Hades And Persephone: Curse Of The Golden Arrow

by Heidi Hastings

  Lifting his hand to the air, the waters parted and Persephone watched in wonder at the shadowed creatures who pushed against the pulsing wall of water. “Let’s fly,” he said and then they both surged forward, Persephone urging Aethon through the passage, the water thundering around them. She could hear cries of sorrow and turned to see faces looking at her from behind the wall of tears, pressing their pale hands against their watery prison. Spray from the pressure of the lake cried down as the horses raced through the passage and she forced her eyes away, turning towards Hades as he galloped ahead. She could see his bloodied back as his torn robes flew behind him. In the distance stood large golden doors and without pausing Hades lifted his hands and they opened slowly. Behind her she could hear the waves crashing down, thundering deafeningly as the water began to re-cover the path.

  The horses ran through the gates which slammed loudly behind them as the last strand of Aethon’s tail crossed the threshold, and she looked in wonder when she realized they were once more in the soft green lands of Elysium. The horses cantered up a small hill and then slowed as they reached a temple high on a cliff overlooking the sea. Persephone looked at it in surprise, it must belong to a minor God, but what was it doing down here? It was a temple that she would have loved to have had, if she had not become Hades’ Queen. Hades grabbed her around the waist, lifting her off the horse and her body slid against his as he brought her to the ground slowly. He leaned in close to her, holding her tightly against him and she wondered if he would lower his lips those last few inches to hers. The night was still and the silence was only broken by the gentle sounds of the forest and the crashing of the sea. She began to lift her face towards his, closing her eyes as she soaked in the peaceful tranquility of Elysium.

  “Shall we go inside?” he whispered.

  She jumped, blushing as he stepped away from her but he kept her hand firmly in his. Hades guided her inside the temple; it was a modest setting compared to the palace. There was an intimate seating area, a scullery, and two large bedrooms, decorated in soft, pale tones. Outside was a pool tiled in blue aventurine, and beautifully carved marble statues were artistically placed around the temple. Hades lit a fire in the main room fireplace, and rich golden flames rose in the hearth. He then went to one of the bedrooms, bringing out a white plush robe in one hand.

  “That is my room, usually. Once again,” he said quietly. “your room is across from mine. If you wish to switch, you have only to let me know, you may have whatever room you wish.” He pressed the robe into her hand and she took it, biting her lip, wondering why she felt disappointed that they would not be sharing a room. She gave him a small smile.

  “Thank you, I am sure that will be perfect,” she said. He nodded and turned back to the fire as she stepped into her room, closing the door softly. An elegant rattan bed with clean, white linens rested against the wall and she sat down staring out of the large open windows that looked out at the ocean. She closed her eyes, breathing in the cool, calming scent of the sea, forcing Ares evil face from her mind. What had he thought of her confession? Was he disgusted? She began to pull off her tattered gown, unable to stand the memory of Ares’ disgusting touch, and then she secured the soft robe tightly around her narrow waist. Pulling her dark hair loose around her face, she studied herself in the mirror. She looked...different. She realized that she looked every bit an empress and gave a little gasp as she studied her reflection. Somewhere in the interim between being a captive at her mother’s temple and a prisoner at her husband’s palace, she had gained something, some extra quality that she had always lacked. What was that expression in her gaze, she wondered?

  She surveyed her luminous green eyes and looked to the stranger in the mirror for answers, but she only gave her an enigmatic smile. Her heart raced in her chest and she rubbed at it.

