by Lianyu Tan
Hades paused for a moment. “Not everything.”
“Me, then. You feel the need to control me.”
“The gardener tends his plants to grow in a manner that is pleasing to the eye, does he not?”
“I can’t fit the shape you’re training me for.”
“We shall see.” Hades folded her hands in her lap. The index finger of her sword arm was black with carbon ink. “People look to you, Persephone. They notice how I treat you. You cannot be above the law.”
“Your law.”
“My laws, and the ancient laws inherited from those who came before us.”
“Before us? You mean Gaia?” Persephone asked.
“I mean the gods that humans worshiped before Gaia. Before Chaos, before Nyx.”
Persephone pressed her hand to her mouth. That was a form of blasphemy, to say that Chaos was not at the beginning of the universe. But she could not stop the question that slipped from her lips. “What gods?”
Hades shook her head. “Deities beyond counting, long forgotten. One day our time will come, and we too will be forgotten. No more worshipers; no more sacrifices.”
For once, Persephone was grateful they were in the underworld. If anyone else had heard such treacherous words pass Hades’ lips... she did not wish to think of what might have befallen her. “But... we are their gods.”
“For a time, yes. And for that time to continue, we must fulfill our sacred duties, lest we be forgotten.”
“What about my duty?” Persephone asked. “How can I usher in spring from beneath the earth?”
Hades smiled. “There was a time before you. Your mother will have to bear that burden once more.”
Her mother... She had scarcely thought of Demeter in the last few days. “She will be greatly displeased,” she whispered.
Hades sighed. “Enough. On your knees and tell me, from the beginning, what happened this morning.”
Persephone trembled, her hands forming fists by her sides.
Hades pursed her lips. “In the overworld, you had no issue with proskynesis.”
“That was before I knew what you were.”
“And what am I?”
Persephone looked away. She could not say it. She was too weak of will.
Hades pushed her chair back and stood, walking over to her. She took Persephone’s chin in her hand, redirecting her gaze. “Name me, Persephone.”
She made herself look into Hades’ eyes, which were as black as Erebus. “Hades, Queen of the Underworld, daughter of Kronos and Rhea.”
“And?”
“And my wife,” Persephone said in a whisper.
“And?”
“My abductor, and my defiler!”
Hades released her.
Persephone fell to her knees, her arms outstretched before her. “Please, my queen, I beg of you, don’t keep me here. Don’t confine me in this sunless land, this starless night. I will be your wife in name—your courtesan—your slave—but please, please! I can’t bear it here. I can’t,” she sobbed, her voice choking up with tears.
Hades was silent for some time. When at last she spoke, her voice held all the sorrow of the Vale of Mourning. “Then you must learn to suffer well, my sweet Persephone.”
Persephone pressed her forehead against the floor and cried, wondering if she would ever feel the earth beneath her feet once more. Her soul ached for the touch of overworld soil, for the heat of the sun across her back.
“I cannot say that I regret my actions,” Hades said, far above her. “But I have done you harm. I could not wait for you to love me. It is not the way of the gods.”
Persephone rocked back on her heels and wiped a hand across her face. “You’re not a god.”
“No,” Hades said bitterly. “I fall under greater scrutiny. People expect more and are less forgiving.” Her voice softened. “I cannot show mercy, not even to you. They would consume me if they knew.”
“Knew what?”
Hades knelt beside her and covered Persephone’s hand with her own. “How precious you are to me.”
Persephone drew her hand back and wrapped her arms around herself.
Hades stood, the dark folds of her chiton sighing around her. “I will not ask for your forgiveness, nor your understanding. Believe what you may, but I never wished for you to suffer.”
As an apology, it wasn’t much, but it was more than what another god might have offered her. She hadn’t been taught to expect any more.
“You hurt me,” Persephone whispered.
“I know.”
Was it always to be like this, her on her knees, Hades above her, somewhere in the periphery of her vision? Would she always feel this hollow inside?
Hades sat on the end of the bed, the frame creaking under her weight. She steepled her fingers, pressing her lips to them before glancing up. “I will grant you a favor, as my penance. I relinquish my marital rights; I will not force you into our marriage bed. If you wish to join with me, it will be of your own choosing.”
Persephone turned her head so that she could see Hades through her tears. “And if that time never comes?”
“Then we shall both be poorer for it.”
She didn’t believe her. It had to be some kind of trick.
Hades stood, walking toward her. Persephone stiffened, but Hades merely leaned over and unwrapped her himation, sliding it off her shoulders. She tossed it aside. “Tell me what happened today. You might as well start with how you acquired those bruises.”
Persephone glanced aside, shivering a little, the fine hairs on her arms standing up. Still on her knees, she told Hades it was merely the result of being trapped in the storage chest on the wagon. Then she backtracked and started with seeing Theseus near the library, working down all the way to when she climbed out of the box to find Pirithous’s head rolling at her feet.
One thing bothered her. “How did you find me so quickly?” Persephone asked.
Hades was facing away from her at this point, staring out of the window with her hands clasped behind her back. Brooding, Persephone supposed. The view certainly didn’t warrant such close inspection.
