Hadeia

I thought I had misheard. I was in the midst of chills from fever, my marrow boiling then freezing, the sound of my joints cracking echoing in my ears. Surely I must have misheard. 

Who would open the closed door of my chamber and pull back the drawn curtains? To witness death in agony? 

As far as I knew, both humans and gods still feared death. They wouldn’t gamble with their lives. Especially those who knew where my chambers were.

Until last night my brain had been boiling, but now I was so cold my teeth chattered. My body was a battlefield between poison and divinity. I couldn’t determine the victor, but regardless of who won, it would become a bloodstained wasteland. 

As years passed, the illness struck deeper and more viciously. There was no escape, no solution. I sometimes wondered if I, the god of death, might someday die.

If Hades were to die… well, what would happen? Who would Zeus bring to take my place? If even his own blood and the most powerful god eventually oxidized away, could he find a replacement? 

Ah, I could almost picture it. Zeus providing a grand spectacle in the middle of Olympus. He would grieve deeply for his sibling’s miserable death, then suddenly wipe away his tears and wave his finger at the gathered gods. 

“Come now, who will volunteer? Who will succeed Hades? He has become one with death and left us, but his cap of invisibility, his cornucopia, and his warehouses of immense treasures remain… Not a bad position, is it?” I giggled. 

The tip of my withered tongue tasted of blood. It was painful, like scraping the inside of my throat with sandpaper.

Perhaps death itself would be liberation. Enduring fever in the empty darkness, I clung to destructive thoughts. That’s how it always ended up. 

However it began, I had come to love my palace and feel responsible for those under my domain and power. But that was Hades’ role. Where was the joy for me, not as Hades?

Has there ever been any?

Since I was swallowed by my father immediately after birth, I was like an ignorant fetus until Zeus fed him an emetic to extract me and my siblings. Even after rapidly growing up, there was no particular joy. 

War awaited us. The smell of burning lightning. The sound of blood spattering and bones crushing. Screams and curses, slaughter and injury. And after the war? 

Ah, that’s where it began. Before I could appreciate the beauty of soft grassy meadows and white foamy beaches, I was pushed into the underworld. The voice of Zeus, who had claimed the celestial throne, calling me.

“My brother, the one who is both eldest and youngest, Hades.”

I asked what he meant, but the conclusion was already made. Even Themis didn’t try to stop him. Poseidon, instead of dissuading Zeus, turned away with his trident, seeming resigned. He must be living well in the vast sea. Nothing brings more joy than a brother’s happiness, right?

Sometimes I forget even my own name. Since it’s a name that shouldn’t be spoken, perhaps that’s for the best.

“Hadeia.”

I think I must have misheard. Who would call me that? No, that’s impossible. This fever must be causing auditory hallucinations. 

I try to pull up the blanket soaked with cold sweat. I don’t have the strength.

“Are you alright? My goodness, you’re a complete mess!”

What a strange hallucination. I tried to open my eyes but quickly gave up.

“Damn, if I’d known you were this seriously ill, I would have come sooner. Without wasting time… How could the underworld folks leave you alone? It’s unbelievable, you don’t have any color at all.”

Something warm touched my face. A hand. A very large hand. It brushed my forehead, cupped my cheek, and wandered about helplessly like a puppy that had stepped on a chestnut burr. 

It seemed uncertain whether to leave me on the pillow or lift me into an embrace. In truth, how would I know what the right answer was? 

I was exhausted just trying to maintain consciousness. It felt like ice picks hammering at my head. In the midst of teeth-chattering chills, the heat touching me felt like it might burn me.

“You’re completely ice-cold, and I’m warm, so I… Oh, damn it. I don’t even know what I’m saying.”

Exactly. I have no idea what you’re saying either. Instead, I leaned more deeply into the hand cupping my cheek. If I could, I would have grabbed it to prevent it from leaving me.

