“Are you certain?” she said, her hands clasped in front of her. “I will not offer myself to you again, Hades, no matter how true my feelings will remain.”

He stood, inclining his head in a show of respect for who and what she was, even if the rest of the council no longer deigned to recognize it. “I will always be here for you as I was all those years ago. But as much as I treasure your company, I am afraid we can never be more than what we are now. I have hurt our family enough as it is, and I cannot allow myself to cause anyone any more strife. Especially someone I care about as deeply as you.”

“And what about my feelings?” she whispered. “Don’t they matter?”

He took her hand gently and brushed his lips against her knuckles. “They matter far more than my own, and that is why I must decline. I am a shell. I am a shadow. I am nothing, and you are everything.”

“You aren’t nothing, and you deserve love as much as I do. Don’t you want it?” She was pleading now, though she did an admirable job of masking it in the commanding tone of a queen. But she was not his queen, and he would not obey her, not when it would destroy them all.

A bitter, empty smile ghosted over his features, and he bowed his head once more. “Love is all I have ever wanted in this immortal life. I have used up my chances though, and I am at peace with that. I beg you to allow me to remain so.”

A moment passed, and at last she stepped back from him, her expression unreadable. Those tendrils of emotions were gone now, securely hidden behind the barriers she had so expertly built. How long had it taken her to retreat so completely into herself? How long had she remained so, until this moment, when she had finally trusted him enough to let him in?

No matter. It was done, and he would not change his mind. The sting of rejection now was nothing compared to the agony of loss she would have felt centuries or eons down the road if he had accepted her proposal, and he had to content himself with that. She would not be grateful now, or perhaps anytime in the near future; but someday, when she had found her happiness, he hoped she would remember this moment and see the future he had allowed her to have. The future he had wanted her to have.

“I hope you visit, though I understand if you do not,” he said quietly. She swallowed.

“I will do my best,” she allowed. “But now I must go.”

He nodded once. “I will escort you out.”

“I know the way.” She curtsied once, and he responded with a deep bow. “Take care of yourself, Hades. And find a name before Walter grows more upset than he already is.”

“I will do my best,” he murmured. “Do you have any suggestions?”

Calliope eyed him, and there was something calculating about her gaze. But when was there not? At least her heartbreak had vanished to a place where Hades could not see it. “I have had the privilege of spending time in England, where I have watched many kings rise and fall. Some are silly, pompous and far too enamored with their titles and the art of war, but some truly love their people and care for the well-being of their country. A particular favorite of mine reminded me a bit of you. He was called Henry.”

“Henry.” He mouthed the name to himself a few times, allowing himself to adjust to the sound of it. He’d met many Henrys, of course, though perhaps not the one she spoke of. But the name was common enough that he felt certain it would not stand out. He could be himself without the myths tainting every step he took, and no one would hear his name and fear death. It would be a relief to rid himself of such a burden. “Very well. Henry it is.”

Calliope smiled, and this time it was genuine. But before long, her expression faded into one of sadness once more, and she sighed. “Take care of yourself, Henry.”

“And you,” he said, moving to kiss her on the cheek as he had countless times before, but she stepped away. Her barriers slipped for a moment, and the pain he had feared spilled through. It did not match the agony that had flooded him since Persephone’s death, but pain was not a contest, and hers was as real as his own.

He watched her go, slipping out of the room before he could bring himself to say goodbye. Even if she returned someday, it would never be the same, and already he mourned their friendship. But it was for the best. For both of them. She deserved a life he could never give her, one filled with sunshine and love, and he would never forgive himself for hurting her as he’d hurt Persephone.

Closing his eyes, he slipped through space and returned to his bedroom to dream of the life he’d lost. Perhaps one day he would be more than a shadow; perhaps one day he would find his own happiness in whatever new form it might take. Until then, however, he would be content with his dreams.

His mind whirled with the possibilities of what small memory he would find comfort in tonight. But though time flowed around him, forcing him to go with it, his heart remained still. And it would now for always.

Defeat

Henry could not pinpoint the exact moment he gave up. It crept upon him like a thief in the night, stealing away his future piece by piece until he had nothing left. Maybe it was not one small thing—maybe it was an eternity of small things combining to form the perfect storm. Or maybe it was nothing at all.

Whatever it was, after that moment had come and gone, it took him another hundred years to gather the courage to approach the council with his decision. He knew in his heart of hearts that no matter how much they claimed to care for him, they would not take this well. Even though he wanted it, even though he was ready, they would see it as another burden on them—one none of them was ready for. And though he felt guilty for what he was about to do, he stood in front of the gathered council in Olympus, casting around to look each of them in the eye.