A/N: Thanks for your reviews! I'm glad to see that my unusual take of Demeter was well received. We'll be seeing her again in later chapters, but at least that gave you a basis for what she thinks of Hades and Persephone. I thought I would get an early start on today's chapter, so here I am! The next couple chapters are from Hades' perspective, and then we switch over to what Persephone thinks of everything. I hope you enjoy it!
Chapter 9: Judging the Dead
The next morning, Hades woke with a feeling of depression. It took him a moment to remember why. After the dressing down he gave his advisers last night, there would be no more plots to get him with Persephone. While he thoroughly believed they had to be stopped, he also had to admit that he really enjoyed the time he spent with her. He could have never agreed to a picnic with her, or that romantic dinner for two, because it was too much like he was trying to court her. But he had liked the outcomes very much. There would be no more of that today. Hecate or Thanatos would find something her to do, without him. He might not even see her at all today without their interference.
However, while he may have halted the main conspiracy, he had forgotten to consider one of the vital conspirators: Persephone herself.
When he entered the dining room parlor, the first thing he saw was Hecate, studying her nails with an amused expression on her face. Before he had time to ask about it, his attention was caught by the other two inhabitants: Persephone and Thanatos. His blood instantly boiled. Thanatos had cornered her against the wall, talking loudly and making wild gestures with his hands. She cringed away from him, but he was leaning into her space, pinning her in place.
Hades' shadow appeared between them, long, thin, and quicker than thought. Thanatos cut off with a cough as a hand shoved his sternum. He staggered back several steps. Usually Hades' shadow was content to appear as most shadows, existing only as a flat image on the walls and floors. But now it had sprung to full three-dimensional life, and stood between the goddess and Death.
Hades crossed the room in three strides, catching up to his shadow. His shoulders were knotted with tension, and his jaw clenched in anger. He didn't trust himself to deal with Thanatos without ripping him apart, so he kept his back to the lesser god as he surveyed Persephone. Physically Thanatos had not dared to lay a hand on her, but mentally she was frightened beyond reason.
She clutched her elbows tightly, her delicate fingers turning white with force. Her eyes were unseeing and distant. She shook worse than when he pulled her from the river. She looked ready to break. His heart went out to her, wanting to help, but afraid he was too harsh to offer comfort. He reached out and very tenderly touched her cheek. Her eyes snapped to his. She let out a sob and sprang at him.
She hugged him tightly, burying her face against his chest. Her shoulders heaved as she cried into him. He wrapped his arms around her, surrounding her with his strength. He feared he squeezed too hard, but when he eased his hold, she whimpered in protest until he tightened his grip again.
"I have you," he murmured, stroking her hair. In the middle of comforting her, he wondered at the feel of her against him, the softness of her hair, the warmth of her body. She gave these things to him, and he tried clumsily to return the measure of joy she gave him. He breathed in her scent of rain and flowers. His shirt grew moist with her tears, and he considered it a privilege. She mumbled something, too low for anyone else to hear. He caught every word.
"I knew you would come."
He closed his eyes. He was going to kill Thanatos. She rubbed her cheek on his shirt, distracting him. She took a few deep breaths and stopped shaking. He was grateful she didn't try to move away, because he wasn't sure he could have let her. If anything, she leaned heavier on him, as if trying to borrow his strength. He gave it to her freely. As she regained her composure, his rage grew.
"Thanatos," he called without looking. "That the Tartarus were you doing?"
Thanatos answered far too blithely. "She asked what this place was like before you came. I answered her."
A chill went down his spine. That was not a subject he wanted anyone discussing, let alone the maiden now clinging to him. And did Thanatos also talk about what he was like, as raging and monstrous as any of the Titans imprisoned here? He turned around. Persephone stayed behind him, her arms around his waist. He kept one hand on her, but his other was clenched in a fist.
"And what gave you the right to corner her and terrify her out of her mind?" he demanded softly.
Thanatos jumped, showing doubt for the first time. "I didn't—"
Persephone peered out from behind his back, her tearstained face visible. There was a stunned silence.
"You're a fool, Thanatos," Hecate broke it first.