If only I could open my eyes. I wanted to see him. I wanted to see what expression he wore, what face he made while looking at my ruined form after daring to open the chamber of the underworld’s ruler. 

But my eyelids only twitched like moths drawn to a torch, utterly failing to obey my will. A moan, whether of pain or longing I couldn’t tell, escaped between my lips.

“Are you okay? Hadeia, does it hurt a lot?”

Instead of answering, I shook my head vaguely. Or perhaps I nodded. It felt like my heart was melting and my lungs shriveling. What was this? Was it pain from the illness? 

Persephius’s hands were truly large. Much larger than my brief glances had suggested. He soon cupped my face with both hands. The heat was scalding.

“What should I do? What should I do for you?”

Only then did I notice. His breath, his voice, even his two hands were trembling pitifully. What should he do? 

My fingers, like blind spiders, fumbled to find and cover the back of his hand. The more of him that touched me, the more strength seemed to gather somewhere in my body. 

A little longer and I might be able to open my eyes and speak. Then I might be able to answer the difficult question posed by that handsome face right in front of me.

My head was spinning. I breathed like someone about to drown. My chest rose and fell shallowly and rapidly, like I’d forgotten how to breathe.

“No!”

Persephius must have noticed my irregular breathing. Of course. He was almost on top of me. It was an unavoidable position since I was holding his hands to my face and neck, not letting them move away.

“Take a deep breath. Okay? What should I do, are you still cold? That’s it, right? Of course, how stupid! Just my palms aren’t enough… but…”

I didn’t want to know what this colt was contemplating. I hoped he wouldn’t overthink.

“…Cold.”

The word barely crawled out from the corner of my cracked lips. I heard him inhale sharply. Like someone about to dive into deep water, or someone surrendering to irresistible despair or temptation.

“I’m here. It’s okay, I’ll make you better.”

The blanket that had been clinging to my body, soaked with cold sweat, fell away. I felt like a snake shedding its skin. I released his hands that I had been holding. And I surrendered my body to the sweet warmth that climbed on top of me and embraced me. 

I felt his weight, his heat, his breathing. The thin fabric I wore as a nightgown was already clinging to my skin. He was undoubtedly being careful not to put his full weight on me.

I felt the sensation of the pillow being deeply pressed down. The large hand that had warmed my cheek must be braced there. He truly was a child. 

He could have simply laid beside me to share body heat, but instead he scrambled on top of me. Yet I had no desire to scold him.

I embraced his shoulders. Our chests pressed together. His was the firm chest and abdomen of a man without an ounce of excess fat. 

I felt him startle when he touched me, like he’d been struck by lightning. I let out a laugh-like moan through my parched throat.

Regaining my sight was the natural next step. Even an ice monster from the eternal snow would melt without a trace when embracing a young man as hot as Persephius. 

I lifted my eyelids like an animal opening its eyes for the first time. He, who had been silent since climbing on top of me, finally rubbed my eyes with his thumb in surprise.

“Can you see? Can you open your eyes?”

“…Yes.”

Could a king’s feast look more beautiful and brilliant to someone on the verge of starvation than the daffodil I now beheld? 

Opening my dry eyes felt like being burned, but I swallowed the moan at the back of my throat. Persephius awkwardly rested his elbow on the bed, lowered his body, and began to observe me carefully. 

Not knowing what to do, he cradled my forehead, rubbed the corners of my eyes, and even gently stroked my cracked, unsightly lips.

I had never faced him this closely before. It was like seeing a vision. Indeed, his looks were worthy of comparison to Helios’s stallion. The golden hair falling over my stiff, hot white forehead looked just like grape vines embroidered with gold thread.

We gazed at each other for a while.

I felt the air in the chamber, decaying with chills and cold, gradually heating up. My ears burned at the sensation of his hardened manhood pressing against my lower abdomen. Even though it wasn’t touching my n*ked body, how could the sensation be so explicit?

“I’m sorry.”

He must have noticed my gaze shifting downward. His face instantly reddened.

