Eternity Touch (Part 7)

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It was strange how fast I got used to it there. Except for that first time, he never showed me Hell proper. I was kept in luxury - captivity, yes, but it was a pleasant prison. And I gathered that the story was true enough that I would be home with my mother in six months. At first the time passed slowly. But Hades was an attentive husband, and gradually I got used to him being my only company. In fact, I became strangely addicted to him. And I don't just mean the sex, although that was undoubtedly a vast part of the addiction. There was something else - something about him. Something immensely magnetic.

I suppose you could think that because he is a god it is not surprising that he was magnetic. But it wasn't that. I don't think he knew he was doing it at all. He wanted me to be comfortable and content, certainly. But I don't think it ever occurred to him to worry about whether I was happy there. And I certainly don't think it was anything like love. Despite what the legends may say, there is far too much unfamiliar territory between a mortal and a god for any kind of real intimacy.

I seemed to bewilder him, and that too surprised me. I thought that there would be nothing I could do that he wouldn't expect. I asked him about it once, and he answered that it was because of "that blasted free will", and refused to talk about it further.

The other thing that was weird about him was that he was very polite. That sounds silly. But I can't think of another word. I mean, let's face it, he could have magicked me into being perfectly content to sit in a cell and be his sex-toy if that were what he wanted. But he was impressively diffident, and gentle, and remarkably... British, I suppose would be the best description. Like Hugh Grant.

Unless he was angry. Then he was terrifying. As we neared the end of the first six months, he got more and more short tempered. I tried not to say anything to anger him. Not that he ever hurt me. But he didn’t need to - I knew he could snap me like a twig if he chose, and that was terrifying enough.

I remember once, he was pacing, up and down, up and down. Eventually, it got too much.

"Relax, Hades. Just sit for a moment."

He simply exploded. He flung the table across the room (his strength was terrifying in itself). Wordless books burst against the walls.

"How dare you order me!" he roared. "Do you think you are anything more than a mortal? Are you so arrogant as to command the gods?"

And he raged. It went on for what felt like hours. Eventually he stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him, bringing down an entire shelf of books with the impact. Hours later, when I had restored order to the room, he returned, proud and beautiful. The closest he ever came to an apology was the intense tenderness with which he would touch me after such outbursts. I gather he could never quite bring himself to apologize to a mortal, not even one he had taken as a lover.

And then the six months were over. I should have been thrilled. I mean I was happy. But not as happy as I had expected to be. I had no idea, however, what the next six months would be like.

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