“Welcome,” she said. “Lord Hades is honored to reveal this year’s charity, The Halcyon Project.”
The lights dimmed, and a screen lowered, playing a short video about the project. Hades was not sentimental, but this was a project that felt like his whole heart. Maybe that was because it was inspired by Persephone, or that he had been heavily involved in the design of the building, choosing the technology, and the services the facility would provide. Each time Katerina, the director of his foundation, would ask him questions, he answered them thinking of Persephone. It was his hope that she would be proud of this, that she would see how much her words meant to him.
Hades made his way on stage in the dark, and when the lights came up, he stood before a crowd that cheered at the sight of him. As they quieted, he spoke.
“Days ago, an article was published in New Athens News. It was a scathing critique of my performance as a god, but among those angry words were suggestions on how I could be better. I don’t imagine the woman who wrote it expected me to take those ideas to heart, but in spending time with her, I started to see things her way.” He smirked, chuckling, thinking of how fierce she could be when defending mortals. “I’ve never met anyone who was so passionate about how I was wrong, so I took her advice and initiated The Halcyon Project. As you move though the exhibit, it is my hope that Halcyon will serve as a flame in the dark for the lost.”
Gods and mortals alike shot to their feet, clapping, and Hades retreated, uncomfortable with the spotlight. He wanted to dematerialize into darkness for the rest of the evening, but he also wanted to know what Persephone thought of the project. He stood aside as a line of people made their way into the exhibit, eyes catching Aphrodite’s, who glared at him, probably having not forgiven him for the threat he had leveled at Adonis.
He averted his gaze and searched for Persephone, finding her at her table. He recognized the look on her face, as he had seen it the first time she had arrived at Nevernight.
She was hesitating.
She did not approach until almost everyone had gone inside, and as she did, Hades followed, calling up his glamour to walk beside her. It felt intrusive to observe her this way, but also intimate, and he marveled at the serene expression on her face as she took her time wandering through the exhibit, stopping at each poster to look at concept drawings of the building and gardens, statistics about the current state of addiction and mental health in New Greece, and how those numbers had only increased since The Great War.
She lingered the longest at a 3D printed model of the actual building and expansive grounds, full of trees and gardens and secret pathways. He thought about approaching her, but there was something beautiful about the look on her face—something contemplative and gentle—and he did not want to disturb her, so he left.
Outside the exhibit, Hades found his brother, Zeus. The God of Thunder grinned, looking more like the ancient King of the Gods than the modern man he usually attempted to embody, standing half-dressed beside Hera.
“Well played, brother.” He clapped Hades on the back, and the god curled his fingers into a fist to keep from punching him. “You have the entire world swooning over your compassion.”
“Well done,” Hera said, sounding bored. She met Hades’ eyes only briefly before craning her neck, looking elsewhere across the room, her arm still looped through her husband’s.
“What are you talking about, Zeus?” Hades asked.
“The mortal!” he cried. “Using her slander to your advantage. Genius, really.”
Hades glared. He had not seen this as an opportunity to make himself look better and he hated that his brother was corrupting his intentions, but it was not surprising.
“I desire no such praise or attention,” Hades said. Persephone had valid points, and he listened.
“Of course you didn’t,” Zeus quipped, nudging Hades in the side, as if they were sharing some sort of secret. “I must admit, I kept my expectations low when I heard the Gala would be themed after your realm, but this…this is nice.”
“What praise,” Hades commented blandly. “If you’ll excuse me, I need a drink.”
Hades sidestepped his brother and Hera, and headed straight for the bar. He ordered a whiskey and downed it quickly, wondering how much longer he needed to stay here. It was not as if these people came for him or even the charity. It was about the fashion, the drinking, the dancing, the fun, except this was not Hades’ idea of fun. He had wanted to spend the night between Persephone’s legs, giving and receiving pleasure.