Chapter Twenty: Brothers, Grim

Whenever I'd heard people talking about someone going to the pearly gates, I'd never taken it seriously. It had been a nice allegory for death, a sweet euphemism for a difficult passing, a metaphor for their joyous afterlife.

From now on, I'll always imagine the true-to-life, as-predicted, white-as-pearl gates that flanked the large, impenetrable wall around Elysium.

If that was the ruler-- Chronus's-- idea of a joke, then I'll give Hadrian his dues, his brother's a little mad. But already Hadrian's self-satisfied smile is irking me, and I want to prove that I can get out of this steaming mess I'm in, and shove it up his hairy, deathly as--

'You'll need to show them your soul ID,' Hadrian's voice interrupts my cursing thoughts, and I sniff to indicate I understood. The gates stand five times my height and if I were to lie on the floor, probably four Nerissas across. They are flanked by guards who wear highly impractical white uniforms and carry spears, yet another choice that makes me raise an eyebrow. There's a desk with an old man sat at it, waiting for me to show him my placard around my neck. I step up to him, hands holding the rectangular piece of metal in my palms whilst simultaneously searching the man's face for any hint of personality, but there's nothing. His wrinkles hide everything but his upturned mouth, and he nods once to let me pass, scribbling onto an ancient scroll with a white feather quill that's seen better days.

Hadrian speaks only a few words to the man on the desk, and he lets him through with a friendly, toothless smile. I gape at him, having not heard his words but desperate to know them.

Not surprisingly, Hadrian doesn't humour me. No, he sets off through along the path without saying a single word, and I seethe.

The path leads to a set of stone steps, so clean and bright that they might have been added yesterday, if the heavens-- Elysium-- were into decorating. On either side of the steps, a small shrubbery bush is standing tall and proud, growing small and delicate white flowers. Despite the climb, my legs feel airy, and we drift to the top feeling angelic.

And meet the impassable, indomitable pit that is our heaven.

A jagged path is carved into the pit, chiseled away by hands and years upon years of labor. Tiny people of ant-like proportions are moving far below, among narrow, cramped streets of filth and dirt and billowing smoke. Steam engines crank, workers quarry, and a tram trundles around the outer perimeter, dropping off hoards of more dot-sized people. In concentric circles, another wall hems around the squashed houses, and a noticeable improvement in living conditions consists in the second section. Cleaner and greener, the houses are separate, trees begin to exist, and there's a general feeling of more space. Alas, all good things must make way for better things, and another wall cuts the land, and the next part noticeably improves feng shui again. Two more walls exist, leaving a total of five sections, the fifth being the mountainous temple.

My mouth falls open.

There is beauty; it's just segregated from the rest of the city, a clean smudge against a dirty backdrop. Rising like a plinth to focus on the white palace is the centre of a great mountain, covered with beautiful, branching trees and water, cascading from the mist covering the top. The building sits nestled among the white cliffs and waterfalls, calling upon all of the most ingenious architects to combine the world's greatest, most beautiful building. Even from this distance, I can see its iridescence, its noble pillars.

Someone shoves me, and I stumble. Hadrian grips my arm as the soul that pushed me appears, with a smirk to rival my husband's. His eyes are dark and his skin a golden tan to match his unruly hair. He's joined by another with chestnut eyes and hair. The second man's eyes look up and down Hadrian's half-naked body with obvious disbelief. The two are clearly guards, wearing cheesy white button-up uniforms, and little navy hats to match.

They are stood blocking a fork in the path; from my vision, I can see one snakes down the hacked wall of the pit, heading in a twisting line straight for that outer city of dirt and decay.

The other, however, notably takes an abridged route; polite steps lead downwards and onto a walkway to the second sector, beyond the blocking wall. And that path continues on, I notice, allowing a route right up to the foot of the mountain, where a new kind of path must start.

If my instincts are to be believed, Chronus sits in that charming white palace atop his pleasant hill, and the fastest way to it is via the second path.

The first guard is appraising us, laughing openly at Hadrian and nudging his friend to do the same. But then he does something strange; he notices Hadrian's lack of chest plate, lack of ID-- and blanches, visibly.

'Who are you?' his friend, Chestnut, demands.

I feel like it's our turn to smirk as Hadrian says, 'I am King Hadrian of the Underworld Court. I am here to see my brother.'

