The Good Counselor Ch. 01

"Of course he does." Hera rolled her eyes. "It feels strange to even say these words, but I wish Zeus and Poseidon could be more like Hades."

Hestia sputtered, nearly choking on her tea. "What?"

"He stays where he ought, and performs his duties with all the steadfast dullness we've come to expect of him. No scheming, no power games... Fates, he never showed his face until he came to claim his bride. He's been so..." Hera scrunched her face thoughtfully. "Perfectly reasonable."

"Reasonable? Hera, he plunged the world into famine and darkness over a girl. Courtly intrigues are tiresome, but never so disastrous as that." She spoke low, as though the words themselves were a grave curse. "This flame nearly went out."

Hera scoffed. "That was all Demeter's doing. Had she behaved like a proper mother, not a stalk of wheat would have withered. The Stygian betrothal had been in place since the war. It was her folly not allowing Persephone to marry the husband chosen for her. A king no less..."

"Yes, perhaps if she'd considered what a fine queen her daughter would make. And what a faithful husband Hades would be." Hestia set down her cup, her eyes sparkling. "You should send a summons."

"Invite Hades?"

"No, not him... Zeus would feel upstaged. I mean Persephone."

Hera ground her teeth. "Demeter's bastard."

"Did you hear about what she did to that girl who tried to—"

"Yes." Hera said. "I know. She scared my poor Hephaestus with her theatrics. Nevermind the spectacle she made of herself in Ephyra!"

Hestia winced.

Too sharp, she scolded herself. She set down the cup and stood, brushing her peplos back into place. Hera meandered through the chamber, eyeing the various herb filled pithos as she went, taking in each heady scent. She searched along the wall and found a familiar jar, then glanced at Hestia contritely. She was Queen of Heaven, but this was her sister's domain.

Hestia nodded and Hera pulled an alabastron of rosewater from the shelf, flecking some into her tea, then rubbing the rest on her wrists.

"Perhaps inviting her would make your afternoon less of a chore."

"What, tomorrow? To Olympus? She's not one of us. She's a byblow—"

"Perhaps not, but neither is Amphitrite an Olympian. Persephone is Queen of the Underworld, and equal in rank to Amphitrite." Hestia smiled wistfully. "A meeting of queens..."

Hera sighed, but then narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. "All I ever heard after the Pomegranate Agreement was Persephone this, Persephone that. Most, if not all of them falsehoods. What do you know of her?"

"Only a little. But you may have more in common with Persephone than you know. You could learn more of her; ask her about this Elysion that she and her lord husband have built. Perhaps you could even strengthen the bonds between the Lands Below and the Heavens."

Hestia had struck upon something, Hera realized. The rulers of the dead had only grown in influence since their marriage. With Persephone as her friend, the two queens could easily overrule Amphitrite. And if Hera proved her worth in forming a powerful alliance with them, what would Zeus say then?

"If I brought her into my circle, it would only strengthen us. And prove to him once and for all that I can make peace with his baseborn spawn."

"You remember how he welcomed you back after... that ill-gotten plot with Apollo and Poseidon? It was a very long time before he strayed again"

"Sixscore years." Hera allowed herself a smile of grim satisfaction. "The longest he'd been faithful since we were newly wed."

"Less time you have to spend chasing a wandering husband, then." Hestia ladled another cup of water over her herbs. "Another thing I don't mind missing out on."

"Ha! I should be so lucky," Hera said. "If all goes accordingly, that would mean Hades would be Zeus's closest example of proper marriage."

"And we do know how he likes to be on top." This time, Hestia smirked.

"I know him. He'd try instead to best his brother at the game of fidelity... He'd lose, of course, at first, but that would make him far less brazen about his exploits. Cowed, even. And who knows? Perhaps chasing flesh would lose its lustre one day." The Queen of Heaven set down her cup and stared at the flames. She laughed softly to herself as the solutions to Amphitrite, that Theban harlot, and any whores that would follow fell into her lap.

Hestia shrugged. "I leave the marital intrigue to you, dear sister. It will be a royal event. The first meeting of the Queens of all three realms."

"My lord won't like being upstaged."

"Oh, don't hold it in the symposium. Invite them to your villa. If Zeus protests, just remind him that your hospitality is long overdue." Hestia's serene face cracked into a sly smile. "And remember, your home is your domain. You would have the last word."

