|c.2|

Penelope’s fingers gripped the hem of her dress so tightly her knuckles turned white. Her voice was barely above a whisper, trembling and raw. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You clearly have the wrong woman.”

The room seemed to hold its breath, the air thick and stifling. Penelope’s wide eyes darted nervously to the three figures before her. They stood like living sculptures, each radiating an aura of power so tangible it made the space hum. Demeter’s presence was a storm barely restrained, her golden robes cascading around her like liquid sunlight. The goddess’s sharp eyes bore into Penelope with the intensity of a predator sizing up its prey. Beside her, Persephone looked like a mirror dipped in spring—her emerald gown shimmered as though woven from fresh leaves, and her golden hair seemed to glow with an inner light. Standing slightly apart, Orion lounged against the wall, his dark leathers and bronze armor giving him an air of dangerous ease. The smirk playing on his lips suggested he found the whole scene amusing.

The room itself was grand yet foreboding. The walls were hewn from a pale, shimmering stone that seemed alive with faint veins of silver, pulsating gently like a heartbeat. Torches flickered in sconces shaped like blooming flowers, their flames casting long, restless shadows across the polished black marble floor. The scent of crushed herbs and sweet blossoms lingered in the air, an almost cloying reminder of the goddess who ruled this domain.

Persephone stepped forward, her voice soft yet edged with irritation. “Mother, if she’s from the modern mortal world, she wouldn’t know who we are. Mortals today are practically magic-blind. They wouldn’t recognize a god if one struck them down.”

Demeter sighed heavily, the sound echoing through the cavernous room. “Mortals,” she muttered, the word a venomous hiss. Her fingers brushed against a golden belt cinched around her waist, a gesture that seemed more of a threat than a moment of thought. “Very well, let me enlighten you, Penelope.”

Penelope flinched at the sharpness in the goddess’s voice but didn’t look away. Her fear simmered beneath the surface, mixing with something more dangerous: curiosity. She had no choice but to listen, her body too tense to do anything else.

Demeter began to pace, the soft clink of her golden sandals against the marble floor filling the room. “Not too long ago, Zeus and Hera decreed that balance must be maintained between the realms. The Underworld requires a queen—a goddess to rule alongside Hades.” Her voice softened mockingly as she glanced at Persephone. “And my daughter was chosen to be that queen, bound by agreement to spend half the year in his domain. It is a matter of cosmic order, not mere convenience. But Persephone is a creature of light and life… what good would she be with the dark and dead?”

Demeter stopped pacing to pin Persephone with a look sharp enough to cut glass. Persephone met her mother’s gaze but said nothing, her expression unreadable. Demeter continued, her tone clipped and businesslike. “And so, we devised a solution. You.”

Penelope’s knees buckled slightly, but she remained standing, her grip on her dress tightening. “But I don’t look like her,” she blurted out, her voice cracking under the weight of disbelief. “Or sound like her. Your plan has some… obvious flaws.”

Orion snorted softly, and Penelope caught the faintest glimmer of amusement in his dark eyes. Demeter, however, stopped mid-step and turned toward her, her lips curving into a humorless smile. “Do you think I would make such an amateur mistake?”

The goddess waved her hand, the motion graceful yet commanding. A mirror materialized out of thin air, its ornate frame gilded and encrusted with emeralds that seemed to pulse with an otherworldly light. “Look again,” Demeter commanded.

Penelope hesitated, her heart pounding against her ribs. Slowly, she turned toward the mirror. The woman staring back at her wasn’t her. It couldn’t be. Her reflection had changed entirely: the soft angles of her features sharpened, her gold eyes now a brilliant green that seemed to glow with an unnatural light. Her chestnut waves of hair had turned golden, cascading down her shoulders in shimmering coils. She looked every bit the image of Persephone.

Her throat tightened as she opened her mouth to speak, but the sound that came out wasn’t her voice. It was lighter, smoother, melodic—exactly like Persephone’s.

