Receiver of Many

by Rachel Alexander

  His bed lay hidden behind a wide curtain, built into a niche on the opposite wall. She walked across the room as naked as she entered it, feeling her husband’s gaze rest heavy on her movements as she reached up to pull back the thick black curtain. She drew in a breath. When she had first awakened in her bed nearly a month ago, it had made her feel small. His was even more grand— an inviting mattress raised up on a dais behind the curtain, a black sea of soft spun wool bed clothes, pillows and fleeces arranged haphazardly. It could have comfortably slept eight. She remembered him talking about how restlessly he slept, and wondered if he had needed the space in case he thrashed about and needed the utter darkness of the curtain to stay asleep.

  She also thought about how easily they could get tangled up in these sheets together. A shiver of delight traveled through her as she turned back to see him standing next to the hearth fire, his himation already in a heap at his feet and his hands deftly working to remove his belt.

  “It’s warm in here,” she finally said.

  “It was cold without you all these aeons,” he returned. The belt fell to the floor. Aidon lifted a sleeve of his tunic over his head and shrugged out the open side, then untied his loincloth to stand naked before her, unmoving. The glow of the fire and the light from the amber walls and ceiling played against the hard contours of his frame, almost making him look kissed by the sun. With his unshaven face and golden skin, she thought he must look very much like the warrior who had loved her even before the Fates consigned him to rule the Underworld. “Does it not please you?”

  She was mesmerized by him, her mouth gone dry. “No,” she finally said. He smiled, noticing that she visibly lusted for him. “The fire pleases me greatly.” She walked over to him and took his rough hands within hers, gently pulling him forward as she walked backward toward the bed.

  “Would you like me to lay down?”

  “Yes.”

  “Would you like me to draw the curtain?”

  “No.”

  Aidoneus smiled at her and scooted backward on the bed until his head was propped up against the pillows, then watched the dark silhouette of his wife against the flames, moving toward him, her hands and knees pressing into the mattress as she crawled forward, then rose over him. He didn’t touch her, no matter where or how boldly she touched him. Instead, Aidon let her seduce him, still aware of how new and fragile their forgiveness was. With his unmoving limbs splayed out on his bed like this and her shadow cast over him, he thought, he must look like some sort of sacrifice. The idea amused him, then disappeared completely as her hot mouth enveloped his flesh, his body rising and falling to meet her careful ministrations.

  “Sweet wife,” Aidon finally ground out when he could take no more. “It’s been a few days too long… So if your intention tonight was to fuck me,” he said hoarsely, “sooner would be better.”

  Persephone stopped when she heard the word she’d shyly used and looked up at him with a coy grin. She licked the hint of salt from her lips. He shivered at her absence and saw her rise over his body, her thighs splayed over his hips. Aidoneus tilted his head forward. The light of the fire burned vibrant and sanguine, shining through the space where they were about to join.

  “Strange,” his voice slurred around a ragged breath as he looked back up at her. “To think my plan was to seduce you here one day.”

  “Well, dear husband,” she said, lightly drawing him closer to her waiting heat, “you did say the Fates had very little use for your plans.”

  He laughed, then shuddered and rocked his hips forward as she slowly lowered herself onto him. The light between them disappeared, the fire eclipsed. He closed his eyes in pleasure.

  “And maybe that’s not a bad thing,” she said, her voice deeply affected as she felt him stir inside her. Persephone watched a contemplative smile light up his face as he took in her words.

  “I love you,” he moaned.

  She responded the best way she knew how, by starting her movements slowly and deliberately, drawing his pleasure out of him, taking her pleasure upon him. Aidoneus still kept his limbs spread away from her, his palms gripping the sheets. She quickened her pace, tearing a harsh groan from his throat. Her limbs started to shake; her motions grew fevered and she started to falter.

  “Aidon, please…” she cried and whispered. “Please hold me!”

  He sat up and caught her in his arms, steadying her, then carried their rhythm himself as she cried out and dug her fingers into his shoulders. The waves rolling through her crashed down on him. He tightened his embrace and violently rocked forward, his ecstatic shout muffled against her breast.

  They collapsed, out of breath, and she lay on her back beside him, staring up at the black linen canopy draped over the bed. He held her hand once his senses returned and gazed at her before drawing her back into his arms, their legs tangling together. She placed a hand on his chest and he occupied his with undoing the braid and ribbon that held her chignon in place. Aidoneus wound her locks around his fingers as he gently pulled at them and discarded the ribbon, then massaged her scalp and spread the cool waves of her hair across his shoulder. He closed his eyes blissfully, his mind and body intent on reclaiming the sleep he’d denied himself the past three days.

  “Aidon?”

  “Yes, my love…”

  She tensed for a moment. “This is important to me. You want me to be your queen and your equal, but you know what that means. Where you need to take me.”

  He opened his eyes again and took a long breath before answering. “Tartarus.”

  “I need to speak with them, Aidon. I need to know why they call me their queen.”

  He separated from her embrace and turned to her, watching fear wash over her face, no doubt remembering the forcefulness of his last refusal. He smiled at her, then nodded his head. “Alright. I will.”

