Hades And Persephone: Curse Of The Golden Arrow

by Heidi Hastings

  “Just follow my lead,” he said quietly watching her. “This will be over soon.”

  Hades whirled her around the ballroom, and he was surprisingly light on his feet. Persephone had always loved to dance, albeit in the meadows with a badger often as her partner. She had to admit he was a much better partner than the poor badger that she had forced to join her. Soon the noise in the background faded away as she let her feet follow his. They did not speak to each other, but Hades eyes never left her own and she let the rhythm of the dance take over. As he spun her around the room his feet faltered for a moment, and pain flashed in his eyes.

  “Is something wrong?” she asked with concern.

  He shook his head, looking into the crowd now, avoiding her gaze once again.

  “Keep dancing,” was his only response.

  With a nod of his head the lights dimmed, and other couples took their cue joining them on the floor. The room moved as one as they took the same steps as their King and Queen. The dance of the dead she thought, suppressing a giggle. It was a moment before she noticed her hand was wet. She tried to take her hand from his, but he tightened his grasp almost painfully. She glanced down and gave a small gasp. Blood

  had covered both of their hands and dripped steadily onto the floor below them.

  “You are bleeding still!” she asked, aghast at the amount of blood he was losing.

  “Hush,” he said with a tinge of anger in his own voice. “Now is not the time to discuss this.”

  “Have you been bleeding all day?” she queried, returning his tone.

  “It is not your concern, Persephone,” he replied coldly, not doing her the courtesy of meeting her gaze.

  She opened her mouth to reply that she was his wife and then shut it abruptly. Did she want him to think she accepted their vows? She must tread carefully. He was right, he was not her concern. If he bled out all of his immortal blood, it was none of her business. But why did that thought cause her heart to tighten painfully? She closed her eyes as she felt the blood trickle down her arm. How much blood could a God lose? Finally, the dance ended, and the crowd gave a thunderous applause as Hades and Persephone bowed to them.

  A chant began to echo through the hall and Persephone felt her body stiffen as she understood their words, “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

  Finally he met her gaze and he did not bother to hide his smile.

  “An old custom, I am afraid,” he whispered to her. She felt her heart quicken as he leaned closer to her and she closed her eyes inhaling his alluring scent. “And one I think we can dispense with today.” She felt his chaste kiss on her forehead and if she was disappointed, she kept any expression of it from her face. The crowd seemed pleased and with another bow, Hades took her arm and led her from the room back into the coolness of the night.

  Persephone watched Hades furtively as the chariot moved through the gathering darkness. The crowds had dispersed, and no sound broke the silence save the wheels of the chariot moving swiftly over the land. The shadows moved lovingly over the angles of his dark face and he seemed to become one with the darkness. Was he playing games with her? Sometimes it seemed as though he could not even stand the sight of her, while at other times he seemed to constantly be touching her, watching her with his dark eyes. What was the truth? Perhaps he truly hated this curse as much as she did, and she was a burden. She always seemed to cause trouble wherever she went. Her poor mother could attest to that. He certainly did not seem anxious to touch her now, he stood as far away from her as the space of the chariot would allow. Persephone watched as the wheels ran over the rose petals and confetti, carelessly crushing the lovely colors to dust. For some silly reason the sight of it caused her eyes to fill with tears and she averted her face. She felt his hand on her shoulder and she shook it off angrily. Why was he so attuned to her slightest moods when she could never tell what he was thinking?

  “You must be pleased with my compliance today,” she said bitterly.

  He said nothing and she huddled against the edge of the chariot. She glanced again at him and felt a sudden wild compulsion to attack him, to rake her fingernails down his handsome face until… until what? Her head pounded relentlessly, and she gripped the edges of the chariot to keep herself from moving as she stared sightlessly ahead of her.

  The horses rode through the massive gates and she watched as the sun was eclipsed by the darkness of the Underworld. Wanting to cry out for the sun's warmth, she turned to see the doors shut behind her. It was as painful as seeing an animal in the forest close its eyes with the wretched exhale of death. She wanted to beg her husband to leave her behind, but she knew that pleading was useless. Charon was waiting at the doors and Hades stepped down from the chariot to speak with him in quiet tones she could not hear. He turned to his wife with expressionless eyes and helped her from the chariot. She ignored the blood that covered her hand. “Meet me in my study" was all he said and after that, left with the river bearer. And she was once again left alone in the darkness.