Hades turned and gestured toward her neck. “That chain. I had it enspelled by one of our sorceresses. All the best and brightest of humankind make their way to my domain, sooner or later.”
A charm? Persephone’s hand went to her necklace, the necklace for which there seemed to be no clasp. “It won’t come off.”
“As intended.”
Even if she reached the surface, she would never be free. Not until she could find someone talented enough to remove it.
“You poisoned my hound,” Hades said. “My houndmaster tells me it may take years to recover his training.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Are you?”
Perhaps Lethe’s water would make it easier for her to bypass Cerberus a third time, if she ever had the chance to try. She could not truly be sorry for that. “I had to,” Persephone said.
Hades nodded, apparently satisfied with her honesty. “Zeus and Poseidon will be unhappy to hear of their children’s misdeeds, but considering the circumstances I am well within my rights to punish them. However, these kinds of incidents must be handled delicately.” Hades leaned her back against the window frame, her arms crossed over her chest, one of them bandaged at the bicep. “As for your punishment—”
“My punishment?”
“Yes, your punishment. I haven’t decided—”
“But why?” Persephone asked, her eyes filling again with tears. Hadn’t she been punished enough?
Hades was clearly not accustomed to being interrupted, but after a moment’s pause she went on. “You are not above the law, my dear. No one is permitted to leave the underworld without permission.”
“Not even you?”
“I cannot move as freely as my brothers.” Hades stepped away from the window, pacing across the floor. “It was the only way they would allow a goddess to rule,” she said with venom in her
voice. “Did you think I chose this fate? To be feared by gods and mortals alike, to be loathed for the judgments I am duty-bound to make?”
Persephone shrank back from Hades’ anger, even though she knew she was not its target.
Hades took a breath and continued, more quietly. “I expose myself beneath Zeus’s sky for only three reasons: when performing my duties, by invitation, or by negotiation.”
“But when you took me—the cave—”
“That place was liminal, in neutral territory. There are many such spaces, some beneath the depths of the ocean, others scattered high and low.” Hades looked at her sideways. “It was fate that brought you there to me.”
Fate? No, no; it was a coincidence. Wasn’t it? First Demeter’s fields rejecting her, then the narcissus. She should’ve known it wasn’t right; should’ve felt... something.
Hades glanced at the burning stumps of the candles. “The evening grows late, and you must rest.” She waved her hand in a clear dismissal.
She was leaving her alone? Truly? Persephone gaped, but it seemed Hades had no more use for her that night. Hades turned her back on her, sitting down at her writing desk and dipping her pen into ink.
Persephone rose from her knees and fled.
16
Judgment
She planted herself above Hades, her hair unbound, the ends trailing over Hades’ collarbone. Hades’ face was free from sorrow; her lips curved into a smile, her eyes soft and heavy-lidded.
Persephone traced the outline of Hades’ lips with her fingertips. Hades kissed her fingers, then drew them into her warm, wet mouth.
Persephone giggled.
A knocking at the door made her draw back. She pulled a sheet over her naked chest and turned towards the interloper.
“Mistress! You must rise, else you’ll be late!”
Persephone opened her eyes with a sharp intake of breath. She looked up to find Xenia throwing back the shutters, welcoming in the weak morning light.
It was too early to be woken like this. She looked down to see she was still partially dressed from the previous night. Her skin was clammy, and an unpleasant warmth lingered between her thighs. Was she so depraved as to desire Hades’ touch after two nights without it?
“Queen Hades has asked you to join her in the throne room,” Xenia said. She reached into a storage chest and pulled out a chiton, belt, and sandals. “You must hurry!”
There was no time for elaborate hairstyles. Persephone undid the loose braid she’d slept in, finger-combed her hair and re-braided it whilst Xenia slipped the sandals on her feet. She changed quickly and then was ushered out the door, still fumbling with the fibula that was meant to fasten her chiton’s left shoulder.
She was so engrossed with her task she almost ran into Hades straight on.
“Allow me.” Hades fixed the clasp for her, the tips of her fingers brushing Persephone’s skin as she did so.
Persephone blushed and glanced away, the echoes of her dream still vivid in her mind. A dream... or a vision, yet to pass. Would there ever be a time during her long immortality where she could bring herself to forgive Hades?
The goddess in question wore black again, as if it were some kind of uniform, the color bringing out the unnatural paleness of her skin. The fabric was so diaphanous it billowed out behind her as she walked, like smoke floating in the air.
“Come,” Hades said. “We should not keep our shades waiting.” She proceeded, not glancing back to see whether Persephone was following. Her strides were long, so that Persephone had to hurry to catch up.
“Our shades?”
“The dead.” Hades had seemed so talkative the night before, but this morning her words were clipped, the expression on her face neither tender nor kind.
Persephone tried to maintain the silence but failed. “Did you sleep well?” she asked, then bit her tongue, silently cursing herself.
“Well enough. And you?”
Persephone blushed again, grateful that Hades was not looking at her. “Yes, thank you.”
