But he had.
Not that any other place would have been better for a Phlegethon daemon without his mate to fill the centuries with joy. Everywhere was a prison, be it the heavens, sea or the Underworld.
At least in the Underworld, he could make some changes and improve the afterlife of the
dead. He could free the unfairly imprisoned souls of Tartarus. He could reward Leuce, her family, and others with paradise.
The white stone steps ended at the steps of a rundown palace, fading into a black stone path leading to the towering eyesore of Tartarus. He turned away from his former prison and faced his current one. Studying the single level ruin of grayish marble flecked with precious jewels that was his palace, he shook his head at its disrepair. While the location of the place was ideal, the palace had been abandoned centuries ago and, upon closer inspection, not willingly. Scorch marks on the stone told him plainly, there had been a battle here.
Breathing deeply, he removed all occupants and personal items from the palace with a
thought then gathered his power for the task of restoring the indefensible ruin.
What took seconds to destroy, took hours to rebuild and when he finished, he was exhausted yet happier with the results. Black obsidian roofs and pure white marble walls arched upward and spiraled outward in a defensive maze with plenty of room for the occupants of the palace to fill. Four towers at each corner gave him the added advantage of knowing what happened in his kingdom at all times.
In a field of color, his palace would be the beacon calling all enemies to him. Hopefully, any army would attack him and not the innocent occupants of the Underworld.
He walked up the steps of his palace and entered his new home. A plush rug of deep scarlet ran the length of the hall, muffling the footsteps behind him. Silver mirrors, five-feet-tall-by-three-feet-wide, interspersed with smokeless torches, lined the entry hall, creating a glowing ambience of light.
As freeing as it was to create his own palace in his new kingdom, it changed nothing. He was still a prisoner in the Underworld. Sure, this was a better set up this time, but it was still hell.
“Hey, nice redecorating,” a man’s voice said appreciatively at his shoulder, “Though, the ebony and cherry wood furniture is a tad dark for my tastes. But I prefer it to white trimmed in gold or silver.”
Hades glanced at the god with spiky platinum blond hair who shivered dramatically as if in dread of the hated decorating faux pas. He grinned at Hades. “Thought for a moment I made a wrong turn at the path. But since it only leads here…What happened to the gaudy atrocity I use to live in?”
Hades shook his head. He’d never understand the god known by many as Death. Thanatos
was so contrary to his fearsome reputation, it was disturbing. Although as a child he’d wanted to be just like Thanatos.
When Hades said nothing, Thanatos turned to the two goddesses. “I leave for a few hours and you all decided to change things on me!” he said in mock fury.
Hades walked away, but it didn’t stop the constant prattle. If Thanatos hoped to draw Hades into conversation, he would be sorely disappointed because Hades didn’t feel like talking.
Entering the throne room, the torches flared to life, reflecting the truth of his longing. Two thrones sat at the end of the hall, a small table on either side of them. The one on the left was black obsidian with a cushion of bright red for him while the one on the right was an iridescent white with a cushion of dark red for his Queen.
He threw himself onto the throne, casting his legs over the side, and lounged back into the cushions. He had to put Persephone out of his mind long enough to focus on the tasks ahead of him. The entire Underworld needed some restructuring and organization. While reviewing the records of Tartarus and the Elysian Fields, Hades dispatched summons for all those who weren’t among the dead and made
Not that any other place would have been better for a Phlegethon daemon without his mate to fill the centuries with joy. Everywhere was a prison, be it the heavens, sea or the Underworld.
At least in the Underworld, he could make some changes and improve the afterlife of the
dead. He could free the unfairly imprisoned souls of Tartarus. He could reward Leuce, her family, and others with paradise.
The white stone steps ended at the steps of a rundown palace, fading into a black stone path leading to the towering eyesore of Tartarus. He turned away from his former prison and faced his current one. Studying the single level ruin of grayish marble flecked with precious jewels that was his palace, he shook his head at its disrepair. While the location of the place was ideal, the palace had been abandoned centuries ago and, upon closer inspection, not willingly. Scorch marks on the stone told him plainly, there had been a battle here.
Breathing deeply, he removed all occupants and personal items from the palace with a
thought then gathered his power for the task of restoring the indefensible ruin.
What took seconds to destroy, took hours to rebuild and when he finished, he was exhausted yet happier with the results. Black obsidian roofs and pure white marble walls arched upward and spiraled outward in a defensive maze with plenty of room for the occupants of the palace to fill. Four towers at each corner gave him the added advantage of knowing what happened in his kingdom at all times.
In a field of color, his palace would be the beacon calling all enemies to him. Hopefully, any army would attack him and not the innocent occupants of the Underworld.
He walked up the steps of his palace and entered his new home. A plush rug of deep scarlet ran the length of the hall, muffling the footsteps behind him. Silver mirrors, five-feet-tall-by-three-feet-wide, interspersed with smokeless torches, lined the entry hall, creating a glowing ambience of light.
As freeing as it was to create his own palace in his new kingdom, it changed nothing. He was still a prisoner in the Underworld. Sure, this was a better set up this time, but it was still hell.
“Hey, nice redecorating,” a man’s voice said appreciatively at his shoulder, “Though, the ebony and cherry wood furniture is a tad dark for my tastes. But I prefer it to white trimmed in gold or silver.”
Hades glanced at the god with spiky platinum blond hair who shivered dramatically as if in dread of the hated decorating faux pas. He grinned at Hades. “Thought for a moment I made a wrong turn at the path. But since it only leads here…What happened to the gaudy atrocity I use to live in?”
Hades shook his head. He’d never understand the god known by many as Death. Thanatos
was so contrary to his fearsome reputation, it was disturbing. Although as a child he’d wanted to be just like Thanatos.
When Hades said nothing, Thanatos turned to the two goddesses. “I leave for a few hours and you all decided to change things on me!” he said in mock fury.
Hades walked away, but it didn’t stop the constant prattle. If Thanatos hoped to draw Hades into conversation, he would be sorely disappointed because Hades didn’t feel like talking.
Entering the throne room, the torches flared to life, reflecting the truth of his longing. Two thrones sat at the end of the hall, a small table on either side of them. The one on the left was black obsidian with a cushion of bright red for him while the one on the right was an iridescent white with a cushion of dark red for his Queen.
He threw himself onto the throne, casting his legs over the side, and lounged back into the cushions. He had to put Persephone out of his mind long enough to focus on the tasks ahead of him. The entire Underworld needed some restructuring and organization. While reviewing the records of Tartarus and the Elysian Fields, Hades dispatched summons for all those who weren’t among the dead and made
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