Hades and Persephone 3

Jack sighed helplessly at his predicament, running a hand through his hair. There was no way out of the dull, grey room he had been so unceremoniously tossed into, and of course, just when he had thought it couldn't possibly get worse, it did.

Not even an hour after his imprisonment, an armored woman, with red hair and tan skin, had shown up, claiming to be Hecate, goddess of witchcraft, but that he could call her by her true name, Wuya. She had then proceeded to tell him that Chase had sent her to inform him that whether he was willing or not, he would be the Queen of the Dead before moonrise.

Jack had no idea how he was supposed to react to such news, and so did not, and only hung his head in empty resignation. He was entirely uncomforted by Wuya's (few and meager) sympathies.

He was currently wearing a greyish-purple colored article of clothing, long and flowing around his legs and in the area of his sleeves, but purposefully snug around his torso, particularly the chest and hips. Flowers of a similar shade had been threaded though his white hair by some of Chase's ghouls, and he still shuddered to recall the feeling of their chilling fingers on him.

Soon, though, he supposed, he would have another set of fingers touching him.

By Gaia, was this really happening to him? Was he really getting...married? And to the powerful God of the Dead, no less?! How could this possibly have happened to a half-breed whelp like him?

Why would Chase so tarnish his godly reputation by associating with, much less marrying, a weak little half-human who didn't even have enough heavenly powers to break a mirror without actually taking a fist to it? It didn't make sense!

...He said...Chase had said, essentially, that he was lonely, and that because of it, he had decided to take a wife.

Could that really be the reason? Was it at all possible that he had been chosen, out of everyone else in the world, to end that loneliness?

...Could he have been thinking about this the wrong way?

After all, this really was an honor, now that he considered it: Chase was powerful, and he'd never want for anything if he were to become his wife (the god's kingdom was infinitely expanding), and besides that, he was handsome and had seemed nice (for the most part)...

Maybe he could make the best of this. He and Chase had gotten along splendidly before the topic of his mother had been broached, and as dearly as he loved her, he had to admit that Chase's point was valid: he had been deeply considering suicide not even several hours before.

Even though he had been depressed about being kidnapped and being forced into marriage, Jack had not even had the thought to kill himself cross his mind.

Granted, he was already in the Underworld, and any such attempt would only bring him right back, and if Chase wanted him to be alive, that would just as easily happen, but nonetheless, the point was that it hadn't occurred to him.

Maybe he should just...go with it?

...

Regardless of the fantastic beauty of the ceremony, all of the decorations and lights arranged perfectly so as to inspire feelings of awe in looking at them, Jack, though he was now willingly going through with this, couldn't help but feel a little...trapped.

Wuya had his arm in an iron grip as she led him to the specter-priest's altar and his inevitable future, despite the fact that he wasn't at all struggling, and he was sure there would be a colorful bruise on the delicate flesh of his arm quite soon.

Upon reaching their destination, Wuya almost immediately released him, but the half-god's hands were just as quickly captured, icy-cold fingers interlacing with his and drawing his attention to the god they belonged to.

Jack's jaw just about hit the floor right there.

Chase must have looked ten times more gorgeous than he had in his human guise.

The God of the Dead had dropped this illusion of humanity and now stood before Jack in his true form, a soft, black glow surrounding his entire body as his eyes sparkled like fireflies (actually gold now, not simply bronze) in the relative shadow of the Underworld. His hair was glossier, wilder and now boasted of evergreen highlights, nearly causing Jack to groan aloud at the enticing way the locks spilled over firm, toned shoulders. Noting the cloudy look that had overtaken red eyes, Chase smirked smugly, revealing the barest hint of sharp fangs, and with the slight movement of pulling Jack closer, pointed ears, too, were made known to the youth.

Wow...

The dead priest began speaking the ancient words of the ceremony, the sound wispy and musical to the pale boy's ears as he waited for the part where consent was to be given to the marriage; he vaguely wondered if Chase would even allow him the choice.

The moment seemed to come all too soon as the ghoul turned to the older male, proposing, "Do you deem this boy worthy of being your queen?"

"I do," came the silky-smooth answer, and the hands holding his tightened their grip.

"And do you, child, deem this man a worthy king-"

"He does-"

"I do."

This seemed to give Chase pause, and as the priest announced their bond to the ghoulish spectators, the god gave him a considering look.

Fairly quickly getting over his surprise, however, the elder of the two dipped his head to share their first kiss as husband and wife (and only their second kiss since meeting), and Jack couldn't hold back a squeak of surprise when Chase's tongue was slipped into his mouth, apparently on purpose.

As the God of Death pulled away from the kiss, he whispered teasingly, "What happened to 'I'd sooner die than marry you', my queen?"

Jack flushed a rosy pink, muttering, "Maybe I changed my mind..."

Chase grinned, pleased, as he assured, "You shall not regret doing so, dear one, I promise; I will be good to you."

...

Jack had never been happier in his life.

Chase had proven himself a keeper of his promises, and the young halfling hadn't had a single thought against his decision to willingly marry the man.

Every little thing he expressed even remote interest in having or experiencing was given to him without a second thought: he had been treated to every luxury imaginable, been given the most fabulous delicacies the Underworld had to offer, finally seen sunlight (though not real enough to hurt him) through a romantic outing to the breathtaking Elysian Fields, and every night he slept on sheets of the finest silk and pillows of the softest down.