They reached the back of the throne room. A raised dais held two thrones, one black and tall, the other slightly smaller and finished with its natural grain. They were both carved from olive wood, with anthemia ornamenting their backs. Above them was a large cupola with arched windows inset, pouring natural light into the room.
Past the dais were statues of some of the other gods and goddesses of the underworld: Thanatos, Hypnos, and the Moirai, larger than life and lining the walkway that stretched down for many lengths.
Hades took her place on the black throne and gestured to Persephone to sit beside her.
Already assembled were several members of Hades’ court. Persephone crossed the dais and sat down, uncomfortably aware of all the eyes upon her. She should have fixed her hair, after all.
“I thank you all for your attendance,” Hades said, her voice pitched to carry through the chamber. Black drapes hanging along the walls dampened any echo. “We have a long list of judgments to administer today, so let us begin.”
A herald standing to one side of the dais glanced down at a scroll and announced the first mortals. “The hero Theseus, of Athens, and King Pirithous, of Thessaly.”
Persephone gripped the arms of her throne, watching as the two men came into view and began the long walk down toward the dais. She was somewhat relieved to see neither of them showed the wounds of their death, no ragged scar encircling Pirithous’s neck and no stab wounds soaking Theseus’s tunic. They both looked alive enough, though somewhat grayer of face.
“Theseus. Please explain in brief the circumstances of your death,” Hades said.
The man had courage, Persephone could grant him that. He stood tall and proud, unperturbed by the weight of the eyes upon him. He explained the pact he’d made with Pirithous, how they each had chosen a daughter of Zeus to wed, and how Pirithous had chosen Persephone. How he had journeyed here, as Pirithous’s friend, just as Pirithous had helped him to claim his own bride.
“King Pirithous, do you concur?” Hades asked when Theseus had finished speaking.
Pirithous gave his own version of the events, which differed little in substance. He, too, was unbowed by the scrutiny cast upon him, though his hand did drift to his neck at times, as if he was checking that his head and body were still attached.
“Wife, do you have anything to add?” Hades asked, turning in her seat to look at Persephone.
Persephone placed her clammy palms on her knees. “What Theseus said is true, to my knowledge.”
“And did you leave with him, believing you’d be escorted to the surface, to your mother?” Hades asked.
A murmur went up around the crowd. Hades hushed it with a slight gesture of her hand.
Persephone looked at the two men before her, then back at Hades. “Yes, it’s true,” she said curtly. Hades knew what her answer would be—could not fail to remember the substance of her interrogation the night before. Persephone hadn’t expected this theater, to have her sins examined so publicly like any commoner.
She supposed that was the point. Hades had told her that no one was above the law, and now she was making good on her word.
Hades turned from her and gestured to Theseus. “Level eight.” She then pointed to Pirithous. “Level ten.” She waved her hand, and a pair of guards took hold of the men, leading them away.
Persephone had no idea what that meant, but it seemed to be a severe kind of punishment, judging from the murmur that rippled through the crowd.
“Great queen!” Pirithous said, breaking free. He scrambled toward the dais. “Queen Hades, please. Have mercy.” He fell to his knees, crying out when the guard came once more to drag him away.
Hades watched, impassive and silent, as the two men were withdrawn. Then she turned to Persephone. “As for my lady wife...” She looked down at the crowd, addressing them. “This is her first offense, and she does not yet know our ways. Therefore, a hundred lashes and a period of exposure, the length o
f which is to be determined by myself.”
Persephone dug her nails into her thighs to stop herself from saying anything. She stared at Hades in mute shock.
Hades leaned toward her, although she still faced her audience, and spoke under her breath. “Thank me for my mercy.”
Persephone’s mouth moved, but no sound came out. She tried again. “What mercy?”
“Would you rather the alternative?”
“If this is mercy, then perhaps I should take my chances,” Persephone hissed.
“Continue to try me, and you may see for yourself.”
Persephone picked at a loose thread on her chiton. “Thank you,” she mumbled, her eyes downcast.
Hades sat back in her chair and gestured to the herald to continue.
More names were read out, and the rest of the session passed in a similar manner, with Hades hearing the deeds of mortals and then pronouncing judgment upon them. Persephone barely heard a word that was spoken. Hades had said she would be punished, yes, but she’d naturally imagined something nominal—not a flogging! And exposure? For how long? And would it be public, her humiliation laid bare for all to see?
She glanced at Hades from time to time, to try to gain some insight into what she might have been thinking, but Hades studiously ignored her, focusing instead upon whichever mortal stood before her. Persephone might as well have not existed at all.
When at last it came time for a recess, she walked with Hades from the dais and cornered her beside a refreshment table.
“What was that? Are you mad? I am your wife!” Persephone said, her hands in fists.
“Your actions belie your words,” Hades said and popped a grape into her mouth, chewing slowly and swallowing before speaking. “Have you listened to any of the other cases? That last one now, the farmer. What was his misdeed?”
“I don’t know! What does it matter?”
Hades turned and looked at her. “Then this exercise is pointless, given your current frame of mind. You might as well go and work on your reading with Stephanus, instead of attending this afternoon’s session.”
