“Persephone,” he murmured, “It was never the arrow that made me love you.” The wound suddenly pulsed violently in his chest and he fell to his knees in agony as images of Persephone writhing naked in his bed filled his mind. His head pounded relentlessly as erotic images flashed through his thoughts, tormenting him, arousing him. Her voice whispered wicked things to him, how she longed for him, wanted him to touch her. His hand travelled down to his painfully engorged shaft that pulsed in rhythm to his throbbing chest, and he grasped it tightly in his hand, imagining it was her that touched him. Debauched thoughts crawled out of the dark matter of his brain, go to her room like an incubus. He stumbled like a blindman to his door, his footsteps carrying him to her, to give her what she had asked for. But she had not asked for it, his rational mind whispered, she had not asked for any of it.
He walked like a man who had too much wine, back to his bed and pulled a white gown from it. Her wedding dress; it had been simple enough to restore it from the fire. He lifted it to his face and smelled her fragrance on it, the fresh scent of the forest. His cock pulsed angrily, wept at him for his impotence. He pulled apart his robes and began to rub her dress against himself, rubbing her essence over his body so it mingled with the masculine scent of his own arousal. He imagined it was her silken mouth between his legs, her soft hands on his cock, and it was only moments later when he shuddered with a blinding climax. As he emerged from the blackness, a small voice at the back of his mind whispered back, madness. He jerked himself awake. Madness, this was madness. His hands shaking, he threw down the wet gown and bolted his door. He threw himself down on his bed breathing heavily. The curse
was beginning to take control of him. How long could he fight against this powerful force?
He closed his eyes and breathed painfully, pushing the mania deep down inside of himself, as deep as it could go. This was not love; it was a dangerous obsession -- how long before it would consume him completely? He brought his fist to his face and kissed it. A pale light glowed between his clenched fingers and he reverently opened his hand. A golden thread lay on his palm. He held it tenderly in his hand gazing down at it. Along the fibers was a dark brassy indention that faded to a deep black. Hades ran his fingers over the mark inspecting it intently. “What have we here?”
Chapter 5 - Exploring
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Persephone lay on the grass, her eyes closed as the sun overhead warmed her body. The gentle buzz of insects filled her ears and she hummed along quietly to their sweet melody. It was a perfect day and Persephone felt peace in her heart. A shadow suddenly passed overhead, and she opened her eyes to see a dark figure towering over her, blocking the light. Strong arms grasped her painfully and she struggled in vain against their strength. A voice whispered into her ear, “You are mine.” And she felt the darkness overtake her.
She woke up mid scream, her clothes damp with sweat. Panting wildly, she flung herself from the bed and took deep gulping breaths. It took her a moment before she realized she was still in her dimly lit room in Hades’ palace. “It was only just a dream,” she reminded herself, wrapping her arms tightly around her body, “just a dream.” She walked over to the fire and leaned against the hearth, hoping the warmth would take away the chill that seemed to have settled into her soul. She had had bad dreams before, but now her waking hours were also a nightmare. She wondered what Hades had said to Ares. Had he come looking for her to demand she fulfill their engagement? Or perhaps there was some other score to settle between these two Gods who seemed determined to control her. She stretched out her arms and tilted her head to look at the ceiling, noting that it was entirely made of jade. He may be God of the Dead but he certainly enjoys having precious jewels around every corner of his castle, she thought with a grim smile. Constellations and stars crafted from gold stretched over the entire high vaulted ceiling, almost reminding her of her nights on the meadows. Almost. But it was just an illusion, nothing more. Her room, like everything else she had seen in this palace, was opulent. Her bed, fireplace and vanity were carved out of precious stones and seemed to emanate a gentle glow in the darkness that reflected off the white marble on the floor.
The quartz fireplace featured lavish engravings of Eros and Psyche. Running her hands over the coldness of the stone she thought of how passionate their love was. How Eros hid his identity from her when she believed him to be a monster. It was too late by the time she had discovered the truth of his goodness - for they were parted again. How tragic their tale of passion. Oh, how they were punished for their love. Tracing over the contours of the figures, she felt a flutter in her heart. How gentle Eros had been in his devotion. It was one of her favorite tales. And how very different he was from her husband who found such pleasure in pain.
There was a knock at the door breaking her from her reverie. It must be morning she thought dully, and she would have liked nothing better than to bury herself back under the blankets. Why did they even bother to knock when the door was locked from the outside, Persephone thought grumpily. The heavy door was unbolted and the eager, smiling faces of Phoebe and Cleo appeared wishing her a good morning as they carried a platter of fresh fruit and a flagon of hot malted wine. They laid their trays across the table and Jocasta appeared with an equally cheerful smile holding a new gown, long, white and flowing with what appeared to have another scandalous neckline. Was there no end to his depraved wardrobe choices, she wondered, feeling her mood turn more sour.