  She relaxed forward and he tilted her chin up until she looked into his eyes.

  “But…” he said firmly, “it means that we’re getting up at dawn tomorrow, and you will do so with me every day until we go.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I have to prepare you,” Aidon answered. He kissed her on the forehead. “I’m not sending you down there defenseless.”

  Persephone moved closer and kissed him again, feeling Aidon’s arms gently wrap around her and his fingers trail over her hips. They languorously tasted and touched each other. It was careful and comforting at first, the fire in their blood building slowly. She felt him quicken.

  “At dawn,” he said, rolling Persephone onto her back and leaning over her.

  “At dawn,” she whispered in agreement.

  “No matter how late we stay up.”

  “I take it we’re not going to sleep yet?” she said breathlessly.

  “No,” he said, lying astride of her. “Not yet. Not even close.”

  Then he was within her. Having denied himself when she rode atop him, he touched and kissed Persephone everywhere he could reach without breaking their intimate contact. When they finally stilled, Aidoneus drew her against him and held her around the waist. He buried himself in the scent of her hair as they both drifted into a deep and peaceful sleep.

  Their softness, their heralding purpose, was now ended. Knowing they were needed elsewhere, they fell, resting against the cold earth and one another. Life rose up to greet them. High above, the six-pointed stars they left remembered their hallowed purpose. In a triumphant sign of union and completion as old as the cosmos itself, they drew inward upon themselves and started to grow.

  20.

  Bronze against bronze, their swords clashed. The echoes rang off the walls of the courtyard atrium. Gray morning mist and the golden poplar tree hung overhead. Aidoneus fought her back until she retreated, panting. They stared intently at each other. He gave her the signal to advance and held his sword aloft, coiling back and light on his feet as she swept her blade at him.

  He swung his sword down in a hard arc as he spun aside, knocking the w
eapon from her hand. It skittered across the cobblestones. Persephone stumbled forward and Aidon swept gracefully around her, capturing her from behind with his arm. He held Persephone by the silver cuirass that bound a short tunic to her body. The edge of his blade sang through the air, stopping a safe distance from her neck. They held there, motionless.

  “How did I beat you?”

  “I forgot my footing,” she said, feeling his chest rise and fall behind her. He relaxed his blade back to his side, but his left arm still bound her to him intimately. She felt his breath against the back of her ear, her hairs standing on end.

  “And what was one of the first lessons I taught you a month ago?” he said, his fingers sliding up her neck over the slick sheen of sweat until he felt her pulse fluttering under his touch.

  “You’re distracting me,” she whispered.

  “What did I teach you?” he breathed back into her ear, gently nipping at her earlobe.

  “That footing is everything,” Persephone finally answered.

  He broke away from her and her body rocked backward at his absence. She watched him walk over to her sword. Aidoneus picked it up by the blade and tossed it to her. “Again.”

  Persephone caught the handle and sighed. “We’ve spent two hours on this today.”

  “And you’re getting better. Again!”

  She wrinkled her nose at him.

  “You’re adorable when you give me that look,” he said with a smirk.

  She rolled her eyes at him. “Aidon, truly, I’m tired. How long did you practice when you started learning?”

  “I trained with Prometheus for ten hours a day, every day, for four years before I ever swung a sword in battle.”

  “What?!”

  “Don’t worry, my love— only another war among the gods could force you to learn as I did,” he said. Their swordplay in the courtyard was a peacetime dance, a game— basic defensive movements and nothing more. He prayed she would never hear a warrior boast of his courage at dawn, then plead for his life before noon. He prayed she would never see the sun set on a battlefield blackened by crows.

  “Could I defend myself in Tartarus?”

  “You could defend yourself if we were momentarily separated, or if the Keres don’t recognize you.”

  “What if a shade got loose?”

  “The shades in Tartarus aren’t chained. Their minds are their prisons; their eternal punishments are their bonds.”

  “What about one of the Titans?”

  “Then we would both be in danger. No matter how many thousands of years I’ve spent mastering this,” he said, flourishing his blade, “it would take all the immortals above and below to stop them.”

  “Then everything you have taught me, though I’m glad to have learned it, and to have you as my teacher,” she said with a shy smile, “is completely futile.”

  “It’s not futile, sweet one. And worry not. The world itself would break apart before the Titans’ chains came loose. I’m teaching you to make sure you’re not defenseless down there. I held no expectations that you would master this within a month.”

  “Someday,” she said.

  “Perhaps,” he grinned.

  Persephone knew her movements were still clumsy and slow. He’d begun by teaching her to reshape her peplos into armor, and the silver cuirass she’d chosen now hung heavily on her shoulders by its leather straps. She bent over and exhaled, trying to roll her spine as she came up, feeling tension in her arms and the back of her legs. After a month of practicing, she now knew why her husband had such perfectly sculpted calves and thighs.

  “Come; one last time for today, Persephone. Afterward I’ll show you something.”

  “Show me what?” she said, rotating her shoulders to stretch out the kinks in her back. Persephone fell into the sidelong stance he’d taught her.