  Suddenly longing to speak to Hades, she stepped from her room and saw that he had changed into a white robe, as well. His dark face was accentuated by the crisp whiteness of the cloth. Her eyes travelled over him and she noticed the soft black hair that curled around his neck. He looked strong and beautiful and she felt herself reaching towards him, longing to run her hands against his skin. She jerked her willful hand back and rushed into her room quietly, pressing her hand against her rapid heartbeat. He may not want her to touch him now, she reminded herself. Her fingers trembled as she brushed the blood-red gemstones across her throat. He knew about her past now but he had not turned away from her. She would not hide from him even if he was disgusted; he had not abandoned her. With a resolute nod of her head, she pushed open the door and forced herself to move towards him. He glanced up as he saw her approach, and a smile lit his face. She blinked at the twin dimples that creased his cheeks, then reluctantly forced her eyes away from him. With the crackling fire the room looked warm and inviting. This temple was lovely and she had once dreamed of living in just such a place. A peaceful oasis where she could retreat to at the end of the day, and just -- be.

  “Whose home is this?” she asked.

  He moved in front of her and she had no choice but to raise her gaze to his -- and flames flickered in their black depths. “It is mine,” he replied watching her.

  “Yours?” she asked with surprise. He pressed a glass of wine into her hands and she accepted it gratefully, her mouth suddenly parched. “But I thought you lived in the Underworld?”

  “I live there, but this is my home. I come here when the darkness becomes overwhelming. It is where I can find peace. My hidden palace. I must spend most of my time in the Underworld, but there is no rule I must spend all of my time there.”

  “It is beautiful,” she replied, running her hands over the stone walls. “Who built it? I never imagined to see a temple like this here.” She glanced up when he did not reply and saw with surprise that he looked embarrassed.

  “I did,” he said finally.

  “You? Truly!” She stepped closer, fascinated by the slight flush on his face. “With magic?”

  He shook his head. “No. With my hands.”

  “What!” she cried, her voice loud with surprise as she gaped at him. “All of it?”

  “All of it.”

  “The walls?” He nodded. “The roof?” Another nod. “The bed in my room?”

  “I weaved it,” he said.

  “Did anyone help you?”

  “No,” he replied.

  She looked at the beautifully crafted table. “Did you carve this?”

  “Yes.”

  She pointed to a marble figure near the doorway. “This statue? Did you sculpt it?”

  He laughed, “Yes.”

  “Well,” she said gently. “It is so lovely. You are a talented craftsman. If you were a mortal I can see how you would have earned your keep.” She fingered the intricate engravings against the hearth. “It must have taken you a long time.”

  “It did, but patience and I are old friends. I started to build it when I first began to judge souls. To understand a small part of what it meant to be human I came here to live as mortals do. Now I come for the pleasure of a simple life.” He took her hand in his and pulled her towards him. “Come sit with me.” He drew her down onto the soft daybed by the fire .

  He sat close to her and she felt his strong thigh as it brushed against hers and she gave a shiver at his nearness. She could feel those sensations again, rising low in her body, travelling to her heart and she resisted the urge to touch her chest, knowing his eyes were on her. His hand lay on his knee and the flesh was raw and raised from Ares’ whip. She picked up his hand, rubbing her fingers over the burn.

  “Does it hurt?” she asked in a hushed voice, lifting her eyes to his.

  “Only a little.” She closed her eyes and raised his hand, brushing her mouth over the burn, letting her lips linger against his hand. “Persephone,” he said softly.

  “Will you teach me sometime? To heal like you healed me. I would like to be helpful. I could heal your back.”

  “You already are helpful
, but I will teach you. I will teach you anything you want to know.” She pressed his hand against her face, hiding her eyes from his view and he felt dampness against his skin. “Persephone,” he said again, turning her to face him. Her eyes were downcast, but he saw the tears that fell from them, tracing down her cheeks. “Why did you not tell me what happened? Any secret you would have shared would be safe in my keeping.