“And what has my husband planned for me today?” she asked. “Perhaps he wants me to take a swim down the River Styx so I can admire more of his Kingdom.” She was still standing by the fire and she bit her lip to stop herself from continuing. She had no right to take out her frustration on these poor women, but she felt almost helpless against the spiteful words that seemed to spill from her lips. Feeling like a caged cat with its fur set on end, she dug her fingers into her hands as she pictured her husband’s cold arrogant face. Nothing seemed to touch him. Persephone jerked herself away from the hearth as a sudden irritating itch moved under her skin and for a moment it seemed to center painfully on her chest. Catching her breath, she pressed her hand to her heart.
“By no means, your majesty,” Jocasta replied, her voice seeming to come from a distance. “His highness must attend to his subjects and today you are to do naught but rest. I expect you are very tired indeed.”
Persephone placed one hand on the mantle, breathing deeply as the painful sensation passed. Her chest had seemed to ache exactly where the arrow had pierced Hades’ flesh. She hated to admit, even to herself, that this wretched curse was affecting both of them. The anger she felt was replaced with weariness and she sunk down heavily in the nearby chair.
Jocasta glanced back at her, a look of concern crossing her kindly face as she hurried towards her. “My lady, are you ill?”
“No, Jocasta,” Persephone replied shaking her head. “I am fine. A little tired is all. You are right, I shall rest today, I think.”
“Think nothing of it your majesty. We will help you dress and then leave you.” With a snap of her fingers they quickly helped Persephone into the long flowing gown, that she had guessed correctly, plunged deeply down the front. A thin golden necklace was fastened around her neck dangling between her breasts, and a golden belt was buckled around her waist. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, slightly curled, and a golden band was placed around her head.
“There,” Jocasta said, stepping back to look. “You look lovely, my Queen.”
“Thank you for your help,” she said with a wan smile, lying back on the chaise and closing her eyes. “I will rest now.”
The servant inclined her head and gathered the discarded clothes in her arms before heading towards the door, the two younger servants following behind like loyal ducklings. Jocasta turned around suddenly, causing Cleo to bump into her. “Oh, your highness, I almost forgot.”
She opened one bleary eye, “Yes Jocasta?”
“Hades has given yo
u permission to leave your room. You are free to roam anywhere there is not a locked door.”
Persephone sat up instantly, all traces of fatigue leaving her body.
Jocasta smiled as she turned to leave. “I will leave this open behind me then, shall I?”
The thought of exploring was too tempting. What did Hades do during the day anyway? She stood up and went to the door. Besides, now was the perfect opportunity to find a way out of here. With that cheerful thought she slipped from the door as quietly as a shadow.
She moved stealthily through the halls, still fearful someone would catch her and make her return to her room. Even the giant who had guarded her door was gone, but she did not want to take any chances. It would be just like Hades to tell her she could explore only to lock her away again. Why had he decided to trust her now, she pondered suspiciously? More of his games most likely. Her feet were quiet as she made her way down the dark corridors. So far, each door she tried was unlocked and every room was adorned in different gemstones or precious metals. One was made entirely of gold, the next, a ballroom of silver and sapphire. There was no end to the opulence of this palace, she thought, as she exited a room that was composed of glistening emeralds. But the palace appeared to be almost entirely devoid of any inhabitants.
She heard raised voices and quietly crept towards the sound. It led to a huge black door with a metal handle. Raising a hand, she jerked as hard as she could on the handle, but it did not budge. She waited a moment to see if anyone inside had noticed her attempt to enter, but when all was quiet, she began to assess the door. Hades had said she could only go into the unlocked rooms, but no one had said anything about listening, she thought reasonably. There was a small crack a little lower than eye level, so she bent and put her eye to it. It was the throne room and a man was kneeling before Hades. She let out a gasp as she looked at her husband. If she had thought Hades had been unfeeling towards her, it was nothing to how he looked now. As he gazed down at his prisoner with eyes blazing furiously in his dark face, she saw him for the first time as he was -- the God of Death. He was terrifying in his coldness and she felt a shiver run through her. She wondered if the prisoner could see as she did, the doom written plainly in Hades’ eyes. She heard voices but could not make out what was being said. Hades stood up suddenly, moving swiftly to the bowed man, a black chalice in his hand. He wrapped his pale hands around the man’s throat and began to force a glistening red liquid into his mouth. Persephone gagged and averted her eyes, remembering her wedding day when he had done the same with her.
She slowly turned her eyes back to the scene and saw the man try to stand. He was off balance though and he fell several times, finally trying to crawl away, but Hades jerked him up and whispered something in his ear. The man replied, spit frothing from his purple lips as Hades threw him back to the floor and the prisoner lay motionless. For a moment, her husband disappeared from her view and she hoped it was over, but when he returned, he held a glowing hot iron in his hand. She let out a cry at the same time as the wretched man when Hades pressed it firmly into his flesh. For a second, her husband seemed to glance towards the door, but he quickly turned his gaze back to the man’s searing flesh.
She felt tears well in her eyes when Hades leaned down and pounded his fist into the man’s chest ripping his heart out. The yells of agony turned into brutal wailing that hid her own terrified screams. Blood dripped down Hades hand and arm as the heart beat frantically in his grasp. She saw him squeeze the beating heart until it almost burst, then shove it back into the prisoner’s chest. “Send this animal to Tartarus," Hades bellowed. The guards drug him away as he howled with rage and madness.
