Hades And Persephone: Curse Of The Golden Arrow

by Heidi Hastings

  A star shot across the sky and Persephone tilted her head back to look at him, her lips brushing against his jaw. Did she know or was it merely an accident of proximity? “Make a wish,” she said against his ear.

  Hades brushed a lock of her hair from her face, watching her expression. “If I could have one wish it would be to have a family. “ Her eyes shot quickly to his face and then glanced away and he felt her muscles tighten beneath him. When she said nothing he finally asked softly, “Do you not want children one day?”

  She kept her face averted from his as she replied, “No,” in a quiet voice. “And you are not supposed to say your wish, you know. It may not come true.”

  Hades laughed, “Superstition failed to impress me long ago.” He hesitated and then continued. “It is unusual that a fertility goddess would not desire children.”

  She did turn then, her hair whipping across his face as she regarded him with narrowed eyes,“Strange that a God of Death would want to bring life into the world.”

  Hades smiled, though it did not reach his eyes. “I was not always a God of Death, Persephone. Though my time here has taught me how closely death and life are intertwined. From death comes rebirth; from endings – new beginnings.”

  Unabashedly he stated, “If I could, I would trade all the riches in my kingdom for something more priceless - a family that loved me.”

  “I thought I wanted children too... once,” she admitted.

  “Ah, once… but not anymore? That is a shame Persephone, you would be a magnificent mother.” He could imagine her with a sweet babe against her body and the thought was so enticing that Hades could not bear to look at her. He set her away from him and stood, walking closer to the fire. It was not difficult to guess what had changed her mind. Her hope for a future died the day she married him. Who would want to raise a family in the Underworld, who would want to share a family with him?

  He felt her step closer to him, her heat mixing with his. “It is not what you are thinking,” she said softly. “I just cannot… I do not …” her voice paused and then she continued. “It has nothing to do with you. I think that you would make a devoted father.”

  He turned around, “Then what did change your mind if it was not me?”

  Her green eyes stared up into his own, uncertainty mingled with a deeper expression in their depths. “I do not know.”

  “You lie either to me or to yourself. You can trust me, Persephone. Tell me what happened,” he said, his voice a mere whisper. For a moment, pain flashed in her eyes and she opened her mouth -- the words almost spilling from her lips before she stepped away from him.

  “I do not know,” she said again. “But I decided I did not want children before I came here, so you cannot lay that particular decision at your feet. You are not responsible.”

  He reached for her hand and brushed his thumb against her palm. “Someday, Persephone, you will trust me.” He pulled her towards him. “Come, little flower. There is something I want to show you.”

  Persephone felt her throat tighten as she realized Hades was leading them towards the darkened caverns they had passed earlier in the day. Their footsteps were soft on the ground as she peered reluctantly into the darkened entrance. It looked black and forbidding and she pulled back as they neared the gaping mouth. The last time she had entered a cave she had left with a great deal of her flesh missing.

  Hades looked down at her. “Afraid? This time you enter the darkness with me, I will not allow any harm to come to you.”

  “I know,” she said, surprising both of them. She let him pull her forward and they entered the blackness together. In the distance, golden light danced in the inky blackness and she was relieved to see that they were travelling towards it. Thousands of tiny golden threads hung from the ceiling and glittered throughout the cavern and they weaved through the small threads, bathed in their light. As the wisps of gold touched her cool skin, she felt warmth soak into her flesh and a million thoughts echoed in her mind. Sorrow and joy; pain and pleasure, emotions swirling so swiftly she felt dizzy from their potency. “What is this?” Persephone whispered, reaching up to touch one of the thin beams of light as they waved gently in the wind, like thin spider webs blowing in the summer breeze.

  Hades lifted his hand to one of the threads, letting it run gently over his fingers. “These are the golden threads of fate. Each string is a person, the glow is their life. When a person’s time ends, the light extinguishes, and the thread is cut.”