Penelope stumbled back a step, her pulse racing. “What did you do to me?” she whispered, her hands flying to her face as if touching it would prove the transformation wasn’t real.

“Now,” Demeter said mockingly, her voice a silken dagger, “what were the other ‘flaws’ in my plan?”

Penelope’s lips parted, but her voice caught in her throat. The sheer impossibility of what she was seeing and hearing left her reeling. Yet beneath her terror was a flicker of intrigue—a part of her that couldn’t help but marvel at the power she was witnessing.

Swallowing hard, she tried to reclaim some of her earlier confidence. “I’m a mortal,” she said, her voice steadier now, though her hands trembled at her sides. “I don’t have powers like she does. Hades will figure it out the second I step foot in his realm.”

Demeter’s brows arched slightly, and she inclined her head in acknowledgment. “A fair point,” she said, almost begrudgingly. “Then I will share some of Persephone’s powers with you. Just enough to sell the charade.”

“No!” Persephone’s voice was sharp, and she stepped forward, her green eyes wide with alarm. “Mother, no. It’s a terrible idea to give a mortal free rein over my powers!”

Demeter waved her hand dismissively, the motion so final it left no room for argument. “Either you want your freedom, or you want to spend the next six months in the Underworld. Which is it?”

Persephone hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line. Finally, she sighed, her shoulders sagging in defeat. “Fine,” she muttered, her tone laced with bitterness.

Demeter smiled coldly, her expression triumphant. She raised her hands, and a golden glow enveloped Penelope. The warmth seeped into her skin, a strange sensation that left her limbs humming with an unfamiliar energy. The air around her seemed to shift, as though the very fabric of reality had bent to accommodate her new power.

Penelope stared at her hands, watching as faint tendrils of golden light flickered around her fingertips. “This is insane,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

“And yet, here we are,” Demeter said briskly. “Any other concerns?”

Penelope hesitated, her cheeks flushing as she glanced at Persephone. “I—” She cleared her throat. “I can’t pretend to be the goddess of spring. I don’t even know how. And...” She faltered, her face heating. “I’m a virgin.”

A low chuckle broke the tension, and Penelope’s eyes darted to Orion. The demigod was leaning casually against the wall, his dark leather tunic and bronze bracers catching the faint light. His grin was sly, his eyes alight with mischief. “Well, that’s gonna be a problem,” he said, his voice a rich, teasing drawl. “There’s no way you’re fooling Hades with the scent you’re giving off. The god in him will fight to claim you.”

Persephone’s face flushed as she smacked his arm. “Shut up, Orion.”

Demeter, however, remained unfazed. She rolled her eyes, though her jaw tightened. “Dramatic,” she muttered under her breath, though there was a flicker of tension in her gaze.

Persephone suddenly straightened, her eyes bright with an idea. “What if Penelope tells Hades those are just rumors you started, Mother? To keep other gods and demigods away from me.”

Demeter paused, considering the suggestion. Slowly, a smile spread across her face, sharp and calculating. “That... could work. Everyone knows I’m overly protective of you. They’d believe it.”

Satisfied, Demeter clapped her hands. “Now that everything is settled, tomorrow, you will meet your new husband.”

Penelope’s stomach dropped, her heart sinking into a pit of despair. The weight of the situation pressed down on her chest, and she felt the last shreds of hope slipping through her fingers. Defeated and out of ideas, she watched as the three deities left the room, the heavy door closing behind them with a decisive thud. The sound of the lock clicking into place echoed in the silence, a cruel reminder of her imprisonment.

She sank onto the edge of the luxurious bed, her hands trembling in her lap. The soft silk of the sheets was cold beneath her fingertips, a stark contrast to the fiery storm of emotions raging within her. Fear, anger, and an unwanted sliver of curiosity twisted together, leaving her breathless.

Somewhere in the depths of the Underworld, a god awaited his bride—and Penelope, terrified and powerless, was being pushed toward him like a lamb to the slaughter.

