Against the Gods

Home. Home wasn’t Olympus. Home was the Underworld. With a vice-like and unrelenting grip, Hades dragged a violent and foul-mouthed Persephone deep within the bowels of the earth. She wasn’t going to make it easy for him. She threw insult, threats and whatever harsh, foul words that she could invoke. She dragged her feet, tugged, struggled, lashed out with hard punches, tried to grab onto the rough walls with desperate claws and even tried to attack him. She was getting desperate and scared as they sunk deeper and deeper below.

His patience obviously gave way and before Persephone knew it he turned, striking her face. Her head whipped to one side and she froze, stunned and shock. She could kick herself for the unshed tears that welled in her eyes as she caressed the stringing red mark. Her eyes narrowed, angrily at the older god. His black eyes were burning blue and his pale lips were drawn. His aura flared like ice-hot fire, a warning.

“Will you behave or do I have to knock you out,” he hissed, yanking her as she stumbled down the cold stairs.

“Why are you doing this?” She cried a little more hysterically than she wanted. “My mother and my father will be furious when they find out what you did…what you are doing!”

“Persephone, idle threats. I could care less about your father or mother.”

“But…but…I promise I won’t tell them. It was a total misunderstanding. I can go home and we will forget about it,” she bargained, trying to pry his fingers away from her wrist. She looked down into the darkness, tensing at the fear of what lied beyond. The stench of death and decay wafted from beyond the abyss. Horrified and tortured screams were muffled by distance. Oh gods, she did not want to go down there! She had heard so many horrifying stories of the Underworld. Of it’s dreariness, and coldness, and the screams of the dead echoed through out the hollow kingdom.

“I am taking you home, dear Persephone.” Color drained from her face and she swallowed hard. Her tongue flickered out nervously across her dry lips.

“No! This is not my home! I swear I won’t tell. I swear. I don’t want to go down there. Just let me go!” She tugged at her arms, desperate to pull away. Away from him. Away from what lied down those stairs.

“I don’t care about that.”

“Then why are you kidnapping me…again.”

“I love you, remember, Persephone. I can’t simply let you go and forget about it.”

“What!” Her voice rose high and her mouth hung open. “You can’t be serious!”

“You know how serious I am.”

“But…but…I am not Arista! You thought…you thought you loved Arista!” Hades growled, shoving Persephone firmly into the wall. He towered over her, threatening and enclosing her within a cocoon of her arms.

“What do you mean I thought I loved you, little goddess?” He sneered. Persephone swallowed hard but lifted her chin defiantly.

“You…you know…exactly what I mean…” she stuttered out, trying to be brave. It was a bit different standing up to a mortal and standing up to the god of death. “You…you ‘loved’…lusted for…Arista…and I’m not her! You are just some sick, twisted god who got his jollies off of torturing poor mortals! And…you weren’t ever in love, you…you…were just very…very…horny…and…”

Hades struck the wall angrily, very close to her head before she could finish her sentence. Persephone winced and closed her eyes, waiting for a painful blow. Cold, long fingers grabbed her chin, yanking firmly so her face was tilted up. Nothing happened. Everything stood still and Persephone ventured to open her eyes. Hades was glaring at her. His breathing was harsh and deliberate as his chest heaved under the simple black toga. She caught his gaze and they stared, silent and unyielding. Finally, Hades pulled away, taking her arm.

“It’s time to go home, Persephone. You need to learn that you have no choice.” he told her, eerily calm and casual. It was if he was chiding a child who was throwing a tantrum. It pissed Persephone off.

“No fucking way! I’m not going down there,” she shrieked. “I’m not going with you. Let me go! Let me go! LET ME GO!”

Smack. Everything went black.


*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

Hades carried the limp and unconscious Persephone the rest of the way to the edge of Acheron. She was light and warm and throbbing in his arms. Those soft curls cascaded around her lovely, sleeping features. Gods! She was lovely and so incredibly innocent. It was shame. That pretty mouth, rosy and inviting, could spit out such harmful wrath. Her words had stung. Hades admitted that to himself. Like acid on flesh, they scorched unseen scars. She had mentioned that before. He was mistaking his love for lust. He wasn’t! She had no idea the delicious torment he was going through. He was in love!

“Lord Hades, “Charon hissed once he saw his dark lord emerge on the banks. The skeletal servant was rotted and decaying. Chunks of gray flesh hung from yellow, cracked bones. Torn and dirty cloth hung from the brittle frame of the ferryman. His hollow eyes fell upon the bright Persephone but he did not speak of the maiden. Hades held her lightly in his arms, gazing studiously at the peaceful features. The boat rocked as Charon pushed from the shore, his own unseeing eyes never wavering from the beauty.

“She is lovely, isn’t she, Charon,” Hades said, casual, looking up as Charon’s cracked and withered tongue flickered greedily along his shrunken lips. The ferryman nodded, solemnly; aware he had been caught and pushed his oar into the murky darkness of the thick river. Hades stroked her hair and face as he pondered what to do next.

Everything had changed yet nothing had changed. True, she was his niece. She was the daughter of Zeus through Demeter. But, holy gods! He could care less. He loved her so much. Though who she was had changed, it didn’t change her. He knew her, he loved her, and he wanted her for himself and only himself. And just as before, he wanted her to want him.

No! Hades needed Persephone to need him and love him and beg for only him. Even if it hurt her…even if it hurt him and he knew it would. And he would relish in most. He couldn't stop now. She would be his. His blood raced with that thought as he buried his head in her hair. She smelt like spring and it made him harder than he even felt. Their game would continue. Even though she would be splendidly stubborn, and he hoped she would, she would be his. His nails dug into her flesh and elicited a pained moan from her motionless lips.

“My beautiful bride, my delicious queen,” Hades huskily crooned, possessively and excited, against her hair. “You will want me just as much as I want you. You will love the pain and pleasure I give you. No more games, love, I promise.”