  “It is the Cave of Fate,” Persephone whispered, a shiver running through her as the delicate threads brushed against her. The cave opened up into a small room that was covered in dark stone. It was cold and barren and Persephone longed to run back into the free open spaces of Elysium. There was something lonely about this cavern of souls and a chill seemed to have settled into her own. He pulled her reluctant hand and they walked towards a gleaming thread that swayed gently. Persephone looked at its glimmering light and a peculiar sensation travelled through her as she moved closer. The sway of the thread seemed to follow the cadence of her heart and she wanted to both caress it and turn her back on the slim brillant fiber. “What is this?” she asked.

  He brushed the silken web almost reverently and she felt the contact within herself, within her spirit. She had felt that touch before, but the memory fluttered from her mind, leaving only shadows in its place.

  “Persephone, this is your thread of life.”

  Shock filtered through her mind and a sliver of fear travelled down her spine, causing her to step back as she stared at the thin thread held so softly in his hand. “But I am immortal, how can I have a thread?” she questioned.

  Golden light reflected in his dark eyes. “We all are spun of golden thread," he said, "Gods are not immune to death. One day, we too, will pass.”

  Persephone looked down at the fibers he held in his long, pale hands and frowned as she saw a mark on its golden length. She hesitated and then placed her hand over it, withdrawing her fingers from the thread quickly when it vibrated at her touch. She indicated the dark indention with her head.

  “What is this?” she asked.

  He ran his hand over the mark and she shivered at the touch. “That is the scar on your soul.” He raised his dark eyes to her face. “You hide it away so no one can see it, but that does not erase it. It stands out all the brighter because of your desire to suppress it. You alone know why that injury is there and what caused it.”

  “It scarred my soul?” she asked, tears swimming in her eyes as she shook her head.

  He lifted his hand and brushed a tear away as it fell down her cheek. “Tell me, Persephone. What happened? You do not have to bear it alone. Let me share your burden.”

  She grasped his hand tightly as tears began to stream down her face. “Hades, I…” Her voice was cut off abruptly as laughter reverberated through the cave. Persephone turned quickly but Hades had pulled her behind him.

  “Stay behind me, Persephone,” he said in a low voice.

  Three women stepped from the darkness, their eye sockets empty and gaping as they sniffed the air. Each held a portion of a golden thread between their gnarled hands, stroking it like a lover’s touch. A milk white eye was held in the hands of the creature in the middle and she placed it in the blackened socket with a sickening squelch, its dull pupil staring ahead unseeingly. Persephone watched in horror as a golden scissors was raised to the gleaming thread and she wanted to cry out in warning, but it was too late… the thread had been cut and Persephone’s eyes filled with tears as it turned a dull grey. A life that had been stolen. As if sensing her distress the pupil turned to Persephone and a finger beckoned to her. She felt Hades hands grasping for her but she was out of his reach as she stepped towards the Fates.

  “Little Flower,” three voices echoed in different cadences, “you want to leave this place, but you cannot. In the end, you will want to stay - but you will not. Think quick, or the King's castle will tumble down - it started with an a
rrow; it will end with an arrow."

  The voice of the crone in the middle echoed in the cave , “The man who kissed you in the woods is coming. You will see him again, little girl.”

  Persephone’s heart began to beat uncontrollably at her words. “No,” she whispered. She felt rough arms grab her, Hades had pushed her behind him again. A gnarled hand reached toward the ceiling, grasping another glittering thread between the claw like fingers, as a loud slice rent the air again and a second thread swayed to the ground, grey, dull and lifeless. They came closer to Persephone’s thread, and Hades took a menacing step forward. The three heads simultaneously turned towards him, eagerly sniffing the air. “The answers you seek are in the Lethe and wound tight in golden threads. It destroyed you once and could destroy you even now.” The milk white eye turned towards her again. “She will bring about your ruin. She will destroy you.”

  Persephone’s legs trembled beneath her and she felt Hades’ arm tighten. She tugged on Hades robes and tried to pull him further away from the frightening creatures. “Do not listen to them,” she begged. “Please, let us go away from here.”

