Heracles can feel the rage growing. His eyes are red with embarrassment. His temper is on fire. Everything that was supposed to happen at the Trial didn’t happen. It was over and now Persephone was going to sit on the throne. Persephone of all people. Here he was in a room with four walls. Sure they were made of the finest granite in the world, but they weren’t good enough. His anger boils over into anger again as he picks up the nearest thing and tosses it.
He doesn’t see Ganymede walking through the door at that moment and barely ducking to get out of the way.
“Get the hell out,” he tells the boy.
The boy doesn’t. He saunters in. Most of the other new Olympians had inherited full-on departments. That’s what they were supposed to do. They were supposed to manage human war, or human love or human medicine. Heracles was supposed to inherit all this shit. He was supposed to be KING! And he lost to a fucking gardener.
Now the only thing left is a Ganymede.
“You needed me, sir. I can always tell when you need me,” Ganymede states.
He has a beer in his hand. Not in one of those fancy goblets that Zeus liked to drink out of either. It’s a cold beer. Heracles stares at it for a little while. Just what he needed. I guess the boy was useful for something after all. He grabs it out of his hand.
“You’ve done your job, now get the hell out and leave me to my pain.”
Ganymede stares at his wound, “You’re hurt.”
It’s more embarrassing than anything.
“They had a weapon. A weapon that killed gods.”
He’d seen it with his own eyes as Cupid died. It had to be breaking some sort of rules when it happened. What happened to a dead god? What part of the Underworld did they go?
“I can call Clep. He’s finally returned from the trials. He can help you if—”
“GET THE HELL OUT!”
He rips off his lion hide and throws it at Ganymede. The boy damn near collapses underneath it. Still, like a fucking annoying ant that didn’t get the idea that a large foot was about to come down on it, Ganymede stuck around. The more he did, the more Heracles just stares at him wondering what the hell the boy had on his mind.
“Iris is outside. She was scared to come in,” he states, daring to walk forward with her message in his hand, “You’ve been invited to Persephone’s coronation.”
“You’ve got to be joking.”
Ganymede shakes his head, “You have to attend, sir. She is queen now. Persephone has threatened anyone who isn’t there to pay her respect and claim her as the rightful Queen of Olympus. The Love Department has rebelled. They are being massacred and sent to the deepest dungeons of her husband’s realm…“
He opens the window at that moment. There was a faint smell of something. He’d smelled it before in all his own personal labors. He’d smelled blood. It was unmistakable.
“Get me my sword,” he states.
He gets up. He needs to do something. He needs to do anything. He was a hero. That’s all he was. He wasn’t a fool. He knew that Thaddeus didn’t love him. He could see it in his eyes. He’d never been good at that. But he could make Thad love him. He could earn his love. If only he could find a way to save the other love gods. If only he could find a way to break into Hades and steal Thad away. He’d done it before.
He picks up his lionskin and tosses it around his naked shoulders. He had work to do.
He doesn’t get far though.
Ganymede is at the door tossing his whole body there blocking him.
“Please. You’re injured.”
“Those are Thad’s people out there being massacred,” he explains, “Move! What happens when there is no love left in the world?”
Ganymede’s eyes don’t move, “There will always be love. Maybe without a love department, there will be no one to mess with love. Maybe love will be simpler. Easier…”
Ganymede attempts to reach out to him. He attempts to touch him. It’s a weird notion. He slaps the hand away as quickly as it comes.
“Thad needs me. Get out of my way.”
“Get the hell out of my way before I break every bone in your body.”
Ganymede doesn’t budge. He had to admit the boy had balls. He was handsome, ridiculously handsome if any mortal were to lay eyes on him. There was a time Heracles would have moved mountains for Ganymede’s smooth structured face or his lean swimmer’s body. Now was different though.
Heracles was a god now.
“Thad is gone,” Ganymede states, “There is no more winning him over. There is no stopping Persephone. She’s already won. Forget him.”
“Let me help you,” Ganymede states, “I’ll always be here to help you.”
“What the fuck could you possibly do?”
Ganymede doesn’t hesitate to show him. Within a matter of seconds, Ganymede is naked. Heracles looks over at his body. He’d oiled up, just the way that Heracles liked his boys. He was shorter than him, but his lean body was smooth. Sexy. Almost immediately his dick gets hard as he sees Ganymede turn around slowly and arch his back into the door. The boy had a nice ass. It was tight and toned from years of serving Zeus.