"I'd hardly have to get his permission. In his mind, nothing would humiliate Poseidon more than coming second to a meeting of goddess queens." Hera wrinkled her brow and grew solemn. "What if Persephone is more trouble than Amphitrite?"

"I shouldn't think so. They say she is closer to your temperament. She's a quiet but strong ruler. I'm sure she has just as low an opinion of Demeter as you, given their circumstances. And she's practically a paragon of wifely virtue."

"So I win her over, and the feared Praxidike becomes my loyal pet. Is that what you're saying?"

"Perish the thought. Finish your tea, and then send her an invitation."

***

The ether rushed around her in a twist of silver and crimson and she emerged in the great atrium of her villa in Thesprotia. It had been abandoned for generations when Persephone had found it, and was said to be filled with the ghosts of the extinguished House of Aeolus.

Persephone knew better.

If any spirits remained, she would have wrenched them from this world already. She herself had sentenced three of that wicked family to Tartarus, Sisyphus chief among them.

Willows overhung the entire house, shielding it from the main road that led to the sea. It was modest, a short ways from the city of Cichyrus. A copse of bedraggled cypresses marked the path leading to the entrance, and thistles grew thick around the door. To the idly passing eyes of the outside world, this place was as uninhabited as it was foreboding.

But inside, it was paradise. Roses climbed the walls of the atrium garden and crocus blanketed the floor, growing through every crack in its deteriorating mosaic. A pomegranate tree— planted by Aidoneus on his first visit to their home in the world above— grew in the very center, shading a large oak stump beneath it. It was here that she found him turning a fruit over in his palm. It hadn't come from this tree— it was only starting to blossom. This fruit came from the lands below, from their sacred grove at the entrance to Elysion. He set it down and stood.

Persephone picked up her skirts and rushed to him. He gripped her waist and she felt her feet tilt off the ground as he lifted her level with his face. Their lips met, and she sighed, melting into him. His joy and eagerness flooded into her, mellowed by tenderness and spiked with lust, warmed with relief.

And a metallic undertone of trepidation.

She eased back. "Is something troubling you?"

"No. Not yet," he said, setting her down. "Did you take care of it?"

"He's gone. His court is dispersed, and Minthe is by her mother's side." He scowled at the mention of her name. Placing the remains of the annihilated nymph by her mother's grave had been Persephone's idea. Hades had been less forgiving when they'd discussed it. "How is everything back home?"

"Empty as ever when you aren't there, sweet one. How was this year's planting?"

"The same as ever." She hooked her arm into his and leaned in as they walked the walled garden paths. She quivered at the contact. It had been two months since her fingers had been upon his skin. She could feel his pulse and the warmth of his flesh. He smelled of raw earth, of cypress, and the cool waters— everything she missed about Chthonia. The Underworld. Her true home. Persephone glanced up and caught him chewing the inside of his lip. His mind was distant, but she knew he would eventually reveal where. She let him ruminate while she spoke. "A bit less grain to sow this year, though. She was so anxious last harvest, it affected everything."

"Your mother needs to stop worrying after her paramour."

"I've told her as much. But can you even call Triptolemus that anymore? They share the Telesterion, but more as friends than lovers. They haven't shared a bed since—"

"I regret mentioning it," he muttered hastily.

"Ah." She fidgeted. "Hermes may have picked up Minoan."

"What?"

"Unless you told him that Bellerophon broke his family's curse and was granted a place in Elysion."

Aidoneus gritted his teeth. "Damn him and his meddling..."

"I knew it! I knew he was lying. He denied reading your last letter to me, but how else would he know?"

"I'll have a word with him."

"What if that's not the extent of it? What if he tells them about this place?"

"He won't. I made him swear on the Styx."

Persephone turned to him. "If the mortals know that you— that we spend time here, there will be endless interruptions. They'll stop sowing crops. Some will leave, and the rest will build a gaudy temple. And the favors and quests of the rustic gods and hemitheoi—"

"They'll do no such thing because Hermes will keep his mouth shut."

"Will he?"

"He will. He takes Stygian oaths seriously."

"How will we send letters and parcels to each other now?" A shiver rolled through her as he cupped her face with his hand.

