Chapter Twenty Four: Ponies, Goslings and Fools

Media is Hades and Persephone but it reminds me of Nerissa's choke hold later in this chapter! (Such a romantic).

'I didn't know you had it in you, brother. It was always I who turned my fancy from one girl to another, but never you. Not my cold, cynical baby brother. How glad I am to see you've finally come around!'

Flashback: one of my first memories of a child was watching my father come home from one of his afternoons at the pub, smelling of cigars and vinegar, and greeting my mother, preparing to welcome a potential investor to the house for dinner. Mother worked nights, usually-- in a bar where she'd met Father-- toiling late into the morning, before coming home and continuing to work in the way she really wanted: art.

Mother wasn't a conventional artist in the sense of canvas and paint. She was a sculptor, and a very good one at that. But what she really needed was the expensive materials and the publicity to turn her amateur hobby into a real business.

Thus, the investor; a prim man of expense and business, with a taste for the arts. He was coming from the Upper District, a place rumoured to have champagne (whatever that was) pouring from fountains, and each child had its own horse. They were only rumours, but it was enough to scare Mother into cleaning our shabby home from top to bottom, hiring a babysitter to mind us for the evening, and cooking more intensely than we'd ever seen her, a woman who normally got by on bread and cheese.

So when Father came home drunk, having lost at his game of cards and smelling like mould...

Well, Mother roared.

The fight lasted until their divorce, but in some ways, I'm sure it still rages today. Perhaps she's never forgiven him for that missed opportunity with the investor, a man who paled at the sight of a gambler and his wife, no matter how talented.

But I remember one phrase that she screamed at Father, very vividly: "I'm so ashamed, I wish I could flee this country!"

And now, over a decade later, I'm learning what she meant. Or rather, I could now fully sympathise with that feeling of wanting to flee and never be found as I face a hoard of onlookers.

Staggering away from Hadrian, I turn to glare at the person who interrupted our...conversation...and instead, find not just one person standing there, but around eight.

The man upon the horse had spoken. Golden hair like corn sits atop a sculptured face, and rosy cherub cheeks grin boyishly down at the two of us. The uniformed man, clad in white, salutes to us from where he sits on his mare, as clean and crisp as the ceremonial tailcoat that flows down his arms. I can't tell you what was worse; the fact that the man grips the sword at his waist with mock preparation-- as if someone were about to leap from the sky above and evade the seven guards around him-- or the fact his tailcoat has golden shoulder pads that make me question humanity.

The people around him are much less lavishly dressed. In fact, their uniforms are so dark-- with only the occasional, couldn't-resist golden swirl embroidering the heavy black cloaked uniforms, decked with swishing capes. As the man pulls his horse to, I watch him swing his leg over to the other side of the saddle, and hop down with nimble ease.

We have a man on a horse and his team of bodyguards surrounding him. It's something for the world records, I'm sure, but right now I'm focusing on not hiding behind Hadrian as though I'm guilty, because I'm not. What's a bit of kissing, really? And...touching? And...a lot of tension?

I glance sideways at Hadrian, but his face is a mask of dark shadows and a perfectly placed expression of blankness. But I can see beneath the brilliantly formed armour the sweat beading his hair together, the way his chest heaves, how he tucks his hands behind his back to hide how they're shaking.

I allow a small smile at how cute I find it.

Then I turn back to our arrivals, and realise that the man on the horse isn't just any man on a horse. No, I curse my unsuspecting self: just how many men on horses had I seen around here? Oh, no. The more my brain eases back to reality-- one which doesn't involve Hadrian-- the worse my feeling of foreboding becomes. A finer detail returns to my delirious brain. This particular man-on-a-horse called Hadrian by the familiar term brother.

Brother? Brother could be an affectionate term for a close friend, someone so close that they're practically related. But from the flashy white steed to the golden toe caps on the man's navy boots, I couldn't see Hadrian having anything in common with this man. Rather, I couldn't imagine Hadrian tolerating this show unless it was important.

Therefore, unless my ears had switched around syllables, then I'm standing before Chronus, King of Elysium and key to my escape from this land.

My freedom is riding a white pony and covered in sparkly jewellery-- it doesn't bode well.

Hadrian makes a noise that sounds like a violin rapidly going out of tune. 'Chronus,' he says weakly.

So it's true. The man before us really is the ruler of Elysium, the man that lives in the pretty white house in the centre of the world.

'You're here,' Hadrian continues, his breath catching. 'So soon.'

So soon? My head whips in a devilish motion. Hadrian had known? Catching my glare, Hadrian passes me a fast, brief look, and mutters, 'I tried to tell you. Only...'

Only we got distracted? Only you interpreted the meaning much more suggestively?

When he'd said he had something important to tell me, hell's claws, couldn't he have made it clearer? Like, running-in-screaming, 'My brother is coming!' clear? In what sane mind had the pause of breaking the bad news been appropriate?

