Chapter 192: “At last, you say it aloud.”
The underworld was quiet, as it always was.
The Styx flowed in endless black coils, its whispers carrying memories too heavy for the living ear. The halls of obsidian stood solemn and unbroken, lit only by torches of blue fire that gave no warmth. In the throne chamber, Hades sat still, his hand resting beside the poppy Persephone had given him. It had not withered.
For once, the silence was not enough.
He closed his eyes, and in the dark behind them, he saw a meadow. Her voice. The tilt of her chin. The small, unshaken truth she carried.
The sound came before the storm.
Thunder cracked, echoing through the caverns. The torches flickered as light tore through the shadows. The gates of the hall shook, then opened—not by hand, but by will.
Zeus entered.
His cloak shimmered faint with sparks, though he had dimmed the storm so as not to shatter the realm. His steps echoed like rolling thunder, steady and unhurried.
Hades did not rise, but his eyes opened, dark and unreadable. "Brother."
"Brother," Zeus returned, his voice even. He stopped a few paces away, watching him with storm-bright eyes.
The silence stretched, broken only by the whisper of the Styx outside the walls.
"You’ve been watching the meadows," Zeus said at last. It was not a question.
Hades’s jaw tightened faintly. "I have."
"And Persephone," Zeus added. His tone was measured, not accusing.
Hades straightened slowly, his cloak shifting like smoke. His voice came quiet but clear. "Yes."
–––
Zeus studied him for a long moment. He saw no hesitation, no mask of denial. Hades had always been that way—stone when others crumbled, silence when others lied.
"You intend to make it more than a meeting," Zeus said.
Hades’s gaze held steady. "I do."
Zeus tilted his head, faint lightning flickering in his beard. "Speak it plain."
Hades did not falter. "I intend to take her as my wife."
The words rang through the chamber, heavy as iron. The torches bent under them, the flames hissing against unseen wind.
Zeus let them hang, then gave a small nod. "At last, you say it aloud."
Hades’s lips pressed thin. "If you came to forbid it, you waste your time. My heart has decided."
"I did not come to forbid." Zeus’s voice was steady, almost softer now. "I came to hear you say it. And now that I have, you will hear me."
–––
Hades leaned back against the throne, eyes narrowing. "And what do you say?"
Zeus stepped closer, his presence filling the chamber. "I say this: You have my blessing."
The words landed like a crack of lightning, unexpected, sharp.
Hades blinked, the smallest shift breaking his stillness. "...You approve?"
Zeus’s lips curved faintly, though not into humor. "I know my brother. I know the weight he carries. And I know he will not take lightly what others would spoil. You may be shadow, Hades, but you are steady. You will not break her."
Hades lowered his gaze, shadows flickering across his face. For the first time in an age, something softened at the edges of his silence.
But Zeus’s tone shifted then, firmer, the storm returning faintly to his words. "Yet blessings do not come without condition."
Hades looked up again, his voice low. "What condition?"
–––
Zeus turned slightly, his eyes distant, stormlight dimming into thought. "There is a man. A warrior. One who walks this world like a scar left open. His name is Kratos."
The name stirred faint recognition in Hades’s gaze. "The Spartan."
"Yes," Zeus said. "He burns for Ares. He hunts him even now. But his anger is not only for war. It is for his own blood. His wife, his child. Their deaths chain him more than his blades."
Hades was silent.
Zeus’s voice lowered. "He needs closure. He needs peace for the dead he cannot release. And that is beyond me. Beyond Olympus. But not beyond you."
The torches flared, shadows stretching long. Hades’s eyes darkened, weighing the request. "You want me to guide him. To unbind him."
"I want you to give him rest," Zeus corrected. His gaze held steady. "He will not listen to me. He does not trust the sky. But perhaps... he will hear the earth."
–––
Hades leaned forward, his hands gripping the armrests of the throne. "You ask much."
"I ask only once," Zeus replied. His tone softened again, a rare honesty breaking through. "For him, and for me. You know what it is to carry the dead. You know what it is to be bound by grief not your own. If you are to wed my daughter, then grant this. Not as a debt, but as a proof. That shadow may hold, but also release."
Hades’s gaze lingered on the single poppy by his throne. Its red petals glowed faint against the black stone. Persephone’s voice stirred in his memory. Flowers can grow even in darkness.
His lips moved at last. "...And if I do this?"
"Then you have all I can give," Zeus said. His voice was quiet, but no less weighty. "My word. My trust. My fatherhood."
–––
The silence returned, heavier than before. The river outside whispered, the flames hissed.
At last, Hades stood. His cloak unfurled behind him like smoke torn by the wind. He stepped down from the throne, the poppy left glowing at its side.
"I will see him," he said. His voice was steady, unyielding. "I will see the Spartan. And if he seeks release, I will give it."
Zeus inclined his head. The faintest crack of thunder answered him from above.
"Then it is settled."
–––
The brothers stood close now, shadows and storm meeting eye to eye. For a moment, there was no throne, no crown, no war. Only two gods who had fought side by side, and would again.
Zeus placed his hand against Hades’s arm, firm, a gesture not of command but of kin. "You have my blessing, brother. And she has your heart. Let it be enough."
Hades gave a slow nod. His voice was low, almost a whisper. "It is more than enough."
–––
When Zeus left, the storm dimmed, carrying him upward, back toward the world above.
Hades remained in the hall, his eyes fixed on the poppy. The torches hissed, the shadows stirred, but none of it weighed as much as the thought that now lived in his chest.
Soon, he would see Persephone again. But first, there was a Spartan with chains heavier than the underworld itself.
–––
And in the forest above, Kratos’s blades dragged against stone as he walked, the sound ringing like a warning.
Unseen, the earth began to stir beneath his path.
The shadow was already waiting.