Receiver of Many

by Rachel Alexander

  A hot exhale of air teased the curls between her thighs. Kore arched and parted them, feeling a hand brush over her mound. Unlike last night, she didn’t stop him. He was mesmerized by the sight of her most intimate places, her deeper mysteries unknown to him. He wanted to bring forth everything he’d felt rise through her last night to completion. Her flesh jumped as he stroked her, learning her. Her creamy thighs were open to him, her scent pouring out on the wind. A fine down of dark brown curls covered her nether lips. He traced their seam; watching as her hips moved from side to side and her breathing became shallow.

  Every shiver of her flesh, every arch of her body made Aidon’s heart beat faster, urging him onward in his discovery. The tips of his fingers were met with slick warmth, and a punctuated gasp from Kore that made him inhale sharply, feeling the unfulfilled pains of his own arousal. Shaking with anxious longing, his fingers glided down to her entrance and lingered there for a moment before traveling upward slowly through the folds.

  When he neared the apex, she let out a sharp cry and sprang back from his touch. Aidon instantly rose up along the length of her body, alarmed, smoothing his hand over her shoulder. “Did I hurt you?”

  She shook her head. “No. It… Can you please do that again?” she said meekly.

  He smiled in relief and trailed his fingers downward through the valley between her breasts, over the tautness of her stomach, and gingerly steadied her mound with the palm of his hand. His finger met soft heat and sunk between her labia, tracing a path upward through the center until he felt her writhe anew. He stopped, memorizing the spot, feeling the tiny nub of flesh pulse under his finger. He waited for her to still and relax against him. When she rolled her hips forward and pressed the tight bud against his waiting finger, he started moving it in a slow circle.

  The feel of his unseen hand stroking her filled her body with fire and familiarity, a longing she couldn’t place for something she never knew she needed. Her hands and feet clenched and tingled, flames licking through her.

  His winding finger moved faster. Every stroke of his hand against Kore’s new-found epicenter shook her. Her lips, the tips of her breasts, her thighs twitched. Her voice wasn’t hers anymore; it responded only to his caress. Every motion was a new thrill of pleasure. Something primal and inexorable began to wind within her, tightening every muscle of her body, searching, deepening, arching her closer.

  Aidon felt her rising to him, her cries heating him and spurring him on. Her voice made his need a torture, unquenchable and unrelenting in his current form. He leaned over her and took the exposed nipple into his mouth and sucked it gently, driving her over an unseen edge.

  Kore burst. Light danced behind her closed eyes and her head tilted back. She twisted and flailed, cried out his name and gasped, and the world fell away. Waves rolled through her as she felt his hand move away and travel up the length of her body to hold her. His lips teased along her cheek and she heard him breathing in time with her, steadying her body and supporting her until the tremors stopped and all she felt was his unseen hand grasping her arm.

  “Persephone, I—” his voice shuddered.

  Kore felt cool grass against her back, the soft earth beneath it supporting her, and then the caress of the wind was gone. He was gone. The grove was quiet once again, save for the sound of her heart beating in her eardrums.

  ***

  Aidoneus materialized in his realm, and looked around in shock, drawn away from her against his will. He stumbled backward and slammed his palm hard on the edge of his ebony throne, regaining his balance. His knees were shaking. Desire for her had come with him. He looked down at his erect flesh straining against his loincloth and robes, and cradled it against his body, covering and protecting himself as he doubled over and gasped for air. His blood coursed through him like the molten river Phlegethon.

  Aware of his presence, Hecate’s eyes were closed, her brow knitted. “Aidoneus—”

  “How dare you!” he bellowed, “Do you have any idea—”

  ”A very good idea, yes. But leaving you there with her would have been more dangerous than delicious, I’m afraid. There will be trouble…”

  He watched her eyes tighten again as she concentrated, listening for a voice in the ether. He didn’t have time for this. Hecate needed to take him back. Persephone needed him. He needed to see her. To hold her.