Persephone fell backwards landing awkwardly on her wrist as she dry heaved on the floor. She lay for a moment, willing her stomach to calm down, but she heard movement behind the door and got up quickly, holding her aching wrist to her chest. She could not stay here--she must leave! She hurried
quickly down the hallways. There must be a way out of here, she thought desperately. Dear Gods, not only had she married a God she did not love, but he was deranged! He had shown no remorse as he had torn that poor man’s heart from his chest. Why would he commit such an atrocity? He was the epitome of ruthlessness! Her hands trembled as she pushed open door after door, searching desperately for the means to return to the Gates of the Underworld. At one point she heard a chattering of voices and swiftly swerved to her left going through a darkened tunnel. She felt hopeless and she was beginning to think she was terribly lost rather than on her way to escape. She had no idea where she was now, and it seemed impossible to navigate the maze of Hades’ palace.
She heard a shuffling noise and as she turned carefully around a corner, she froze in her tracks. Barring her path was a large black dog that emitted a low growl at her approach, the hair raised on his shackles. The growl however was not what had caused her pause, but rather the three heads with three pairs of golden eyes and three sets of very sharp teeth. She held her breath uncertain whether to try to run or to stay where she was. Would Hades allow a three-headed man-eating dog to roam freely around his castle? After what she had just witnessed, she was certain the answer was -- yes. One of the heads suddenly winked at her and a large pink tongue rolled from his mouth. She had a great affection for dogs and perhaps, despite his unusual head count, he did not intend to maul her. He was, after all, still a canine regardless of how many heads he possessed. She extended her uninjured hand carefully, and after a pause, all three heads approached her with cautious interest. Persephone held her breath for several moments as her hand was carefully inspected and then licked solemnly. Smiling, she extended a pat to the wet nose of the closest head and he suddenly rolled onto his back to reveal his soft belly.
“What a good boy,” Persephone crooned to him, scratching his wiry fur. She noticed a collar around his neck with an inscription. Cerberus. “Cerberus,” she repeated. “Why that is a lovely name.” The six eyes looked at her adoringly. “Cerberus, can you show me how to get home?”
The dog bounded swiftly to his four large paws and trotted happily ahead of her, his tail wagging like a pendulum behind him. He took her a different way than she had come and every now and then one of the heads looked back to make sure she was still following. Finally, he approached two large black doors and her heart sank as she realized they had gone in a complete circle and Cerberus had led her to an alcove that connected directly to Hades’ private rooms.
“Oh Cerberus, this is not home,” she said with disappointment. He merely looked at her, clearly pleased with his cleverness, and pawed open the door to squeeze into the room. She felt saddened at the loss of her companion, it was a pleasure to be in the company of a creature who seemed to like her. At least she could find her way back to her room now instead of being lost in the maze of the Underworld, whatever small comfort that was. She turned to leave when a beam of light caught her eye. She hesitated as she saw it was coming from a crack in the rock directly adjacent to Hades’ rooms. Just moments ago, she had seen the horrors that lurked within this castle. Did she really want to witness more of the monstrosities that took place here? She hesitated as a thought occurred to her. In his private chambers he might reveal the means to escape or some other vital piece of information she could use to make him release her. It may be worth a glimpse to acquire information she could use against him. Decided, she leaned closer to the narrow opening.
She watched as Cerberus jumped onto the large bed, turning in three small circles, before settling down with a contented sigh. Every eye was tuned to his master and his tail wagged fiercely each time Hades came close to the bed. The bed, of course, was ornate and grandiose, draped in fine dark red furnishings. Hades footsteps were muffled by the plush Persian rug beneath his feet, and she caught her breath as he paused suddenly and began to remove his robes. Persephone looked away feeling her face flush hotly. This was so wrong to watch him when he did not know. She knew she would be furious if the situation were reversed, and
whatever crimes he had committed it did not excuse her behavior. But a wicked voice chanted in her mind, he would never need to know. Feeling terribly immoral, Persephone placed her eyes once more at the opening. She gave a quiet gasp. His wound was exposed now and it was still raw and bleeding with thin dark veins travelling out from the original injury. It looked horribly infected and she wondered how he could so stoically endure the pain of such a horrific injury. He wet a cloth and began to gently wash away the dried blood. When his chest was once more clean, he wrapped a fresh cloth around his wound and then began to remove the remainder of his clothing. She felt her heart pound as she took in his muscular arms and broad chest that tapered into a narrow torso. He was beautiful! Could this God truly be the brother of Zeus and Poseidon? He was so...different. As he turned to wet the cloth once again, his now exposed back was revealed, and she saw the crisscross of scars that covered it. Had he been tortured at some point, she wondered with horror? And what kind of weapon could scar a God?
She let out a quickly suppressed sound as his robes suddenly dropped all together, and she covered her mouth aghast. Had she really just moaned? He was large and erect and perfect, and she had no business looking. Determinedly keeping her eyes above his waist, she watched as he once more began to cleanse himself. His gaze turned to the wall that she was
Hades And Persephone: Curse Of The Golden Arrow Page 8