  Jocasta appeared and swept Persephone into the palace. She tutted at the state of her dress and she was allowed to wash her face while Jocasta repinned her hair. She was then taken to Hades’ study, accompanied once again by her giant friend. As the door closed firmly behind her, she surveyed Hades’ private room. It was intimate and lavishly furnished. Persephone moved to the open windows and saw that the view looked out over three rivers. She watched the gently churning water for a moment before she turned and gave a sigh of pleasure at the many books she saw tucked away in black marble shelves. Did he pass his nights reading? The thought surprised her but many of the books looked well worn. The fireplace carved from ruby emitted a dancing blue flame that warmed the chill she had felt since the end of the parade. Various forms of weapons hung on the walls and she touched the hilt of a long sword and wondered if Hades ever had cause to use them. She could imagine him coldly cutting down a man, she thought with a shudder. A golden helmet sat on a large ruby desk and she went over to inspect it when a glittering scroll caught her eye. She lifted the parchment and saw it was filled with names, it was a list of souls to be judged and the paper unfolded past her feet. How horrible to have to pass judgement over so many people. She imagined it would weigh heavy on one’s heart, even a cold one like Hades, to have to determine how a soul would spend eternity. The good and evil

  in a person were often separated only by thin lines and sometimes the Gods dealt unfair hands. Rolling the paper up, she studied the rods which were adorned with gold and precious gems which shone brightly in the firelight. She sat the scrolls down next to a vase covered with jeweled flowers, and as she ran her fingers over the sharp stone petals, she felt a deep sorrow. His palace was adorned with riches, but it was hard, cold and lifeless. A chill from the window blew through the room and she shivered, walking to the fire to warm herself. Her head throbbed fiercely and the muscles in her face were tired from the smile she had worn all day. Her chest had a dull ache in it, and she rubbed at the pain absently. What a pleasure the quiet was after the continual noise of today. She wrapped one arm against a nearby column and leaned against it, closing her eyes.

  “You must be tired,” a deep voice said behind her. She straightened immediately but kept her back to him. She gave her best attempt at a careless shrug and kept her eyes on the flames, resisting the urge to look back at him.

  “Oh, are you not talking to me again?” She heard him step closer to her and she watched furtively from the corner of her eye as he poured them both a glass of wine. He approached her carefully, like one would a wild animal in the forest, not coming too close. “Perhaps we can have a temporary ceasefire for now?” he asked, extending her a glass. “I find that, I too, am tired for the moment. I have things I wish to say to you.”

  She hesitated and then took the glass from him, sipping it as she watched him over the rim. “What things?” she asked reluctantly. Her curiosity had always been one of her worst qualities. Her mother had warned her about it many times. />
  Hades smiled and motioned to a nearby daybed and she walked over, making herself as small as possible in the corner. She suppressed a small shiver, and with a stern glance, he unfastened his cape draping it over her. Of course, he had noticed, he noticed everything in his domain. And she was just another sparkly trinket to add to his collection, she thought bitterly. She considered throwing his cape into the fire, but it just seemed wasteful since she was still rather cold. He sprawled on the far end of the settee, extending his long legs with a sigh. She averted her eyes from his tall form and rubbed her chest again and he followed the movement with narrowed eyes.

  “Are you in pain?”

  She immediately dropped her hand and gave him a withering gaze. “I am not the one with a hole in my chest.”

  He smiled at her, “True,” he said. “And for that I am grateful.” He raised his glass to her and sipped from his goblet, staring deeply into the flames of the fire.

  She drank from her glass, studying him carefully, mesmerized by the way his throat moved as he drank deeply from his cup and the grasp of his long fingers as they wrapped around the stem of the goblet. He lowered his glass slowly and licked a small drop of wine that trailed down his lower lip and she felt a slow warmth in her belly as she followed the movement with her eyes. His gaze suddenly bore into hers, and he smiled knowingly. Flushing, she quickly looked away and pretended to be fascinated with a loose thread on the chaise -- but it was too late. He knew. Damn him, he knew. She felt her cheeks flame, ashamed at the turn of her thoughts for a man she did not even like.