  “I know,” she whispered. “I did trust you, I do. I wanted to tell you so many times, but I was … ashamed. Mother and I decided that no one had the right to know. Look how Athena punished Medusa after Poseidon attacked her. I remained silent for so long that the lie became easier than the truth. I thought if I never spoke of it again, I could forget.” Her voice hitched. “But I remembered it all the clearer and it was always at the forefront of my mind, until I let it become the part of my life that defined me. And I regret it. I regret it so much, Hades. I carried this secret, fearing the day I would marry, and my husband would discover the truth and that he would be disgusted by me. Ares showed me that day what love was between Gods. I trusted him, trusted what he had told me. I was a fool. I never want to feel that pain again. I never want to love, to feel that loss. Love is a selfish thing that breaks you and I never want to love... again.” She lifted her eyes then and deep wracking sobs shook her body. He pulled her into his lap, letting her tears fall against his chest, stroking her hair away from her face.

  They were similar, in ways she did not even realize. He pulled her tighter against him as he rubbed a hand down her silken hair and pressed a kiss against her forehead as she began to hiccup against him.

  “He is a monster for what he did to you, to make a mockery of love and marriage. He wanted to scar you forever. Do not let him. He does not define any part of you.” The reality of how her attack was largely his fault dawned on him, and he wanted to scream in rage for not protecting her. His cowardly need to hide who he was from her had provided a perfect opportunity for Ares to take advantage of her trusting nature.

  “Gods, how could I have been so foolish?” he said aloud.

  “I am broken,” she whispered under her breath, raising her face to his.

  He stared into her luminous eyes. “We are broken, but our shattered fragments fit together making us complete. What happened that night has nothing to do with what is between you and I, Persephone.”

  She raised her eyes to his, tears making the green look like crystal. “But when you look at me, all you will see is him. You will remember…,” she said with sadness.

  He pulled her tighter against him. “Never,” he whispered fervently against her. “When I look at you all I see is -- you, the sweet Goddess of the Forest, a ferocious and just queen. I want every part of you. The light and the dark. Your past and your future. Everything you are. You have committed no sin, Persephone. It is time to forgive yourself. You did nothing more and nothing less than love someone. His actions were monstrous, an immoral crime against a pure soul.” He wrapped his fingers around her jaw, turning her face towards him. “You judge yourself so harshly. Give yourself permission to absolve your heart of this guilt. "

  “But I trusted him, it was my fault…”

  “No,” he said softly. “It was not your fault.” Hades hesitated. He was not ready to tell her it was him she had been writing to. He wanted to know more but his intuition told him to wait. Why and how had Ares known how to act? He hoped that she would forgive him when he revealed the truth. He knew he would never forgive himself for his cowardly anonymity.

  She pressed her face against his chest. “This is why I cannot love you. My happiness was stolen from me. I fell in love with a lie - and... I… I miss the lie. I miss who I was before, though I was so foolish,” she said bitterly. “The minute I give my heart to you, and you get what you want, you will hurt me and you will leave. I cannot survive that betrayal again, I cannot lose the small part of myself that remains.” She lay silent against him but he could feel the dampness of her tears soaking into his robe.

  “Persephone,” he whispered, stroking the strands of hair away from her wet face. “No one knows better than I that there is no hope for a future when you live in the past. I can feel the loneliness beating in you, I felt it the first time I ever saw you. Your heart is broken but it is full of love, it only needs to heal. Let me help you. Let me share your burden.” He lifted her into his arms and the doors to the temple swung open as he approached them. The cool night air pushed against them as they stepped outside and he felt Persephone shiver in his arms.

  “Where--?” she asked.

  “Trust me,” he said softly, his voice rich magic against her ears. He could hear the sea as he brought them towards the shore. The water covered his ankles and he strode out deeper into the depths, holding her carefully in his arms. “Let me close this wound. Let me take the pain from you.” She stared up at him, her eyes wide and frightened, but she nodded her head slowly. He sat her gently down into the water and they stood facing one another.

  "Take off your robe."

  She pulled it tighter around her body and he could see her struggle against her intrinsic need to cover herself. He waited patiently and watched as her fingers began to loosen on the fabric and the robe slowly fell to the water, exposing her gleaming flesh to the soft touch of the moonlight. He brought her long hair forward, letting it cover her breasts and the junction between her legs.