  His smirk grew deeper, his eyes echoing the feral look he got when they were in the midst of sparring… and other times. “It’s a surprise.”

  She bit the corner of her lip and smiled, trying to read his face. “I wouldn’t call that a surprise anymore, Aidon. A month ago, yes, but—”

  “It’s not what you think,” he said in mock innocence. “But I certainly won’t complain if it turns into that.”

  She sighed, happily defeated. “Last time?”

  “I promise. Come, wife.”

  Persephone rocked from her heels to the balls of her feet, determined to keep her footing this time. Her legs corded against the straps of her sandals and she advanced. He knocked her sword aside. She sidestepped and ducked backward to avoid his riposte.

  “Good!” He called out, returning to his stance.

  She circled him this time, locking her eyes to his as she waited for his attack.

  “Remember what I told you. Look to the shoulders and the chest to gauge movement; never the eyes. Eyes can lie; sinews do not,” he said, pushing forward. She met his sword and pushed it away, knowing that his movements were slowed so she could learn, his true strength held in check so she wouldn’t be injured.

  “But your shoulders and chest, husband…” she said, stabbing at him, “…tend to distract.”

  He laughed and parried, locking the hilt of his sword against hers and pushing her away. Persephone rolled back and came up on one knee, blocking his downward swing, the blades scraping together loudly. She wheeled around and swung at him with her riposte. His eyes widened as he retreated from her barrage of swift strokes, blocking one after another, until she accidentally left her left side open to him.

  His sword curved over her, its tip angling down toward her shoulder as he stopped his retreat. Neither moved. They stood close enough that the heat of her breath left a trail of mist on his armor, and she could feel him panting hard against the intricate coronet of braids Merope had piled on top of her head that morning.

  “How did I beat you this time?”

  She smiled up at him, glad that Aidoneus never just let her win and took this as seriously as she did. But he’d forgotten where her sword lay.

  “You didn’t,” she said. “How did I beat you?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Well, wife, that’s a… curious question. Considering that the next move from this sword would be through your neck.”

  “Indeed, husband,” she breathed. “But my blade would have cut into your leg before you had a chance to bring yours down on me.”

  Aidoneus looked at her quizzically, then lowered his sword and leaned away from her. Sure enough, the flat of her blade lay against the interior of his thigh. If they were mortal, her cut would have sliced tendons and opened veins and collapsed him to the ground before he’d even begun his swing. She’d used her stature to her advantage.

  A smile slowly decorated Hades’s face. His sword clattered to the ground, and she carefully withdrew hers. He stepped toward her as her blade followed his onto the stone floor. When his hand cupped the nape of her neck, their clothing started to shift, the armor softening around them. By the time his lips met hers, they were once again draped in their familiar spun wool robes. He led her all the way to the courtyard gate. When she felt the cold press of the stone wall at her back and her husband’s warm body in front of her, she wished there was no cloth barrier there at all.

  “My fierce little warrior wife,” he whispered against her lips.

  She had to laugh. “Oh, now you’re just having fun at my expense! You make it look so easy, you move so slowly to accommodate me and here I am hacking away…”

  “How else will you learn?”

  “Well, how did you learn? Did someone go easy on you?”

  Aidoneus looked away, his mind on remote Thera and his first violent lessons with Prometheus. He scanned the courtyard.

  “Aidon?” Persephone said, shaking him out of his memory. He blinked, then focused on her inquisitive face and smiling thinly, trying to remember her question.

  “No, sweet one, he never went easy on me,” he finally answered. “But those were different times.”
He smiled at Persephone and trapped her within his arms again, kissing her neck. His head bent lower and he felt her wince. Aidon stepped away from her. “I’m not hurting you, am I?”

  She rolled her neck. “No, I’m just sore.”

  He smiled. “Well, then this might be the perfect time to unveil the surprise I promised you.”

  Persephone looked at him skeptically as Aidon took her by the hand. They walked through a long hallway level with the palace courtyard, then descended stairs lined with lapis lazuli and aquamarine. Persephone could hear the muffled drumming of the waterfall through the thick wall, along with a persistent echoing drip. The staircase twisted around and grew darker, all light now behind them. Aidoneus held her arm tighter, but she still bumped into him until the stairway ended and they took a few steps forward into utter darkness. This room was warm, the air heavy.

  “Ready?”

  “I can’t see a thing.”

  “Not yet,” Aidon said. She could hear the smile in his voice and feel his lips trailing on her cheek as he searched for her mouth in the dark. Persephone turned to meet him, closing her eyes as he kissed her. He raised his hand and light filtered in from behind her closed eyelids. She caught the sharp scent of pitch igniting.

  When he let her go, she opened her eyes, and her lips parted in wonder. A rectangular pool dominated the center of the room, its tranquil surface reflecting the light of sapphires and diamonds that that hung high above in the domed ceiling. The precious stones were set in a tight mosaic, a stunning display of wealth that humbled even their ornate royal bedroom. Persephone smiled, remembering that Aidoneus held dominion over all the riches of the earth— the stones’ value in the world above had little meaning here.