Elysian Fields

CHAPTER 9

The room was cold and sterile as Hades sat, perched on the edge of his desk. Cool veined marble seeped into his skin, biting and rigid. Days of Reckonings were some of the worst days in existence. He hated this day. It came twice a year and each morning leading up to those Reckonings had his stomach roiling with guilt.

The Reckonings began ages ago, borne into existence from the selfish desires of his eldest brothers, Zeus and Poseidon. The gods were not happy with society and how they were revered (or ignored in many cases) and were determined to force the whole of mankind to celebrate and worship them once more. So they created the Reckonings.

The Reckoning never got any easier - in fact, it got harder and harder each year. On paper, each Reckoning Ritual was simple: take inventory of what was missing from each of the lives of the gods and goddesses and satisfy that void. For some it meant torture. For others it meant coldblooded murder, flooding lands, tearing apart families. Most gods desired bloodshed and nothing more. All gods, that was, except for Hades.

Hades truly had nothing that he desired more than no longer being feared by those in the Upperworld. He was the God of the Dead, certainly, but he worked to create a peaceful home for the residents of the Underworld. Death was terrifying enough without being forced to be miserable for the entirety of existence past that. The elevel of The Twelve refused to allow Hades to get off so easy, and had instead put forth the edict for him: he was to Reckon souls until he found one suitable to be his wife. He wasn't certain if it was because the other gods were morons who thought with their netherregions or if they truly did not know him, but taking a wife was as far from satisfaction as he could imagine getting.

Particularly when a each female presented as a potential wife will have been stolen from their homeland in teh dead of night and forced into captivity like an animal in a cage, starved and pale. She will have been made beautiful to the eyes of the women in power and laid out as if a roast pig as a feast. It was rare that she was made beautiful to my standards. Too often, they had too much make up on them and when they were laying in wait, they were essentially cardboard; lifeless. There would be no way to know what they were like or if their inner beauty was as radiant as or more than their outer beauty. Those were the things that mattered to Hades, not whatever the other gods considered important. Beyond that, there was no woman who would find him attractive. Not when he did what he did. Not when he was who he was.

Hades had been in love once, or as close to in love as one could get without confirming that what was being felt was true on both sides. When he first met Mynthe, a Naiad-nymph, he was clouded by lust, rather than love, and believed himself to have found 'the one' as the mortals called it. She was shapely and warm, her body a golden olive branch extended from the Gates just after his first round of dreadful reckoning when he found that he was to be sending soul after mortal soul to the Underworld. He didn't want to take a wife, but he couldn't just select some random woman to be by his side for the rest of the long eternity he still had ahead of him.

And so he went out. He strolled through the Underworld in search of a distraction; quite honestly, he was tempted to distract himself with one or two of the souls that he had banished to the Underworld. Were they worthy of being his Queen? Absolutely not. But that didn't mean that they weren't worthy of a good time. He may have been a god, but he did have needs that were rarely...sated...as it were. One of the downfalls of being God of the Dead, he supposed.

He came upon a thicket along the banks of one of the many rivers in the Underworld and found himself drawn in by the giggles echoing over the land to his ears. It was a group of Naiads, no doubt summoned here by some of his daemons for their own entertainment. Naiads had rather low standards, often finding themselves a play thing for various creatures in the Under and Upperworlds. One of the women in particular caught Hades' eye. Bright blonde hair shimmered in the glow of the moon, falling down her back and caressing her shapely bottom. Dressed in loose gossamer, little was left to the imagination and Hades summoned her with the snap of his fingers.

He led her to a bedchamber where they found release in each other's embrace. Hades learned that Mynthe was abandoned by her family in her younger years and had found solace traveling the various mystical places around the globe. She got wrapped in with the group of nymphs she'd been seen with in the Underworld and joined in their travels. Safety in numbers, she claimed. Hades also learned that she was lonely and never knew when to shut up. All he wanted was a fun time, not to become some random nymph's therapist. There were professionals for that, and he was not one of them.

When at long last she fell asleep, Hades laid wide awake, staring up at the ceiling. Convincing himself that this was love. He could take Mynthe for a wife. He could just accept her and end this stupid Reckoning that Zeus insisted he participate in. It would be fine, and he could learn to adapt...right?

Weeks passed of Hades convincing himself that the arrangement with Mynthe could work. He could force himself to love her...all he had to do was ask Aphrodite for a little assistance and everything would have been fine. Everything should have been fine...but he'd made that mistake of calling Aphrodite, of inviting Mynthe to his bed, of cheapening himself to a one-night mistake that ended up lasting weeks of his miserable existence.

Hades' brow furrowed at the memory, so many centuries old and still as fresh as the first snow of winter. He should have known that it would never be easy to end the Reckonings, and he had made mistake after brutal mistake in trying to avoid it. And now...he swallowed, squeezing his eyes shut against the memories from the past now colliding with his present. Forcing another swallow through his tight throat, he allowed a single tear to drift down his cheek, pulling some of the horror and dread with it. For a moment, he allowed himself to be vulnerable. To put aside his moniker of God of the Dead and instead, just let himself exist as he truly felt: a man in an impossible position with no way out and only darkness within.

The door to his office creaked open and it caused his back to go rigid. Biting the inside of his cheek, he dug his nails into the desk, blinking away all sorrow and locking it within his soul.

"Lord Hades," it was Mynthe. He cringed.

"Yes?"

"They're waiting for you," she breathed before turning on a heel and strutting from the office, shutting the door behind her.

How can I do this again? Hades wondered, straightening the lapels of his jacket and running a hand through his dark hair. When will this stop?

Almost immediately, he answered his own question: When you take a wife.

Hades took a deep breath, closed his eyes and pivoted to face his fate and seal another's.