The child had grown at a rapid pace within her womb, and instead of the many months of gestation that mortal women experienced, only a few moons had passed when she began to fill the first pains of his arrival. The cramps began to increase and she hurried to the forest to welcome him, making sure she was far from the river where he had been conceived. She had wanted to bring him into the beautiful world she loved, and she lay on the ground pushing for what had seemed like hours. When he finally emerged she wondered why he did not cry, why his sweet flesh was dusky. She breathed into him over and over, finally sobbing over his still, perfect body. Until he too had been ripped from her arms; she could not even keep his body for a proper burial. She had searched for that hooded creature who had spirited away her son, but he had vanished like smoke into the forest. The memories drifted over her and she lay in bed, keeping her eyes closed when she heard the quiet sound of laughter. The window was open and she could make out voices now. Her husband’s deep voice and another one, a male she did not recognize. She forced herself from the covers and dressed quickly in a simple robe, letting her hair flow freely down her back.
She pushed open the door to her bedroom, and when she entered the common room, Hades stood there alone. He turned towards her and took her hand, bringing it to his lips. The brush of his mouth against her skin made her shiver and she bit her lip as his dark eyes moved over her.
“Did you sleep well?” he asked.
“Yes, thank you,” she replied in what she hoped was a steady voice. Her stomach gave a loud growl and she blushed, pressing her hand against it tightly. “A little hungry, I guess.”
Hades laughed. “I am not surprised, it has been some time since we have eaten a proper meal. We will dine soon. A visitor will be joining us tonight. He is in the courtyard, perhaps you could go introduce yourself? I will be out shortly.”
“A visitor? Who is he?” She was not in any particular mood to welcome guests, she thought glumly.
“You have never met him before,” he replied softly.
“Should I not change? I am only in robes.”
“I do not think he will mind, he is just anxious to meet your acquaintance.” He stroked one finger against her palm. “Trust me, you will want to meet him.” He steered her towards the doors and then she was in the courtyard and a young man stood with his back towards her, facing the calm blue waters of the sea. Strands of his dark hair blew in the warm breeze and she wondered again who he was. For some reason the sight of his tall form surveying the sunset made her heart accelerate, which was absurd. She did not know this man. In Elysium it was most likely he was a famous poet or philosopher. Her footsteps were soft on the ground and she was very close to him by the time he noticed he was no longer alone. When he turned towards her, a stricken look crossed his face and then he gave her a courtly bow, his dark hair covering his expression.
“Queen Persephone,” he murmured, his voice pleasant and soothing. “I have waited so long to meet you.” When he raised his gaze to hers, his deep green eyes looked longingly at her. Everything about him was achingly familiar, like a long forgotten dream.
“Who are you?” she said, taking a step away from him. Her hands trembled as she noticed the determined set of his jaw, his high cheekbones. It was the same bone structure she saw everyday when she looked into the mirror.
He stepped closer to her. “Persephone, do you not know me?”
She began to shake her head and then stopped as she stared into his green eyes. Her green eyes. “You remind me of someone, but that cannot be. He was cursed by Zeus, kept from his family for eternity. What is your name?” she demanded.
His gaze lowered again and when he raised his eyes, tears sparkled in their emerald depths. “My name is Iasion, Persephone. I am your father.”
Her head became curiously light and she felt herself slipping into blackness when strong arms wrapped around her and she was looking up into the face of her father, the beloved face she had never been allowed to know. Suddenly she pushed herself up and threw herself at him, so that they both fell to the ground and she was crying against his chest. “Father,” she sobbed. “I have loved you since I grew in my mother’s womb. I have missed you with every sunset and sunrise.”
“My daughter,” he cried, wrapping his arms fiercely around her, and she felt his tears fall against her cheeks. “Forgive me.” He whispered the words over and over again, until finally they both fell silent, content to simply hold one another. They sat like that, wrapped tightly in each other’s arms, until Persephone pulled back from him slightly, looking up at him shyly.
“But.. I thought you were cursed by Zeus. That is what my mother told me. How did you come to be here?”
“Come, my daughter,” he said, standing, extending his hand to hers. They walked to a nearby chaise and sat, Iasion never taking his eyes from her face. “You look so much like your mother.”
Persephone laughed. “She says I look like you.”
“Does she?” he whispered. “I was cursed, Persephone. I remember laying with your mother and then suddenly I knew nothing. I walked for eternity it seemed; I was a faceless wraith -- untouchable, unlovable, and unseeable. I truly do not know how long those moments lasted. It could have been hours, it may have been a thousand years. I existed in that state until one day Hades found me. He restored my voice and my mind and brought me here. He changed the terms of my sentence and I have lived in Elysium since then. And though I was free from my chains, I could not seek you from this realm. After a short period of time, Olive came to live with me as well.”
“Olive?” she repeated, processing his words slowly.
