Hades gazed at the hound; his fingers rubbed small circles behind each of the creature’s ears. “I... He reminds me of Nekon, the wolf pup I had as a godling.” 

The echo of sadness the god didn’t hide tugged on Kore’s heart. His tone was of someone mourning a faithful pet, like how she knew she’d sound when Adrasteia passed. 

Hades’ actions still seemed ridiculous given their circumstance, but her frustration with them ebbed. 

“When did he... pass?” 

“After I took him in.” 

“How? If it’s not too insensitive to ask.” 

“I, uh...” Hades cleared his throat. “I found him in my mother’s garden, abandoned. I didn’t know if I could keep him and didn’t want to risk rejection, so I just brought him into the palace under cover of night.

Hades’ voice warmed. “He stayed in my room for days, and I took better care of him than I had anything else up to that point. I was so proud that Nekon was growing; turning into a proper wolf. I dreamed that he’d get big enough for me to ride him around like a horse.”

What brief happiness Hades had displayed disappeared. “Then Hestia got ill, and I thought seeing him would make her better. So, I took him to her room, and his presence had a positive effect on her. 

“It was when I was sneaking him back to my room that my secret got discovered. Cronus stopped me and demanded I hand over what I was trying to conceal from him. I wouldn’t, and he hit me. Nekon came to my rescue and bit Cronus. 

“Outraged, he ordered me to kill Nekon. Once again, I disobeyed him; was ready to battle him to the death to protect my wolf.”

Hades wouldn’t raise his head. “Cronus beat Nekon and me. After, he dragged me to the dungeon, then threw Hestia in; the start of our imprisonment. That night I was served Nekon for supper.”  

Somehow, Hades’ tale, though not the most atrocious account of Cronus’ actions, upset Kore more than anything else she’d heard about the Titan King. 

How had an individual so vile, so incapable of empathy come to exist? 

Why hadn’t Cronus been crushed by the weight of his own cruelty? 

Above all, though, how had Cronus bore a son like Hades? 

Not once since being in his presence had Kore thought he resembled the Titan King. Neither Hades’ personality nor his appearance held any trace of his father. Kore had never met or seen Rhea, but she figured Hades must be all her. 

As Kore studied the god, a new thought came to her, one she’d wished she’d had before Rhea had lost her life, so she might have helped its installation. 

What might have been if the Titaness had ruled instead of her husband? 

Would the Underworld and Upperworld have achieved the peace Kore longed for? Might Rhea have become an ally the Daemon Queen could discuss more with than the affairs of their domains? 

Could Rhea have been the mentor Kore had sought in Melione but had realized in her early years how little her mother offered?

An idea struck Kore; one she couldn’t believe she hadn’t had before that moment. Maybe the reason the Fates had sent Hades to the Underworld on a mission with her was in the hope they’d bond.

Could that mean that Zeus wouldn’t make it through the war?

Would rulership of the Upperworld revert to Hades? 

Kore eyed the god harder. 

Would he take power if offered to him? 

He had the composure of a noble king, yet it would be for naught if Hades didn’t dare to wield dominance when required. She’d heard he fared well as a general, but leading an army differed greatly from governing a kingdom.

“I’m... at a loss for words. I’ve known Cronus could… but that...” 

Hades shrugged, yet Kore saw his eyes had watered. “It’s nothing. He did much worse to Hera when she pleaded with him to let her see the sun.” 

Kore didn’t know how to respond. 

Her upbringing hadn’t been ideal, yet her parents hadn’t imprisoned her. Yes, she’d had to remain in Tartarus, but for her safety. 

When she’d been a youngling, Melione’s brother had ruled the Underworld and hadn’t approved of his sister coupling with Tartarus. Though all Melione’s children would become more powerful than their uncle or their mother, as younglings they’d been as vulnerable as any other.  

Instead of responding, Kore gestured to Hades’ blanket. “I think you should get some rest.” 

Hades glanced at the sky; his tears gone. “It hasn’t gotten dark yet.” 

“It never will.” 

“Ah.” 

Hades shifted until he lied on his back; the hound on his chest. 

The pup opened sleepy eyes, sighed in the god’s face, and fell back asleep. 

Hades chuckled and looked at Kore. “It’s not so bad, the blanket.” 

Kore stood. “My weavers are impressive.” 

“Aren’t you going to sleep?”

 

Kore shook her head. “One of us has to keep watch.” 

Hades made to get up, but a command from Kore stopped him.

“The one who knows the area should,” she added. 

“But you have to be more exhausted than I am.” 

Kore retrieved her staff and jabbed it into Hades’ leg with just enough force to make a point. 

Hades stared at her, his expression dark, but he didn’t stand again. He didn’t push the issue further. 

The god eased back into his previous position and closed his eyes. “Fine but wake me soon.” 

Kore didn’t respond and dashed into the woods. 