  Hades raised his hand, the wind helping to rush them from the temple as the Fates began to laugh, their voices rising to deafening tones and Persephone covered her ears as they began to scream . “Which one did you trust? Which one do you trust? The man who kissed you in the woods is coming. He is coming; He is coming in you. The king will be mad; the king will go mad. The king will be mad.”

  Persephone bent her head to his chest, the wind tearing at their clothes as they rushed through the tunnels. He will come. She could feel the bile rising in her throat.

  “No,” she whispered.

  She pressed her face closer into his robes, letting her tears soak into them and she felt his hand brush her hair. They stopped suddenly and Persephone raised her head, seeing with surprise that they stood in her bedroom. Her legs trembled beneath her as Hades stepped away and he lifted his hand to steady her.

  “How did we get back?” she asked, looking around blinking, her voice muffled by tears.

  “As the King of the Underworld, I am entitled to use hidden tunnels.” Hades brushed her cheek. “Persephone, do not listen to the Fates, they twist their words to confuse and dismay. Their true meaning is nearly impossible to decipher.”

  “But they knew…” she whispered painfully.

  “They knew of the man in the woods,” he finished for her. “What are you afraid of, Persephone?” She felt herself begin to tremble and Hades shook his head. “That is enough for today, I think. Jocasta?” She stepped in from the doorway and Persephone could feel her concerned eyes fixed on her face. “Take care of my wife. See that she rests.”

  He turned away from her and Persephone grabbed his hand. “Where are you going?”

  “The darkness calls, my love,” he said with a small smile. He lifted her hand to his mouth and then he was gone.

  Chapter 14 - The Lethe

  ◆◆◆

  Hades made his way to the Stables, his hands trembling beneath his robes. Anger was warring with confusion, the emotions causing blood to flow in eddies down his chest as he quickly saddled Orphnaeus. The Fates talked in riddles, but their prophecies were rarely wrong. The man from the forest was coming and Hades had not imagined Persephone’s horror. Did she fear Hades’ reaction to the appearance of her lover, or was there a more sinister reason for the haunted look in her eyes? They had promised that he would find his answers in the Lethe and it was time he returned to the River of Forgetfulness. The connection between his forgotten memories and Persephone was unclear, but he had no choice -- he must retrieve them. The day he had woken up by the river’s shore he had held a cup in his hand, which he had pitched into the river, his mind disoriented and throbbing. He had avoided the Lethe since that day, wondering what had caused him to seek the amnestic waters. What could possibly have been so agonizing that he could not bear for it to even reside in the darkest recesses of his mind? He rode through the darkness like a man deranged, Orphnaeus flying over the rough terrain. If he wanted to retrieve his memories, he would have to locate the original cup he drank from. The river held hundreds of thousands of cups abandoned by those souls desperate to purge their mind. He slowed as he neared the shoreline, his chest damp with blood and sweat as he scanned the waters below. Seconds, minutes, hours passed as he sat, keeping silent vigil. And then he saw it -- a ruby red flicker that danced under the waves then disappeared far below.

  "Mine," he growled.

  He flung himself from the horse and dove into the icy waters, causing his breath to shoot out in a quick gasp as the chill began to spread through his body. Tentacles of other memories that had been sacrificed to the river began to wrap around him: a young girl hanging from her neck, her tongue bulging from her mouth as her body swayed in the breeze; a father kneeling at the cold, blue body of his child that stared ahead with wide glassy eyes; a husband’s hands wrapped tightly around his wife’s bruised neck as she lay motionless beneath him. He felt himself sinking under the weight of grief and regret, while all the time the icy water dug into him, pushing him deeper and deeper. As he was pulled further into the murky waters, he felt his resolve waiver, wondering why he had leapt into the Lethe, feeling content to give into the icy blackness. A gleaming ruby cup swept past his fingertips, and he fell as the current pulled it from his loose grasp. Persephone. He pushed forward, clamping the cup tightly in his hands even as icy arms tried to pull him deeper. With a wave of his hands, a brilliant purple light pushed them back and Hades shot to the surface, gasping for breath as his head rose above the water. He pulled himself from the river, breathing heavily

  as he lay on his back letting the cold waves pulse around him. He may have lost consciousness briefly for his eyes shot open as he felt Orphnaeus’ cold nose pressed against his face. He lifted his hand to stroke his muzzle.

