“My mother was briefly favored by Zeus,” Aeacus began. “In that time, I was born. Hoping to see me safe from Hera’s fits of jealousy, I was placed on an island. Zeus named it after my mother…”
“Aegina?” Persephone asked.
Aeacus nodded. “And my father… Zeus, gave me people to govern. And companionship. It was a blessed time. I had a wise wife at my side and three able sons to help my rule. But they were restless boys, frequently given to pointless rivalries and competition. My youngest, Phocus, was the peacemaker.”
Hades watched her face. With each word, she grew more entranced by Aeacus’ tale. He moved to her side, knowing this story was not one of good fortune alone.
“He was not only a skilled negotiator, he was an athlete as well.” Aeacus shook his head. “And his brothers could not bear the sight of him. The more capable Phocus became, the more bitter his brothers grew. Until they could stand it no more.”
Persephone leaned forward, her eyes round. “But Aeacus, surely…”
“But they did, my lady,” he mumbled, the ancient hurt still evident. “They killed their brother without thought to the consequences.”
Persephone shook her head, “You… you… I’m so sorry.”
Aeacus’ smile was genuine. “It was long ago, Goddess. The pain is but a dim memory now.” He nodded at the scroll on the table. “A memory likely forgotten if not for the scrolls Hades keeps.”
“But that is not the end of your story,” Hades encouraged.
“I banished them,” Aeacus went on.
“Your other sons?” Persephone asked.
Aeacus nodded. “Peleus and Telamon. I could not ignore the heinous crime they’d committed. Whether or not they were my sons, they would face justice.”
She nodded. “A thing easier said than done.”
Hades bit back a smile. She was quick to grasp Aeacus’ strength. “And yet, Aeacus prized justice above all else. And when he died, I hoped he would aid me in the governing of this realm. He carries the keys to the Underworld.” He pointed to the brass circlet tied to Aeacus’ belt. “They unlock not just Tartarus’ gate, but the records room as well. We must preserve our past to–”
“Remember our mistakes,” Persephone finished for him. “If we forget, we learn nothing. And these scrolls?” She stood, moving to the table and studying the parchment. “They hold the stories of all who live here?”
“They do,” Hades affirmed.
“Such stories.” Her voice was soft.
“Some are too tragic to read,” Aeacus assured her.
She made a soft noise of agreement, then said, “But you do honor to them, to remember. For every story has merit, every life purpose, surely?”
Hades drew in a slow breath as her bright green eyes rested upon him. He nodded.
Aeacus cleared his throat, glancing first at him, then at Persephone. “I shall leave you.”
Persephone smiled at him. “Thank you for sharing your story with me, Aeacus. Hades, and those within his realm, are fortunate to have your loyalty.”
Aeacus bowed and then left.
Persephone watched Aeacus depart, her face thoughtful. “Has he been here long?”
Hades nodded. “He arrived after I’d begun work on the three levels of the Underworld.”
Her green eyes went round. “How many were here when you took charge?”
“One.” He paused, watching astonishment cross her face. “The titans had no interest in honoring the dead. Death was simply the end.”
She blinked, shaking her head. “So you… you created Tartarus–”
“That was here, Persephone. I created Asphodel and Elysium.”