And oh, what went on in that bed every night! It finally made sense why humans kept procreating like rabbits if their experiences in doing so had been even one tenth as pleasurable as what Chase did to him. It seemed that the man was not only a death god, but a sex god, as well!

And even more thrilling to the young demi-god...

I think I'm in love...

Yes, it seemed to have happened just as all the master-poets and minstrels described it, as if a fairy tale!

Now whenever he laid eyes on his husband, his heart beat faster and should the sight be only in passing, a wistful sigh escaped his chest.

At the god's touch, it felt like he was being shocked, but in a good way, and shivers coursed his spine.

Where there had once been a hollow, empty feeling somewhere inside of him, he now felt...

Complete. Whole.

It was bliss.

Chase, too, was experiencing similar feelings from the presence of his new wife, and was rather enjoying it, himself.

It was surprisingly satisfying to share a bed with someone, knowing that when he woke in the morning, they would still be there.

But it was more than just that; of course it was more than just that. He loved having such a pretty, young thing in his bed every night, what fool wouldn't? It was just that there was...more.

As an example, his heart had stopped beating decades ago. He was the God of Death and was mostly dead himself, and even having the heart itself was superfluous, let alone wasting the energy to keep it constantly beating. Besides, he'd found he could go a full 24 hours without food or drink on only an hour of sleep if he conserved the energy of both his heartbeat and breathing. Granted, it was fairly unhealthy to force himself to function this way, but he was a busy god what with all the people dying every day, and he needed to maximize his time as efficiently as possible.

However, he'd recently noticed that at certain times, like when making love to his new bride, kissing him, even something so trivial as holding that marble-white hand in his, his long-forgotten heart had decided to chime in against his will, the beating soft and weak at first, but soon growing strong with the presence of his half-human wife.

And even stranger, when he was without the boy, the damned thing refused to beat, even should he try to force it to. It was like it had a mind of its own, the heart determined to beat only for Jack.

He had never really cared before, but to have the other person feel just as much as he did for them, if not more, made love seem less of a debilitating weakness, as he'd always used to feel it was.

And frankly, it was actually fairly pleasant.

It had only been a month after the wedding (although it felt like much more), and so though it was a good deal late for a celebratory ball to commemorate the new couple, the dead were dead and liked to take things slow, and so it was at this time that the event was being held.

Considering the state of the guests, the party was surprisingly lively, with drinking, dancing, and feasting galore, but there was one that excluded himself from the festivities, simply sitting and staring at a small reflecting pond.

"My love," Chase questioned, taking a seat on the stone bench beside his dour wife, "what are you doing here? This ball is in our honor; why do you not show joy and celebrate? This moping is not like you."

And that last part was true. He had been rather mopey for years, but it seemed that this marriage had brought out his cheerful and excitable side at last, always surprising his husband with random hugs and kisses and other displays of affection, frequently begging to go under human-guise and catch some theater or visit a mortal's feast for amusement, something that unwed-Jack would not only have been forbidden to do, but wouldn't have dared.

This separation from his mother had helped him to find himself.

Unfortunately, that was just what was on the young queen's mind.

"I though of my mother today," he quietly spoke as his lover put an arm around his shoulders, "I haven't thought of her for weeks."

"That is good," the god assured him, "you need not forget her completely, but a boy your age should not rely on her as you used to. You are becoming a man, and you must be your own man, not your mother's, which is in turn, a baby. It is a good sign that you are moving past her incessant mollycoddling and having your own life and personality."

"I know, but its not that," Jack informed, "I'm just...worried."

"Worried?" Chase laughed, "For what reason do you worry? I am your husband; nothing need worry you."

"I'm not worried for myself, I'm worried for mortals. I've never been away from my mother before, much less as long as I've been here with you. I'm worried she'd react badly and take it out on other people."

The God of the Dead sighed, taking his lover's chin in his grip. "Listen, wife, and listen well: whatever tantrum your mother is throwing is none of our concern. She is simply selfish and believes you hers and hers alone."

At this, Jack's mood perked, and he grinned, "But I'm not hers anymore..."

Chase stood, pulling the half-god with him to the center of the ballroom as he proudly agreed, "That is correct: you are mine..."

With Jack so eager to be led into a dance and forget his mother, the lord of the realm wisely held his tongue about what he truly knew of the events of the upper-world.

...

Dashi frowned as he inspected the world of mortals, brought to ruin by an angry, mourning mother.

All of the plants and crops were dying, and the whole world had gotten very cold and frozen.

Not only animals that fed from the earth, but the humans who fed off of those animals, too, were dying of starvation.

A world in ruin, indeed.

And not just that, but offerings to the Gods had come to a screeching halt, no sacrifices able to be made due to the necessity of any resources available to keep the humans (barely) alive.

Naturally, his brother knew all about it, the suffering and pain, and did nothing, greedy and possessive of his gift and finding no reason to give him up when the events occurring were only increasing the size of his kingdom.

This was unacceptable.

"Raimundo," the king beckoned his messenger, "I need you to return to the Underworld."

"What for?" the younger god inquired.

"Jack must be returned to Demeter..."