully and calmly. But she was not what she first seemed to be either. The tightness of her grip as she grasped a goblet and the hardness of her eyes betrayed the facade and gave a hint to her obdurate personality.
The ever lovely Aphrodite sat talking animatedly to Dionysus, the wine god. Her deformed husband, Hephaestus, the smith of the gods, talked to Ares about swords. The sidelong glances between Aphrodite and Ares were obvious, despite the fact that they took pains to speak to other people. Poor Hephaestus was probably the only god who was still unaware that his wife was sleeping with another man. I supposed that he was too tame for the goddess of love and beauty. Aphrodite must have found something exciting about Ares's passion and savagery.
Athena sat quietly, but on edge, her hand never far from the hilt of her sword. Always ready for a fight, that one was. But she usually played fair. She held me in absolute contempt, of course.
How I loathed them all.
The excess, the gluttony, the hypocrisy of the entire pantheon made me sick. One would think that I would be used to it after all these years, but I wasn't. As a constant outsider, I could see what a joke everything was.
That being the case, I kept as much distance as I could from the celebrations as I prowled along the edge of the room. Acting like a moody vulture.
My mother's words from so long ago, unwittingly her last, came abruptly into my mind. She had been teasing me at the time, but now I wondered if she had been mocking me. The thought of her made me glower more fiercely than before. My burning glance caused a few people looking my way to wince and quickly turn away. That was part of the reason I wasn't well liked. Everyone always thought I was glaring at them. That was only true a small part of the time. I had something far worse than their petty acts of stupidity to make me angry-
No, I reminded myself, I'm not going to think about it.
Living alone gave me too much time with my thoughts, so I had to put boundaries on myself. Anything before becoming the Lord of the Underworld was off limits. Especially thoughts of my mother.
Frustrated with myself for letting this occasion upset me enough to break one of my rules, I sent another glare across the room without thinking. This time, a group of nymphs were my unintentional victims. They scurried away as though they had been burned.
Idiot.
Even if I hadn't been so...moody, I would still be considered an outcast. Unlike my younger self, my black hair and beard were short, while most other gods kept their hair long. Amid their flowing, colorful robes, my fitted dark clothing made me stand out as starkly as a raven among the birds of paradise.
I wasn't included with the twelve gods and goddesses who were worshiped as Olympians. Even though I did as much work or more for the mortals as they did, I was ignored. However, the lack of piety had long ceased to bother me. I knew that eventually all mortals would - someday - come pay their respects to me. And I would make them pay dearly when they did.
I came to a rest from my wandering and casually leaned against a pillar. It was one of the outer ones that allowed me to look over the vast valley below. The sun had already disappeared below the horizon, leaving the sky a dying blue, and night was rapidly approaching. I stared out over the gray landscape. I longed for the uncertainty of the twilight to be over so that I could welcome the quiet of darkness. Then this pointless feast would finally be over.
"I'll wager I can guess your thoughts," a voice behind me said. It had a sultry and smooth quality to it. Like honey oozing into your mouth. Yet there was an undertone of poison. Sweet, sweet poison. And that is what she was.
Aphrodite. The goddess of love and beauty, the most feared goddess in Olympus. She had the power to make any man or woman into love's fool with a single prick of her son's golden arrows. Everyone knew how powerful she was, especially Aphrodite herself, and she used it to her full advantage.
I didn't bother to look back at her. I knew just how much that would infuriate her. "I seriously doubt it."
"Hmm…." I felt her slip her hands over my shoulders and press her body against mine. "Perhaps not. Although, I hope that it is a woman that preoccupies you so. It worries me, Hades, to see you always alone."
Keeping my back towards Aphrodite for too long was dangerous. I turned around and received the full, unadulterated force of her beauty. As goddess of beauty, she outshone everyone around her as aggressively as the sun outshines a candle. Every feature, every line, and - especially - every curve defied mortal or immortal description, other than one single word: perfect. There was no room for her stunning perfection to be a matter of opinion because it was law. Even I, who was so hardened against all of Olympus, was momentarily stunned by it.
"Come, Hades," she crooned, with her arms still threaded around my neck, "find some sweet, young thing and take a break from looking so melancholy all the time. Who knows? You might even enjoy it."
"No. Thank you." I made an extra effort to make my tone flat and emotionless. I didn't want her thinking she could get under my skin.
Lines appeared between her flawless eyebrows, and her eyes had a sudden spark of anger in them. In a moment, the look passed. Aphrodite laughed liltingly. She leaned in close to my ear.
"I accept the challenge," she whispered. I was left with a brush of a kiss burning on my cheek.