"Oh, Tartarus," Thanatos swore. "Lady Persephone, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to take it so far. I only wanted to see when you would tell me no."
"You did what?" Hades' voice was a whip crack that made both advisors flinch.
"Please," Persephone tugged his arm. "Don't be mad. He didn't hurt me, and I did ask."
He glared down at her. She met his gaze without fear. How could she say she wasn't hurt when she had watered his shirt?
"Bloody Tartarus," Thanatos breathed, scrubbing his hand over his face. "She's not afraid to stand up to you. Only me."
Persephone grew a little bolder, stepping out from behind Hades. He growled at the thought of her leaving his protection. He put his hands on her waist and pulled her back against him. She braced her feet and leaned hard on him, satisfying his need to hold her. His shadow draped over her like a cloak.
Thanatos bowed deeply to her. "My sincerest apologies, my lady. I truly meant you no distress."
"I accept your apology," she said, then looked up at Hades. "That means you can't punish him, since I have forgiven him," she stated calmly.
Hecate and Thanatos started at the way she managed him so neatly. A thread of warmth curled around his heart at her small defiance. He had a hard time keeping his face stern as he looked at her. It was easier when he glanced at Thanatos. Death swallowed anxiously. Hades nodded curtly, his eyes narrowed. He would give her this one.
It helped that once his temper calmed, he believed that Thanatos really hadn't meant ill by his actions. He was testing her for some reason, and failed to realize how fearful she'd become. His remorse was genuine.
However, Hades wouldn't stay his hand a second time if it happened again. Both Thanatos and Persephone were wise enough to realize it.
Persephone turned to Hades, still standing in the circle of his arms. "Thank you," she murmured, acknowledging that it was his choice to let Thanatos go. She reached up and placed her palm on his face. His stern façade melted away. He was no longer the dreaded lord of the Underworld and feared god of the dead. He was simply Hades, the man that Persephone trusted.
He couldn't have said now long they stood there before he remembered their audience. In the moment, he had forgotten that Hecate and Thanatos were still in the room. They knew better than to interrupt, or look gleeful, but there was no doubt they were watching keenly. He raised his head. Persephone's hand slipped from his cheek. He was loathe to lose her touch. He caught her hand and pressed it to his rapidly beating heart. It was the closest he could come to admitting how he felt.
"Shall we go on to breakfast?" he asked the room at large. He escorted Persephone into the dining room, and caught sight of the table. His breath caught in his throat, torn between anger and amusement. With Persephone tucked against his side, amusement won. The table was larger than the one they used last night, but it wasn't the usual one that belonged in the room. Instead of the long rectangular table, this one was oval, with no clear head. Two settings had been placed on either long side. It was a more casual seating than was usual with the regular table, where he sat at the head with his advisors on either side.
Given that the addition of Persephone would have made such placement uneven, he decided to forgive this fresh meddling in his affairs. There was no question of where they would sit. He pulled out a chair for Persephone, then sat next to her. Hecate was seated across from her, with Thanatos as far from her as possible. She might have forgiven him, but she was still uneasy in his presence. Hades was glad to act as her shield.
Her usual need for touch was magnified this morning, no doubt a result of the confrontation. She was more shy than usual, only daring a brush of her fingers on the back of his hand, no matter how he left it within range of her. Even his shadow across her feet did not reassure her. Was it the presence of his advisors that made her hesitant, the incident that morning, or something else? He wished he knew, so that he could comfort her. He knew he had no right to her, but he still longed to give himself to her.
Her hand slipped under the table. A moment later he felt her touch on his thigh. His muscles jumped, and he nearly choked on his food. He fought to keep a blush from rising on his face. Surely she wasn't going to…? His leg tingled where her hand rested. He needed to do something, before he thoroughly embarrassed himself. He put his own hand under the table, striving for casualness. He found her fingers and held them. She squeezed gratefully, and his chest eased. Perhaps it was just shyness in front of company. He was glad to be of service.
