Hades And Persephone: Curse Of The Golden Arrow

by Heidi Hastings

  When the orb dimmed and the stars appeared on her ceiling, she knew it was the night on the earth. She would light a fire, and after placing candles around the room, she reclined on the mossy floor, staring up at the ceiling as the constellations danced across the sky. She was wonderfully peaceful, but she could not help but to wonder what her husband was doing? She had not seen Hades in days. If she did not know better, she would have thought she had imagined the passion brewing between them a few days ago, but she knew her imagination could not be that creative. Was he avoiding her? Perhaps he sought solace in the arms of another and she closed her eyes tightly against the thought, surprised at the pain that image conjured. What did he do in his spare time, she wondered? Certainly, he was not merely working this entire time. She had not ventured far from her room since her encounter with the demon, but it was time that she visited her husband at his work.

  She put on a long black robe and made her way down to the throne room. Olive followed behind her as a trail of flowers blossomed in their wake. She approached the large black doors and hesitated, remembering the horror she had seen behind them once before. But there was no room for cowardice, and she needed to find Hades and see if he had made any progress with the curse. And to make sure he was okay, her mind insisted to her annoyance. She pressed her ear to the cold wood and heard only silence. This time she would be bold and would not cower like a frightened child. Grabbing the iron handles decisively in her hands she threw the doors open and stepped inside. She gasped as a blinding light filled the room and shielded her eyes. As she peered closer into the center of the room, she realized two golden figures stood before her, the taller figure embracing the smaller one. She started moving forward only to see them fade quickly away, taking the brilliant light with them -- only the sound of her breathing filled the room.

  She blinked and stared at the spot where they had been, but they did not appear again. The room was empty. “That was very curious,” she said slowly to the baby deer. “But in any case, what is not curious here? We may as well enjoy ourselves since we seem to be alone now.”

  And she swooped Olive into her arms and together they danced. She performed many of the intricate steps she had seen on Mount Olympus as a little girl, eventually transitioning to the country steps of the people who lived near their temple who had never suspected a Goddess had watched them night after night dancing in tune. She finally ended with the dance of the dead that she had learned with Hades after the parade. She was breathless by the time they finished, and with a laugh she leaned against the ebony throne at the front of the hall, letting the fawn slip gently from her arms. She sucked in her breath the moment the rock touched her skin and stepped back. Two large throne chairs sat side by side, but she knew Hades had always sat alone at the Throne of the Dead. When she had touched the chair, she had felt such strong emotions: remorse, uncertainty, sorrow. He was always so stoic, but were these the feelings he pushed down so deep inside himself that even he did not recognize them? How many souls had stood at the feet of a God who was forced to deal out their judgment? How old had Hades been when he first was given this wretched task? Walking up to the chair, the goddess sat down rubbing a slim hand over the dark stone, letting the sensations fill her. The sense of isolation and forsakenness increased, and her soul gave a small cry of distress at the magnitude of the overwhelming loneliness emanating there.

  "You are so alone," she whispered.

  Chapter 11 - Unwelcome Guest

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  Hades tied the sash around his chest tightly to secure the thick robe as he readied himself for the day. It was becoming more and more difficult to hide the blood that seemed to flow continuously from the gaping wound in his chest, but it was imperative that he hide his injury from prying eyes. Even the smallest whisper of a curse could threaten the entire infrastructure of the Underworld, and by association, the world above them. If the dead knew that he was ill the repercussions would reach even Olympus and the pandemonium would destroy everything in its path. It was only a thin line that separated the dead from the world they had previously come from, and that thin line was maintained by him. It was his burden to bear, and he had learned to relish the relentless work of it. Eyeing himself one last time in the mirror to ensure his chest was covered, he left his room.

  It had been several days since he had allowed himself to even look upon his wife, and his wound wept angrily at the loss. He knew she was afraid of her desire, and until he could figure out why, it seemed a safer option for both of them just to simply avoid each other. But every night when he lay in bed aching fiercely with need, he cursed himself most violently.

  He pushed open the throne doors deep in thought, and when he looked up he saw her. She sat on the throne chair next to his own, and for the first time this beautiful Goddess of the Forest looked like the Queen of the Dead. A sheer black gown clung to her curves, and were it not for the apt placement of golden leaves, her delicious body would have been entirely revealed by the fabric. A long golden necklace hung from her delicate neck and a matching belt was secured at her narrow waist. Her hair was loose, and the royal crown sparkled on her head. A small uncertain smile lit her face and he forced himself to take a breath. He noticed a small velvet bed placed at the bottom of her chair where Olive was dozing. He approached the throne and took her small hand in his own and the pulse jumped in her pale throat. “My Queen, to what do I owe this pleasure?” he asked.

  “I thought I would join you today,” she replied in a cheerful tone. “Perhaps this will provide me with a more accurate perspective than standing by the door did.”

  Hades smiled and reluctantly released her hand taking the seat next to hers. “This is the first time in years someone has made it to this room before me,” he quipped.

  “That is a feat indeed then. Since you have been so busy these last several days maybe I could be of assistance?” Her voice hitched at the question when he knew she was trying to sound matter of fact.