  “I am okay, Orphnaeus, but you are right, we should go.” Using the horse to brace himself, he stood and allowed himself a moment to lean against the solid warm strength. “Come, let us go to Acheron.” He pulled himself into the saddle and leaned heavily forward as they rode to the opposite river-- Acheron, ‘The River of Pain,’ the river that would return his memories. He dropped from the saddle, staggering slightly, then strode to the water, the cool depths coming close to his feet. He was careful not to let the icy hot waves brush his skin, for the waters of the Acheron brought with it insurmountable pain. Bending to fill his cup, he stepped from the pools, walking to a nearby cave. He sank against the wall, letting his long legs stretch before him as he stared down at the cup in his hands, seeing his distorted reflection stare back at him. What dark memories would return to him when he allowed the water to touch his lips? She will destroy you. It mattered not, he was ruined anyway. But Persephone still had a chance.

  “Acheron,” he whispered, “bring back my memories no matter how painful.” And he drank deeply from the cup. As the water touched his lips his muscles began to clench and he felt his stomach twist against the putrid taste. He almost dropped the goblet as a rigor went up his arms, but he forced it back to his mouth, pouring the entire contents down his throat. He pushed his head tightly against the wall as a wave of agonizing pain moved over him and he bit his lip to suppress screams. Tasting blood in his mouth, he finally had no choice but to give in to the ripping pain coursing through his body. He felt his insides were being ripped out and he wished for death as his agonized howls echoed through the cavern, but no one could hear him. A surge of pain filled his body, and he begged to put him out of his misery as his muscles spasmed and his body convulsed. He thought that perhaps this would be the worst part, but then the memories started flooding back.

  He was at the River Styx watching Persephone in the forests above, her dark hair spread across the green earth as she cuddled a small deer to her chest, smiling happily. Watching her had become his ritual, and for those few moments, he felt happy, he could separate himself from the death and despa
ir that filled his existence. The first time he had seen her he had sought the calmness of the River after visualizing the brutality of a father against his young children. He had felt broken by the wickedness of the man he had sentenced to Tartarus, tainted by the sharing of his vicious memories.

  Styx had shown Persephone to him, her beauty and kindness acting like a balm to his torn, wretched soul. He was not sure when he began to love her, but he only knew that he did, fully and reverently. Everyday he sat by the river, he wrote briefly of what thoughts had passed through his mind during the day.

  ◆◆◆

  Persephone, I wonder at the cruelty of the world. Sometimes I lose hope that there is any goodness left in mortals and Gods alike, but then I see the innocence of a child or the love of a mother. I see you and I remember that there are those who still hold kindness in their hearts.

  ◆◆◆

  He realized one day as he sat, that he had written several pages, just streams of his consciousness, but he decided that he would send them to her. He left the message unsigned and placed a black rose with golden tips over the letter, wrapping it with a golden thread. He bent to the Styx, asking if the river would deliver it to the stream Persephone visited every day. When he returned later that day to the River, he watched in surprise as a letter floated towards him with a red rose placed on top. Persephone had written him a response.

  ◆◆◆

  Dear unknown one,

  I thank you for your letter. I too wonder at the savagery that exists in the world. You say I am kind, but it seems sometimes the only peace I find is in the meadows and the forest and I wonder if I am a coward not to do more to help the world. My impact in this life has not been perhaps what it could be. Tell me more of yourself and perhaps I may offer you advice, though my experience is limited, unless you seek assistance in horticulture. In that, if you will excuse my immodesty, I do excel. I will offer you this last thought -- do not despair of the world entirely. Today I saw three fox cubs in a den and life cannot be too bad if they exist in it. Do not give up hope for a better world.