Neither Hecate nor Thanatos made any mention of the missing hands. Hades refused to feel ashamed of what he was doing. It wasn't hurting anyone, and he wasn't seducing her. He was simply giving comfort to his guest. Still, holding hands was a new thing for him, and hiding it under the table made it feel greater than it was. His heart was in serious danger every time she touched him. He worried about seducing her, but in truth he was the one thoroughly enchanted by her presence.
The rest of breakfast passed without incidence. Conversation was polite and fleeting. Everyone made an effort to be on their best behavior, and Persephone gradually relaxed in their company. She never released his hand though. After the plates were cleared, Hades rose to perform his duty of judging the dead. He was forced to let Persephone go, little though he wanted to. He glanced at Hecate, raising his eyebrows, and she nodded to him, agreeing to keep the young goddess with her. However, as he began to walk away, Persephone reached out and caught his hand.
"Please, may I go with you?" she asked guilelessly.
His instant reaction was to say yes, but instead he cleared his throat. "I'm going to judge the dead," he explained. "I don't think you want to see that."
"I know, that's why I'd like to come." She realized she had the attention of everyone in the room, and blushed. "Unless it's not allowed?"
There were no laws against it, but judging the dead was one of the most macabre parts of his kingdom. No one, even other gods, had expressed an interest in what he did. As if watching himself from far away, he extended a hand to her. She jumped up and took it eagerly. He stared at her for a moment. Why? he wanted to ask. Why do you want to see this? Why do you smile when you look at me? Why do you look so beautiful? What can you possible see in me?
He kept silent, and led her to his throne room. He realized at once there was nowhere else for her to sit. He was uncomfortable with offering her the seat of his power, sensing it was fraught with too much meaning. He ordered another chair to be brought for her, but she declined.
"I'll just sit here, if you don't mind," she said, and took a seat at his feet. She leaned her shoulder on his leg, and he found he was entirely unable to protest. The judging commenced. Ghost entered the room in a long, silent line. One by one they stepped into a circle of paler stone set in the middle of the floor. He could feel them when they stood on the circle, like a faint breath stirring the hairs on the back of his neck.
He breathed in, and he inhaled their essence. Flashes of light and bursts of sound invaded his soul. In an instant, he experienced their entire life, everything that they didn't recall from birth to death. He felt their joys, their sorrows, their innermost thoughts. In the space between a single heartbeat he lived and he died. He breathed out, vital energy leaving him. It only took him an instant to know where the ghost would go. It took several seconds to calm his racing mind enough to speak.
"Asphodel."
The ghost bowed and faded into nothing. The next one took its place. He breathed in. The same thing happened, the rush of emotion and memory. It made him dizzy, euphoric, and sick at the same time. Mortals felt everything so much more keenly than gods. They lived with one thought on their minds: I am going to die. They seized life and tore as much substance out of it as they could, greedily consuming everything before they were taken by his servants. Humans did more in one year than gods did in centuries. When you lived forever, what was the point of doing things quickly? Even Hermes would slow down eventually. That was the secret that the other gods feared him for: even gods will die. In the end, he would receive everything.
He could feel Persephone's eyes on him as he worked. Each soul left him a little more tired than before. In the beginning he could barely endure one such judgement, but now he saw hundreds, a never ending stream. Hundreds of times he sired children and gave birth to babes. He buried his lovers, his parents, his progeny. He triumphed, he lost, he screamed in ecstasy and agony, often in the same breath. He was a pauper, a king, a murderer, a priest. Each one left their mark on him in beads of perspiration and a faint tremble in his limbs. Each life threatened to pull him with it, gave him a wicked taste of his own power of death.
For hours he did this, until the trickle of shades began to slow. The line would never fully end, but after about four hours, he had caught up with the tide of Thanatos' work. The doors were shut, and the last spirit was judged. He sat there, unable to move. Persephone was still leaning on him. She said nothing, and he feared what she'd seen was too much. He didn't mean to share his experiences with her, but with the way she was touching him, he couldn't contain a small spillover into her.
He felt hollow and used. He, an immortal god, was exhausted. Other gods at this point turned to sleep or sex or devotion, but for him there was only more work. His duties, more than any other, were unending. Concentrating all his efforts, he reached down and rested his hand on Persephone's shoulder. She didn't flinch from his touch, and he remained there for several moments. He could feel her warmth seeping into this emptiness in his bones. He needed it so badly he nearly wept. After a while she looked up at him.
