Chapter 228: Chapter 72
Hades stood still as her words lashed at him, every syllable carving into his pride like a blade.
His chest rose and fell slowly, but within him the Underworld itself seemed to rumble.
He could bear insults from gods, he could bear rebellion from mortals, but the thought of Hecate giving herself to another man ignited something darker, something primal, deep within his very soul.
His hand twitched at his side, as though yearning to seize her wrist and crush her defiance, to drag her against him and silence her with the force of his will.
Yet he did not move. He only stood there, letting her finger press against his chest, letting her gaze stab into him, letting her words burn.
Inside, two forces clashed violently.
One was the cold, imperious pride of the King of the Underworld, who would never allow what was his to be touched by another.
The other was the raw, unyielding hunger he felt for her, a need so consuming that even her fury and scorn only deepened his desire to keep her bound to him forever.
His lips finally parted, and when he spoke, his words were heavy and deliberate, each one dripping with restrained fury.
"Hecate... you speak of hypocrisy, and perhaps I am guilty of it. You call me shameless, and perhaps you are right. But know this—there is no force in all creation that would ever allow me to watch you in the arms of another man. The thought alone is enough to rend me apart."
He stepped closer, his towering presence swallowing the space between them, his eyes burning into hers.
"You are mine. Not to be bartered. Not to be shared. Not to be claimed by another. If you dare take another man, Hecate, I will drag him into the pit of Tartarus myself and grind his soul into nothingness."
His voice dropped lower, darker, filled with a frightening certainty. "You can curse me. You can strike me. You can hate me if you wish. But do not speak of giving yourself to another. For the moment you do, you will awaken the part of me even I cannot control."
Hecate’s breath caught at the intensity of his words.
She could see it in his eyes—there was no bluff, no hollow threat. He meant every word. He would tear the world apart rather than allow another man to even look upon her with desire.
Her lips curved into a trembling smile, bitter yet soft.
"And yet," she whispered, "you still expect me to share you with two others."
Hades’ jaw tightened, his silence admitting the truth of her words.
For a long moment, they only stared at one another, the river’s soft current flowing behind her, the air heavy with tension that felt ready to break.
Hecate’s hand, still pressed against his chest, began to tremble.
Her sharp nails dug into his tunic as if trying to pierce through to the heart beneath.
Her eyes were still locked on his, but the defiance in them flickered for an instant, replaced by something rawer, something she didn’t want him to see.
Her lips parted, and her voice came out softer, weaker, yet carrying the weight of her breaking pride.
"Do you even hear yourself, Hades...? You speak as though I am some jewel you’ve set in your crown. You want to keep me, polish me, display me, and yet I must always know there are others—always others—touching you, sharing what should be mine. How am I supposed to endure that?"
She stepped back, her breath shaky, but her hands still clenched. Her whole body trembled as if she were forcing herself to stay upright.
"I can give you my everything," she hissed, her voice rising again, "my soul, my body, my heart. And in return you tell me I can never be enough. That even if I burn for you, I will always burn beside someone else."
Her voice cracked then, a sound she rarely allowed anyone to hear. Her shoulders shuddered once. "Do you know how it feels, Hades, to be willing to crawl through the depths of the Underworld for someone, only to realize he has already filled the space you hoped to claim?"
Hades took a step forward, but she snapped her head up, tears shining but unshed, and raised a trembling hand to stop him.
"No... don’t. Don’t touch me. Not yet."
Her head tilted back slightly, as if she were trying to gather the strength she always carried like armor.
But even as she tried to hold herself straight, her words began to spill out in a rush, uncontrolled. "I am Hecate. I am not some mortal girl. I am not a passing shadow to be clutched for comfort. I have power. I have dignity. And yet you have made me feel small, Hades, so small that I am standing here, begging for a place in your heart while you stand so calmly and call yourself greedy."
Finally, a tear slipped from the corner of her eye, trailing down her cheek. She swiped at it furiously but more followed, her composure fracturing like glass.
"I hate this. I hate that you can do this to me. I hate that I still... still..." Her voice broke again.
She turned away sharply, her hands covering her face. "Still want you even as I hate you for it."
Hades moved then, but not roughly. He stepped forward until he was behind her, his hands hovering at her shoulders but not yet touching, as if waiting for her to let him.
His voice, when it came, was low and quiet but carried the weight of an oath. "You are not small, Hecate. You are the only one who makes me feel like a man, not just a king. The only one who knows me before all this. Before the crown, before the Underworld, before the power."
She let out a trembling laugh, still not looking at him. "Then why isn’t that enough for you?"
He exhaled slowly, his breath stirring her hair.
"Because I am broken," he said at last, the words almost a confession. "And I am selfish. And I am afraid of losing any of you. You were the first, Hecate. You are the one who stayed with me. But I... I cannot sever the others from my heart. If I did, I would no longer be the man you think you can fix. I would be an empty shadow wearing his name."