  “We are ill suited,” she said with aplomb.

  “And why is that?” he asked casually, standing up to pour another glass of wine.

  With his back to her she found it easier to speak. “Well, aside from that small fact that I was forced to marry you, I was trying to remember anything I had heard about you. And I was able to recall a few stories.”

  “Ah, stories,” he drawled as he resumed his seat. “I do love a good story.” He leaned towards her and she resisted the urge to scoot further away. He clinked their glasses together and then leaned back again. She took a small sip. “And tell me, my sweet wife, what do the other Gods whisper about me when they are high on the mountains of Olympus?”

  When she found that she was able to look at him coolly, she saw that shadows danced angrily in his eyes, those black eyes that held such secrets. She hesitated.

  He prodded, “Come now, are you such a coward that you cannot finish your tale?”

  She sat up bristling and looked him directly in the eye. “They say you are cruel. That you are depraved. That you sought your position in the Underworld for riches and unyielding power over the souls trapped for eternity.”

  “And what else do they say?” he asked casually, turning his goblet in his hand.

  “That you are treacherous, manipulative and unlovable.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted them.

  She felt a sinking feeling in her chest, but she could not take the words back. For a moment she imagined a flash of emotion other than anger in his dark eyes, but it was gone before she could interpret it. He drank silently from his glass and she sat uncomfortable in the silence. Those words were the malicious whispers of the most depraved Gods she had known. Who were they to pass judgement over anyone? And she was no better for having repeated their gossip. She felt shame at her carelessness.

  “Hades,” she began, but as she spoke he stood up, moving towards the fire. She watched as he stoked it, causing a log to crash into the embers below where it was consumed quickly by an inferno of blue flame. Hades turned around suddenly and leaned against the hearth, the light placing his face in shadow.

  “And does my wife believe everything she hears on the great Zeus’ mountain?”

  “Your wife,” she replied hotly, “believes that sometimes there is a grain of truth in gossip. But she makes up her own mind.”

  He did not reply and instead watched her from the shadows, the blue flame dancing behind him. She could feel his eyes on her and she wondered what he was thinking.

  “I said I had things to tell you.”

  “About the curse?” she asked.

  “In a way,” he replied slowly. “But it starts before that.” Persephone sensed his hesitation.

  “But it all comes back to the curse,” she replied angrily, “It is the only reason I am here and the only reason we are having this senseless argument.” She stood up and began frantically pacing. “You do not even love me. It is only a spell that makes you believe that you do.” She put a hand to her chest, the throbbing driving her mad, but she was too incensed to notice that Hades grasped at his own heart simultaneously.

  “Is that what you think, Persephone?” he asked quietly.

  She stopped and looked down at the cold metal ring on her finger and said coolly, "That is what I know."

  His eyes grew soft as he took a step towards her, "Persephone, I…"

  There was a knock on the door, and Charon entered the room and uttered in a strangled voice, “Ares wishes to speak with you.”

  Hades watched as his wife’s face turned pale, “It seems we have a visitor,” he stated, “We will continue our conversation at some later point. Charon, take Persephone to her room.” He looked back at his wife, her lips bloodless as she stared back at him. "Lock her door. And this time, bring me the key." He waited a moment expecting her to protest, but she merely stared at him with large, frightened eyes. He had asked too much of her today and of course Ares would choose this day to try and threaten him. He stepped closer to her but did not touch her. “Go to bed, Persephone. Tomorrow we can argue.”

  Persephone watched as Hades left the room. She found that fear seemed to have driven the power of speech from her. She went to the sofa, her fingers trembling as she bent to retrieve his cape, and on a whim, placed her hand where he had been sitting. She felt her heart sink as it came back red with his blood.