  “I am going to touch you now,” he whispered. She trembled as he placed his hand to her heart. He began to chant an ancient language and the words merged with the sounds of the tide as he dipped her gently back into the waters of the sea. Her heart beat in rhythm to the churning ocean and as he prayed over her and he could feel the wound closing, the blackness beginning to fade away. Suddenly she gave a mournful cry that echoed loudly in the night and he could feel the delicate flesh of her heart reopen, the muscle tearing in her chest. Her frenzied thoughts pressed into his mind and he could see her holding a newborn babe in her arms, her tears falling against his cold, still flesh. He pulled her from the water and wrapped his arms around her shivering form. The final secret she had held from him was revealed.

  "Gods! Persephone, you lost a child?" He felt his tears mingle with the salt water in her hair and he pressed his face against her head. He wanted to scream in the darkness at the God who had altered the course of her life. He wanted to unleash his fury, but she did not need his anger; she needed gentleness and understanding to heal. Her mouth opened and he could see her struggle to form words, but only sobs came from her lips. Brushing his mouth against her, he pressed two fingers to her head, quieting her sounds of distress. He began to move carefully through her fragmented thoughts and he was once again in the forest with her, her belly was large and swollen with child as she fell to the ground in pain. He watched as she gave birth, alone, in the silent woods. He watched as she clung to the lifeless child, bending over his tiny blue body as she tried again and again to breathe life into the small, silent chest. A hooded figure emerged from the darkened trees, lifting the child from her arms. Persephone fought desperately, but she was too weak to reclaim her son, and in the end could only watch helplessly as the cloaked figure disappeared with the small bundle into the forest. She stumbled after the figure, her dress bloodied with the evidence of her delivery and --- she vanished from his view. He felt someone pull tightly at him, bringing him from the memory and he looked down to see Persephone grasping him tightly with white knuckled hands. Her fingernails dug into his arms and blood fell from his skin to swirl into the water below.

  Grief and horror were reflected in her eyes and she tried to pull away from him but he kept his hands around her, dipping her back into the waters, repressing the rage he felt into the recesses of his mind. He continued chanting the ancient dialect then whispered words she finally understood.

  “Let me carry this sadness. Let this be my burden to bear. Let me fight this battle for you.”

  She struggled against his hands. “No,” she cried in a
strangled voice. “Do not. It is not yours to bear.”

  “Let me,” he said softly. “Let me take your pain. I am already made of scars.”

  He began to pull the darkness from her, a shadow of self-loathing rising from her chest, and he grasped the shade of blackness, pressing it against his lips as he began to swallow it. An overwhelming pain filled his heart and he felt regret and sorrow move through him as he stumbled against their heavy weight. He righted himself and when he looked down, Persephone’s clear eyes were staring up at him.

  “Why?” she asked with anguish..

  He pulled her from the depths of the sea and picked her up in his arms. As he walked back to the temple, he finally looked down at her. “Your pain was already a part of me. You never have to bear the sorrows of life alone, Persephone.”

  She raised a hand up towards him but her eyes were already beginning to drift shut. By the time he entered her room, she was asleep in his arms and he tucked her into bed beneath the soft, warm blankets. And for the first night in a long time, she slept without nightmares.

  Chapter 21 - The Guest

  ◆◆◆

  By the time Persephone awoke it was dusk. He knew now. He knew everything about her, the darkest moments of her life. She had loved her child, wanted it even though he had been the result of Ares’ barbaric savagery. When she had felt it begin to move inside her, she had been horrified and nauseated that she bore the fruits of that vile union. As he had grown though, she began to long for him, a little person she could care for, that she could love. Her mother would have been disgusted by the small creature who had taken root in her womb, so she had kept him a secret, even from Demeter. She knew that many women would not want the evidence of molestation and she understood their perspective, but she could not fault the tiny spirit that moved within her own soul. He had felt so much a part of her, and Gods help her, she had loved him.