"Lord Hades?"
He looked at her blankly, unable to form words. She rose and leaned over him, taking his face in her hands. His breath escaped him in a groan. Normally it took him a long time to recover, alone and in pain, but she was with him, and she didn't abandon him. She brushed damp hair back from his face and pressed her face to his.
"Persephone," he whispered, forgetting her honorific.
"Yes," she answered, though she couldn't possibly know what he was asking. She crawled into his lap without hesitation, swinging both legs over the arm of his throne. He cradled her to him, and she let him. He needed to feel her against him, to feel life, not death. He needed to remember what it was to be a god, and not one of the mortal lives that had ripped through him. She laid her head on his shoulder, her hand stroking lightly over his face and chest. He felt her tying herself to his heart with tiny, invisible strings. If he lost her, it would kill him.
For a long time he held her, while she soothed the ache in his soul. Judging the dead took something from him. She gave it back. Eventually he raised his head and looked at her. Her eyes watched him with concern. He could lose himself in those eyes, so like the springtime she presided over. Her mouth moved, drawing his attention to it. He could lose himself in those lips as well.
"Is it always so painful?" she asked softly.
He drew in a ragged breath. Always. "Sometimes," he lied. His voice was hoarse as if he'd been screaming. He cleared his throat. "It's been a few hours, my lady," he said. "Might I offer you some food?"
She studied his face as if she heard his lie. Slowly she nodded.
"Will Lord Thanatos and Lady Hecate be joining us?"
He didn't know. This morning he would have been irritated if they missed another meal, but after she comforted him so sweetly, he selfishly wanted her to himself a while longer.
He smiled wanly. "I'm not sure." He stood, still holding her. He would have carried her all day to feel her close to him, but she protested. He set her down but pressed a hand to the small of her back, keeping her against him. She didn't protest, looking up at him with those spring colored eyes. Multicolored strands of hair fell across her face, and he smoothed them back. She was soft all over, her skin, her hair, her body against his. They were in their own private space. He cupped her cheek, and her lips parted as her eyes fluttered. He started to lean down to her, then realized what he was doing.
He froze, torn between want and duty. He bit the inside of his cheek hard, the pain reminding him that he couldn't have the sweet goddess pressed to him. He sighed, and loosened his hold on her. She looked up at him in confusion. Her hand reached up for him, but if she touched him he thought he would lose all control, so he caught her hand and held it in his.
"Lunch," he rasped, "This way."
As it turned out, they would not have company for lunch. There were two notes in the dining room parlor when they reached it. Thanatos' stated that his duties in the land above had kept him over. Hecate's detailed a rockworm infestation in the laundry that needed to be quelled with witchcraft before it spread. Hades wasn't sure he believed either note, but at the moment he didn't care.
They ate in silence for the first part of the meal. He berated himself for what he had almost done to Persephone in the throne room. He'd been about to kiss her. There was no question about it. She probably knew it too. What had he been thinking? He was her guardian, not her beau. Just because she helped him through a difficult spot, he lost all reason over her? But it wasn't only the way she comforted him after judgement. It was everything in the last couple days.
No one ever trusted him so completely. She didn't shy from him, nor from his kingdom. She embraced all that he showed her, filled with wonder, not greed. If he thought there was even a chance she might return his regard, he would have stopped at nothing to court her. But even if she had appeared willing when he almost kissed her, he knew better than to mistake infatuation for lasting affection. Right now she was fond of him because he was her hero. He wanted more than that. He wanted forever with her.
The silence began to weigh on him. What was she thinking? Was she disappointed that he hadn't kissed her, or was she grateful for the near miss? Usually after judging the dead he craved stillness, but now he wished she would speak. He doubted himself. Why had he let Persephone watch him judge? He had been aware of the mortal conflict above that would send an abnormally high number of souls to Tartarus.