He bends over at the door. His pink puckering hole is tightened and loosens as though speaking to Heracles from the threshold.
“Let me ease your pain,” Ganymede tells him, looking back.
It’s as though he’s begging for it. His pink asshole pulsating for it. Heracles doesn’t realize he’s touching it until his fingers are pressed up against the hole. There are a few hairs around the rim that brush past his fingertips as he goes into it. He can feel a warmth in there as Ganymede moans deeply.
“You want this dick, don’t you?”
Ganymede was still looking at him as though he was someone who should be respected. After the embarrassment from the trial, not too many people would be looking at him in that way. Ganymede was giving him what he wanted. He knew it but he couldn’t resist.
He grabs Ganymede and lifts his entire body up with one hand. Then he spits into the palm of his other hand and rubs it all around his dick. By now his divine dick was aching at this point. Blood was rushing to its massive head. Precum was pouring out and when he rubs it with the spit there is even more pressure to release all the tension he’s been feeling.
“This is going to hurt,” he warns the cupbearer
The cupbearer is crying from anticipation before his dick even expands inside of him. He feels the warmth of his ass all around him. He pushes the cupbearer down at that moment. Down, down, down onto his dick. When he enters at first it begins to slip right it, but there is a point that he gets stuck. He’s hit a wall. Some sort of barrier. But it means nothing to Heracles. He pushes past it getting deep in there. When his dick enters, there’s feeling from all sides due to the walls of the asshole squeezing the penis.
As he pushes his penis in, the sensation at the tip of his penis intensifies he begins to fuck through his prostate. Each thrust causes the boy to tear up and yell for help. You would think he was killing him. He doesn’t stop though.
He doesn’t stop when the boy starts tearing up as though he was at a funeral. He doesn’t stop when the boy begins to bleed.
“This was what you wanted,” he keeps saying, “This was what you wanted, wasn’t it?”
He doesn’t stop until his stomach has contractions. His hormones, blood vessels, and nerves all work together to ejaculate a stream of his man fluid into the Ganymedes. He cums so much that when he releases the boy, his asshole is gushing the thick divine fluid like a faucet.
He’s too drained to go out and play hero again.
“I’m going to sleep,” he states.
Ganymede smiles. This was probably his plan all along to drain him to the point where he wouldn’t be able to do anything else. He hated to admit it but the boy definitely succeeded with that plan.
“May I come with you?”
Heracles looks at Ganymede. There was that look again. The look of longing. The look that lets him know this boy wanted something from him that he had already given to someone else.
“Thad wouldn’t appreciate that when I save him,” Heracles explains to Ganymede, “Your ass was warm. It was enjoyable, but you’re no Thad. Don’t forget that.”
Persephone is seated on an ivory throne, hands-on lap and feet hidden under long white drapery. Vines magically grow at her feet. The throne has arms and in front of her is a footstool with feet. Demeter holds onto the seat for dear life. She holds it so hard that her fingernails crush the ivory. An attendant wearing a chiton at her side must notice her anxiousness because she keeps smiling at Persephone in this odd way.
“You look stunning mistress,” the girl says.
Mistress? For so many years she had been called that. It’s a term meant for a woman in some sort of authority. It was never clearly defined. It’s because it never fucking meant anything. Mistress also had another meaning. It was the other woman. A woman who never had the title. A woman who never had the ring. A woman who was stolen from her mother and kidnapped and forced to live in the depths of hell. That was a mistress. No one cared about that sort of pain. She wouldn’t have to feel that pain any longer though. She’d never be out of control again.
She’d never be a mistress again.
“Queen,” she corrects her.
“You look stunning Queen.”
It’s too late.
She wouldn’t let anyone get away with disrespecting her. Not in anyway. With a snap of her finger vines grow out of the ground and wrap the attendant up. The attendant cries out in horror! All you hear is a muffled gasp for help as the girl is immediately changed into a cherry blossom tree.
“Redecorating?” a voice states.
She turns and sees Thalia standing there. Thalia had a knack for appearing places at odd times.
“I thought this place could use some decoration. You know? For my coronation.”
“All the minor gods are gathered outside ready to come in and pay their respects ma’am,” Thalia states.