I breathed a sigh of relief when she was gone. At least I had kept my wits about me, which is more than most men would be able to say after being faced with her.
I didn't like her tone with that last thing she had said. I would have to keep my guard up to avoid her and her scheming son, Eros. That boy could do more damage with his love arrows than Apollo could with all his plagues. In that moment, I made the fatal mistake to forget that Eros also had ways to become invisible.
During that interruption from Aphrodite, the dusk had faded to night. I stared longingly over the dark valley, feeling some measure of comfort from its familiarity. I wished I could return to its welcoming arms and forgiving caress. But even if I did, a part of me would always miss the light, no matter how much I suppressed it. I might as well get a large dose of it now.
Resigned, I returned to my seat and gave the room a glance. What was the state of things now. Most of the gods were now good and drunk and ready for entertainment. They began to crowd into the center of the room and called to Hermes and Apollo for music.
A few individuals kept to the sides of the room, and that is how I first noticed her.
She was a lesser goddess, and she seemed hardly more than a girl. As I continued to observe her, I decided that she was most likely only a few centuries old. If she had had even a few other goddesses around her, I wouldn't have noticed her at all. Alone, however, something about her seemed to be distinctive. She was tall and slim and wore a light green robe. Her gold was in a braid that fell down past her waist. I was seized with a sudden desire to see it set free, to see it move, to see it live. Everything about her was careful, from her simple garments to her way of holding herself. What would happen, I wondered, if she let go?
I moved closer to her, while still being careful not to be seen by her, fascinated. I could hardly explain my sudden interest, even to myself, but I knew that I wanted nothing more than to watch her.
Perhaps the energy of my stare could be felt by her, because she unexpectedly looked my way. I received a shock:
Her eyes were black. As black as my own.
The only people that had black eyes were those that could see the dead. Thanatos and I both had them. My eyes had darkened from their original blue when I became the Lord of the Underworld.
Hair like the sun and eyes with death in them. It only intrigued me further. Who was this girl?
"Ares!" I caught him by the sleeve as he walked past me and pulled him closer. "Who is the girl with the blonde hair, over there?" I nodded towards her.
Ares, though surprised at my sudden question, looked over and thought for a moment. "I believe that is Demeter's daughter, oh what's her name? You remember a few centuries back when she and Zeus…." He made a crude gesture and laughed. "Well, that," he pointed to the girl, "was the result. I can't imagine what possessed my father to go after Demeter in the first place. She's a fine looking woman, no mistake about it. But," he lowered his voice, "she's the type of woman to make life hell for any man."
I nodded with fervent agreement. Demeter was an extremely dominating woman. She kept a tight rein over everything in her life, including her daughter from what I heard. She was born controlling and overbearing. It was one of the things I remembered best about my...uncomfortable childhood.
"I thought she didn't let the girl out among the other gods. Why is she here?" I asked.
Ares shrugged his shoulders and impatiently glanced towards Aphrodite. She was lying seductively on a nearby couch, unabashedly batting her eyes his way. "Whatever Father commands is done. That's why you're here, isn't it? Excuse me, will you?" Without another word to me, Ares shot off towards Aphrodite. His abruptness didn't bother me, though. At least it stopped questions about this sudden interest of mine, something I was having a hard time explaining to myself.
Everyone finished rearranging themselves in circles around different entertainments. I found myself by a group of obnoxious satyrs, who were giving me the usual uncomfortable looks. That was my cue to move. I claimed a chair far from the center of the room pulled close to the fire.
I had no idea why, but I had always found Olympus to be too cold. Perhaps it had to do with the elevation, or maybe the cool marble and the wide open spaces invited a chill to the air. Either way, I appreciated the warm fire.
"Hello, Hades," said a soft voice from behind me.
I looked over my shoulder to see Hestia. As the goddess of the hearth, she never strayed far from it. She was the only child of Kronos and Rhea - other than myself - to be excluded from the title of Olympian. Exclusion had brought us closer together, though it was different for each of us. I had been forced out, whereas she was a volunteer to keep the peace. That was the motivation for most of her actions, it seemed. She was the only being I knew in all my long years that was truly, genuinely selfless. Therefore, she was the only person for whom I felt a shred of respect towards. She even went so far as to welcome me whenever she saw me, despite the reluctant attitude of the other gods.
"Hello," I answered, nodding pleasantly.
"How fares your hearth?" Was her inquiry in return. Though she was mild-mannered almost to a fault, her quick eyes caught my discomfort at her question. Her voice held no reproach as she asked, "You have not spent time near it recently, have you?"
I sighed. "No, Hestia, I have not. I've been very busy."
