Love is a beautiful entity—one that I long to experience. I want to feel my heart race as I take in my spouse. I want to feel the butterflies flutter in the pit of my stomach. I want to wake up in the middle of the night and spot my sleeping spouse; to see their steady intake of breaths; to see that they are mine. I want to do normal things with them—read in bed, or even eat dinner with them. Although I have unlimited riches, unlimited power, it all means nothing to me when the only thing I do not have is love.
I dragged myself out of bed after another fitful sleep. I shuffled into the bathroom and peered into the mirror. Pale skin accompanied by purple bags under my eyes greeted me—not to mention my messy, onyx-colored hair and a five o'clock shadow. When was the last time I shaved? Yesterday? The day before that? I do not recall it.
But my eyes are what frightened me the most. The once brilliant icy irises filled with a passion, now stared back at me, crowded with nothing. I adored my job, punishing those who deserved it, and rewarding those who earned it, but now it felt like a burden. I have to judge the dead. Even though it seemed, at times, a meaningless job, it does succeed in taking my mind off my loneliness.
But there are times when my job does not accomplish that effect—mostly when a spirit speaks about finding their long-dead wife or husband. Or when there is a lull in spirits, and I glance to the right of me and see the empty spot where her throne would be. Or him, I do not discriminate. My day-to-day activities feel like I am only filling the void.
Ripping my thoughts away from my misery, I turned the knob on the bath and filled the tub up with steaming water. I took off my clothes and sank into the scalding water. A pang shot through me—somebody built this tub intending to fit another person in it. The same goes for the walk-in shower in the left corner.
I pulled the plug and climbed out, drying my dripping hair. I walked out of the room and into my closet. I chose a navy button-up, a black blazer, and black neatly-pressed slacks. I ate my breakfast alone and in silence. I could invite my servants to join me, but I knew they fear me. I cannot blame them; I would be afraid of myself if I were not myself.
I trudged to the Judgment Room, where King Minos, King Rhadamanthus, and King Aeacus sat. It used to be that they did their jobs on the bank of the River Styx, but I wanted to have the opportunity to disagree with their decisions if the time comes. I sat on my throne in the back and signaled for the guards to open the double-doors, allowing the first spirit to enter.
Halfway through the day, I received it—gods wished to enter my domain. I granted the Gates of the Underworld to open, and in they strolled—the Moirai. They bowed before my throne, and I looked over their appearance. The three sisters are identical except for one thing: their eyes. They were in their late fifties with straight, silver hair. Even though they appeared elderly, their faces lacked wrinkles. Clotho had light yellow eyes; Lachesis had sapphire blue eyes, and Atropos had solid black—as if her pupils entirely swallowed her irises.
"What brings you three here?" I asked; my voice lacked emotion—the gods do not like my presence, so I treat them with the same regard.
"Lord Hades, we have something urgent to tell you," they all spoke in unison.
I raised an eyebrow. "Well, what is it?"
"We shall give you privacy, Your Majesty," one of the kings spoke.
I met the eyes of the kings. They rose and left the room, the guards following. "Continue," I urged.
What could it be? Is Zeus challenging me once more? Is there a spirit uprising in my future?
Clotho took a small step forward, catching my attention. "We came to give you a warning. I felt someone come into this life who is significant to you."
"Oh? Whom? And why are they important?"
She shook her head, her silver locks glinting in the light. "We do not know the specifics. But know she will impact you greatly. Be prepared."
"She?"
Clotho widened her eyes. "Yes. What we've told you is all we know. Goodbye, Lord Hades."
Their silhouettes faded, and I slammed my fist down on the arm of my throne. "Wait! Tell me!" But they had vanished. "Who?" I whispered the word in vain.
I leaned my head back against the black velvet and closed my eyes. Who did they speak of—friend or foe? Is this woman going to be my downfall or my lover? I groaned and reopened my eyes. I yelled at the guards to come back in, and the doors swung open.
For the rest of the day, I paid no attention to the Judgment. My thoughts refused to wander anywhere else other than the Fates' words. I cursed their vagueness.
For the next week, I mulled over their visit. The more I thought of this woman, the more I realized how deep-rooted my loneliness was. I longed more and more for her to be my companion, to reign by my side. I didn't realize anybody else knew that I could not focus until Thanatos, my lieutenant, approached me.
"Hades," he began, "you're my best friend, and I wish you well. Whatever the Moirai told you has taken your focus. Take Kerberos and spend a few years topside."
I raised my eyebrows. Perhaps this will pull me from the emptiness in which I swim. "What a brilliant idea. I shall do as you say."
"When will you return?"
"I do not know. I will come back when I grow tired of humans."
"I do not recommend more than three decades."
"Of course. Goodbye, Thanatos." I gathered my dog, and we left the Underworld.