Persephone watched, unable to tear her eyes away from Hades. He said nothing. His face, his beautiful face, remained impassive. It was an expression she was all too familiar with. He was hiding something. But what?
The woman whispered, “You would deprive him of her?”
“No…” Hades’ voice was hard. “I control all within my realm.”
The woman’s long blond locks swayed, emphasizing the shake of her head as she spoke again. It was the woman’s words, not her voice or face or curves that held Persephone’s attention now. “No… you would tamper with the firestorm. You would ensure he catches her when she falls…You champion them still. Hades, had I known you to be so merciful…” the woman sounded close to tears.
He championed who? A man… and his woman?
“It matters not, Aphrodite,” he spoke quickly, his tone even and strong.
Aphrodite? The Goddess of Love? She saw the good in Hades… Persephone’s heart tightened at his words. Perhaps his heart was not so untouched?
“It matters a great deal.” Aphrodite moved forward, placing her small hand upon his arm. Persephone felt jealousy churn hot in her stomach. “To Ariston and his Medusa. They’ve been sorely abused. But you....”
Persephone smiled. He had championed the soldier and his lady wife. Her heart swelled in her chest, pressing against her lungs and throat.
Of course he had.
“They will never know of it.” His words were a command. “And neither will those on Olympus. I demand your vow on this, Aphrodite.”
He was merciful, though none would suspect it. His modesty astounded her. He seemed well pleased to let the worst be thought of him. It was an injustice, for this god was worthy of tributes and fealty. She shook her head. He was worthy of that and much more. But he needed, wanted, none of that.
Hades’ hooded eyes bore into those of the Goddess, waiting.
“You have it.” Aphrodite’s words eased her.
Persephone watched as he nodded and then moved towards the fire. He stared into it, as if mesmerized, standing rigid… anxious.
How she longed to go to him.
“You’ve fulfilled your purpose for visiting my realm, Aphrodite. You’ve bestowed Olympus’ gift upon the soldier. I doubt you find any more pleasure in the Underworld than I do on Olympus.” He was dismissing her, sending her away. And Persephone was glad.
“I leave you then.” Aphrodite sighed. “And will recount only Ariston’s part in this.”
“Fare thee well.” He did not turn as he spoke.
“Your heart should not be left in this place,” the goddess said in parting. “It is too full, too warm for such a lonely and dismal existence.”
He is not alone. He will never be lonely.
She waited until Aphrodite was gone before she stepped into the room. But then he did something that stopped her.
He stared at a white flower… It was the lily she’d given him in the meadow, resting atop the mantle. Her heart tightened. He’d kept it?
He reached up, tracing one petal with an unsteady finger. The tremor of his hand, the look on his face, made her rejoice.
He turned abruptly from the fire to his chair and sat heavily. He leaned forward to cover his face with his hands, his breath unsteady and ragged.
She could bear it no longer. He suffered. She suffered.
For what purpose?
She ignored the wild beating of her heart. Warmth coursed through her, burning low and hot in the pit of her stomach. She wanted him, all of him. And she would make certain he knew as much.
Her feet carried her to him, each step more daunting than the last.
Be brave, Persephone. His words echoed in her head.