“She’s all yours,” he replied and vanished without another word.
Silence stretched as Hades stood opposite Persephone, trying to understand what she had done, why she had done it.
I don’t know how to lose someone, Hades, she’d said. So had she just decided not to learn at all?
“What have you done?”
Persephone’s eyes flashed. Normally, he would have fed her defiance because he loved her passion, but this—this was misguided.
“I saved Lexa.”
“Is that what you think?”
He took a step toward her, and his magic snaked around him. He couldn’t tell if it was trying to protect him or Persephone because he was losing his temper, and by the time he stood inches from her, he no longer bore his mortal glamour.
“She was going to die—”
“She was choosing to die!” Hades shouted. She stared back, her eyes glistening. “And instead of honoring her wish, you intervened. All because you are afraid of pain.”
“I am afraid of pain,” she yelled back, her voice imbued with a hatred he had never heard before. “Will you mock me for that as you mock all mortals?”
“There is no comparison,” he spat. “At least mortals are brave enough to face it.”
Her whole body seemed to flinch in that moment, igniting her magic and pushing thorns from her skin. Hades watched once more in horror as her body became covered in bleeding spikes. They ran down her arms, over her back and stomach, and down her legs. If she did not learn control, she would tear herself to pieces. He reached for her because he didn’t know what else to do, and despite everything, he could not stand watching this.
He wanted to heal her—not just these physical wounds but the ones on her heart and soul.
“Persephone—”
But she took a step back, shutting down his advances. She inhaled sharply as she made a miserable attempt to cover the thorns by crossing her arms over her chest.
“If you cared, you would have been there.”
“I was there!” He had been there every time she had come to him, and each time, she had begged him to save Lexa’s life.
“You never once came with me to the hospital when I had to watch my best friend lie unresponsive. You never once stood by me while I held her hand. You could have told me when Thanatos would start showing up. You could have let me know she was…choosing to die. But you didn’t. You hid all that, like it was some fucking secret. You weren’t there.”
His eyes widened, and the heaviness in his chest expanded into his stomach. It was true he had not considered many of those things, but that was because he had never given courtesies in death. He’d also been pulled away nearly every other day by something. If it wasn’t the Graeae, it had been Hera’s trials.
“I didn’t know you wanted me there,” he said, his voice quiet. He had thought the time she spent with Lexa at the hospital was time she wanted to herself.
“Why wouldn’t I?” she asked, brows lowering.
“I’m not the most welcomed sight at a hospital, Persephone.”
“That’s your excuse?”
The edge to her voice made him feel defensive. “And what’s yours?” he asked, voice raising once more, despite how badly he wanted to remain
calm. “You never told me—”
“I shouldn’t have to tell you to be there for me when my friend is dying.
Instead, you act like it’s as…normal as breathing.”
“Because death has forever been my existence!”
“That’s your problem!” she said, letting her hands fall to her sides, flinching as she did. Her arms ran red with blood and it dripped to the floor.
Hades’s stomach twisted and his throat felt tight. He wanted to fix this.
“You’ve been the God of the Underworld so long, you’ve forgotten what it is really like to be on the brink of losing someone. Instead, you spend all your time judging mortals for their fear of your realm, for their fear of death, for their fear of losing who they love!”
“So you were angry with me,” he said, and the more he continued, the more incensed he felt. “And once again, instead of coming to me, you decided to punish me by seeking Apollo’s help.”
Why was it always Apollo?
“I wasn’t trying to punish you. When I decided to go to Apollo, I no longer felt like you were an option.”
There was a pain to those words that lanced through his chest. Did she know how badly that hurt him?
“After everything I did to protect you from him—”
“I didn’t ask that of you,” she snapped.
“No, I suppose you didn’t,” he replied bitterly. “You have never welcomed my aid, especially when it wasn’t what you wanted to hear.”
“That’s not fair.” Her voice shook.
“Isn’t it? I have offered an aegis, and you insisted you do not need a guard, yet you are regularly accosted on your way to work. You barely accept rides from Antoni, and you only do now because you don’t want to hurt his feelings. Then, when I offer comfort, when I try to understand your hurt over Lexa’s pain, it isn’t enough.”
“Your comfort?” she shouted. “What comfort? When I came to you, begging you to save Lexa, you offered to let me grieve. What was I supposed to do? Stand back and watch her die when I knew I could prevent it?”
“Yes!” he shouted, throwing up his hands. “That’s exactly what you were supposed to do. You are not above the law of my realm, Persephone!” Not even he was above the law of the dead, and he wore that reminder on his skin. “I don’t see why her death matters. You come to the Underworld every day. You would have seen Lexa again!”
“Because it’s not the same!”
“What is that supposed to mean?” he demanded.
She crossed her arms over her chest once more. Each time, she flinched, and he thought that maybe her anger made her momentarily forget her pain.
But as she stood there facing him, she seemed to fold in on herself, as if she were afraid to say whatever she was truly thinking.
“What happens if you and I…if the Fates decide to unravel our future? I don’t want to be so lost in you, so anchored in the Underworld, that I don’t know how to exist after.”
A thickness gathered in his throat. Losing Lexa to the Underworld was too great of a risk in the event that they did not make it, and the worst part was that everything he had been doing up to this point—the absurd labors, seeking out the Graeae, the truce with Dionysus—was for her. To ensure they had a future.
Was she so uncertain?
“I’m beginning to think that maybe you don’t want to be in this relationship,” Hades said.
“That’s not what I’m saying.”
“Then what are you saying?”
She looked confused and afraid as she answered. “I don’t know. Just that…right when I was really starting to figure out who I was, you came
along and fucked it all up. I don’t know who I’m supposed to be. I don’t know—”
“What you want,” he finished.
“That’s not true. I want you. I love—”
“Don’t say you love me,” he said, looking away. “I can’t…hear that right now.”
The words would hurt. They did hurt. If she loved him, why was she planning for a future without him?
After a stretch of silence, Persephone spoke in a sad whisper. “I thought you loved me.”
“I do,” he said, frowning, and he considered that perhaps he put too much faith in the threads that wove them together. “But I think I may have misunderstood.”
“Misunderstood what?”
“The Fates,” he answered, eyes lifting to hers. How was it possible that she looked more stricken now than before? “I have waited for you for so long, I ignored the fact that they rarely weave happy endings.”
“You cannot mean that,” she said, her voice breaking.
“I mean it,” he said, and his tone was just as sad. “You’ll find out why soon enough.”
Because it was likely she would blame him for anything that happened to Lexa moving forward. He called up his glamour and straightened the sleeves and lapels of his jacket.