“Everyone wants to make sure that it doesn’t turn into a war.” His voice was gruff, and he spoke like a strategist. “A few of the gods know what she did to Aeëtes, a son of Helios.” Aeëtes felt a cold shiver go down his spine at the mention, but Poseidon carried on. “And a few more know that Hera struck against you. They are all slow to move because as soon as someone does, allegiances are called in…”
“Yes, yes,” Hecate waved a hand in the air like she was bored. “Trust me, I am aware of your pantheon politics. I avoid them.” Poseidon nodded in agreement.
“You are wise to do so. The gods are all afraid of another war so soon.” Poseidon and Hecate exchanged a look that Aeëtes could not interpret.
“Sometimes I wish that during the titan wars…” Hecate trailed off, not wanting to say it out loud, but Poseidon knew the outcome that they had planned for. While Zeus and Hera had been defeated, they had not been stopped permanently.
“I know.” Poseidon rolled his eyes. “I know.”
“What news of the Underworld?”
“Hades is aware of your…adventure.” Poseidon paused, his eyes roving over Aeëtes as if in judgement. “Hermes let us know of your desire to keep things from Nyx and Erebus.”
“Theywould nothesitate to start a war,” Hecate felt the need to clarify. “This must be sorted quickly and with honor, something Hera does not have, and I can handle it.”
“You certainly can,” Poseidon agreed, his voice firm when he said it. Aeëtes took note. Poseidon believed it when he said it. “I cannot do all that I would wish for you, Goddess, especially considering that you have returned the greatest gift of all to my household. I will do what I can and shall continue to bless your winds. You shall be in Colchis by nightfall.” Water began moving in a small vortex around Scylla and Poseidon’s feet, signaling their imminent departure.
“You bless us, Poseidon.” Hecate tilted her head in farewell, and Aeëtes noticed once again that she did not bow.
“Be well, Hecate. Be well, son of Helios.” Poseidon had already partially disappeared as his words rang out through the air, vanishing with Scylla in a flash of light.
Hecate and Aeëtes stood on the deck for a minute in silence. Remarkably, Poseidon’s magic had wiped the ship clean of any signs of a battle. Even their clothes were now dry. They could hear the crew murmuring about in the galley below, and the unmistakable sound of wine cups clattering against one another in toast. Hecate swayed, her eyelids fluttering closed with exhaustion from the exertion, and Aeëtes was in near total shock. When she wavered on her feet, however, he snapped out of it and grabbed her before she fell.
Hecate was fast asleep, her mortal form requiring rest as her immortal power recharged. Aeëtes scooped her up against his chest, carrying her like a bride back down to the cabin below. She murmured something in her sleep against his chest, causing Aeëtes to only squeeze her tighter. He looked down at her face, at peace in sleep, and tucked her in bed. As he went to untangle her arms from around his neck, Hecate’s grip tightened.
“Stay.” The word was quiet, barely audible, and was spoken from somewhere in between sleep and wakefulness. That was where Hecate lived, in the space between worlds, between life and death, and it was where her words were most honest. It went straight to Aeëtes’s heart. He maneuvered her over to the side and slid in the bed next to her, pulling her to him.
Hecate’s eyes flickered open in surprise, but she let out a long breath. He could see the sweet surrender on her face as she laid her head back on his chest, too tired to fight with herself over what she wanted.
“Don’t worry,” Aeëtes said with a soft smile. “We can pretend this didn’t happen either.”
25
Aeëtes woke to a cool breeze. He sat up slowly, even conscious of Hecate next to him before he was fully awake. She barely stirred, and he gently untangled himself from her, taking extra care to make sure that she was comfortable. He could tell from the light that it was right before dawn. He told himself that it was wise to step away, to not test his limits. Even though Hecate had acknowledged that it was her fears keeping them apart and that she knew he would continue to pursue her, some things needed to go slowly. She had invited him to her bed after the draining events with Scylla and Poseidon, and after that, she didn’t need to wake up and overthink his presence there.
Aeëtes let himself take one more long, lasting look at her—every part of her looking like the goddess she was—and pulled himself away. It took almost a physical effort to leave her cabin, knowing that the bed was soft, warm, and full of her.
He somehow managed it and wondered if it proved that he did have god-like strength. He was still in remarkably good spirits, having slept the night soundly, and took the stairs up to the deck double-time. His hair was still mussed from sleep, and he knew that somewhere in Colchis, his mother had a sixth sense for when his tunic was this dirty. He couldn’t be bothered with it, feeling lighter than he had in years.
It was still dark as he emerged topside, seeing that it was vacant. Poseidon’s power still guided the ship, so there were no rowers at work or navigators at the helm. It was a surprisingly peaceful moment on the ship, which was hard to come by. As Aeëtes made his way to the bow of the ship, the cold wind picked up again, making him shiver. It was unnaturally cold, too cold for where they were and what time of year it was. He stopped and turned around slowly, standing at the end of the ship as the breeze wrapped around him.
There was something about it that was soothing like a melody. It brought him a sense of peace and calm, and even in a relaxed state, Aeëtes knew to question that. The stars seemed to twinkle a little brighter, even as they prepared their way home to their mother, Nyx, and Aeëtes felt what he knew to be the unmistakable presence of a keeper of the Underworld. Aeëtes had grown accustomed to the feeling of Underworld gods from his time spent with Hecate. There was a sensation to their power that was different from any other gods. It was all-encompassing, quiet yet loud, full of contradictions like death and rebirth.
Aeëtes took a few steps backwards until he was leaning against the railing, putting the horizon behind him in his blind spot.
“If it would please you,” Aeëtes spoke lowly, “show yourself. I know the presence of a messenger of the Underworld when I feel it. I will pay you respects if you demand it.”
There was the smallest bit of fear in Aeëtes’s voice, for no matter how soothing a god’s presence was, no one was ever fully comfortable in the presence of the Underworld immortals. There was a soft laughter that echoed around Aeëtes, not cruel, but not entirely joyful. It was almost pitying.
“I demand no respects. Everyone pays their respects towards me in the end. All come my way.” The voice seemed to require all of Aeëtes’s senses to process it. It was the deepest voice that he had ever heard, sounding like it was carved from obsidian.
“Who…” Aeëtes started to ponder before his eyes got wide and he shut his mouth. The god laughed again, still unseen, this time from somewhere in front of him.
“It sounds like you have guessed who I am,” the voice responded. Thick, dark clouds came down from the sky in a vortex, spinning slowly until they touched down on the ship. They picked up speed and began to spin faster, flickers of lightning flashing in the funnel, until they disappeared instantly. In their place, was one of the tallest gods that Aeëtes had ever seen in their mortal form—and these days, he was getting pretty familiar with immortals.
“Thanatos,” Aeëtes breathed, feeling a mix of fear and respect. There was one god that everyone would bow to in the end, immortal or mortal, and it was Thanatos, the God of death.
Thanatos stood taller than Aeëtes, with hair that was so dark, it seemed to shine blue-black in the fading moonlight. His hair was shorter than most Greeks and immortals, and it seemed to stick up from all directions. He wore hoplite armor, without a sword and shield, and had a calm smile on his face.
