Of Lockets and Pomegranates: Chapter 4
Of Lockets and Pomegranates
The roar of Hades’ heart was deafening as he reformed in his office. He had never spoken so coldly to Persephone. For so long, he’d been her punching bag, allowing her to berate him for a mistake he’d never meant to make. The story had become so twisted that only they knew the truth.
His truth was that he never wanted to kidnap Persephone. They met shortly before he’d invited her to the Underworld, though the Golden Gods omitted that part of the story. The way she smiled at him whenever their eyes met lit up something inside him, sending his pulse soaring. He planned on courting her but he stumbled upon her with tears streaking down her perfect face. Demeter had scolded her for being childish. He thought bringing her to the Underworld would cheer her up and prove to her the world needed happiness when places like his existed.
Her eyes lit up the moment they stepped into the cavernous throne room. Glowworms and soul lights gave an ethereal ambiance to the room, blues and greens danced around the silver lights. Two massive pomegranate trees touched the ceiling behind his throne, adding pops of red. He’d since destroyed those trees after his lapse in judgement.
Pomegranates were her favorite, she explained when she approached. Before he could stop her, she grabbed one, breaking it open. Red juice spilled around her fingers, dripped to the ground like blood, and mocked him for not stopping her. She’d eaten three seeds before he could stop her and three more after he’d taken the fruit. She smiled at him then, and he prayed the Fates wouldn’t seal her into the curse because she was the daughter of a Golden God.
Six months passed. He left her alone, thinking the Fates would turn a blind eye. They didn’t. A portal appeared exactly six months later, ripped her from Demeter’s cottage so painfully he still heard her cries. She appeared between those damned trees, scared and traumatized. The Fates appeared—their forms switched between beauty and horror in a duality of fate—and explained what happened. One month spent in the Underworld for each seed eaten.
The wrath of Olympus appeared at his proverbial doorstep only seconds after the Fates left. There was nothing to be done. No threat that Demeter could throw at him. No striking the fear of Zeus into him. Nothing the Golden Gods did would change what had happened, and thus he became the villain they had always wanted to paint him as. After his exile, the only thing that mattered was Persephone’s happiness.
Until Pandora.
He pushed a trembling hand through his hair as the memories faded. The echo of Persephone’s cries followed him a moment longer. He was through with thinking of the past. Behind the hidden panel in his office was a woman who wanted him as much as he wanted her and he was done making her wait. He stepped into his chambers, and found her in the living room, watching another movie. Her white-blonde hair was pulled into a messy bun, strands stuck out at random angles, and she was still in that sweater dress. He could watch her forever, enamored in a way that was drastically different from how he viewed Persephone.
He didn’t have the patience to watch her, not with his heart still thundering in his chest. Rounding the couch, he grinned when she startled. Before she could say a word, she was in his arms, legs wrapped around his waist, and he claimed her lips in a desperate kiss. She returned the fervor, fingers plunging into his hair. He hardened against the sweet heat that poured from her core. She rolled her hips, and he growled into her mouth.
Pulling back, she searched his face with hooded eyes. The lust he found in her gaze snapped the last of his restraint, and he carried her to his bedroom, nipping at her swollen bottom lip as he did.
He laid her on the bed, and took a moment to marvel over her. Her hair had come free, cascaded over the sheets in a silken wave, and her dress had ridden up to expose her simple black underwear. The smell of her arousal was intoxicating, and he couldn’t stop himself from feeling the wetness he knew would be there.
She gasped, arched at his touch. Gods above and below, he planned to devour her. He lazily circled his finger around the fabric of her underwear, watching as she melted into his touch. Before he could pull the fabric aside, she grabbed his wrist.
“I’ve never done this,” she whispered, snapping him out of it.
He’d known that, had seen it in her memories. Life after life, she never took a lover. Had never fallen in love. The only things that motivated her were her unending sense of duty and the tiny family she’d built around Athena, Warin, and Helen. There had been no one else since Marcus, whom she’d only kissed once.
“We need to slow down then,” he whispered, still lazily tracing the slit of her underwear. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I don’t want to slow down,” she begged. “I want to feel everything.”
Then she was biting back tears.
***
Brutal, honest emotion tore through her. This was not how she wanted this to go. She planned to drown in the pleasure that she knew he could give her. When he stopped touching her, she tried to take over to push down the flow of emotions. Reaching for his waistband, she gasped when he caught her wrist and yanked her against him.
“Pandora,” he whispered as his arms came around her. “Stop. What is going through your mind?”
He needed this escape as much as she did, she knew he did. Why did he push her away?
“No,” she said too quickly. He didn’t release her, and she deflated. “It hurts to think. This was my third life as Athena’s Champion, and it hurt so bad. They all hurt but none have destroyed me so thoroughly.”