How had Hades known about her father? She had never told him, and Iasion had resided here long before she had been brought to the Underworld. Was it possible he had come here for another reason entirely unconnected to her? But that was too much of a coincidence. Perhaps Zeus had told him, but then her mother had assured her that Zeus had not told another living soul of what he had done. And how had Olive come to be involved? Her father and her sweet Olive brought to live eternity in the most coveted realm in the Underworld, by a man who did not know he would someday be her husband.
“But father,” she began, “I do not understand--”
Her words were cut short by Hades’ appearance. Steaming platters of fish were carried in his hands, and they were covered with sweet smelling herbs that tantalized her senses. “Hungry?” Hades asked with a smile.
“Famished,” she replied. She stood to help him lay out the platters and she leaned against him briefly, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. Her questions would keep until later. For now she simply wanted to relish that her father sat next to her, and after all this time they were together. “Thank you,” she said, her voice breaking over the words.
His eyes moved over her. “I would give you anything,” he replied softly. Her father cleared his throat and suddenly Hades expression lightened. “I will be back with some wine.”
When he returned, Hades raised a toast to them and they sat in the gathering darkness, celebrating the reunion. Her father was a skilled storyteller and the hours passed quickly as the wine flowed freely. Persephone could not keep her gaze from moving to her husband, the moonlight caressing the shadows of his dark face. The goblet of wine was held loosely in his long fingers, his black hair tumbled across his face as he laughed while Iasion recounted a tale of his youth. Hades’ eyes connected with hers as he brought the glass to his lips and watched her over the rim.
Iasion looked at her and then stood suddenly and said, “I think I will depart for home now. I thank you, King, for allowing me to dine with you tonight. I thank you for so much.” He bowed towards Hades, and Persephone jumped to her feet and threw her arms around her father’s neck.
“I will see you soon,” she said with a smile.
“Yes, as soon as you desire, my child. Whenever you have a need -- I will be there.” He bent down to kiss her forehead and with a last embrace, he began to make his way fr
om the temple. Persephone watched until his figure disappeared in the distance and then she turned to her husband, stumbling slightly. She had had too much wine, but she felt pleasantly warm. He lay still on the ground looking up at her and she tumbled down next to him, lifting his hand to her face.
“How can I repay you?” she asked. “For Olive. For my father.”
He took her hand and brought it to his lips. “You owe me nothing, Persephone.”
“Why did you bring my father here?” she asked, watching him as carefully as her bleary eyes would allow her. “As far as I know, in his short life he did not do anything to change the world drastically.”
Did she imagine it or had his eyes flitted away from hers. “He helped to make you, did he not?” He lifted his face to hers again. “I found your father one day, his soul aimlessly roaming. I knew he was a good man, that his punishment had been false.”
“So it was just coincidence then, that he came to be here?” Her question ended on a hiccup.
“Do you believe in chance, Persephone?”
“I do not know what I believe anymore.” A soft breeze blew around them and Persephone closed her eyes, letting the small currents drift around her. “I smell roses,” she said with enthusiasm.
“There is a rose garden near here. Roses are my favorite flower, save one.”
“You are my favorite flower,” she said sleepily, and then covered her mouth with her hand. “Did I say that out loud?”
He laughed. “I am afraid so. Let us go inside. “Come, little flower. I think it is time for you to visit Hypnos.”
Persephone had fallen asleep as soon her head touched the pillow. Hades turned from the room; they had both drank far too much and when she finally came to him he did not want any artifice between them, whether it be wine or the final secret he withheld from her. He needed to tell her, she deserved the full truth from him. He returned to his room, changing quickly out of his robes and when he turned to the mirror he inhaled swiftly. His chest was smooth and pale, with only a small scar over his heart. He was healed, which meant-- Persephone loved him! He had to tell her that he was the man from the forest, that he was the one who had written her the letters. He would figure out later how Ares had intercepted him and why.
She needed the truth if there was any chance that she could forgive him for inadvertently leading that monster -- Ares -- to her; forever changing the course of her life. He quickly slipped back into her room. The moonlight was shining gently on her face, her small hand tucked against her chin. Tomorrow, he thought. Tomorrow he would finally tell her the truth.
Chapter 22 - Omission
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A stream of sunlight woke Persephone from her slumber and she stretched contentedly on her bed, throwing off the covers quickly. Humming to herself, she dressed in a plain cotton tunic and hurried outside to enjoy the first rays of sunlight. The sea thundered against the shore and the brilliant pink sky reflected in the aquamarine waters of the pool and glittered against the turquoise blue stone. Persephone felt happy to be alive. There was a petal floating on the surface of the water and she picked it up absently, turning it over in her hand. Maybe she could ask Hades to bring Olive here, she would like to let him play in the sunny endless fields. Her father would love to see him again, she was sure. Her father! After all this time, she had finally come to know him and her heart soared.