I'm fuming.

'Of course I came as soon as I could, my dear little brother,' Chronus waves a hand, as if family favours are of old hat to him. Then he reaches down to his white horse, patting the animal fondly against its flank. 'Couldn't igore a summons from family, could I? I had Wesley to thank for my speedy arrival. Fastest hellhorse in Elysium, bred for speed.'

I blink. A what? If my confusion is obvious, the two men don't try to fill me in, but continue to engage in pleasantries. How is Hadrian's court? It's marvellous, thank you. Is Jefferson still going? Indeed, he is. Hadrian has stepped in front of me, as if he's pushing me out of the conversation entirely. My anger rises.

I'm growing agitated at the statuesque soldiers around the king. They haven't moved an inch since they arrived, not even as Wesley decides to take a dump right by the ankles of one of the guards. They form an impenetrable barrier around Chronus that makes it difficult to approach him in any manner. Only Hadrian is invited in their conversation, so that I am left to analyse their conversation in the hopes that there will be something useful.

Nothing springs to mind-- at first. Then, in a wave of logic, Chronus' words, "Couldn't ignore a summons from family, could I?" reappear, and posing a difficult theme.

Hadrian had requested that Chronus came.

That means Hadrian had wanted his brother to come here and find him. For what end? To escape?

A painful truth lodges in my throat.

'Traitor,' I whisper.

I don't expect him to hear me, but I swear I see him twitch.

But what's worse-- what is infinitely worse-- is the idea of Hadrian plotting with this pretentious man on a white horse. How Chronus is a ruler, I don't know. I can't understand how a city so strict on its citizens as to rank them on their attributes towards bad deeds can have a ruler that "dallies" with different girls and fancies himself in a shiny suit. His arrogance and conceit astound me.

How would I convince an arrogant man to let me walk free? If he thinks of me as nothing but Hadrian's whore, then I will never leave this place. My previous plan-- to convince Chronus about the rogue necromancer threatening Minoa's safety-- suddenly seems laughable. It would be easier to offer him a bottle of wine.

I smile wryly. My father and this man might have nothing in common except a drink, and even then, there would be differences in expense of liquor.

But my father had taught me one thing, a mantra after Mother left that seemed to be his only guiding light. 'A game of roulette is the thrill of going into battle, but without regard for the size of your army. Rich or poor can take all.'

He had played against rich, he played against poor. No amount of money would ever limit the addiction of winning more.

Chronus isn't likely to care whether people live, die, or return as undead slaves. But he might enjoy a flutter, just like all those men and women at the casinos of Minoa, winning and losing in a cycle that never truly ended.

I stride forwards, walking up behind Hadrian, and cough to make myself known.

There's a pregnant pause after I clear my throat, but gazes pass quickly from the noise, back to the two Kings and their mundane conversation.

'...and dear Alyssa, how is she?' Chronus continues, unabashed. 'I daresay her broken heart has mended after my last visit.'

'...sadly, Alyssa has continued to pine for your return,' Hadrian says, and I see him shoot me a questioning glance.

I glare at him.

Traitor. Traitor.

I flick back to look at Chronus, who is determined not to look at me. He opens his mouth to reply, but I make a split-second decision to catch his attention.

I whip, fast, behind Hadrian, running my arm up and around his neck to grab him in a stranglehold. With surprise in my favour, he can't react quickly enough, and I have him clasped tightly, staggering to maintain his balance as I pull him down to my level, and coughing for air.

And just like that, I have everyone's attention: eight pairs of spears rise to face me, and Chronus shouts, 'Let him go!'

For a moment, I'm worried; but then I see Chronus's shoulders hunched, and his uncertain glance between his troops and his brother, and I smirk. He's powerful, but he's been lazy. He doesn't know his soldiers, and he's never had to.

Time, then, to show him what a lifetime of slums hardens you to: reality.

'I'll let him go when you listen to my request,' I say. I'm praying they don't realise that I'm unarmed, and Hadrian could probably do more damage to me trying to break out of my hold-- but he's oddly calm.

Once again, the group glance uncertainly between one another, as if they've never had to bargain for a hostage before.

After a reluctant minute, Chronus says, 'Let's hear it, then.'

'Freedom. I want out of this chain around my neck, so I'm free to travel back with Hadrian.'

To my surprise, the Elysium King relaxes visibly, waving his guards off. 'Get her, she won't harm him.'

Startled, I pull viciously on Hadrian's neck, and I hear him splutter. But my arms shake, unwilling to really hurt him, and disgusted for making him uncomfortable. Even if he is a traitor, I...

His guards shuffle, but still look confused. They don't advance as one, but instead waddle like goslings towards us.

One manages to say, 'But my lord...how can you be so sure?'

I stare the whole lot of them down, trying hard to look intimidating.

Chronus smiles. 'Because she loves him.'