**

 

The Underworld pulsed with a life of its own. It was a place where shadows danced along the cavernous walls, and the faint hum of restless souls filled the air like a mournful symphony. The grand halls of Hades' mansion, carved from obsidian and veined with faint streaks of glowing red, emanated an eerie beauty. The torches lining the walls burned with blue flames, casting ghostly light across the smooth floors, which seemed to absorb sound and reflect only silence.

 

The heavy doors to Hades’ chambers, adorned with intricate carvings of serpents and flowers in an eternal struggle, swung open with a reverberating creak. The light from the hallway spilled into the room, revealing the god standing in the center, his imposing figure framed by the faint glow of the torches. Zeus entered with a self-assured stride, his golden robes shimmering like sunlight against the stark darkness of the room. The faint sound of his boots clicking against the stone floor was the only thing disrupting the silence.

Thanion stood by the side of his colossal bed, his chest heaving from a night of fiery passion. His shirt hung open like the gates of Tartarus, revealing the sinewy landscape of his torso, each muscle a testament to the unbridled power he wielded. The room was cast in an eerie luminescence, a soft glow emanating from the cracks in the marble walls, hinting at the divine secrets they held within. His eyes, a piercing blue, flickered with the intensity of a thousand suns, belying the exhaustion that threatened to claim him.

Lying before him, on a bed that could have swallowed mortal kings whole, was a spectral beauty. Her skin was a shimmering veil that whispered of the ethereal plane from which she had come, and her eyes held the allure of the darkest abyss. The woman stirred at his touch, her diaphanous form rippling like the surface of the Styx. She gazed at him with a hunger that could never be fully satiated, not even by the gods themselves.

"Get up," he ordered, his voice a velvet command that seemed to resonate through the very fabric of the room. The woman obeyed, rising to all fours like a feline predator stalking its prey. Her breasts, pert and nipples like ghosts of pearls, swayed as she moved, casting shadows that danced upon the floor. Her hips undulated with a seductive grace that could make even the mightiest of heroes tremble with desire.

With a knowing smile, she leaned in, her mouth opening wide to accommodate his substantial length. Thanion's breath hitched as she took him in, her teeth grazing his sensitive flesh, sending bolts of pleasure through his being. The room grew warmer, the air thick with the scent of lust as she began to bob her head, the sound of her saliva smacking against him echoing through the chamber. He watched, entranced, as her throat convulsed around his shaft, her eyes watering with the effort but never breaking contact with his own.

Their rhythm grew frenzied, driven by a primal need that surpassed the mortal realm. Hades's hands found purchase in her hair, the inky strands tangling around his fingers as he guided her movements. The woman's eyes gleamed with a mix of defiance and adoration, as if she were the one in power, not the god of the Underworld. Each stroke brought him closer to the precipice, his muscles tightening, the tension coiling in his loins like a serpent waiting to strike.

“Hades!” Zeus declared, his voice booming in the cavernous space, a grin tugging at his lips as he surveyed the scene before him. The door behing him slightly swinging still from Zeus's momentum.

Thanion pulled himself from the woman's mouth and turned toward the annoying voice he immediatey recognized; his shirt hung open, revealing a sculpted chest that glistened faintly with the sheen of sweat, as though he’d been in the middle of some heated exchange. His hair, raven-black with a hint of silver streaks at the temples, fell in loose, slightly tangled waves around his sharp, angular face. He was the embodiment of power and poise, save for the sharp glare he directed at his unwelcome guest.

On the bed, a spectral woman lounged with deliberate grace, her form half-transparent and shimmering like the surface of a disturbed pond. Her features were ethereal and ever-changing, her lips curling into a pout as she eyed Zeus with faint annoyance. Her voice, when she spoke, was a haunting melody. “You’re interrupting, Sky King.”

