“You taught them?” she asked, holding the reins in one hand while petting Alastor’s mane.
He mounted Aethon and answered “Yes,” though it was not difficult. The four steeds were Divine, and they had been together for a long time. They knew Hades’s moods just as well as he knew theirs. He did not even need to speak. “Don’t worry. Alastor knows what he carries. He will take care of you.”
They started slow, wandering into the fields and gardens beyond the palace. Alastor and Aethon ambled side by side. Hades could not help watching Persephone as she rode, her hands wrapped gracefully around the reins, her hair catching beneath the light of his realm. She was beautiful and happy and beaming. It made his heart beat almost erratically.
“This is a wonderful surprise,” she said.
An excitement shivered through him as he answered, “This isn’t the end.”
They wandered through Hecate’s green meadow, where Alastor and Aethon only briefly became distracted by the goddess’s wild mushrooms before they were redirected, heading around the ominous mountains of Tartarus.
“How was your day?” It wasn’t a question Hades asked often, mostly because he didn’t want the same asked of him. He never had a good answer anyway, but it always presented more ways for him to omit the truth, and that only made him feel more guilty for the things he felt he had to hide—the truth of him and his life. Asking now was progress—a way to start anew and be more transparent.
“Good,” Persephone said and paused before adding, “Lexa’s been making coffee in the mornings. It isn’t how she used to do it, but I think it’s a sign she’s going to be okay.”
Hades said nothing, knowing there was still so much uncertainty around Lexa’s livelihood. Just getting her out of the hospital had been a feat. Now that she was home, she’d have to face the reality of routine, and sometimes that was harder than the confinement of a hospital.
Persephone did not ask him about his day, and he wondered if she saw the point, if she assumed he would not be honest.
They continued along, winding through landscapes that changed from mountainous to forested to fields of purple and pink flowers. Against the backdrop of the darkened mountains, which mostly housed prisoners of Tartarus, they looked aflame.
“How often do you…change the Underworld?” she asked.
“I wondered when you’d ask me that question.”
She raised a brow. “Well?”
“Whenever I feel like it,” he answered. Sometimes he changed it when a deity left just in case they thought they could find their way back. Mostly, though, he expanded his realm. He created new spaces within Asphodel for the souls, because as the world changed above, so did their needs below. Elysium was another challenge and often evolved because each soul was there to heal. Outside of that, his world changed as he wished—and it would soon change as Persephone wished.
“Perhaps when my magic isn’t so terrifying, I will try.”
“Darling, there is nothing I’d like more.”
The field they had crossed narrowed to a path that cut between more forested mountains. They were just on the other side of Tartarus, close to Elysium. The same solitude that blanketed the air there also reached here, and Hades could feel it settle on his heart, a pleasing calm that he had not felt in a long while. They were near their destination, and when he heard the waterfall, Hades stopped to dismount, then came to Persephone’s side. As she threw her leg over, Hades gripped her waist and helped her slide off the horse. He kept his hands on her even after her feet were on the ground.
“You look beautiful today,” he said, staring down at her. “Have I told you?”
“Not yet,” she said, smiling and rocking onto the tips of her toes. “Tell me again.”
He answered by kissing her, hands tangling into her hair. During their ride, his body had grown warm, and now he was boiling, but as eager as he was to channel this heat, to release it into her, he pulled away and nuzzled her nose, whispering once more, “You’re beautiful, my darling.”
He led her through the tree line to a spot in the mountains where water ran off the rocks into a shallow and shimmering lake, and though the muted light of Hades’s sky cut through parts of the canopy above, they were mostly in shadow.
Beside him, Persephone’s breath caught in her throat, and she spoke, awed. “Hades…how gorgeous.”
But he had never stopped staring at her, and when she finally looked at him, they came together once more, their mouths colliding. Hades’s hands slid around her body, holding her hips in place as he rolled into her, his length trapped between them, hard and throbbing.
“Hades,” she whispered as his mouth left hers long enough to remove their clothes. He lowered them both to the ground, where he worshipped her body with his mouth. He loved every part of her—her heavy breasts, her stomach, and the space between her thighs—and when they were both wound tight, he settled his arousal against her and rocked his hips forward.
Sliding into her was an out-of-body experience, and she was there, swelling and gripping, and he froze, his forearms braced on either side of her face. For a moment, she was still, her head back, chin tilted up, but then she seemed to relax, release her breath, and open her eyes.
Their eyes met, and all Hades could see when he looked at her was his queen.
“Marry me,” he whispered as her finger traced his face, and though he had asked her twice before, this time felt different. It felt right, and he guessed it was for her too, because she answered with a quiet “Yes.”
They smiled at each other, and he kissed her before he moved, thrusting deep, and she arched beneath him. There was a part of him that felt almost powerful as she writhed—powerful but humbled, because she let him in. She let him drive her toward release, and after he came, he noticed that tears welled in her eyes.
He bent to kiss them, whispering as he did. “My darling, why are you crying?”
“I don’t know,” she said and reached to wipe her eyes, laughing once more.
Hades thought he understood a little of what she was feeling—a happiness that went beyond anything he had ever known. As much as he felt being here was a victory, he also felt like he had more to lose.
“I love you,” he said and carried her into the water, where they bathed.
After, they dressed and headed for the palace.
Unlike their ride to the waterfall, their return was quiet. For the first time in a long while, Hades felt unburdened. In this place and time, nothing existed beyond this moment—not the labors Hera had put him through or the death of the Graeae. He did not think of Theseus or even of Zeus. Those were not things he was fighting for—they were things he fought against.