His words hit home to the two guards how despicably they've behaved, and the two immediately set about grovelling, bowing to the king and offering to guide him to the palace. I'm all but forgotten.

'I'll need some clothes, please, gentlemen,' Hadrian requests, and the two guards look at each other, terrified.

'We don't have any clothes handy, your majesty,' one says.

'Only the clothes on our back sir!' the second chips in, and the first one looks at him in horror.

'They'll do,' says Hadrian sweetly, and I stifle a laugh as a cough. Tripping over themselves, the guards strip to their own underwear as the king tries on their clothing.

Hadrian's legs are too long for the darker skinned guard, but Chestnut is taller so his trousers fit fine. However, Chestnut is less bulky than Hadrian, so he chooses the first guard's jacket. For comic effect, I hand Hadrian the hat, and he flashes me a wink as he tries it on.

Gods, he looks shockingly good in another man's uniform.

No wonder I failed lust, I think.

But I've drawn attention to myself with the hat, and the tanned skin guard regards me with an air of coolness. He takes one look at my ID and breathes heavily through his nose as a sigh. Without a word, he grabs me by the arm and steers me towards the long route; the route that's winding, narrow, collapsing, and going in the opposite direction than I want to.

'I need to see the King!' I demand, pulling my arm back. Tanned guard's grip doesn't falter, but his nails rake across my skin. 'I'm Hadrian's wife, I'm with him!'

But Tanned only laughs, and continues to steer me towards the metal gates that look perfect at keeping the citizens locked in. That's the kind of hellhole it is, I shudder to realise.

'You're not seeing King Chronus,' Tanned says. Strangely, it's not said viciously, but matter-of-factly. 'He only sees those in the Second Circle and above.'

I want to tell him precisely what his ruler will be able to see once I've stuck his head somewhere, but I'm facing the gates and angering this guard is the last think I should really do if I want to convince him that I deserve to waltz out from here.

Hadrian, meanwhile, is led gently towards those nice steps, and offered by Chestnut to escort him to the palace directly, but my husband shakes his head, glancing back to see where I was.

Being dragged away.

Chestnut cranks open the metal doors for the other guard,and he shoves me roughly inside. I swear and curse, giving up on persuading him, and trying to fight my way back out. Tanned has a whip in his belt, which he slings in an arc towards my feet, tripping me up.

Hitting my face on rough rock, I scream, 'Hadrian! HADRIAN!'

It's a last resort, but I'm hopeful. There's no way he could let them treat me like this. Could he?

The metal doors begin to close, and Tanned stands there with his whip, making sure I don't leave.

Where is Hadrian?

Why wasn't he coming?

'HADRIAN!' I scream, but the doors are getting slimmer, and I realise that he's not coming. He's gone straight to the goddamn king to ask for his ticket back up to his cushy palace, and he's leaving me to rot here.

Damn, heartless, shitting bastard.

Tears actually spring into my eyes as the gap between the doors now barely fits a man's shoulders. I had hoped he had some honor, but it seems like my wish wasn't his problem.

Fucker.

Fuck it.

Fuck him.

I stuff my hands over my eyes, pushing them onto the ground. I've failed. Failed. How in hell's name would I get out of here? The whole point of this place was to keep us locked in, and if thousands of others couldn't escape, how would I?

I sob, unhappy. I'd given everything except my virginity to find Nate and save his soul, and now I might never find him, never find out what happened to him. I pound my fists onto the ground behind me, screaming in fury and pain and agony, splitting my skin on the sharp rock.

'Hey-- hey, stop!'

I freeze.

Slowly, dumbfounded, I raise my head.

A man in his white guard's uniform and luscious dark hair stands over me, looking flushed and confused and unsure what to do. He's beautiful, but there's something much more to him, something I'm only just starting to understand. I'm hopelessly lost as his eyes meet mine, and then I'm on my feet and in his arms, burying my face in his chest and holding back tears of gratitude.

Hesitant, I feel Hadrian answer, wrapping his arms around me in comfort, as if the gesture was alien and he wasn't sure how to do it. Then, the weight of his chin as he props his head on mine.

'You came back for me,' my voice is muffled against his chest.

His chest vibrates. He's chuckling, and it's a sound that calms my whole body. 'I must be mad. But I couldn't just leave you.'

Words can't describe my relief.

And my thoughts can't process another emotion welling inside my chest, bubbling like a volcano ready to blow.

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