  Did she know the appealing expression that was on her face, he wondered? He should send her away but the temptation to stay close to her was too much to resist. Nodding his head, he picked up the itinerary for the day that lay next to his chair.

  “Your assistance would be appreciated.” He indicated the parchment. “This list is made by the Judges; Minos, Rhadamanthus, and Aeacus – They sort and judge the souls first and I am given the final say over a select few, if for instance, their placement is unclear, or perhaps if they are very wicked.”

  “Or very good?” Persephone asked.

  “Yes, or if they were very good. The rest I greet and welcome to the Underworld.” Hades handed her the parchment and she began reading it. “I always make it a point to meet with the children first and then the elderly followed by the humans who fall in between the extremes of age. Lastly, I meet with the wicked.”

  Suddenly a bustle of activity came from the door and the Judges entered first, three ancient beings who seated themselves on an ivory chaise. Aeacus sat in the center with a black scepter in his hand while the brothers, Minos and Rhadamanthus seated themselves on either side of him. Several servants then rushed into the room, some carrying parchments, others lining up against the wall, and one carried a crown in his hands. The door closed loudly behind them and Hades glanced at Persephone to see her watching the bustling servants with a distracted air. The servant with the crown approached the throne, bowing before them and after a slight nod from Hades, placed the golden laurel crown on his head and a golden signet ring on his finger. He glanced at his wife and saw she was pulling nervously at her gown and he placed his hand suddenly over hers to still her.

  Her pulse beat rapidly against his fingers like the gentle beating of a bird’s wing. His sweet Persephone was nervous, and he wondered why she had placed herself in a position where she knew she would feel uncomfortable. It could not be

  due to concern for him, could it? The thought was too tantalizing, and he would not allow himself to believe such wis
hful thinking. But the fact remained that she was anxious.

  “Do not be nervous, Persephone,” he whispered in her ear and her eyes fluttered for a moment. “Only those with impure souls should fear death. For the others, it is merely the second part of their journey.”

  She swallowed and nodded her head. Placing his hand on the arm rest of the throne, he waited to see if she would place hers over his, the appropriate protocol for a queen as she sat at the right hand of the king, but he would not force her. She hesitated, staring at his hand and then slowly, like a lamb sniffing a wolf, placed her slender one over his own. He wanted to groan with the pleasure of her touch. It was only with great force of will that he directed himself back to his duty.

  With a final glance at Persephone, he lifted his left hand and said, “Let them in.”

  Persephone’s hand tightened as the door opened again and a mass of children entered. Hades thumb lazily stroked her wrist and it somehow comforted her as she took in the tear streaked faces of the little ones. Some were babies not even a day old who were carried by mothers with haunted faces, others were older children, alone and terrified as sobs wracked their small frames. She felt tears well in her eyes at the sight of their sorrow and confusion. It was almost unbearable to witness their fear, and for a moment she had to avert her eyes from them.

  Hades spoke then, welcoming them to their new home. He explained that they would be going to the Meadows, where it was always sunny, a place where they would never experience pain or loss again, and that they would not be alone there. With a flick of his hand figures suddenly stepped from the shadows and Persephone felt a moment of alarm as she saw the dark figures race towards the children. As the shadows reached the group, they suddenly materialized and the children were embraced by those they had known in life. Grandparents lifted them high and mothers and fathers hugged their children fiercely. Suddenly the room was filled with laughter and joy until the figures began to fade in shadow once more, this time taking the children with them. The room echoed with silence and only one figure now remained, a small girl with large blue eyes. The little child, who chewed on her thumb, trembled with the sorrow and sadness of Algea.

  Persephone glanced at Hades worriedly and he resumed the gently stroking of her wrist. “Little one, do you know no one here?” he asked her in a kind voice.

  She shook her head with a small hiccup. Persephone could bear it no longer. She stepped down from the throne and approached the little girl taking her small, cold body in her arms as she wiped the tears from her face. She turned around to see that one of the Judges had approached Hades and they were talking in quiet tones. Turning back to the child, she smiled at her.

  “Do not worry, this will be sorted out.” Persephone gave a gentle wave of her fingers and a wreath of daisies appeared. She placed the garland on the child’s head, eliciting a smile from her.

  It was strange, but somehow she knew her name though it had not been mentioned. “Kynthía, would you like to meet Olive?” At the sound of his name the fawn dutifully trotted over and they played with the deer together while Persephone watched Hades from the corner of her eye. He nodded towards the door and it opened allowing a young woman to step through before it closed again.

  She approached the throne nervously and bowed.

  “Rise Ianthe,” Hades said, and the woman quickly scrambled to her feet. “You did not survive childbirth.” His question was a statement as he stared at the woman.

  A tear fell to the woman’s cheek. “Yes, your highness, my baby lived, but after he was born, I kept bleeding and bleeding. I heard my baby’s cries, but I could not go to him and the blood pooled around me until, finally, all I knew was darkness.”