“I…, I… I don’t know what to do either. I mean, I’ve never done this before—”

He stammered.

Lies. Those were lies. I felt like laughing.

He climbed onto my bed not knowing this would happen? He embraced me wrapped in a thousand layers and mounted my stomach not knowing this would happen?

I threw my head back, panting. I couldn’t distinguish whether it was lamentation or laughter. An unsightly wind-like sound escaped, like my lungs were torn. But he seemed to think I was still in excruciating pain, writhing in agony.

“I wish you weren’t in pain. I want to help you. Like… like you saved me.”

The words he poured out floated to the dark ceiling, sparkling like stars. This time, it wasn’t a lie. I just knew.

Contrary to his pretty face, he had raised a stallion-like member and was telling the unfunny lie that he didn’t know what to do, then immediately whispered like a pure child.

What could I do?

Any thin veneer of reason had long been locked away somewhere at the bottom since the onset of my illness. If reason were present, it would advise me to sternly scold Persephius and send him away while there was still time. 

To protect and respect him so that no stain would mar the name Kore. That this was how an elder should protect a young person, and the only way to save face before his mother. True words. But, ah, what did Demeter matter!

It would be just one night, and she herself had taken someone else’s husband and brother according to her needs to fulfill her wishes, so would she really kill me for plucking this flower when her son himself was volunteering? 

My mind began to melt with a heat different from the symptoms of my illness. I couldn’t think straight.

“You’ll… regret this.”

I removed my arms that had been embracing his shoulders and stealing his body heat with a creaking motion. 

When I separated from him, perhaps thinking it was a sign of rejection, the color immediately drained from his face.

“I won’t regret it. That much I’m certain of.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. An ugly wind-like sound escaped, like a mercenary with a slit throat.

“Not even knowing what to do… how can you be certain… you won’t regret it?”

His pale face instantly flushed red again. Seeing his clear eyebrows contort with either shame or desire made my throat dry.

Our stomachs were still pressed together, and his unexpectedly large manhood was pressing against me with a heavy volume. The sensation of our two pairs of legs intertwined, sharing body heat, was enough to make my head dizzy.

Any further words were meaningless. I raised my hand and cupped his cheek. Just as he had done to me. And slowly pulled him toward me, like guiding someone down an unfamiliar path. His lips were sweeter than nectar.

We were first-time travelers meeting on an unknown path. Having no certainty made it difficult to take even one step. But kissing was truly a fitting greeting for ridiculous beginners like us. 

Like rain-soaked birds rubbing their beaks, our lips brushed together as we caught our breath, then pressed against each other gently like stamping a seal. 

When our tongues first touched, we both froze like fools in surprise. It was a strange, unfamiliar feeling that couldn’t be described.

“Shall we try again?”

A subtle heat could be felt in Persephius’s voice. Instead of answering, I opened my mouth, and we quickly became a sticky mess. He acted like someone who didn’t know how to use his hands. 

He would run his fingers through my hair in admiration, treating it like the Milky Way, then as our kisses grew more passionate, his hands slid to my neck and shoulders, and when our tongues intertwined, he grabbed my br*asts with a strange growling exclamation.

“Ah!”

A moan escaped before I could close my mouth. For me, my br*asts were less a part of my body and more a facade worse than clothes or a cloak. 

Because I was Hades. Because I had to be a fearsome male god. I was tall and wore black clothes, but my protruding br*asts couldn’t be hidden. 

Deliberately covering or binding them would be ridiculous, so when I left the underworld, I simply made sure to take my cap of invisibility. That was all. 

I had never imagined such intense stimulation was possible on a part of my body I considered meaningless. My n*pples stood er*ect, firmly rubbed by his large palms. 

I unconsciously twisted my waist at the tingling sensation rising up my spine. Though I thought it looked like begging for caresses, I tried to forget my shame as I surrendered to the heat.

He squeezed and released my br*asts with both hands and whispered in my ear.