Underworld stables. They were located at the back of his estate and just as grand as his castle. Marble floors lined a wide aisle flanked by stalls with glossy black doors. Hades had four sable-black horses, Orphnaeus, Aethon, Nycteus, and Alastor, who occupied each pen, and as he came into view, they neighed, pawing the ground with their hoofed feet.
“Yes, yes, I know. You are wasting away in these stables, and you want to go for a run,” he said as they complained noisily. “I’ll bargain with the lot of you. Be good while I brush your coats and trim your hooves, and I’ll let you roam the realm.”
They snorted in response—an agreement. “Who wants to go first?”
They were quiet.
They were fire and brimstone, and they had seen battle as Hades had seen battle. Despite how he tried to care for them, their spirits were wild, their dreams haunted. They were tortured like he was tortured.
“Come now. The longer you wait, the further you are from freedom.”
That got their attention, and they all responded at once, knocking against their stall doors.
Hades grinned and laughed. “One of you will just have to charm me.”
He sidled along the marble walkway, pausing at each stall.
“Alastor?” he questioned, and the horse mewled. Of all his horses, Alastor was the most gentle, an irony considering in battle, he was known as the tormentor. His memory was long, and he never forgot an enemy.
“Orphnaeus?” The beast whined.
“Aethon?” The stallion blew a harsh breath from his nose and knocked against his gate, the most aggressive of the four.
“Nycteus?” The youngest of the four snorted.
Hades chuckled and then approached Aethon’s stall. “Alright, since you were so vocal.”
He opened the gate, leading the beast to the wash station in the stables. He did not need to secure him to keep him from running off. Despite their wish to roam, they would not disobey their master. Hades began the process by cleaning Aethon’s hooves, prying dirt and mud free from the soles of his feet. After, he curried the coat, loosening mud and grit and dirt. As he worked, he spoke.
“Hecate tells me you four have been grazing in her mushroom grove again.”
They snorted in denial at the accusation.
“Are you sure?”
They shook their heads, neighing.
“Because Hecate said she called to each of you, and you fled like shadow, eyes aflame.”
They were all quiet.
Then, Alastor brayed, and Hades laughed.
“Are you suggesting Hecate hallucinated the whole thing?”
The four snorted in agreement.
“While I don’t doubt Hecate’s use of hallucinogenic mushrooms, I also do not doubt your use,” he said.
Hades moved on, working the knots free from Aethon’s main and tail. He brushed his coat two more times, with a stiffer brush and a finishing brush. Last, he used a damp cloth to clean around Aethon’s eyes, muzzle, and ears.
“Off you go,” he said, and Aethon hurried from the stable into the early morning of the Underworld.
Hades moved onto Orphnaeus, then Nycteus, and last Alastor, repeating the same steps of cleaning hooves, coat, and mane.
As he wiped around Alastor’s eyes, he asked in a quiet voice. “Are you well, my friend?”
The horse stared at Hades with dark eyes, and within them, he saw the depth of his torture. Of the four, Alastor was the most haunted. He often separated from the others to wander alone, needing the isolation to fight his own demons.
Hades understood.
The horse exhaled quietly, and Hades brushed his snout.
“I would mourn the loss of you,” he said. “But if you need to drink from the Lethe…I will grant your wish.”
Alastor offered a snort, and shook his head, declining the offer.
Hades grinned. “It is just an offer,” he said. “On the table…if ever you grow too weary.”
He finished cleaning Alastor’s ears and stepped away.
“Alright, my friend. Off you go.”
As Alastor raced from the stables, he passed Minthe, who approached Hades with a smug expression on her face. He wasn’t sure why, but dread pooled in his stomach at her approach.
“My lord,” she said. “I have news.”
Hades focused on cleaning up, not meeting her gaze.
“And what news is that, Minthe?”
“It’s something you’ll want to see, my lord.”
He hung the last of the brushes on a post near the wash station before turning to look at her. The nymph held up a paper, a copy of New Athens News. His eyes were immediately drawn to the cover story, which included his name.
Hades, God of the Game
by Persephone Rosi
Hades snatched the paper from her hands, staring at those bold, black letters until they blurred across