Page 79 of Tempted By Hades

Her parents looked at each other. “You know you can stay as long as you like,” Demeter said in a sober tone. “You never, ever have to go back down there again.”

Persephone froze. “I’ll go start dinner.” Turning on her heel, she marched into the kitchen. She let out a long sigh once she was there and away from her parents.

She was truly happy for them, especially for her mother, who had sacrificed so much over the last few thousand years. She didn’t feel any resentment for being taken away from Olympus, and in fact, having seen it for herself, she was rather glad Demeter had raised her on the Upperworld. She could even understand now why Demeter had been so overprotective all this time.

But she couldn’t help but feel that something was not quite right. Even though she had returned here and to her shop, surrounded by the things and people who made her happy, nothing was quite the same.

She hated how things had ended between her and Hades, but still, she could not get over his deceit. All the lies…the manipulation…could she ever look at him again without thinking of what he did?

But part of her—that pathetic part—wanted to believe him. Wanted to believe that it had all been real, at least the part where he did fall in love with her.

Even if it takes you until the end of time, I will be waiting. You only have to call my name, and I will be by your side.

His words rang in her mind over and over again. Some days, she was tempted to whisper his name, just to see if he would come.

Hades said she could take as much time and as much space as she wanted. Was there enough time and space in the universe between them? That she could forget his deception? Could she even ever trust him—or herself, for that matter? And finally, perhaps the question that gnawed at her the most—once the business with Zeus was over and Hades became the king of all gods as he’d wanted all along, would he even bother with her?

Chapter 15

Hades

Hades sat in his imposing office, the air heavy with his brooding presence. Shadows seemed to dance around him as he stared blankly at the paperwork on his desk, lost in his own thoughts. A knock echoed through the room, and a timid minion cautiously entered, carrying a tray of food.

“Your Lordship, I thought you might need sustenance,” the minion stammered, placing the tray on the desk.

Hades glanced at the food, his mood darkening even further. Without a word, he abruptly stood, his chair scraping against the floor. In one swift motion, he sent the tray flying across the room, the clatter of metal against stone echoing in the otherwise silent space.

The minion recoiled, fear evident in their eyes. Hades sighed, realizing he had let his frustration get the better of him. “Leave me,” he ordered, his tone a low growl.

As the minion hurriedly exited, Hades remained alone in the dimly lit office, the remnants of his anger lingering in the air. The weight of his responsibilities pressed down on him, and for a moment, he allowed himself to succumb to the storm within.

Hades approached the window, drawn to the sight of Persephone’s garden sprawling beyond the palace walls. The vibrancy of the Upperworld garden contrasted sharply with the subdued tones of the Underworld. Souls meandered through the lush vegetation, some lost in contemplation, while others attended to the blooming flora with a tender touch.

Despite the captivating beauty of the garden, Hades felt the turmoil within. His gaze lingered on the souls, the denizens of his realm, finding solace and purpose in the realm Persephone had created.

As he continued to watch from the shadows, a conflicted mix of emotions surged within him. Persephone’s influence had transformed his kingdom, yet the weight of his responsibilities pressed down, unyielding.

Hermes materialized in Hades’s office, the flicker of trepidation evident in his eyes. “Hey, Lord of the Underworld,” he greeted, trying to sound casual despite the tension thick in the air.

Hades’s response was a glare that could freeze the River Styx. “What brings you here, Hermes?” His tone carried a warning, the kind that suggested he was in no mood for trivial matters.

Hermes, unfazed by the icy reception, straightened his posture. “Council of Olympians,” he announced, his words hanging in the air.

Hades’s expression darkened. The mention of the Olympian council was enough to ignite a spark of irritation.

“Fine, let’s get this over with,” he muttered, a bitter edge to his voice.

Hades and Hermes materialized in Olympus, taking their designated seats. The grandeur of the divine hall seemed to mock the tension in the air. The Olympian gods, each with their own agenda and alliances, sat in a circle, their expressions ranging from curiosity to thinly veiled disdain.

Zeus found his usual support less unanimous than he might have hoped. Hestia sat by Hades’s side, a subtle but significant shift in allegiance. Hermes also stood by Hades.

Surprisingly, Apollo, who had a penchant for playing both sides, leaned towards Hades in this matter. The god of music and prophecy appeared intrigued by the unfolding drama, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

On the other hand, Demeter, goddess of the harvest and mother of Persephone, assumed a seemingly neutral position. Her gaze held a mix of concern and contemplation as she observed the proceedings. The neutrality of Demeter added an air of unpredictability to the council.

As the gods took their seats, alliances became apparent, setting the stage for a confrontation determining the balance of power on Mount Olympus.

Zeus, perched upon his throne, radiated an air of authority that quelled any brewing discord among the Olympians. The tension in the grand hall was palpable as the gods and goddesses struggled to maintain composure, their alliances and rivalries bubbling beneath the surface.

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