“You’ve done well, Hades.” Zeus praised his younger brother before all.
Poseidon watched Hades with interest. But no flick of pride or flash of embarrassment colored Hades’ cheek or widened his eyes. His expression remained the same.
“Then I shall leave you,” Hades said.
Poseidon rolled his eyes. “You rarely venture to Olympus, brother. Why do you feel the need to quit it already?”
Hades regarded him. Poseidon eyed his younger brother in return. Had he always hated the perfection of Hades’ face, the mask of aloofness he’d mastered? He was too handsome to be such a sullen creature, and his brother at that. It was the austere set of Hades’ mouth, the clear and disdainful look of his eyes – everything about his brother stirred mischief within him. Provoking some outburst or reaction from Hades would be quite a coup. But it had been years since he’d managed to torment Hades so. And then little other than frustration and irritation had resulted. It had not gone as he’d planned.
“Have you captured some nymph and stolen her away to the Underworld?” Ares teased.
“Not that I have seen,” Apollo shrugged.
Poseidon found it hard not to laugh at such an idea.
“If the rays of your sun were as well-reaching as the cast of your eye, then Athens’ crops might fare better.” Demeter patted Apollo’s hand. As gentle a rebuff as it was, Poseidon knew her point was made.
“Can my brother be tempted with sins of the flesh?” Zeus asked, inspecting Hades..
“You tease him,” Athena snapped. “Is that not excuse enough to leave?”
All eyes settled on Athena, Poseidon noted. Indeed, she looked greatly troubled.
“May he prove himself worthy of your bargain,” Ares said. “Ariston, that is. I thank you for returning him to the living, Hades.”
Hades nodded. “He was most persuasive.”
“Love can be – most persuasive indeed.” Aphrodite smiled.
“Or d
istracting,” Demeter countered.
Hera shook her head. “Love can be dangerous, too.”
“I have heard,” Hades murmured.
Poseidon turned, his gaze sweeping the Council Chamber. This group knew nothing of love.
The Goddess of Love would champion Ariston. She had a weakness for husbands, especially those who cared for their wives. Perhaps it was because her own husband, Hephaestus, openly disdained her.
Ares was more likely to bed and eat a woman than love her. He smiled at the thought, wondering if Ares had committed anything so heinous. As the God of War, brutality ruled first, raging cock second.
Hera and Zeus – was there love there? Or a series of relentless challenges and small victories that left neither truly satisfied?
Of all, Demeter might know. But the love she bore was to her daughter, familial in nature. Such affection was hardly comparable to that of this supposed bond between a man and a woman.
He suspected he knew the truth. Love was an ideal, a gentler name for a baser need. He’d tasted it, briefly, through Medusa and her husband. He rubbed a hand over his mouth, rolling his neck to ease the sudden tightening of his shoulders.
Foolish mortals – to entertain such feelings.
Hades’ gaze fell upon him, his features blank. Poseidon smiled at him, but Hades only blinked and turned away. It was enough. Poseidon was distracted once more.
Why had Hades freed Ariston from the Underworld? He had never returned a mortal to the land of the living before. Never. Love would be the last reason to return a mortal, for Hades had been injured most gravely at love’s expense. More likely Hades would banish Ariston to Tartarus at the mere mention of such folly.
Unless something had changed?
Athena’s fingers drummed forcefully on the arm of her chair, a rhythmic irritation. Poseidon smiled slightly at yet another puzzle to solve.