  “I have to have her,” he growled as he waited for Hecate to speak, willing his legs to carry him to where he could sit down. “I must have her. When the sun sets—”

  Hecate flinched and cried out, startling him to silence. A voice piercing her mind— a wail of grief from the ether that was bending slowly into madness. “It will be too late!”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Demeter. She’s coming for Persephone.”

  “She can’t stand in my way; not now,” he said, feeling his control slowly come back, his pulse steadying, his lust subsiding.

  “She won’t. Aidon, she will do worse. I understand now— I could feel her fear distilling into something sharp and desperate, but I was too focused on aiding your visit to Persephone. To keep you immaterial was not easy, with you in that state...” Hecate stood. “You are familiar with the tale of Daphne?”

  A pregnant moment passed before his eyes grew wide. Realization and horror scalded him like acid and what little color he had drained from his face. “Gods above…”

  He stood and strode across the room. Hecate followed him down the halls and corridors, running to keep pace. His himation shifted its form, winding around his body. The folds of fabric hardened, becoming the golden cuirass of his armor. Aidoneus had not worn it often, and never for its intended purpose since they cast Kronos into the Pit and ended the war. His long black cloak unfurled behind him as he stormed out to the courtyard. He reached through the ether as Hecate had taught him long ago and felt his helm materialize in his hand.

  “Hades!” she said as he raised it over his head.

  He spun on Hecate, his face contorted in rage. “I’ll cast Demeter into the Pit if I have to!”

  She started and drew back, then followed him again as Aidoneus continued his march. The corridor opened up into to the massive open stable yard of his palace, its floor made of concentric ringed cobblestones of black granite. He grabbed his iron standard from inside the gate and walked out to the center of the yard.

  “This madness is not fixed by fate, Aidoneus! If Demeter reaches Persephone before you, be assured that the world will know her only for her slender branches and the gentle shade she gives. But such eternal changes have rules, and you can still prevent it. And you can save your bride in a more peaceful way than throwing the goddess of the fruitful harvest into the depths of Tartarus!”

  He hammered the staff on the ground, the ringing echoing through the yard. Dark granite cracked beneath it, a glow of orange light radiating out from the point of impact. Aidoneus calmly strode back to Hecate’s side as the stones fell away, lighting the room with reflected fire. She looked up at him, remembering aeons ago how Aidoneus had single-handedly convinced her and Nyx to support Zeus’s cause during the war. That same taciturn warrior stood with her now, watching the rising smoke and listening to the approaching gallop of horses from the chasm.

  “What way?” he said, finally.

  Hecate looked into his eyes through the golden, black-crested helm that rendered him invisible to anyone he chose. She raised her voice as the ground beneath them started to shake. “Persephone can only be transformed that way if she is as Daphne was— intact.”

  Aidon’s head snapped down to acknowledge the weight of what she said. A maelstrom of realization and trepidation ran through him, the helm barely hiding his emotions. “That’s not how—”

  With a shrill neigh, four dark coursers burst upward through the smoking gap, their manes and hooves sable black, their eyes glowing with fire. They pulled a great quadriga chariot behind them. It gleamed in the molten light from the chasm below, and then the gr
ound started to close again with a grinding roar. The chariot had served Aidoneus well during the war, and would now serve him again. He returned the standard to the wall and stalked toward the cart. There was no time.

  As Aidoneus grabbed the reins, a cloud of black smoke flowed out around the chariot, the chargers whinnying and stamping their feet. Hecate’s voice rang out over the cacophony of the giant beasts. “If you love her, Aidoneus, if you want to save her, you will do what must be done!”

  She watched from the gate as the chariot drove away. Aidoneus rode headlong for the living world and his Persephone.

  5.

  It took several minutes for Kore to rise. He had left her there, had disappeared in the midst of speaking, leaving her bewildered. Her chiton was wrenched out of place and her back was damp from the floor of the grove. She stood, confused by his disappearance, and scanned the empty grove. Had he truly gone? Was he still somewhere nearby? What would make him leave her so abruptly? She would ask him later. Kore knew Aidon would come back; that he would return tonight.

