Daughters of Olympus (Reverse Harem Romances)

I am human. Not a demon. Not a monster.

Just Tennyson.

One day can change everything.

Here I am, in the Underworld, and I see that it is bright red and molten. Thick flames lick the walls of a cave, as the river shimmers with heat as Charon docks the ferry and souls lift from the boat and disperse in the fire.

I stand, lost as to what I’m to do.

“I thought it was a ruse, you saying you were the daughter of Hades,” Charon says, gliding up next to me. “But now I know you weren’t playing me for a fool.”

“How do you know that?” I ask, crossing my arms, feeling exposed here, where no other people seem to be but the two of us.

“Because I’ve figured out who your mother is. You look so much like Persephone.”

“Do you know where she is?” I ask, even though I already have an inkling from Hawthorne’s memories. Shrieks and moans reverberate from the cavernous walls and my skin crawls as I think about what creatures may lurk here.

My heart breaks as I consider the demons within and that Hawthorne spent how many years here?

Already I ache for them, the men who took my body, and who I can never hold again.

What a cruel and mad world this is.

“I have a schedule to keep. More souls coming in every hour.” He jabs me toward the dock, wanting me off his ferry.

I see a small rocky path along the river, and even though I have no clue where I’m headed, I begin my journey by taking a shaky breath and single step forward.

“Thank you,” I say, turning to Charon as I get off his boat. “For bringing me here. For making the deal and saving Eric. I wish there was a way I could repay your kindness.”

He looks startled, the slits of his eyes so narrow and tense and he pauses, looking deep into my eyes.

“What is it?” I ask, a shiver running up my spine.

“No one has ever thanked me,” he says in a hushed, reverent tone. “Your words... I’ve never heard them before in this place.”

“Oh,” I say, the tightness in my chest gone now that I realize he doesn’t want to hurt me. “Well, I mean it. Thank you.”

“Let me offer you something in return.”

At this, I step closer. My feet are still bare and my hair and clothes a rumpled mess, but my body is whole. I feel brave and strong in a way I’ve never felt before. Maybe the fire of Hades is burning brightly within me. I am his daughter after all.

“You don’t owe me anything,” I tell him, meaning it.

“I know but let me help. I can take you to her.”

“To who?”

“Your mother.”

“You know where I can find her?”

He pushes off the hood of his cloak, looking less scary and more fragile. “Yes, child. I know her. She was abducted decades ago. I saw her come against her will. She cried for her daughters every day for years.”

“How do you know I’m her daughter?”

“Because you have her likeness. Persephone is the goddess of spring, but she’s been gone for so long.”

“Why did Hades kidnap her?”

“He was a jealous husband.”

I bite my bottom lip, feeling lost. “Can you take me to her?”

He nods. “As you wish, Goddess.”

On his ferry, he guides me to the Asphodel Meadows. We pass Cerberus and the Golden Bough--landmarks I only know because Charon tells me of them. It’s strange, his kindness, and I feel overwhelmed that he has offered it to me.

“What will happen to my lovers?” I ask him as we near a dock, a meadow sprawling beyond.

“They will fade to the Elysium Fields, where their souls will rest for eternity.”

“And there is no way to stop it?”

“They aren’t gone yet, but the Field is better than this fiery pit. They will be at peace there.”

“I see. Of course.” I brush the tears from my eyes, knowing the time to mourn the loves of my life will come, but right now, I must be brave and find Persephone.

“Follow the path along the meadow, ordinary souls are sent there after death. It’s the perfect place to hide a goddess, no doubt. No one would look for the Divine there.”

I give Charon a hug, his body brittle against mine, his kindness toward me so great and unexpected.

Once again, I’m reminded of how naughty I’d been as a child. Had I been sweet and kind like Lark, never hiding and stealing and taunting, would I have ended up here?

Maybe not. So, perhaps my life unfolded as it was meant to. Had I followed my mother’s rules I’d never have had the privilege to love Hawthorne, South, and Lennox.

And love them I have.

I step off the ferry and plant my feet on solid ground. The fire in the distance, and ahead, a field of blackened hay and charred wheat. Nothing living, everything here is dead.