The Taste Of Divinity

Δ Ε Κ Α Ε Π Τ Α

T H R O N E R O O M, U N D E R W O R L D.

TWO DAYS LATER.

The King was sitting with his back against his jewelled throne when the Queen stepped inside the room.

Days had passed since that moment by the river when she'd knowingly gifted him her soul for as long as he required it. He'd nearly kissed her after her agreement had entered the threshold of his ears, she could tell. He'd tilted her jaw up and groaned, staring right in her eyes as he found himself in the midst of yet another battle, this one a tad more private than most. And a tad more tragic.

He'd stared at her for a moment that lasted an eternity, drinking in her form-- she was still covered in her old chiton with the golden stains that was being held together by jewellery he'd provided. Wild and ferocious, dirty and hopeless. Still, she was the most stunning creature he'd ever laid his eyes on.

He'd wanted to steal that kiss.

But he wouldn't have stopped.

He would have stolen everything.

So, he'd released her, his blunt fingernails drawing blood from the centre of his calloused palms, his heart picking up, his feet taking a few steps back. It was loud, his heart. Loud and unbearable. He couldn't risk her hearing it, he would lose his facade of grandeur and the illusion that he had woven around himself.

The heel of his boot came in contact with the water and the river groaned, hungry to destroy any sacrifice it was offered. Hades allowed it no satisfaction, punishing it the same way he punished himself.

When he'd stepped out of the water, he summoned a shadow, turning his back on Persephone to give his orders. She hadn't uttered a word in minutes, not after the vow had so carelessly crossed the threshold of her lips.

A vow that would haunt the rest of her endless days.

I swear by the Styx, the witness of oaths that gods make, as I say this. I will remain in your Kingdom and rule beside you until the day I return home comes.

What more is there to say?

She remained quiet, even as the voices in her head raged, even as the shadow bowed its head and asked her to follow it back to the palace. She remained quiet, even as Hades bid her Goodnight and disappeared into the night. She obeyed, shaken from the haze his words and actions had forced upon her. She obeyed, betrayed by her own body, leaving his to hide in his realm of deceit.

And now, there he was on his ebony throne, a papyrus sitting neatly on his lap, it's faded yellow colour contrasting with the deep crimson of his himation. The gleam of a ruby flashed between his fingers as he reached to touch his beard. He appeared calm, composed.

He was in his element.

And Fates, was he perfect.

There, on his throne with his rubies in his hand, he was the personification of perfection. He was the master of the universe, the one who commanded when lungs expanded and accepted air, the one who controlled the sun and the moon, the one that preferred the light of the stars, the one who could kill with a simple tilt of his sculpted lips.

Oh, how the universe bowed before him.

Him, the eldest son of a traitorous Titan.

Him, the pitiless King of darkness.

Him, her husband.

His eyes found her immediately, a slow, seductive smile curving his perpetually downturned lips as he took in her gleaming form. He watched. He admired.