Her face softened and took on a slightly worried look. "The hearth is the center of a home, Hades. You, out of all my brothers and sisters, concern me most. There is much turmoil within you. Your heart is restless. It searches for a place to call home, and so your hearth is also troubled."
"If my hearth is so troubled, I don't want to spend time near it. I have trouble enough in my life without it." I responded brusquely, not quite meeting her eye as I spoke.
She placed one of her coarse hands on my cheek and said, in a mild tone, "It is simply reflecting your own struggles, dear. You will learn to read your own thoughts by looking to it."
With that, our conversation was over. It was always this way with my sister: she would say no more nor less than what she wanted. Hestia went back to tending the fire, and I turned my attention to the center of the room. There, performances of strength and grace were underway.
I found that Hestia's heartfelt suggestion bothered me much less than did Aphrodite's more...seductive one. The thought reminded me of Aphrodite's half-threat. I accept the challenge, she had said. I wondered idly what she had in store for me as I watched the different performances.
I didn't care about the feats of strength. Nothing seemed difficult for deity, not even lifting the weight of the world on our shoulders, so why even compete? But the finer arts...now that was something that demanded admiration.
It wasn't easy, I'd found over the years, for gods to know matters of the soul. There is an art in understanding and expressing what happens in one's own heart, much less the heart of others. I valued that more than what one's body could accomplish. So, I watched the dancers.
Artemis, with her Nymphs, had started off, weaving an intricate pattern that I thought might be about hunting deer.
Hardly original, I scoffed silently to myself.
Aphrodite, of course, didn't hold back from showing off. Her dance followed Artemis's. As one might have expected, it was a dance that drew the dumb attention of every male in the room. Something was lacking in it, though.
Is that what love really is? I asked myself. Isn't it caring about someone beyond what their body can offer you? Aphrodite could be so much greater if that was the sort of love she cared about. It was regretful, it truly, truly was, that she couldn't reach beyond the shallowness of Olympus to something better.
Aphrodite finished with one last flare, causing many to call for another dance. She, with assumed humility, demurred. Everyone who had considered dancing now was intimidated by such popularity. Then, after a long pause that almost lost my interest, she stepped forward.
The girl's movements were tentative as she began her dance without any music. I leaned forward, waiting for that moment I had longed for earlier, waiting for her to let go. The musicians were slow on the uptake, but the flute player struck up a tune. It was light and quick, matching the girl's evolving steps. The musician was a master at his craft. His music followed every mood that she showed. At first she was delicate and inconsequential. I'm just another dancer she seemed to say. Then, she stamped her foot and stood rigidly still, all except for the slow, heavy pounding of her foot. The abrupt change grabbed people's attention, and a drum joined in the dance.
Now was the moment, I could feel it. Now was when she would be free. I watched her, with lips parted in awe, as she stopped pounding her foot. She looked around at her audience and gave a sudden, tantalizing smile. Then she was gone, dancing as though she were the wind, the storm, the lighting, the sun, and all at once. The musicians struggled to keep up. They ere put to the test of their craft by a dancer superior to any I had ever seen before.
Watching her, the song felt familiar and wild and strange. I couldn't begin to fathom what the deeper meaning to her dance was, but I wanted to discover it. I needed to discover it and let it discover me. If I had been a more impulsive person, I might have felt inclined to join in the dance myself. Self control and the sure knowledge that I would make a fool of myself kept me firmly rooted in place.
The girl wound down her dance, slowing it until she was as calm as a flowing river or a blowing breeze. With one last movement, she bowed herself to the ground. The dance ended.
Silence followed.
There was a smattering of applause after the pause, and I let go of the breath I had been holding. What had just happened? I joined the applause just as it was dying out.
It was only then that I noticed Demeter seething on the edges of the crowd. The girl saw her mother and dutifully went over to her. From where I was sitting, I could hear their conversation.
"Kore! How many times have I told you not to make a spectacle of yourself?" Demeter demanded in an undertone, though it still carried to my listening ears.
Kore. It was the name of a child, a diminutive. I wrinkled my eyebrows. What sort of mother named her daughter something that no woman would ever be called?
Kore bowed her head, whether as a sign of submission or to hide her emotions, I couldn't tell. She seemed to shrink and become almost insignificant standing next to her mother. I never would have given her a second thought if I hadn't had seen her dance before.
"Dancing," Demeter continued, "is only appropriate when it is with other women, or for your husband. Putting yourself on display like that was completely wanton and may have already drawn unwanted attention-"
Demeter's tirade was interrupted by a nymph, bringing with her a message from Zeus.
"Can't it wait?" She snapped, her eyes still on her daughter.
"No, milady." The nymph quavered, daunted by the fury in the tall goddess's eyes as she sneered at the messenger.