My hands jolt, and Hadrian drops to the floor, but not before I catch the look of surprise that comes across his face as his brother makes the announcement. My eyes narrow, shame and fear rising in my throat, but I force them away, down, gone. Having lost my advantage, this group could kill me.

'Ness...' Hadrian croaks. I can't tell if it's his sore neck after my wrangling, or emotion. Half of me prays that it's the former, the other feels terrified that it isn't the latter.

Silents reigns again, and the group of goslings look as confused as Hadrian does, halfway between advancing and holding their hands up that this conversation is way above them. I feel like admitting to that, too. I had expected a brutal battle from Chronus, not a heart to heart.

'Because she loves him,' Chronus continues, and I can see how much he's enjoying having the power. 'She won't harm him. She's so desperate to be with him that she wants to scare me into giving her what she wants...a chance to be with him.'

A glimmer of a plan roars in my gut, an intuitive feeling that if Chronus believes he's doing his little brother a favour, he might just let me out.

I place my hands on my hips. 'So what?'

I focus so hard at not watching for Hadrian's reaction. If it's disgust, I think my heart really will break, though I'm only just getting to understand it myself.

Chronus's smile just grows.

Before he can gloat, I continue. 'I want to be with him, yes. Well done. You...' I pause, hating myself for what I was about to say, '...are the only one powerful enough to let us be together.'

Chronus nods, looking appeased. 'Yes. Yes, I am. And it is nice to see my brother taking an...interest in women, after all this long...'

I wait. Hadrian's eyes are staring at my face so hard that my cheeks grow hot, but I'm determined not to meet his gaze. I still haven't decided whether he was trying to escape by summoning his brother.

'...but what makes you think that you're worthy of my brother? You're barely eligible to be in Elysium.'

I swallow, beads of sweat trickling along my spine. 'I'm worthy. Let me prove it.'

And there! I see it: the flash of a gambler's eyes, excited for a bet. I continue and lay down the odds.

'If I win, you let me go free, removing this chain around my neck so that I can return above the waterfall with Hadrian. You will help me leave here, and help us return above.'

Chronus just nods, but I see the hint of a smile, the thrill of the game. 'And if you lose?'

'I won't,' I assure him, 'but to make you happy, you get to pick what happens to me if I lose.'

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Hadrian shake his head vigorously. I ignore him, even as I hear him saying, 'Don't, Ness, stop!'

Chronus says, 'If you lose, you spend eternity in Judgement.'

I don't blink. 'Deal,' I say.

'How are you going to prove your worth?'

I pause thoughtfully. I'm good at fighting, sneaking, running. But, as if sensing my strengths, Chronus says, 'How about you find a way to reach me at the centre of Elysium? I live in the white house in the centre. You'll know the one when you see it.'

The ruined sewer plans are pulled forth once more, and I try not to scream. Chronus knows how nearly-impossible it is to get across Elysium, it seems.

Hadrian seems to think the same. He's pulling at my arm, desperate. 'Ness, don't do it, it's too dangerous...the sewers are dangerous.'

I know he's trying to help, but I turn and smile, taking his hand in mine and gently pressing it back towards him. 'If I do this, we can leave together. If that's what you want.'

As soon as the words leave my mouth, I want to take them back. I inhale sharply, stepping away in terror. Why had I said that? If that's what you want? What did it matter what Hadrian wanted, when I need to, have to, get back?

If he says no, Chronus won't be so interested in setting the two of us together anymore, and the game will be over.

He won't bother to gamble on something that isn't favourable for him.

I bite my lip as Hadrian replies, 'Are you insane? Of course that's what I want.'

And his words send hot relief over me, a surge so powerful that it reaches my toes and fills my body with a happy, placated warmth.  I tell myself that it's just relief that I'll be able to go back, to find what happened to Nate, to take my revenge. But beneath it all, there's something more, and it's becoming clearer by the second what it is.

'Then I'll do it,' I agree.

I turn back to Chronus, sat on his white mare, and raise out my hand to offer a handshake.

Hadrian lets out a muffled protest, realising his words only invited me to carry on. But before he can intervene, the group of goslings have finally surrounded us, and protecting him, from harm. Leaving Chronus to reach for my hand and shake it, fast.

'Deal,' he agreed, his voice a mirthful rumble. He's confident he's going to win, which makes me seethe. 'Hadrian is not allowed to lift a finger to help you, though.'

The Elysium King looks knowingly from our entwined handshake to Hadrian, thrashing to reach me. As if Chronus knows how much help Hadrian would try to give me, if he could.

'Deal,' I say a final time.

Hadrian puts his head in his hands.

A/N: Hellooo and happy midweek update! How are you all doing?

Some questions about this chapter:

What do you like and dislike about Chronus?

How has Nerissa reacted to him?

Hadrian: traitor or innocent?

See you soon!

Don't forget: READ COMMENT VOTE if you liked!

Larissa x