Zeus raised a hand, dismissing her words with a chuckle. “You’ll forgive me, spirit, but this is a matter of family. Hades, you’re a difficult man to track down these days.”

Thanion's storm-gray eyes narrowed dangerously as he regarded his brother. His tone was measured, laced with barely concealed irritation. “I’ve told you,” he said, each word deliberate, “not to call me that.”

Zeus smirked, unbothered by the tension in the air. “Fine,” he conceded with mock solemnity, spreading his arms in a show of magnanimity. “Thanion, Lord of the Underworld, Master of Shadows, Keeper of—”

“Get to the point, Zeus.” Thanion’s voice cut through the air like a blade, his patience visibly wearing thin.

Zeus chuckled again, unperturbed, and gestured around the room. “You know, for someone who claims to hate their title, you’ve certainly embraced the aesthetic. The torches, the black marble, the... ambiance.” He waved a hand toward the spectral woman, who rolled her eyes and vanished into a puff of smoke, leaving the faint scent of lilies in her wake.

Thanion didn’t flinch. His gaze remained locked on Zeus, his expression unreadable but his jaw tight. “Why are you here?”

Zeus took a step closer, the golden embroidery on his robes catching the faint light. “I’ve come to discuss your future bride.”

There was a moment of silence, heavy and palpable. Thanion’s brows drew together, and his arms crossed over his chest, the muscles flexing beneath the loose fabric of his shirt. “Bride?” he echoed, his voice low and tinged with incredulity.

“Yes, bride,” Zeus said, the grin never leaving his face. “You know, marriage? Partnership? The thing mortals do to stop themselves from killing each other in their sleep?”

Thanion’s lips curved into a sardonic smirk. “And you thought I’d be interested in this... why?”

Zeus’ grin faltered slightly, a flicker of irritation crossing his face. “It’s not about you, Thanion. It’s about your subjects. They pray to a queen, not just a king. They need balance, someone to rule alongside you. And Persephone—”

“I’ll have to decline.” Thanion’s interruption was curt, final. He turned away, as though the conversation were already over, his attention shifting to the flickering shadows along the far wall.

But Zeus wasn’t so easily dismissed. His tone hardened, losing its earlier levity. “This isn’t a request, Thanion. It’s an edict. The realms need balance, and you know it. The Underworld has gone too long without a queen.”

Thanion’s shoulders tensed, and he slowly turned back, his eyes glinting like shards of steel. For a moment, the weight of his gaze seemed enough to make even Zeus falter. “Balance?” he repeated, his voice dangerously soft. “You mean control. Another scheme to tether me to your will.”

Zeus took another step forward, his expression now a mix of frustration and determination. “You think too highly of yourself if you believe this is about you. This is about duty, Thanion. About maintaining order. And Persephone is the perfect choice.”

Thanion’s silence stretched, the tension in the room thick enough to choke on. Finally, he let out a low, resigned sigh. “Fine,” he said, the word heavy with reluctance. “But we won’t be married right away. I want to see who she is outside of her mother’s shadow.”

Zeus raised a brow, surprised but pleased. “A reasonable compromise,” he said, his tone lighter now. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”

Thanion’s glare was answer enough.

The flickering blue flames of the torches cast long shadows as the two brothers regarded each other, the weight of their shared history hanging between them. Finally, Zeus turned, his robes swirling dramatically around him as he made his way back toward the door.

“Oh,” he said over his shoulder, a sly grin returning to his face. “You might want to do something about the company you keep. Spirits like her tend to get... jealous.”

Thanion didn’t respond, but his jaw tightened as Zeus disappeared through the doors, leaving him alone in the dim, oppressive silence of his chambers.

He turned back toward the bed, the faint scent of lilies still lingering in the air. His mind churned with the implications of what Zeus had said. Tomorrow, his life would change irrevocably. Whether it would be for better or worse, he couldn’t yet say. But deep down, in the part of him that still held onto the faintest shred of hope, he couldn’t help but wonder.