Her shoulders slumped at his words, and her hands dropped to her sides. She did not turn, but she did not move away either.
The river behind them flowed on, silent witness to the moment.
"Do you know how many gods were willing to give up everything for me?" she had said. "I was once pursued by a god who was ready to abandon all his lovers for me, to cast away all others just to have me. Yet you, Hades, you cannot do something so simple."
Hecate’s words lingered in the air like a blade that had already cut deep. Her voice had been steady, but behind it he could feel the weight of centuries, of choices not taken, of suitors long rejected.
Her figure turned, dark against the pale shimmer of the river, her robes brushing the earth as she walked away with each slow, deliberate step, as though every inch between them was her way of cutting the ties herself.
But Hades’ voice, low and unshaken, stopped her. "Will you be happy?"
Her body froze. The stillness of the Asphodel fields seemed to lean in, listening.
She did not turn, but he continued, his words carrying an unfamiliar roughness, as though dragged up from the deepest chambers of his chest.
"If... if I swallowed my pride and my dignity, if I agreed to what you said, if I allowed you to keep other men while I called you mine... would you be happy with that?"
Her hands at her sides clenched, trembling faintly.
Would she be happy? The answer rose immediately in her heart, bitter and sharp.
No.
She would not. She could not.
If she truly took another man into her arms, if she let another touch her, it would not only humiliate Hades, it would break her as well.
She would rather embrace death itself than let it happen.
She had spoken those words not because she wanted them, but because her pride had lashed out, because her love had bled into grievance and she needed him to feel what it was to be torn apart.
She stood there, silent, her breath uneven, and he, watching her back, understood.
Hades moved. His steps were heavy but unhurried, carrying the weight of finality.
"I am lacking in many things," he said quietly, but the words rolled like thunder in her ears. "I could not even understand what love is. I cannot give the answers you want, nor can I shape my heart into what you might wish. But, Hecate... I cannot afford to lose you."
She turned then, slowly, almost unwillingly, her blind fury dimmed by the rawness in his voice.
When her eyes met his, she no longer saw the King of the Underworld, untouchable and absolute.
She saw the man behind the crown, and his gaze, though steady, was stripped bare.
He walked closer, step by step, until he was before her. He reached out, and his large, calloused hand closed gently around hers, pulling it up between them as if to anchor her.
His touch was firm, unshaking, but not forceful.
"I need you by my side," he said, his voice a vow etched into eternity. "So please... be with me until the end of times."
Her lips parted, trembling, but no words came.
Her strength faltered as he drew her into his arms, slowly, carefully, as though he feared she might break apart if he moved too quickly.
Her forehead pressed into his chest, and finally her arms lifted, uncertain at first, then clutching at him as though she had been holding herself together for too long.
Her voice came muffled against his chest, sharp but weak. "You really don’t plan on letting me go, do you?"
His hand stroked her back slowly, grounding her. "No."
She trembled once, then whispered, "You really don’t plan on leaving Hera and Aphrodite, do you?"
His embrace tightened, unyielding. "No."
Her nails pressed against his robes, clinging tighter, as her lips curled into something between a laugh and a sob. "You are a greedy man, Hades."
He lowered his head, pressing his lips to her hair, and answered without hesitation. "I am."
She finally tilted her head back, her eyes glistening, her lips curving into the faintest of smiles despite the tears still trembling at the edge of her lashes.
"Then hear me well," she whispered, her voice both a threat and a promise, "I will curse you if you do not cherish me."
His forehead lowered until it rested gently against hers, their breaths mingling. His lips curved faintly, the smallest shadow of a smile, and he whispered back, "Curse me then, if ever I am unfair or unreliable. Bind me with every spell in your craft if I fail you. I will not resist."
For a long while they stayed like that, silent but joined, her heart slowly steadying against his chest.
And in that silence, Hades thought.
He understood now, in a way he had not before.
Earlier, when Hecate spat those words about keeping other men, his pride had screamed, his dignity had burned, it was as if his very soul was being ripped apart.
The idea of her belonging to anyone else had nearly destroyed him.
And this, he realized, this unbearable tearing inside—that was what they felt as well.
Hera, when she agreed to share him. Aphrodite, despite her acting nonchalant and encouraging this.
Even Hecate now, when she let her walls collapse and allowed him to embrace her.
These were not powerless women. They were goddesses, each with pride and dignity beyond mortal comprehension. Yet they had swallowed it, each in their own way, for him.
How much had they sacrificed, to accept what should have been unacceptable? How much had they endured, to choose him despite everything?
He held her tighter. He could not undo the pain, nor could he give them the kind of singular devotion mortals sang of.
But he could promise this: he would cherish them, each of them. He would protect them, take care of them, never let them be hurt, never let them feel abandoned.
That was the least he could do, and the only repayment his flawed heart could give.