"Wait here. I shall return in a moment."
Kore, now separated from the overpowering influence of her mother, came into herself again. She still bore herself with that same carefulness that I had noticed earlier.
That irritated me. She had the potential to be this free creature, wild and alive, but her mother oppressed her so strongly that she had to watch her actions even when Demeter wasn't around. If I were alone with Kore, I would make her feel at ease, help put her off her guard. I would-
I realized suddenly the dangerous turn my thoughts were taking.
If I were alone with her, I told myself firmly, I would keep my distance.
That hypothetical situation came into reality much quicker than I would have thought. Kore sat down just out of arm's reach from. I raised my eyebrows in surprise and unconsciously angled my body towards her, leaning forward slightly. I opened my mouth to speak and had a strange, disembodied moment where I stood on a precipice between speaking to her and remaining silent. The potential of each choice was palpable, crackling in the air between us. Then, forgetting my resolve from only a moment before, I took the plunge.
"You did very well," I remarked, nodding over towards the dancers.
Idiot! I thought immediately. That's the best you can do?
Kore looked behind her, as if to see who I was talking to. She seemed startled when she realized that I meant her.
"Me?" She asked.
"Yes. I've rarely seen a performance that I've enjoyed more. You have such...passion."
Kore looked away, embarrassed.
"You mother doesn't approve, I take it?"
"No," she shook her head and met my eyes for a fleeting moment. She hesitated before continuing. "She believes humility is the most important virtue."
"You disagree?" I shifted my chair slightly towards her, hungry for almost any response that she might give me.
"I…I don't know. I hadn't really given it much thought."
Hm. A lie. I got the feeling that Kore had given her mother's opinions a lot of thought, and I doubted that Demeter would like the conclusions she had come to.
"I'll agree with your mother that humility is underrated in Olympus. But I think there's something to be said asserting your rights and taking credit for what you do."
Kore only nodded stiffly.
A few moments of silence followed, and I was unsure of whether or not to break it. I didn't want the weak connection to fade, but I wished that she would be the one to keep it. I want her to give me some sort of sign that she felt something like I did.
Kore turned suddenly towards me, opened her mouth, but seemed to think better of what she was going to say. She turned away almost immediately. I raised an eyebrow.
"What is it you were going to say?" I asked eagerly.
"Oh, it was...that is, I was just wondering…" she trailed off into a confused silence.
I saw her eyes dart towards her mother, who wasn't paying attention to her daughter at all for the moment. I could tell, even from here, that Demeter and Zeus were arguing and. Unsurprisingly, it seemed like Demeter was winning.
The girl's dark eyes flashed upwards at me. There was that fire and movement that I witnessed before, tightly confined, but surging up forcefully. I could tell that this one had a strong spirit. I felt myself slip away further and further into its depths, helpless to pull myself out. I found I was unwilling to even try. She lowered her eyes again to her hands, and I was released.
The world was carrying on. Everyone around us was still speaking in the same irreverent tones, oblivious to the short - though intensely deep - moment that I had felt steal away my reasoning mind. Even she was unaware of it.
"Go on," I prompted after a moment. My voice was close to hoarseness.
She laughed a bit to herself, shaking her head at some thought that I couldn't read on her face. It was a soft laugh, and sweet. The corners of my mouth twitched ever so slightly upward in response. I had the sudden desire to have the ability to easily bring that laughter out of her. I had never possessed that talent, nor had particularly wished to possess it before.
"I wanted to ask why you dress like that." She said shyly. Her eyes darted to mine, and I forgot everything again in that moment.
Wake up! A warning in my mind screamed. Something's wrong. I ignored it and let myself float vaguely along in this sudden new world that I had been pushed into.
Her words came to me as though from a great distance and I processed them in a haze. She was referring to my dark clothes, which were different from anything that the rest of the world wore or had even seen. I wore a collared gray shirt and black tie under a fitted black suit with black leather shoes. They felt more confining than the robes and sandals the other gods wore, but I found them to be more functional. There was more to it that functionality. After being ostracized from Olympus for so many eras, I had decided to use my differences to my advantage. If I was to be different, then I would never let any Olympian forget it.
My original reasons seemed so petty now, like a young boy rebelling against his parents. Or like one that had Fate so wholly against him that he scrambled for any moment of defiance. I didn't want to present myself in that way to this girl. She was so young, so innocent. Though it was repressed, I could see that there was still hope in her eyes for the future. I could tell that she knew something about the unkindness of Fate, but she had yet to know the depths of its cruelty. That hope had been missing in myself for some time now. But now, for the first time since my future had taken from me, I felt something like it stirring back up in my heart. I wanted to nurture it.