Thalia nods, “There were whispers that he would try to rebel at first. But if he’s smart he’ll show up along with Heracles, Clep and the rest of the gods. I think he’s still quite upset that I betrayed him.”
“He should have known you were working for me the whole time,” Persephone responds, “We needed a brave idiot who was dumb enough to release the Titans. What did you promise him?”
“The same thing they all want, Queen Persephone. I promised him power.”
“He’s a fool. Well, you did good work. As promised, I have your reward,” Persephone promises Thalia, “I had Aura and Nike raid the Love Department and kill all the minor gods of love. There they found the prize that you wanted.”
Persephone looks under her footstool. Thalia had first come to her with the idea that it was time to overthrow the Olympians. Of course, Persephone wasn’t the type to ever get her hands dirty. That would have been too tricky if it backfired. Luckily there was a headstrong son of Ares who was willing to do it for her. Persephone didn’t have to break a sweat. She never had. She knew how to work people. She knew how to find out what they wanted and use it to get what she wanted. What Thalia wanted was strange though.
None-the-less she pulls out the piece of fabric and hands it to Thalia. The way Thalia takes the piece of fabric is so delicate. She almost worships the thing. Thalia’s eyes light up. You would think Persephone was handing her the lightning bolts of Zeus himself.
“The girdle of Aphrodite.”
“It was hidden away in the temple of Love on Olympus,” Persephone states, “What’s the point of having the thing.”
“Just a moment,” Thalia tells her, “No reason of note. Aphrodite was the cause of my disfigurement. So it’s personal.”
Persephone shrugs off the idea. It must be horrible to be a hideous Olympian. There weren’t many of those around. She felt bad for Thalia. Maybe her playing dress up in the god of love’s clothes would make her feel a little less like a monster hiding beneath her mask. It was the least Persephone could do for all of Thalia’s hard work.
“Well, it’s almost time. Have you heard from my husband?”
“I sent him multiple messages,” Persephone states, “I would think he would leave the Underworld for my coronation.”
“Hades never leaves the Underworld ma’am. Don’t take it personally.”
It was hard not to take it personally. Regardless of how much she hated the Underworld, she found herself growing to love Hades in a way. He did his best trying to make her comfortable there. He built her a garden. He gave her all the riches any queen could ask for. It wasn’t his fault that the Underworld was the way it is. She’d never need to return to the Underworld again, but she’d hoped she could convince Hades to come to Olympus.
They were married after all.
“Open the doors for the others,” she states.
She tries to wipe the disappointment from her face. She had an ebony throne built right beside her for Hades. She figured he would look so handsome next to her on Olympus. His stoic face never smiled. It was full of purpose and mission. He was the sexiest man to her, even when he came and kidnapped her. She wondered if it was right to have feelings for her kidnapper. She never showed it, of course. She wouldn’t give him the luxury of knowing that she felt some sort of love. Not while she was being held prisoner, but now that she was Queen things would be different.
Still, she stares over at the Ebony throne. The throne was empty now. It was already so fucking embarrassing for her that he wouldn’t have come to Olympus.
“Open the gates.”
Clep shuffles into the room. It’s packed with all the gods. The new Olympians are supposed to stand towards the front. He can’t believe he’s here. He can’t believe that Persephone of all people had won the trial and was going to be Queen.
And he’s not alone.
“You look like you want to kill someone,” he states.
He’s looking at Deimos. Most people thought that Heracles was the one who had Thad’s eye, but Clep knew different. He watched from afar how Thad looked at Deimos. Thad hadn’t looked at him that way, not yet at least. Looking at Deimos now he wondered what Thad saw in him. Deimos was covered in tattoos and every other week there was a new scar resurfacing. He was the opposite of Clep. Clep was an intellect. He was clean cut. Deimos was a war dog. Even now he had this look on his face as though he was ready to bear his teeth.
“Should I be looking like I am ready to bend the knee…”
Bend the knee. That was what they were here to do. During the coronation, everyone “bends the knee”. That is showing loyalty to the new king. In this case, it was showing loyalty to the new Queen. You’d be taking your vows as Olympians to serve that new Queen no matter what. Persephone was already on her throne. Her head was held high. Next to her was a beautiful cherry blossom. She was reminding everyone that she was the daughter of Demeter. She had every right to be where she was. She had one of the trials. Whether she won fair or not didn’t matter. The fact is she won and no one was going to take that away from her.