She wondered again how he had come to be here. A smile lit her face as she remembered how her father and Hades had traded stories. Could life really be this wonderful, she pondered, that they all could have a happy ending? Her heart gave a pang as she wondered what Demeter would think when she learned her true love resided here. She rubbed her fingers absently against the smooth petal and glanced down as it’s perfumed scent filled the air. The petal was a black rose and the bouquet was hauntingly familiar. A memory began to unfold like black, twisting tentacles in her mind, wrapping around her heart. How many times had she smelled that particular sweetness? She turned the petal over slowly; gold marked it’s edges. This was the same rose that had been tied to the letters she had fetched from the river, the letters her lover had sent. The roses Ares had scattered to the ground before he had raped her. Her breath was coming in short gasps. She had confessed her father’s name in those letters, and Olive’s, as well. She began to stumble down the hill in the direction that Hades had indicated the garden was, and a cry of denial fell from her lips. Rows of black roses grew, all covered with golden tips, their scent cloying in her nostrils. She ran her fingers blindly over them, not noticing when a thorn dug deep into her palm causing blood to trickle down her wrist. Had Ares shared what was inscribed to him? Was he simply part of this twisted game? The garden began to blur, and Persephone felt faint as she pieced together a sick picture of what all of this meant.
A hand grabbed the petal from her fingers. “I can explain.” His voice was low and urgent.
She whirled away from him. “You lied to me!” Her entire body shook and she fisted her hands to keep from attacking him, this stranger who stood before her. “I told you everything, you made me share everything with you. And I find these!” She gesticulated wildly to the roses. “Who are you? Did you help Ares orchestrate all of this? Laugh while he made a fool of me? While he hurt me?”
“No!” He tried to grasp her hand but she pulled herself away from him.
“Do not touch me!” she screamed.
He held up his hands and he took a step back, eyeing her like she was a wild animal. His face was stony as he looked at her, his careful mask back in place.“I will not touch you, I promise. But let me show you the part I played in this. I would never have willingly allowed Ares to do any harm to you, surely you know that?”
“And yet he did,” she said coldly. Fury was uncurling inside her, a blind rage that she had never felt before and she was shaking from the strength of it. “Show me then. Let us have done with this farce.”
He turned on his heel and she wondered if he had the courage to turn his back to her. If she had the blade of the Acheron she would be tempted to plunge it into him, to betray him as she thought he had betrayed her. She forced herself to follow him and he made his way through the house into his bedroom. He took a golden box from a table near his bed and handed it to her.
Her hands shook as she opened the lid and froze when saw the letters inside. Her letters. Her handwriting. She picked up the one on top and the words danced across her eyes. Here were her memories from long ago, from another life -- when she was a different person. How sweet were the words she had written. How stupid she had been. Her hand trembled as she threw the letter back in the box. It felt like poison against her skin.
“So?” she asked, her voice trembling. “I do not understand. How did you get these! Did you steal them from Ares?”
Hades moved the box away from her, closing the lid reverently. "I did not steal these from anyone,” he said quietly, his eyes lowered. “Ares was never the one writing to you."
He lifted his burning black gaze to hers and she knew then. The knowledge rushed through her and she felt herself breaking; the final cut that would destroy her and it had been Hades who had delivered it. She backed up, the wall the only force that kept her from falling to the ground and she reached behind her, pressing her shaking hands against the sturdy, cold stone.
“You?” Her voice was a ragged whisper. “It was you?”
“Persephone, please,” he began and his emotions slipped through his careful mask, anguish reflected in his face as he stepped closer to her, but she was too far gone to care.
She held up her hand. If he touched her, if she felt him against her flesh she would shatter into a million pieces, so broken that she would never be put together again. She could feel her palm pulse with power, the need to punish him growing inside of her. Her fingers closed against her palm, digging her fingernails into the wound the thorn had made.
“Stay the hell away from me. How could you?” Her voice was unrecognizable to her ow
n ears and her throat was raw from the suppressed screams of denial. “You kept such a secret from me all this time. Where were you on that day? A part of me died and you did nothing! You led me to a demon and let him destroy me. Made me think I had loved a rapist and a murderer!" Blackness closed around her vision as her chest moved rapidly and she tried to slow her breathing, but the air seemed too heavy.
Hades growled suddenly and grasped her arm, pulling her from the room, through the hallway and back outside again. “You need air,” he said. He sat her on a chaise, releasing her immediately, and then leaned against a nearby cypress tree. She shivered against the warmth of the sun, sucking in deep gulps of air.
"I had sent a letter telling you I would arrive after sunset. Ares must have waited at the riverbank and intercepted it. How he knew to look for it I do not know. He waited for you, pretending to be the one writing you. By the time I arrived, I only saw Olive and my shredded letter. I thought you hated me.”
“And why did you not tell me the moment you saw me again? You kept me ignorant of the truth,” Persephone cried.
“I drank the water Lethe after I returned. I forgot that you had ever loved me, that we had ever written to each other. It was a weakness, I know, but I was half-mad by the time I returned to the Underworld. It was not until the Fates intervened that I realized there may be a connection between my forgotten memories in the Lethe -- and you.”
“And your memories returned -- when?” she demanded, her voice a hiss.
“After the Fates I sought my memories. I thought you knew and were lying to me.”
Hades And Persephone: Curse Of The Golden Arrow Page 27
