“So we should sacrifice the lives of thousands for the true love of two gods?” Artemis said. “Ridiculous.”
“I did not come here so that Council could discuss my love life,” Hades said.
“No, but unfortunately for you,” said Zeus. “Your love life is wreaking havoc upon the world.”
“So is your dick,” Hades said. “And no one’s ever called Council about that.”
“Speaking of dicks and the problems they cause,” Hermes interjected. “Is no one going to speak about the trouble your offspring are causing? Tyche is dead. Someone is attacking us…succeeding in killing us…and you want to bicker about Hades’ love life?”
Persephone couldn’t help smiling at Hermes’ words, but it didn’t take long for the other gods to steal it away.
“We’ll have nothing to worry about if Demeter’s storm continues,” said Artemis. “Mortals will be frozen to the ground. It will be Pompeii all over again.”
“You think Demeter’s wrath is the worst that could happen?” Hades asked, his tone menacing. “You do not know mine.”
It was a threat; one Persephone knew would take the conversation nowhere. Hades had asked her not to reveal herself, but the fact was, these gods were having a conversation about her—her thoughts, her feelings, her choice—and they were making no progress toward what really mattered and that was whatever Demeter was planning with Triad. She left the spot beside Apollo’s throne and made her way around the arc. When she came to the edge—where Ares sat, she took off Hades’ helm and set it aside. Shaking off her glamour, she stepped into the center of the arc and was suddenly surrounded by eleven Olympians.
Her gaze connected with Hades’ and held. He sat rigidly; his hands curled around the edges of his throne. Beneath his gaze, she was able to straighten her shoulders and lift her chin. She had no idea how she looked to these ancient gods—probably young and inexperienced, but at least they would see her and know her and by the end of this, respect her.
“Hades,” she spoke his name and it seemed to calm him. She offered him a small smile before her attention was drawn to Zeus whose voice seemed to rumble deep beneath her feet.
“Well, well, well. Demeter’s daughter.”
“I am,” she said, disliking how the God of Thunder’s eyes gleamed when they were upon her. She’d seen the king many times, an imposing and large figure, his body filled his throne. Despite being the younger of his two brothers, his hair had a silver tone to it that made him looked older. She did not know why—perhaps he felt it gave him more authority or he’d bargained away some of his youth in exchange for power. Beside him was Hera who looked upon her with judgement. Her face, beautiful and noble, was carved and cynical.
She glanced to her left, finding Athena’s passive, golden face, her mother’s empty throne, and then Apollo and Artemis. Apollo inclined his head a fraction. It was the only acknowledgement she received—there was no light in his eyes or tilt to his lips. She tried to not let his mood disrupt her as she looked to her right where she found Poseidon staring openly and hungrily. Then Hermes, Hestia, and Ares.
Hermes smiled, his eyes gentle.
“You have caused a lot of problems,” Zeus said, drawing her reluctant attention. She met his lack-luster gaze.
“I think you mean my mother has caused a lot of problems,” she said. “And yet you seem intent upon punishing Hades.”
“I merely seek to solve a problem in the simplest way possible.”
“That might be true if Demeter were only responsible for a storm,” Persephone said. “But I have reason to believe she is working with the demi-gods.”
There was a beat of silence. “What reasons?”
“I was there the night Tyche died,” Persephone said. “My mother was there. I felt her magic.”
“Perhaps she was there to retrieve you,” Hera suggested. “As is her right by Divine Law. She is your mother.”
“Since we are basing our decisions on archaic laws, then I must disagree,” Persephone said.
Hera’s gaze hardened and Persephone got the distinct impression she did not like being challenged. “On what grounds?”
“Hades and I fuck,” Persephone stated. “By Divine Law, we are married.”
Hermes choked on a laugh, but everyone else remained quiet. She looked to Zeus. As much as she hated it, he was the one she needed to convince.
“It was my mother’s magic that kept Tyche restrained.” Persephone said.
The god stared at her for a beat and then looked to Hermes for confirmation.
“Is this true, Hermes?”
Her fingers curled into fists.
“Persephone would never lie,” he replied.
“Triad is a true enemy,” Persephone said. “You have reason to fear them.”
There were a few laughs, and Persephone glared around her. “Did you not just hear what I said?”
“Harmonia and Tyche are goddesses, yes, but they are not Olympians,” said Poseidon.
“I’m sure the Titans thought the same of you,” she shot back. “Besides, Demeter is an Olympian.”
“She would not be the first who attempted—and failed—to overthrow me,” Zeus said, and she noted how he glanced both to his left and right. Despite how the Olympians sat—in this circle, unified, they were divided. There was hatred here and it permeated the air like smog.
“This is different,” Persephone said. “You have a world ready to shift their alliance to a group of people they believe are more mortal than god and my mother’s storm will force the decision.”
“So we return to the real issue,” Hera said. “You.”
Persephone glared; her jaw tightened.
“If you return me to my mother, I will become a real issue,” Persephone said. “I will be the reason for your misery, for your despair, for your ruination. I promise you will taste my venom.”
No one laughed. No one spoke. There was only silence. She glanced at Hades whose gaze burned into hers. She did not sense that he was disappointed with her, but he was on edge. Poised. Ready to act if necessary.
“You speak on what we will not do,” Zeus said. “But what would you have us do? When the world suffers beneath a storm of your mother’s creation?”
“Were you not ready to watch the world suffer minutes ago?” Persephone countered. It was not what she wished for, of course. It was the last thing she wanted, but she felt as though these gods were seconds away from sending her back to her mother, and Persephone would not go. She would have Hades. She would have the world—one way or the other.
“Are you suggesting we allow it to continue?” Hestia asked.
“I’m suggesting you punish the source of the storm,” she said.
“You forget. No one has been able to locate Demeter.”
“Is there no god here who is all-seeing?”
There was laughter.
“You speak of Helios,” said Artemis. “He will not help us. He will not help you because you love Hades and Hades stole his cattle.”
Still, she stared at Zeus despite the other replies.
“Are you not King of Gods? Is Helios not here by your grace?”