Spirits that went to Asphodel faded away. Those who went to the Elysian fields were welcomed by a column of bluish-white Underworld light. But the ones sentenced to Tartarus were dragged down by red-black flames, the color of blood. They screamed as they were consumed. He feared it was too much for Persephone. Was she disturbed by it? Disgusted? Frightened? Did she think him a cruel judge? Was she as affected by experiencing the mortal lives as he was?
"Lord Hades?" she broke the silence. "Could I ask some questions about your judgements?"
His stomach clenched. He'd been half-expecting this. It was inevitable that she wouldn't agree with some of his decisions. He nodded and braced himself for her censure. But that wasn't what happened. She brought up certain souls, but not all of them. Most of them were the ones he'd debated over himself. She asked questions about where he sent them, but with curiosity instead of accusation. She never once tried to defend the shades who went to Tartarus.
It wasn't until she brought up a third ghost that he understood what she was doing. She wasn't trying to undermine his choices. She was trying to understand them. He felt his shoulders relax, and he was more forward with his answers. At first he was awkward and halting. There had been no laws when he first came to the Underground. Everyone burned without discrimination. Later, when his rage was spent and the Underworld was full of ashes, the souls stumbled around without guidance. The other gods mostly didn't care what happened to the dead, save for a favored few. It took him centuries to realize that not all lives were worthy to be punished—or rewarded—in the same way.
He began to judge the souls and develop his own codes of morality. It was a long and painful process, and he made mistakes along the way. Thankfully he had the ability to reach into the different realms and retrieve wayward spirits. At first he listened to the testimonies of the dead, but he learned quickly that everyone lied. He eventually learned the process of experiencing their lives. It was the most exhausting way to judge, but it was the most accurate as well.
The discussion with Persephone helped him define his convictions. He had never voiced them out loud before. He worried that he was stumbling over his words and not making sense, but she never scorned him. It became an almost philosophical debate of right and wrong. It strengthened his belief in his decisions, and he began to speak with more confidence. Even when she disagreed with him, they could listen to each other's opinions without become heated. He enjoyed the conversation so much that two hours went by without notice.
He gave a start of surprise when he realized the time. He should have been in his study long ago, completing the paperwork that came with his realm. Why hadn't Thanatos summoned him?
"Is something wrong?" Persephone asked when he stood.
He grimaced. "Duty calls, I'm afraid."
"Can I come with you?"
"I don't think you'd want to. It's just reports I have to read, sign off, and reply to."
"Maybe I could help?"
"Probably not a good idea. Thanatos threatened the last person who messed up his system with dismemberment." He smiled at the memory.
She cocked her head at him. "You?"
He nodded with a chuckle.
"Well, if I can't help, maybe I can read one of the scrolls you suggested? I promise to be quiet."
Her insistence made him wonder why she was so determined to be with him. He frowned thoughtfully.
"Do you feel safe here?" he asked suddenly.
She blinked in surprise. "Of course."
He shook his head. "I mean, if I wasn't with you, would you still feel safe?"
She faltered. "I feel safer when I'm around others," she said quietly.
"So if Hecate or Thanatos were here, you would feel safe with them?"
She hesitated, her shyness returning. "I would like to think so," she said slowly, "But I don't know them."
"You don't know me," he pointed out. Not really. She'd spent less than two full days with him. That was not enough to claim familiarity.
"But I feel like I do know you."
Warmth flooded him. He felt the same, despite what his mind told him. His heart knew her, even after such a short time. There was still a lot left to be discovered between them, and he wanted to spend all eternity exploring it.
"I want you to feel safe here, and not just when I'm around," he said gently.
She blushed. "I understand. Only, everything is very new to me. I never spent much time outside my mother's garden. I hardly know this place, and you're the one that knows it best."
That was true. When she said it like that, it reminded him of how limited her experience really was. Demeter had reasons to keep her daughter sheltered, but in the end it didn't protect her, did it? Perhaps it was not unreasonable that she would chose to spend her time with an old thing like him. He smiled and held out his hand to her. She took it happily. Tomorrow he would insist that she spent time with someone else, most likely Hecate, so that she wouldn't come to depend on him for security. For today though, she was still his.