  A heavy feeling settled in her chest. No matter how natural she felt with him, she had no idea who he was. She would be surrendering herself to him— a complete stranger. Her thoughts returned to the wedding party in Eleusis, how the man had taken the woman in the tent, pushing in and out of her, the pain on the woman’s face when they first joined. Would she feel that same pain?

  She remembered Aidon in her dream, the unseen part of him that had pressed against her thigh as hard as stone, pulsing and hot. She remembered him drawing his heat away, stopping himself from taking her. Her heart beat faster and a shuddering need flooded into her at the idea of Aidon lying astride her, entering her slowly. Her flesh still throbbed from his touch as she left the grove and returned to the sunlit meadow.

  The sun was lower in the sky. In a few hours, it would sink below the horizon and he would come to claim her. His queen. Queen of what?

  She could still hear her heart hammering in her chest as she gazed across the field of Nysa, its rolling hills blanketed in a host of flowers. There was no sign of Artemis or Athena. Down the hill from the cypresses, she saw the little stone circle she had created as a girl and walked toward it, readjusting her crown and tucking stray hairs back behind her ears. She felt around the garland’s edges, making sure the leaves and flowers weren’t crushed or lopsided from lying in the grove with Aidon.

  Your bridal crown…

  Kore shivered again, and stepped into the stone enclosure. Her little garden was almost exactly as she’d left it centuries ago. She knelt to pick a tall crocus, examining the wide scalloped petals in her hand. As she walked on, she was tormented by questions, trying to fit all the pieces together. Her lady mother must at least know of Aidon. His demonstration of his power— appearing in her dream, calling to her and caressing her on the wind— meant that he wasn’t just any immortal, but a mighty god. Perhaps Demeter was mistaken when she saw the asphodel, thinking it meant something else. Maybe she would rejoice when she found out that her daughter was to become a queen.

  She picked an iris and a larkspur, blushing the same pink color as the flower she had transformed last night. In the end, wouldn’t Demeter simply want Kore to be happy? She imagined her mother coming to visit her in a beautiful palace once she was queen of…

  What’s this? she thought. The very center of the garden had been carefully manicured, and not by her. The grasses were cut low in a circle, and in the center stood the most beautiful bloom she’d ever seen. Kore peered at the flower. Its white blossom stood out against the velvety green carpet of short grass. She walked toward it, mesmerized, her gathered flowers falling from her open hand. White, rounded petals perfectly surrounded and radiated out from a short golden trumpet. She gently reached out and turned the blossom over in her hand, examining it. It smelled so sweet, its fragrance heady and foreign. She reached for the stalk with both hands and gave it a quick snap.

  The earth trembled.

  Kore fell to the ground as it split underneath her, a great crack in the earth yawning through the center of her little garden. She looked around in horror and crawled backwards along the shifting earth, then got up with one knee. A rush of dark smoke jetted from the center of the chasm, surrounding her and obscuring her vision, clouding the sky and turning the sun blood-red. Distantly, she heard horses galloping, their approach growing louder. She ran in the opposite direction, tripping once over the stone border.

  A shriek from a horse split the air. She looked over her shoulder to see the silhouette of four horses against the darkened sky, drawing behind them a massive chariot. Their eyes glowed like fire and mist trailed from their nostrils. A cloaked shadow spurred them on.

  Kore turned on her heels. “Athena! Artemis! Help me!”

  The hooves drowned out her cries. They were gaining on her.

  “Mother! Mother, please! Where are you mother?!” Kore yelled.

  The rumble of the wheels and the dark shadow they carried were almost upon her.

  “Aidon! Save me! Aidon!”

  Aidoneus leaned hard over the side of the chariot, balancing on the edge for support, and grabbed Persephone around the waist, holding her in the crook of one arm.