“That’s what we’re here to do,” Clep states, “Or didn’y you read the fucking invitation?”
“You seem to be OK with this,” Deimos states, “Aren’t you in charge of the Muses.”
There is beautiful music playing. Music to celebrate Persephone. What Deimos is referring to is the fact that Clep had organized the chorus of voices on the stage right now. His father Apollo had often times used his mythical lyre to function as the leader of the Muses as they entertained the other gods. He had inherited that privilege.
“That’s my job.”
Deimos looked like he could spit on Clep for saying something like that, “Do you know what she’s done?”
“No. You didn’t see it though,” Deimos responds, “Persephone killed Cupid during a trial. It was against the rules. Then she had her huntresses raid the Love temples. They raped it of everything, killed them with God-killers and burned the temple to the ground.”
“I’ve heard,” Clep repeats.
They called it the day that love died. The stones of Olympus ran red with blood. There hadn’t been this much violence amongst the gods since the Titanomachy. And all the gods were helpless to do anything about it. Persephone had Nike, Aura, Krill, and Thalia all completely loyal to her. The other gods were quick to fall in line as well. There was no one to stand against her.
Both Deimos and Clep notice someone walking into the room. He’s late but he’s here. It’s Heracles. There was a look in his eyes as he sulks up against the wall away from everyone else.
“Even Heracles has lost it,” Deimos states.
Clep shakes his head, “What do you want him to do?”
“Not bow to the woman who violated the person he swears he loves,” Deimos responds.
Clep shakes his head, “When the time comes to bow to her, we won’t have a choice. Not unless the war department to end up like the Love Department.”
“The gods of war won’t be so easy,” Deimos promises.
Deimos has this look in his eyes. It’s this maddened look.
“You going to raise hell, huh?” Clep asks him, “Please spare me the bullshit. Thad is dead. We lost our shot at bringing him back to life. There’s no one left to impress.”
Clep puts his head down. He blames himself. He should have talked Thad out of it. He wanted so much to be a resource for Thad though. It was love at first sight with Thad, without Thad even recognizing it. If he was stronger, like Apollo, he would have told Thad it was a bad idea to try to go to the Underworld. He’d done his part when Thad’s father had returned to Earth. He’d made sure his soul was reconnected to his body.
And then he waited.
He waited day in and day out for Thad to come as well. Thad never came. He felt like he had to do something. He wasn’t a warrior like Deimos. He wasn’t a hero like Heracles. He was just a man in love. So he found his father’s old armor and learned how to shoot his father’s bow. For a moment he had everyone fooled. For a moment they all thought it was Apollo himself that was entering that Trial. Apollo loved hard and he’d inherited that passion from his father.
The thing is most of Apollo’s love affairs ended up in tragedy and it seemed Clep had inherited that from his father as well.
“It’s all over,” Clep whispers under his breath, “It’s all over.”
It’s the reason that Heracles was looking at the ground. Not too far from them, Hebe was already bowing as though hoping when the time comes it wouldn’t be much of a scene since she was already on her knees. There was so much fucking embarrassment spread out for all of them. There was no point in being angry like Deimos.
“She violated Thad,” Deimos states, “You fail him, Asclepius.”
Deimos seems stuck on the name for some reason. It’s odd. The way he’s talking is odd as well. Thad was a thing of the past. He wasn’t coming back. What didn’t Deimos understand about that?
“You think you’re the only one who cared about him?” Clep asks, “I’ve watched him since he came to Olympus. He loved you and you fucked someone in front of his face. Now you’re in my face telling me that I failed him?”
“It wasn’t like that…”
“It was exactly like that,” Clep argues, “If Thad gave me half the affection that he showed you, I would have made sure that I showed him the love he deserves right back.”
Deimos shakes his head, “I…I didn’t want to get distracted. Thalia said that I shouldn’t.”
“The same Thalia that is on her right-hand side now?” Clep asks.
They both look up at the throne. Sure enough, Thalia had joined the sycophants who were lining up for Persephone to praise her as though she was Zeus with tits.
“She said my father had fallen in the same trap. I tried so hard to be better than my father.”
For a moment Clep looks at Deimos and he feels him. He feels the pain of being an heir. Apollo and Ares were the originals. They were gone now. It was up to Clep and Deimos to fill their shoes. They were pretty big shoes to fill.
