Hades, Draw Your Blade

Hades stands beneath the cypress trees,
black cloak drinking the last of the evening,
one hand resting lazily
on the hilt of his sword.
“You came all this way,” he says,
“to die?”
I smile. “I came all this way
because I heard the King of the Dead is bored.”

His mouth almost curves.
“Careful.”
“Why?
Will you sentence me to death?”
“I might.”
“You’ll have to catch me first.”
The sword leaves its sheath.
There is no thunder—
only that terrible, intimate sound
of steel deciding to speak.

“Hades,” I say, “draw your blade.”
“It is already drawn.”
“Then stop posing and fight.”
He laughs.
It is a low, ancient sound,
the kind of laughter
that has watched empires collapse
and found them mildly amusing.

“You mistake arrogance for courage.”
“And you mistake a crown for authority.”
His eyes sharpen.
“Do you know who stands before you?”
He moves.
So quickly
the darkness seems to move with him.
Steel flashes.
I turn.
His blade kisses my sleeve
and slices the fabric cleanly.

“You’re slow,” he says.
“And you are predictable.” I retort.
I strike.
He catches my sword with his own.
Metal screams between us.
“You have been practicing.”
“I’ve been preparing for you.”

The stones beneath my boots
are cold with the breath of the dead.
Behind him, the gates
of the Underworld stand open.
Cerberus watches.
The shades gather.
Even the dead want
to see
whether their king can lose.

Hades notices them.
“Wonderful,” he murmurs.
“I have an audience.”
“You’re worried about your reputation?”
“I rule the dead.
Reputation is all I have left.”
“Then protect it.”
I lunge. He parries.
I twist.
Our blades cross at his throat.

For a second, neither of us moves.
His eyes meet mine.
There is amusement there.
And something darker.
“Go on,” he whispers. “Make your choice.”
“You first.”
He smiles. “Still insolent.”
“Still alive.”
Then he breaks the lock.
His sword knocks mine from my hand.
It lands somewhere behind me,
lost among the stones.

Hades steps forward. “Well?” he asks.
“Is this the part where I beg?”
“No.”
“Good.”
I reach slowly into my coat.
Hades watches.
“What are you doing?”
I pull out the pomegranate seed
I stole from his throne.

His expression changes.
Not fear, but something much better.
Recognition.
“You wouldn’t.”
I smile. “You’re right.”
I crush the seed beneath my boot.
Red stains the earth.
The gates behind him slam shut.

Every torch in the Underworld
goes black.
For the first time,
Hades looks over his shoulder.
I pick up my sword.
“You were so busy teaching me
how to enter your kingdom,
that you forgot to ask
whether or not I intended to leave.”

His blade lowers slowly and smile returns.
But now— it is not amusement.
It is war. “Clever,” he says.
I raise my sword.
“Finally,” I answer, “you sound afraid.”
And somewhere beneath the earth,
the dead begin to cheer.

Photo credits: Pinterest

A sequel to my Hades series. You can read Part one here 

Posted for Open Link Night #414 @dVerse Poets Pub