  Hades walked towards the throne room feeling his blood pump angrily through his veins. Ares thought to come to his kingdom and to scare his wife? He had not missed Persephone’s terrified look and it was time someone taught Zeus’ spoiled son a lesson. He threw open the doors to his throne room and Ares, the God of War, sat on Hades’ throne polishing a dark stain from the edge of his sword. He stayed seated as Hades entered, his blond hair comely against his dark military garb. He shone like a beacon of light in the greyness of the Underworld, but one merely had to stand a little closer to smell the blood that could never be washed away fully from Ares’ flesh. Hades may be the God of Death, but it was Ares that laughed gleefully when their souls were ripped mercilessly from their human forms. He gloried in the misery of humans.

  “Get up,” Hades said silky.

  Ares paused a moment and then stood stretching his tall muscular form. “I have been seated too long waiting for you to return from your corpses.” He turned suddenly and pointed his sword at Hades, flinging back his golden hair as he assumed what he clearly considered an heroic pose. Hades thought he looked like a pompous ass. “Where is she?” Ares cried.

  “She is not your concern.”

  Ares’ perfect face twisted with rage. “You take my soldiers’ lives, deplete my armies - and now you take that which is mine. Persephone was promised to me! She is mine!” Ares began to circle him. “Mine to fuck, mine to use, to bear my sons. You sit down here, alone amongst the corpses I send you. You are no God. You probably cannot even get a stiff cock from anything with a pulse.”

  Hades smiled slowly into the God’s enraged face. “You have always been a spoiled boy, Ares. Your father and mother set no boundaries and so you think the whole world exists to serve only your whims. You find pleasure in cruelty and the pain you inflict on others. You play with mortals who have no choice but to obey your perverted demands. Persephone was never yours. She belongs only to herself.”

  Ares spat on the floor. He snapped his fingers and a flame lit on his palm forming the shape of a
naked woman with long chestnut hair. The light cast a shadow about the room of a monster devouring its prey, “How was your wedding night?” he sneered, “Or is she still just your wife in name only? A beautiful Goddess like Persephone would never be satisfied with one such as you. She needs a God like me to keep her satisfied.” He grasped the front of his pants crudely as he spoke.

  Hades walked close to his nephew and placed his hand over the dancing light, extinguishing the fire. He grasped Ares’ hand tightly, knowing he was able to crush the younger God’s bones if he had the inclination to. He saw the spark of fear in Ares’ blue eyes. It was easy to be brave when you were never challenged by an equal, and the cruelest were always the most cowardly, Hades though with disgust. How many lives had this God destroyed simply for the swiftly fleeting pleasure of killing?

  “Hear me well Ares,” Hades said in a low voice. “Persephone will never be yours.” He removed his hand and ash fell to the floor at their feet. Hades dusted his hands, pleased as some of it settled onto Ares’ eyebrows. “See your own way out. My wife waits for me to join her.”

  Ares’ face turned red with rage, blood vessels bulging in his angelic eyes. There was the volatile God Hades knew, the God with the famous short temper that had led to the most gruesome wars the world had ever seen.

  “You cannot keep her safe down here forever, Hades,” Ares shouted, spittle flying from his lips. Hades turned his back and strode toward the doors. “One way or another, she will be mine.” With a wave of Hades’ hand, the door closed behind him, shutting out Ares and his demented curses. Charon was waiting for him.

  “See that Ares does not make any stops on his way out, Charon. I am going to bed.”

  Hades entered his chambers and closed the door quietly. Leaning against the wooden frame, he opened his robes and looked down at his chest.The cursed wound pulsed with his heartbeat, still dripping dark fresh blood. It had not healed at all, and if anything, looked worse today. He hit his head several times hard against the wall. It was not just his life at risk, it was his kingdom. His sanity. And Persephone. He had to find a way to undo this. He made his way to his vanity and poured water into a bowl. Taking a rag, he took a deep breath, and then pressed it tightly to the wound. Pain shot through him and he grabbed at the wall for support as black dots danced across his vision. He continued to clean the dried and fresh blood from his chest and arm and then wrapped a fresh cloth around the wound. His hair was damp with sweat by the time he finished tending his injury. He felt as if he had just battled the chimera! Hades walked to the windows, opening them wide, and he looked out seeing nothing.