"Perhaps I should hand-deliver them." Aidon leaned down and gave her the lightest, slowest of kisses. His dark eyes locked onto hers as he pulled back. "Though there's something else I'm intent on giving you presently."

Heat rushed to her cheeks. She threw her arms around his neck and collided with him, kissing him gracelessly in return, their teeth clicking together. He chuckled low and traced her spine with his fingertips.

"Eager, are we?"

"Come," Persephone whispered. "Let me show you what I've been up to this season."

***

Aidoneus picked up the half pomegranate and followed her up the stairs. "A full season of sowing and still you found the time?"

"Barely enough. I vanished just after Thesmophoria to spend a few hours here alone, and I think Mother is starting to suspect—"

Aidon kissed away the name. The last person he wanted to think about right now was Demeter. He inhaled Persephone's scent of roses and lilac, larkspur and irises. "This is my time with you. And no one else. Not Hermes, not your mother..."

Not Orpheus? Her voice rang through his head.

Aidon stopped. Did she knew where he had been? That he had spoken to the hymnist?

"His name was in your mind. Were you thinking about what Eumolpus said? Do you think..."

"I don't want you to be disappointed again, sweet one," he interrupted sharply. "I can't bear it. Not after last time."

She nodded.

He needed to distract her, or his visit to Samothrace would come pouring out unbidden. And going further down that road would only raise her hopes fruitlessly. Especially if she knew he was motivated enough to speak to Orpheus himself. "I practiced a flower while I waited for you."

Persephone smiled. "You did?"

Their hieros gamos had not only created Elysion, but— to their mutual delight— had conferred upon each other some of their unique talents. Persephone had even called up iron from the earth seven winters ago. "Watch, sweet one."

Aidoneus concentrated on the ground before him, and felt the beating warm life rush through him, from his feet upward. Each time he tried it he marveled. This must be what she had felt throughout her lifetime each time she created a new living thing. At first he'd worried that he would taint life itself if he tried to imitate her— that his efforts would result in a blight simply because of who he was. But they were the Gods of the Earth, he remembered, one and the same, infinitely bound and part of each other. He closed his eyes, feeling the telltale pulse in first his abdomen and rising through his chest as a bulb grew, opened, and split the ground. The stalk shot upright, bursting at the tip into a purple iris. He heard clapping and opened his eyes. Persephone exhaled softly, her hand gripping her hips. "My favorite part," she said, "is feeling it move through you."

"'It'?"

"The earth, everything I have ever called up in— it's hard to give it a name. More of a feeling. But it moves so... differently through you."

"And you can sense every bit of... it." He already knew the answer.

Of course I can, her voice rang, stronger this time. She turned and started strolling through the palace, showing him a centuries-old tapestry she'd found in the collapsed storage room, the vibrant ochres and deep blues sealed away and saved from the ravages of sun and wind. She picked up her skirts and climbed the stairs to the gynaikeion, giving him a glimpse of her ankles and mud stained feet. Aidon followed, listening to her describe how she'd made it into a place fit for them to sleep, to make love...

"Aidon?"

He smiled. "I was distracted. Forgive me."

She bit coyly at her lip. "It's similar, but just a single room. I thought black fleeces would work, but they're hard to find in the world above. Used for sacrifices too often to..."

"To me."

"So they seldom sell them to anyone but priests. It took me a bit of searching, but I eventually found what I needed."

"How?"

"An agora in Locri. They were guarded at first, especially since I'm a woman. But no one asked questions after the gold came out. I suppose it helps when your husband is the richest being in the cosmos," she said.

Aidon laughed. He looked up, and instead of the familiar dome patterned with stars, this flat ceiling was covered with tiny jasmine blooms— their growth carefully trained and arranged to reflect the summer sky. One vine wound toward the center, marking the tail of the Scorpion, and another the bow of the Lyre.

The Lyre... had she chosen this grouping of stars for a reason? He pushed it from his wandering mind. Aidon wanted to peel Persephone's clothes off and press skin to skin, to seat himself as deeply within her as he could. But he also wanted to give her due respect as she showed him the work she'd done since they last met here.

This, he realized, was why he was creating these nervous distractions. But her breath was hitching, and he could feel her skin warming and prickling every time she glanced at him, could feel the flutter in her abdomen as though it were his own, and hear the slight tremble in her voice. His wife was being coy. Stalling. She wanted him to make the first move, the first touch. He would torture her a moment longer.