***

As a youngling, Kore had roamed every inch of the woods, and while that’d been decades ago, not much had changed. She’d thought it would when she’d forced Yovar to retreat to Tartarus, forever banished to live out his days in the place he’d despised more than any of Melione’s children. In his early years, he’d tried to burn down the forest every chance he got. 

The lack of difference concerned Kore. Had Yovar unleashed his anger on the world around him, and Tartarus had struck him down for his arrogance? Could he have angered enough of the tribes that they’d joined to topple him? 

Kore was surprised at how much she hated the thought of her brother’s death. Yes, they’d been close as younglings, but they’d drifted apart the clearer Melione had made it which of her children she’d preferred, the children she’d groomed to one day take the Underworld throne. 

More than once, Yovar had attempted to murder Kore. 

On all accounts, she should rejoice his death. 

Yet, they were the only ones left of Melione’s and Tartarus’ brood. Either their home or pointless infighting had done away with their siblings. If Yovar was gone, she’d be alone; a feeling she’d never encountered. The thought terrified her more than she wanted to admit. 

More out of a desire to shift her thoughts than because she’d finished surveying as much of the area as she’d first planned (though she’d checked her immediate surroundings), Kore returned to the campsite. 

Along the way, she took time to hunt and kill three chibock, an avian creature like the Upperworld’s poultry, though it was twice the size, lacked feathers on most of its fat body besides its head and talons, and had green-black skin as durable as leather.

When Kore reached the campsite, she gutted and cleaned the chibock. Her activity wasn’t quiet, but neither Hades nor the hound stirred. 

Occasionally, Kore would catch herself watching the pair and smiling. Each time, she’d chide herself for getting distracted and return to her task, yet her attention would return to the sleeping god and his pup. 

The Fates could have teamed her up with worse company. In fact, she found more and more to admire about Hades the longer she spent with him. 

If they accomplished their goal and the gods won the war, what would become of him? 

His coming to the Underworld would be punished. 

Would Hades want to remain on the Upperworld afterward? 

Like with Hermes, would Kore offer Hades a position in her realm? 

How would her council react? 

They weren’t opposed to all upper-dwellers. Hecate had pled her allegiance with no opposition (though it helped that she’d found a spell able to convert her into an under-dweller), but Kore knew they wouldn’t appreciate two gods so closely connected to Zeus nearby.

Maybe she could spin their apprehension to her advantage. Even if Zeus considered his son and brother traitors if they joined Kore’s court, they’d offer insight on the God King that Kore wouldn’t glean otherwise. The Council would have to find the sense in that.

As Kore skewered the chibock and set them over the open flames, she decided: if she and Hades fulfilled their task and made it out of Tartarus alive, she’d offer him a new home. She’d even let him keep the hound and convince Hecate to concoct a potion that would grant the beast immortality. 

The pup woke when the chibock finished cooking. He whimpered and shoved all three of his noses into Hades’ face. 

The god sprang into action. He tightened his one arm around the pup while his free hand produced two of his concealed arrowheads. Hades’ eyes were clear, and Kore admired his ability to wake at a moment’s notice and be functional. 

“Where’s the threat?” the god asked, his voice thick with sleep. 

Kore chuckled as she removed the chibock from the fire and set them on large pieces of bark she’d ripped off the nearest trees. She nudged two of the chibock toward Hades. 

“In your hound’s stomach.” 

The pup understood faster than his master. Wild attention on the food, he squirmed until Hades released him. He dived for one of the chibock. Without consideration of the blistering heat, the hound’s three heads tore into the fresh meat. 

Hades hid the spearheads and dragged his chibock near. “What is this?” 

Kore ripped off one of her chibock’s legs and bit into it. Juice ran down her chin, and she didn’t bother to wipe it away. “Delicious,” she said, her mouth full. 

Hades shrugged and followed suit. 

Soon, Kore and Hades had consumed half of their food, and Kore placed the rest into her bag. 

The pup left no trace of his chibock and had eaten the bones from Kore’s and Hades’. When he finished, he yawned and crawled back into Hades’ lap. 

“You should name him.”

Hades’ lips quivered, though didn’t quite form a smile. “Is that wise? I don’t think he’ll make it.” 

The hound looked healthier than he probably ever had. All his wounds had closed, and most had healed, though a few had left the area bald and with nasty scars that wouldn’t fade. The clean parts of his remaining fur shined. 

After a thorough washing, the pup would present a fine a specimen, if not too small.

 

Kore rolled her eyes and turned her focus on demolishing the campsite. “Oh, name the damn thing.” 

“Cerberus.” 

Hades said the name so quickly Kore wondered if he’d spent the time before he’d fallen asleep thinking of it. Or maybe he’d dreamed it. 

Either way, the name suited the pup, and he seemed to agree because he licked Hades’ palm. 

“We need to get moving. If we press hard, we should reach our destination today.” 

Hades nodded, coaxed Cerberus into his harness, and helped Kore.