Chapter 5:
Hades stops short of the familiar field and his eyes zero in on a petite woman. Her long, jet black hair is damp and falling in loose, tangled curls down her back. Her face is tilted up to the sun and her eyes are closed as she soaks in the warmth. He allows himself to drop his gaze further down. Cream colored skin, a bountiful chest and heavy hips meeting at a thin waist. Her legs stay chastely tucked under her scarlet and purple sundress and her feet peek out from under the cloth, clad in sandals.
The moment he saw her reach for the lowest hanging pomegranate, a pang of recognition flared through him. It gave way to a new feeling; one of utter disbelief at this cruel joke. Could it be? For every second that he remained standing there, watching her, he was overcome with a new emotion. Anger, frustration, love, and so many other feelings which cannot be so succinctly described. The myriad losses he had suffered for so long were driving the god nearly to a state of madness. The most maddening part of it all was the knowledge that, this time, Demeter practically laid Persephone in his lap.
Hades disappears with a snap of his fingers, frightening a flock of birds and inadvertently snapping Paige out of her short sunbath. She stands and brushes off her shins and dress, slips her sandals back into place and grabs the watering can as she quickly picks up where she left off and heads to her car to finish other various chores and errands.
Back in his realm, Hades makes his way down one of the marble hallways, stopping just short of reaching a small, barren courtyard that is laid out before a pantheon. As he leans against the entrance to the small garden, he notes the only sign of life within it is a small spring to the side. While the water remained fresh and clean, free of stagnancy, it brought no life to the soil surrounding it, nor to any other part of the courtyard. Glancing forward, he is less than surprised to see that the ivy that shut out everyone but its mistress was still dry and dead, though still guarding the doors leading inside. He pushes away from the doorway, turning back to head to the Room of Judgement before pausing; eyes widening as his next plan of action occurs to him and he turns down yet another hallway, unlit and immersed in darkness.
Hades makes his way through the maze-like corridors, never needing a light to guide him as the floor itself seems to obey his whims, leading him where he wishes to go. Soon, the murky atmosphere turns into brighter light and fresh air; a large staircase stands before him. He begins a slow ascent, lost deep in his thoughts as he climbs.
Finally, the God of the Underworld appears outside a cold, stone door and heaves it open with both hands, scoffing at the scene before him the moment he enters the room. Three little girls dressed in different colors are standing around a spinning wheel. The girls don't look up from what they are doing as they giggle and focus on the task at hand: the youngest in green and working the spinning wheel; the second tallest dressed in white and pulling the thread to measure it; and finally the oldest, in red, carefully lining her shears up to the thread and snipping it in half.
"Well, he lived quite a joyous life, didn't he?" chirps the smallest of the three.
"If you can call womanizing joyful," snarks the middle child.
"We'll have to do something a bit better for his widow," the last child supplies.
"Moirai," Hades snarls at the three children.
"Clotho," says the one in green.
"Lachesis," says the one in white.
"Atropos," says the girl in red in her sweet, sing-song, childlike voice.
"Hades," continues Clotho. "I feel you are here for a matter of utmost urgency if you dare interrupt us."
"You are toying with me," exclaims Hades. "You know exactly what I'm talking about. What is Demeter up to?"
Lachesis is the first to continue the fates usual speaking pattern.
"Demeter is doing as she always is."
"Doing what she always has done," murmurs Atropos.
"And what she always will be doing," concludes Clotho.
Lachesis turns a bright, cheery smile up to Hades, before continuing with her sisters.
"If you mean to find your wife, however…"
"She's been born, 20 years ago, in mortal years," says Atropos.
"And if your question is if this is a joke…" continues Clotho.
"It's not," pipes Lachesis again, cheerily as usual.
"But it will be as it always was," says Atropos.
"If you do not repeat history…" says Clotho.
"She will live a long mortal life," says Lachesis matter-of-factly, tapping the measuring rod impatiently against Clotho's shoulder.
"Clotho saw it when she spun her thread," adds Atropos.
"Though if the mortal path is taken, it will be without you." Clotho nods sagely as she draws out yet another thread.
"Her fate is split, depending on your actions," Lachesis teases, wagging a finger at the god before measuring the thread Clothos had drawn out.
"To have her, you must repeat your history." Atropos cuts the thread they were working on the second she utters the last word.
The three Fates turn their back on Hades and continue their work, giggling and murmuring amongst themselves as if he was no longer there… and he wasn't. Hades isn't allowed to so much as blink before he finds himself back in the Underworld, in his room. Throwing his arm wide, he smashes a marble column; pieces are sent flying all over the bed and the floor. The structure quickly rebuilds itself as if it were expecting it, accustomed to the god's temperamental nature. Hades breathes deeply and raggedly while trying to reign in his fury.
Deciding he was unfinished with his outburst, he lifts the large marble bed and throws it at his door, taking out the entire wall and leaving a large hole peering out into the hallway. One of the more laid back judges, Rhadamanthus, pokes his head in; eyes widening almost comically as he stares at the furious figure within.
"I'll just... be getting this," he murmurs, making his way through the rubble and down the hallway as the building once again begins to repair itself.