As Persephone drew closer to the fleece covered divan, his gaze rested on her hips, the pins that held her peplos taut over her skin, and the ornate girdle he had timidly left as a gift in her chamber on the fifth day he'd known her. How different it was now. Her back was turned. He plucked a seed from the pomegranate and held it under his tongue. He was as impatient for her touch as she was for his.

Aidoneus flicked his wrist, and fibulae scattered to all corners of the room. The girdle fell muffled in the heap of fabric, and Persephone gave startled gasp. He chuckled, ambling toward her as the rest of the peplum slinked from her breasts, her only adornment the flowery crown she wore in the spring and summer. Her blue-grey eyes were wide with shock and her hands instinctively covered her breasts and mons.

"It is good to know," he said, stepping free of his own clothes, "that after all these years I can still surprise you."

"I-I..." The blush creeping up her neck told him all he needed to know.

One piece of cloth remained, the only one not held by pins. Aidon reached behind and untied his loincloth by hand and let it drop to the floor. He gripped the half pomegranate in one hand and lifted the crown from her head with the other, then casually tossed the woven flowers aside. Aidon could feel the heat of her even through the half a pace between them. Her heels and chin lifted up so she was level with him, her eyes were lidded and her lips neared his. She relished in his guttural groan as she brushed her hand up his hip, his stomach and chest. "You'll have to put that down."

"Oh, will I?" He smiled and lifted the ripe fruit between them.

"What else do you plan to do with it?" She took a step back.

"Kiss me, wife, and find out."

The half smile he had missed so very much these last two months appeared on Persephone's face and she closed the distance between them. Aidon sighed as his phallus pressed against her belly, as her breasts fit against his chest. He pulled her with his forearm at the small of her back, and snaked the free fingers of his other hand through her hair. Her lips quivered against his before he flicked his tongue against them, bidding them to open. When they did, he pushed the ripe pomegranate seed he'd hidden away past her lips, onto her tongue, and broke the kiss to watch her.

Persephone locked her eyes with his and rolled the seed around in her mouth until it burst. Her soft moan sent a jolt straight to his groin. She kissed him again and he could taste the juice on her tongue. She pulled at his lip and nipped at his jaw. "You'll have to drop it at some point, husband."

"Oh, I will. One seed at a time, sweet one." He followed as she backed toward the divan. His cock pulsed hot between them, and her breath shuddered. He caught the scent of lilac. Her knee bumped the edge and with a light push, he sent her sprawling back onto the fleece, her hair a tangle underneath her. Aidon knelt beside her, drawing out her long auburn hair behind her, over the arm of the divan.

It's sweet that you do that, her voice echoed in his mind.

It's largely self interest, he responded, giving her a wolfish grin. It's made us stop before... at key moments, and you know how much I hate being interrupted. He breathed next to her ear. "And it gives me something to grasp when I want to look at your face..."

She writhed. "Aidon, come."

"Not yet," he said with a light kiss. "Not for a long spell, either."

"It's been too long, husband. Stop teasing me."

"I won't leave you unsatisfied..."

He knew what she meant. He wanted that connection as badly as she... the slow sinking of flesh into flesh, the movement and rapture of lovemaking, the afterglow in which they could hold each other, feel their racing hearts slow in unison, and just be. But watching her twist with desire for him was intoxicating. Watching her lose control as she reached ecstacy, more so. They could wait.

He plucked another seed and held it high above her, then crushed it between his thumb and forefinger, sending a spray of dark juice across her pale breast and neck. Persephone let out a delighted squeal. He traced its path with his tongue, rasping at her nipple as he went. He burst another seed. And another, collecting every drop and sharing it with her in a kiss. Her amusement was quickly replaced with want, growing toward frustration. She writhed under him and sucked in a breath. "Aidon..."

The sound of his name, and the breathy tone he'd heard only in dreams for aeons until he'd come to her, destroyed his resolve.

He grasped the rough skin of the pomegranate and held it high before crushing it to pulp in his fist. He tossed the spent fruit aside. Juice trickled across her belly, pooling in her navel, running in rivulets across her waist and into the nest of curls between her thighs. It dripped from her skin onto the divan and the floor. He drank it from her flesh, too slowly to keep all of it from escaping. But that would just mean exploring more of her with his tongue.