Being a Champion didn’t come with a lot of rules but the ones that did exist were absolute. The first two were nonnegotiable.
No Champion shall engage in a physical relationship with any god because they were already blessed with the favor of a god. Any Champion found in a relationship shall be punished as the Fates see fit. The punishment was having their memories scrubbed and expelled from their Championship. They would forever crave the god they lost but would never remember who they were.
No Champion shall kill a god. Without the gods, Champions would not exist. Each god is sacred and holds power to keep the world balanced. Should a god be killed by a Champion’s hand, the Champion shall experience their death tenfold. Judgement shall be rendered in the moment of their death depending on the specifics of the crime.
She’d broken both, and she didn’t regret either.
Knowing Hades could see her memories, she grabbed his hand, placing it against her sternum. She took them back to her last death.
Demons were a dime a dozen in her line of work. One would slip through the interdimensional cracks and would slowly gather life forces from unsuspecting humans. Most slipped back before they engorged themselves. Others weren’t that smart and got greedy. Occasionally, high-ranking demons made their way into their world. If they kept the Champion treaty, they didn’t pose a problem. If the treaty was broken, then Champions were called in, regardless of the demon’s rank.
“We spent months hunting low-ranking demons before Helen discovered they weren’t working alone,” she said, remembering how furious Helen had been. It wasn’t uncommon for high-ranking demons to offer power to the weak, when it served them. “However, it wasn’t a high-ranking demon behind their rise to power. It was a god.”
Pain lanced through her when she tried to say the name. She could picture him clearly, but her mouth couldn’t form the name. Swearing, she cursed the Fates for purging his name from her.
Seeming to know she couldn’t speak the name, Hades offered: “It doesn’t matter what his name was. Spoken names are power; his is best left buried.”
She nodded curtly. “By the time we uncovered his plot, a cult formed. The battle that ensued was the bloodiest I’d ever seen. Three Warrior Champions were felled by underhanded tactics. Athena made it to the god before I did, though only by seconds.”
“He was seated on his throne, a smug look on his face, with the blood of his own Champions painting the floor at his feet. Then he tossed them in the corner to rot while he reveled in the chaos he bred. Athena’s fury had been swift, and she attacked him. He’d been expecting the attack, using her desire for justice to lure her into the trap. He stabbed her through the abdomen, and her pain became mine.”
She placed her hand on her stomach where Athena had been stabbed. There was no hesitation when she attacked the god, impaling him through the throat with her god-made dagger. She twisted until he gurgled on his blood. Her adrenaline masked the pain that accompanied her attack on the god. It didn’t subside until after Athena’s wound was healed.
She remembered how her body trembled when he disappeared in a spark of bright light. The pain that followed his disappearance was like nothing she had felt before. Godly fire coursed through her veins, burning her from the inside. Athena held her as the fire made its way to her heart, halting the flow of blood. It took hours to succumb, but Athena never left her side. She bore a permanent scar where she stabbed him, hidden behind the locket at her throat.
“I regret not being able to spit on his corpse,” she hissed as she touched the locket. “I picture Athena’s face when I’m alone with my thoughts. She would have died if I hadn’t stepped in. You know what happens when a Champion loses their god.”
He nodded but said nothing. It didn’t happen often, but it was devastating when it did. Champion souls are tied to their god. When they die, the connection is severed and can kill the Champion. The deeper the connection, the greater the loss.
“Her pain became mine that night. Even the godly fire wouldn’t have hurt as badly.”
“I’m going to say something you don’t want to hear,” he said, releasing her. He intertwined their fingers.
“If you must,” she sighed.
“You may be her Golden Champion, but you didn’t cause her injury. She’s not a helpless harvest goddess who knows nothing of battle. He wasn’t a simple foe, not if he could best her.” He stroked his thumb over the back of her hand when she tensed. “She stepped into his trap. If you’d simply watched, you would be allowed guilt. You did what you could.”
She wanted to argue, to tell him Athena needed her. The argument died on her tongue. She couldn’t discredit Athena’s strength by implying the goddess was weak enough to need her protection. While Pandora was important, Athena was still the goddess of War and Wisdom.
“I am amending my conditions, Pandora,” he said, squeezing her hand again when she tried to pull away. “Should you wish to continue your stay, you shall meet with Nyx, the goddess of night, to work through your trauma. She’s a trained therapist in her spare time.”
“Okay,” she said, another wave of emotion made her voice break. “And what about this?”
“I have every intention of continuing this. After you’ve spoken to Nyx.” He squeezed again, this time reassuringly. “For tonight, I’ll conjure dinner. Then, we’ll curl up in the living room to do another movie marathon.”
Editor: Lucy Cafiero
