For the Love of Hades (Loves of Olympus 2)

To him, perhaps. She glanced at the contoured lines of his shoulders, bare and pale in the sun. She had no anger. His burned too bright, with too much conviction, to doubt that she was the one at fault. So she followed, weeping, until they reached the main road. She could bear it no longer.

She lifted her robes and ran from him, for once eager to reach the walls of her isolated home.

###

“Tired?” Aeacus smiled as he rushed forward, sword held high.

Hades shook his head, kneeling to brace himself. His sword turned, deflecting Aeacus’ blow at the last. He stood, spinning and raising his sword to strike. The sword froze, its tip pricking the back of Aeacus’ neck.

“Yield?” Hades asked.

Aeacus looked back at the sword against his neck. “I have no need to continue. I am no match for you, as you’ve made clear this long and tiresome morning. But you seem no less agitated now than when we began.”

Hades lowered his arm, shrugging.

Aeacus relaxed his stance, rolling his head as he drew in a deep breath. “What ails you?”

Hades looked at Aeacus with a lifted brow, his irritation clear.

Aeacus laughed. “While I would never dare to call you pleasant, you’re not one to succumb to temper. Such fits are contagious, I fear…”

Hades stared Aeacus. “You blame me for what happened?”

Aeacus shook his head. “No, my lord.”

“Explain your meaning.” His words were hard.

Was Aeacus right? Had his mood presented an opening for these schemes?

Aeacus spoke carefully, “You are distracted. That is no secret. And those in Tartarus would test that, test their chances at freedom.”

“Tartarus’ borders are too strong. It was not an attempt at escape. They will find no freedom and they likely know it. They fought to squelch their boredom, the tiresomeness of their relentless existence.”

Aeacus nodded. “So you were giving them a kindness? Engaging them in such a battle?”

Hades rubbed a hand over his face, his ire threatening to overwhelm him once more. He’d been thrilled with the fight, engaging the faceless, nameless inhabitants of Tartarus with lethal efficiency. A battle with the dead could not end in death, but he and Didymos could force them back to the pit fires, where they would burn and suffer until freed. He’d delayed the sentence long enough to vent some of the frustration that had plagued him since his return home.

Aeacus was right. His mood was foul. He had no patience. And there was nothing he could do… Nothing.

Hermes joined them, his ever present smile upon his face. “I fear I’ve brought enough new souls to pass this day in work, Aeacus. The judges wait.” He clasped Aeacus’ forearm first, then did the same with Hades. “Sparring?”

Aeacus nodded.

“If you can call crossing swords with Aeacus sparring.” Hades attempted humor, but delivered an insult instead.

“Your timing is well received, Hermes.” Aeacus bowed stiffly, saying, “I leave you, then.”

Hades sighed, watching his friend and ally move towards the Judges Court.

“Well done,” Hermes chided him. “You have so many friends, Hades, why worry over insults or wounded pride?”

Hades scowled at him. “Aeacus is a Judge of the Dead. He serves me and the Underworld–”

“And is friend to you,” Hermes interrupted.

“Why are you here?” The words were harsh, but he cared little. Why did all seem bent on tempting the bounds of his control?

Hermes laughed. “I, too, have duties to you and the Underworld.”