I simply said, "I have many responsibilities, and clothes like these don't hinder my movement."
"Oh." Kore nodded, accepting the explanation easily.
We both fell into silence, but neither of us felt the need to break it this time. I wanted to study her, but felt that that would have almost been an intrusion of sorts. We were both still little more than strangers to each other. Strangers in a chance meeting. I contented myself with stealing glances at her instead.
I noticed her hand resting on the arm of her chair. The simplicity and grace of its lines fascinated me. It was almost as if she had been carved of fine marble, with fair, smooth skin and perfectly formed fingers. They were the hands of an artist, one who was deft in her craft and knew how to create beauty. Yet there was something practical about them. I could imagine these same hands covered in dirt and grasping at a stubborn weed. I could also imagine these hands reaching out in tenderness towards someone, a child perhaps, to help and give assistance. How would such a hand feel in mine?
My own hands were rough and calloused from riding, wielding a sword or a whip, and driving my chariot. They even bore the calluses of a scholar, since I spent a portion of my time writing out the events of the day. They were unskilled in matters of art; I had never understood how to translate my feelings into any sort of medium. My hands were for practical uses only. By their use, however, my mind was made free to wander where it would.
I had gone to many dark places in my mind as I had accomplished the mundane tasks of my day. I looked again at her face, which was turned away from me, and I thought that perhaps my mind could now wander in paths of sunlight, lit brightly with memories of Kore.
I almost reached out for her hand, more words forming themselves on my tongue, when I saw what she was looking at.
Demeter.
The goddesses had clearly finished her argument with Zeus and was now searching for Kore in the crowd. Any moment now she would spot her. Any moment now she would see her daughter sitting next to a man that she despised.
It was easy to tell when that moment came, even from this distance. Demeter's expression turned cold as ice, ready to freeze the feelings of others. Then it was as hot as fire, ready to scorch and burn resistance. She advanced on us like a hawk on its prey.
Kore, even though her mother had not yet reached us, winced.
"I should go," she muttered, rising to leave.
Before I had time to react, she had already slipped away through the crowd to her mother. With her gone, it was like I had been suddenly stabbed in the back so that all the breath was driven out of me. My head swam from the strange physical reaction I was having. I stood up quickly, trying desperately to catch a glimpse of her. I pushed past a group of satyrs, whose indignant words died in their mouths when they saw it was the mighty and feared Lord of the Underworld who had so rudely brushed by them.
I spotted Kore again, just in time to see her reach her mother. Demeter's livid anger was plain to see. The crowd was so thick, however, that most didn't notice the scene. Any sane person would have easily seen that this was not the time to further press my acquaintance with Kore. Fool that I was, I made my way towards them.
Demeter saw me before I was within a hundred yards of them. She gripped Kore by her upper arm and dragged her daughter out of the pavilion. Kore submitted meekly to her mother's rough handling, never hesitating or rebelling against her.
Except.
Except when they got to where a servant was waiting with a chariot for them. They were too far ahead for me to catch, but Kore saw me bursting out of the pavilion in pursuit. I saw her smile softly, and she raised a hand to me in farewell.
Then they were gone.
I struck at the nearest column with my fist in frustration. Spider web cracks spanned out across the marble from the force of my blow.
Why was this to always be my fate? To have a chance for joy snatched from my grasp the moment I reach for it.
I turned to the room full of deity. The most powerful beings in the world were there, but what could they do? What could any of us do? We were just pawns to a larger game, being moved around in a game that none of us could understand. It was cruel of the universe to call us gods and give us a taste of power when we still were driven by the same force as the pitiful mortals.
I was still visibly seething from irritation and rage when I came out of my thoughts again. I couldn't go back in there. I couldn't face the lies and hypocrisy, the endless masquerade. Not now.
It was disconcerting to have been pulled out of the comfort of my familiar worldview, but I was glad for it. Glad for the pain. Glad to have my complacency revealed to me. I swore to myself to never forget the lesson. I would never forget how meaningless my own existence was again. After such a realization, I couldn't go back to quietly witnessing the pantheon's profanity. I left.
I didn't have a servant to drive my black chariot. I didn't need one. I took a hold of the smooth leather reins and, bracing my feet, sent my dark steeds careening through the air with an expert flick of my wrists. The leather felt natural in my hand as I directed my horses down the slopes of the mountain. The horses were a perfect team and seemed to read my mind as we made our way down the treacherously uneven ground.
We came to the valley. Just as the chariot was about to crash into the rocky ground, a gaping hole appeared and swallowed everything whole. It snapped shut, sealing off the Underworld with me inside.