  Kore’s feet left the ground and she screamed long and loud, kicking and flailing against the shadow. Her feet met a shifting platform and a gauntleted arm pinned her fast to its owner. Persephone looked up to his face. It was covered with a dark gold helm, crested with long black horsehair. Only his bearded chin and mouth were visible beneath it. She screamed again, beating her hands against the hard plates of his golden cuirass until they were sore and bruised.

  Her screams finally started to form words. “Let me go! Let me go!”

  “Hold on!”

  Her blood ran cold and she stopped moving. That voice… She looked up into his eyes through the helm and felt herself tilt backward, the entire chariot driving downward as she squeezed her eyes shut and screamed. The earth swallowed them whole. Persephone heard deafening cracks as chasms opened before them and shut behind them, each gallop bringing the heat of the earth closer to her.

  The sound of grinding rocks was replaced with a roar of fire. She opened her eyes. They had broken through the earth into a great glowing chamber. The air wavered and scalded. Bits of rock hung from above, red and heated, melting like beeswax, drips trailing embers downward all about them. The chariot shook, falling, plunging through the air, the whinnying horses guided by their master. She looked behind her at the gaping maw of molten earth far below and grasped at his smooth armor, scrambling to find a handhold. Fathoms below, there was nothing but molten rocks and billows of vapor rising around them. She was going to fall. She needed to get away from him but without him, she would fall. What if that was what he wanted?! Persephone’s eyes widened in terror pleading with the dark clad being who had stolen her. “Don’t let me go! Please! Don’t let me go!”

  Persephone felt the heat grow more intense around her as they rode on. She smelled burning linen, and looked down to see flames licking up the side of her leg. The air itself had set the skirt of her chiton on fire, and embers started flying off the asphodel crowning her head. She shrieked and pulled it from her hair, using the laurels Artemis wove for her to fruitlessly slap at the burning fabric. Persephone felt her body wrench forward, the flimsy cloth tearing away from her, splitting along her back with a loud rip, her thin girdle jarring her waist when it snapped in half. The flaming garments and the garland from her hair burned away in his uplifted hand, their smoldering remnants turning to ash as they scattered behind the chariot. Left with little choice, she grabbed onto the straps of his cuirass just under his shoulders and looked up to see him pull off his helm and smooth back his hair.

  Wide-eyed shock replaced her screams. It couldn’t be… it couldn’t be… She shuddered and froze as Aidon looked down at her.

  “Persephone!” he yelled at her over the sound of the horses and the roar of twisting molten earth below. “Perseph
one, I need you to trust me!”

  She scrambled and grasped at his neck, barely registering the fact that she was now naked. Her bare feet burned and she jumped, inching them up his greaves, then his legs, wrapping herself around him to escape the heat. The blistering vapors seared over her back until she felt his great black cloak wrap around her, pressing her against him, protecting her.

  Persephone felt him pull the reins hard with one hand and bring her body further up along his with the other, his arm encircling her. She locked her legs around his waist and was face to face with Aidon, his skin glowing in the red heat. Their eyes met. He looked tenderly at her for a brief moment, almost disbelieving that she was actually in his arms, then turned away from her to concentrate and steer them onward. She pleaded with him in sounds that weren’t quite words to turn back, to not burn them both alive.

  The molten earth rushed toward them ever faster. She closed her eyes against the heat and buried her face into his neck with a sob, surrendering herself to her fate, waiting to feel the deep fires of the earth consume and devour them. Instead, the roaring heat stopped, and all grew quiet and cold around them.

  For a moment she doubted how deathless she really was. Her eyes were awash in blackness and void. Her ears still rang from their passage through earth and fire. The horses pressed onward, quietly shaking the cart. Their cries grew silent, the only sound an occasional snort or nicker. Lifting her hand up in front of her face, she realized with a gasp that she couldn’t even see its outline against the darkness. She ran her hand through the messy tangle of her hair, checking to see if it were still there and unburnt. Her face was still smooth, unharmed. Persephone cautiously turned her palm until it met the side of his face. He was still there, unburnt as she was. She traced the outline of an ear and high cheekbones, making sure that he was whole and unharmed.