“We are never going to be our fathers. If we want to be or not,” he explains to Deimos, “At the end…when things are done we just need to make the most of this.”
“Or we fight…” Deimos states.
“What do you have planned?” Clep asks.
Deimos has a knife in his hand. It wasn’t a god killer. What the hell did he think he was going to do with a regular knife against the Queen of the Gods at her coronation. He looks at the knife and almost laughs. It’s clear he’s desperate.
“We have to do something,” Deimos states, “Anything.”
“It’s a suicide mission. That’s saying a lot because you’re an immortal.”
“So we just bend the knee.”
“If you love Thad like you said you did…you’d fight with me…”
There is a pause. Fuck. Deimos knew exactly what he was saying when he brought up Thad. Now Clep is standing there. There was no one to impress. Thad wasn’t seeing this. He was in the Underworld. Still, the thought of Thad wasn’t dead. The thought of Thad was still with him. He remembered staring at Thad’s body after he died. He still had it frozen away hoping one day the soul would return.
“I…I don’t know…”
“We don’t have much time. Either you’re with me or you’re not,” Deimos states.
They didn’t have much time. The music had stopped. The Muses of Apollo had put down their instruments and stop singing their songs. Ganymede, the cupbearer had sauntered towards all of them giving them goblets of Ambrosia, the drink of the gods. This was needed in order to drink to the long rule of the new Queen of the Gods.
Clep’s heart beats faster and faster.
Would he fight? Would he stand with Deimos?
“I need your answer,” Deimos whispers to him.
“Yes…” Clep states.
He can’t believe he was agreeing to this. They would be killed for sure. He knew it. They probably wouldn’t get close to Persephone and if they did then what? They didn’t have a god killer. Even if they did have a god killer did it all matter? Did any of it matter?
Hades never released anyone from the Underworld but he would probably release his wife if she was wronged. She’d be back. There would be no getting rid of her.
“ALL HAIL, Queen Persephone,” the fates announce from below the Queen’s footstool on her elevated platform, “All take a knee and hold your goblets in the air.”
Clep turns around. People were taking knees everywhere. Slowly everyone was beginning to take a knee. His eyes turn to Heracles as he notices the God of Strength himself give up and take a knee at that moment. He notices Heracles still grasping his abdomen. Clep knew a wound more than he knew anything else in the world. Heracles had been stabbed with a god-killer.
That’s what would happen to them if they don’t take a knee.
“She said to take a knee,” Queen Persephone calls out from her throne.
He hadn’t noticed he was still standing. He hadn’t noticed that Deimos and him were the only ones at this point still standing. His legs were like glue at that moment.
“Do as she says,” one of the fates says, “It is law.”
They would be outlaws if they didn’t. A few more seconds pass by without Deimos moving. Clep is sweating! He’s shaking! He hadn’t brought his bow. He was defenseless.
“This is your last warning,” Persephone states.
His chest is beating hard! He has to find courage. If today was the day he died then he hoped he would see Thad in the Underworld among the sea of dead souls.
He was doing this for Thad! He was doing this for love!
To his right, he can see Nike. She had a god-killer. Aura has another. It’s as though more have been created. It makes sense because Thalia was the one who created them. He watches as they stand as well ready to attack him. To the right he sees the huge Cyclops getting up. They would go to war if he disrespected their queen.
It didn’t matter.
Persephone could kill the minor gods of love, but love would not die. Love would never die!
All of a sudden there is a calm. It’s the most beautiful calm in the world. And in the silence and anxiousness of everything, there is something that breaks the dark tension.
The sounds of birds chirping.
“What—what is that?” Deimos asks Clep.
Clep doesn’t know. He’d expected the sounds of fighting in the next few seconds but it’s not that. Birds were chirping.
Something was coming.
The doors open. Ahead of me is a chariot. Hades had his best souls create the chariot. I hold on to the straps as I draw forward. Ahead of me is Persephone. Her eyes glued to me like every other eye in the room. I can almost read her expression. Her moment has been ruined. She stands with the most livid anger on her face. This moment was supposed to be all about her. It was supposed to be the moment where she was made the queen.
Something else was happening though.
Others in the room rejoice as my chariot moves forward. My jewel-encrusted, golden chariot was drawn through the sky by a team of doves.
People are leaving their stations. They are forgetting the coronation.
They only have one thought. They only have one interest.
“Thaddeus is back.”