We all know the story. Meg sells her soul to Hades to save her boyfriend's life just to have him leave her for another woman. And then comes the boy wonder Hercules who whisks her off her feet, renewing her faith in the male species. But what if...s...
I stumbled through the portal Hades created, taking us back to the Underworld. Smoothing my hair, I let out a deep sigh.
"It's the same thing day in, day out, Hades. Distract the unknowing mortal, yank him back to the Underworld. Rinse and repeat."
Hades rolled his shoulders. "You've been given a purpose here, Sweetcheeks. You should be thrilled."
"A purpose?" I rolled my eyes. "I'd have thought you would've figured out I'm capable of more."
He narrowed his eyes. "Alright. You know what? What would you be doing up there if it weren't for our deal, hm? Tell me. I'm dying to hear it."
I clucked my tongue against my teeth. "I don't know. Maybe I'd have taken up pottery or something."
His face fell and he gave a slow blink. "Pottery? You?"
"Yeah. Why not?" I made pottery forming gestures with my hands. "A gal's gotta get her hands dirty now and again, right?"
A villainous grin pulled at his lips. "Fine." He waved his hand and a pottery wheel appeared between us. "Fifty pots by the end of the day. Something to spruce up the place."
My lips parted. "Are you serious?"
He gripped my shoulders, leading me over to the stool and gave a light push until I was sitting. "Very." His lips hovered near my ear. "And make sure to pour your soul into it, Meg."
"I—" My throat tried, stealing the words away.
His fingertips graze across my shoulders as he floated toward the exit. "And you'll find you literally can't move until they're done. Have fun." He half-smiled, waved, and disappeared.
I rolled my eyes and went to stand up. My butt felt like it was glued to the stool. Grimacing, I tried again. Nothing.
"How do I get myself into these situations? How?" I yelled at Mount Olympus, shaking my hands at the skies.
Hours went by and I managed to make three pots. If you could call them pots. They looked more like sad, warbly dishes, but he said nothing about them being functional. Clay coated my hands and arms and I blew out a breath, wiping a bead of sweat from my forehead with the one clean spot on the back of my hand.
"Good mornin', Meg," Panic said as he appeared, yawning and scratching his belly.
"Panic! Please tell me you know how to make pots." It came out more as a desperate plea.
His expression turned quizzical as he turned, noticing the wheel in front of me. "What the—since when are you into pottery?"
I blew out a breath, sending stray hair out of my eyes. "Since about three hours ago when Hades took my words in the literal sense and cursed me to this stool until fifty pots are done."
He opened his mouth and then closed it again. "That sounds like him."
"Whattaya say, lil guy? Help me out?"
He nodded vigorously and hopped onto the wheel.
Who knew an Underworld demon would be so skilled at pottery? Between the two of us, it only took another four hours to make all remaining pots. As I rested the fiftieth pot on the floor, I hesitantly tried to stand up, and to my relief, was able to.
Blowing out a breath, I smiled down at my miniature blue hero. "Thanks, blue. I couldn't have done this without you." I kissed the top of his head.
His cheeks blushed and his foot did a quick pitter patter against the ground. "Aw shucks, Meg."
"Well, well, well, look at you, working the system," Hades' voice boomed. He lurked in a darkened corner with his arms crossed, his yellow eyes holding a fierce glow.
Panic yelped and disappeared.
"You never said I couldn't get help. You said fifty pots." I raised a brow.
He grinned, floating behind me, and dragging a finger over my neck. It sent an odd tingle down my spine. His hand splayed, fire blasting from it, coating the pots in flames, instantly hardening them.
I bit my lip and launched forward, scooping one of the pots in my hand. Without overthinking it, I hurled one at his head. He ducked and the pot crashed into the wall.
His large eyes widened, morphing into a glare as he slowly stood up, staring at me. "I'm not sure whether to be furious with you or strangely attracted to the fact you just threw a pot at the God of the Underworld."
I let out a shrill of frustration. "You make the deal with me and you have me do the most absurd things. It infuriates me."
"Oh?" He floated closer. "Considering what I could do, what I have done for other mortal deals, you should feel so lucky." The last word slid from his tongue like a serpent's hiss.
"Lucky?" I guffawed. "Do you treat everyone like this that you bring down here?"
His hands balled into fists at his sides, arms shaking. Suddenly he was in front of me, slamming me against the nearest wall. He put a hand on each side of my head, caging me in. "I've never brought anyone else down here."
I stared up at him, my heart racing into a frantic gallop. "What?" It was barely above a whisper.
He dipped his head like he was about to kiss me but turned away with a snarl.
I touched my neck, keeping myself pressed against the wall as it seemed to be the only thing holding me up. He'd never brought anyone else down here? Why me?
"I could always keep to my word of the other little thing I said I'd ask you to do." He kept his back to me and snapped his fingers.
My purple toga disappeared, replaced by a skimpy black ensemble. My entire back was exposed, stopping right above my butt crack. Two strips of fabric skirted over my breasts and between my legs, otherwise everything else was transparent.
"Isn't this a bit overkill?" The words came out breathy.
He turned around to look at me, his face visibly stunned before turning devilish. He floated in front of me, his eyes unabashedly roaming over his creation. "You are overkill, Meg."
I should've felt humiliated. Embarrassed how much of myself was exposed in front of him. So why did my spine feel like goo watching him ogle me?
"Do I have to dance with enthusiasm?" I purred.
He shook his head, still not bringing his gaze to my face. "I don't even need you to dance. But I'm making this your official Underworld uniform."
I arched my back, studying his reaction. He dragged a hand down his face and to my surprise, and admittedly disappointment, he turned away again.
"Brush up those come-hither eyes, Meg. I'm sending you to deal with a centaur tomorrow." He kept his back to me as if looking at me in this get up anymore would entice him to do something.
"A centaur?" I folded my arms, but before I could ask anything else, he disappeared in a puff of smoke.
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A/N: And so the tie-in/switch up is about to begin!! Can anyone guess which centaur she's about to "deal" with and whose going to show up? ;) As always, likes, comments, and votes are appreciated!