  The sorrow in her voice made Persephone’s heart contract. Why was he asking these questions of the poor woman? She tightened her arms around the child and gave him an imploring look. He spared her a brief glance and shook his head slightly.

  “And you know no one else here?” he continued. She shook her head. “Come closer.” A look of terror crossed the woman’s face, but she stepped towards him obediently and when she was close enough, Hades raised a hand to press against the woman’s forehead. He withdrew it suddenly. “I see the love you feel for the child you left behind and the yearning to love that you still have.” He stood suddenly and motioned for Persephone to bring the child to him. Persephone stood and carried the little girl in her arms and watched as the young mother stared at her with tears in her eyes. “Would you care for this child?” Hades asked.

  “Oh yes,” Ianthe whispered, “oh yes, I would do that.” The young woman lifted her arms and Persephone placed the little girl gently into them, watching with delight as Kynthía wrapped her small arms around Ianthe. “Thank you, thank you so very much,” she cried as she laid her head against the soft hair of the child. Persephone felt her eyes grow damp as they too began to fade into the shadows. Hades stepped towards her and took her hand to guide her back up to the throne once more.

  “That was lovely,” Persephone whispered.

  “Some do deserve a happy ending,” Hades murmured.

  There was a slight pause as the judges adjusted their lists and Persephone leaned towards him. “Hades,” she began hesitantly, “something odd happened when I talked to that little girl. I knew her name, without being told, I knew things about her. It was.. unusual.” She meant to say more when she saw an odd expression cross his face, he looked almost.. pleased. “What?” she asked with some concern, but before he could respond the doors opened again.

  “Ah, the elderly,” Hades whispered to her as groups of grey headed adults entered the room, greeting each other jovially. “They look back on life’s mistakes with humor and tell exciting tales. Most of them had learned patience and wisdom by their age and accept the next chapter of their lives with grace.”

  Each approached the throne, some more wizened than others, but Hades laughed aloud at each of their jokes and looked enthralled by some of the heroic tales they boasted. He introduced them all to Persephone and they looked at her with beaming, rheumy eyes. One particularly ancient man smiled at her with a toothless grin. “How did you meet your lovely bride then, your Majesty?”

  Hades eyed her mischievously. “I saw her in a field of lavender and you could say, I swept her off her feet.”

  Persephone gave him a serene smile. “Yes, you could say we met at target practice.”

  As each bowed away from the throne, they too faded into darkness until the throne room was once again quiet. Persephone moved to pick up her list when the door suddenly burst open and a young man strode through, a very alive human man, holding a small harp in his hand. He looked frightened but determined as he approached the throne and Persephone gasped as she glanced at Hades. A harried servant followed in his wake, bumbling explanations to Hades, but he raised his hand to indicate silence.

  “Would you like to provide an explanation?” Hades asked in a low voice.

  The man raised his head looking into Hades’ eyes. “I am Orpheus, and I am looking for my wife, Eurydice,” he paused. “I will not leave without her.”

  “Many men would like their wives back,” Hades hissed. “How did you get past Charon and Cerberus?”

  Persephone had to admire the young man’s courage because he kept his gaze steady on the angry God. She could see the sweat beginning to bead on the man’s forehead. “I lulled them to sleep with my Lyre,” he replied defiantly.

  “And perhaps aided by the Sun God,” Hades replied in a cold voice. “No mortal could have survived the descent into the Underworld. Still, you are either a brave or foolish man and I do not often have much use for either.”

  “I am a man in love," Orpheus replied angrily, his gaze touching Persephone’s briefly before returning to Hades. “Surely you can understand that.”

  She felt Hades’ eyes on her and kept her face averted from her husband’s. Love forced by a curse, she thought sadly. What a love this mortal man must have to brave the wrath of a
God and the terror of the Underworld. She could attest to those horrors first hand. She glanced at Hades under her lashes and saw the stubborn set of his jaw.

  "Tell us about your wife," Persephone said in a soft voice.

  The human man looked at the Goddess and bowed before her. “May I sing it instead, my Queen?” When Persephone nodded her head, Orpheus pulled out his lyre and sang about Eurydice. He sang about her death, about his heartbreak, and he sang for every soul who could never be with the person they loved. Time in the Underworld stood still and Persephone felt a tear fall down her cheek .

  She leaned her head towards her husband and grasped his hand tightly, even as she kept eyes fixed on Orpheus. “Hades, please let them be together,” she whispered, “let them have their happiness. Surely, just once in eternity you can make an exception?”

  He did not respond and when she finally dared to look at him, she saw he was studying Orpheus thoughtfully. “You may take Eurydice back,” he said. The audience in the room gasped and two of the Judges stood with outraged expression on their faces, but Hades once again silenced the crowd with a wave of his hand. “But, under one condition. You must climb out of the Underworld and trust your wife is following behind you. If you look back for her before you reach the top – Eurydice will return to this world, and you will not meet her again, not even in death. Have faith she is following behind you, Orpheus.”

  Orepheus had fallen to his knees, and when he glanced up tears stained his cheeks. “Thank you, mighty God,” the young man said in a trembling voice, "I will not look back.”