by M. M. Kin
Metaniera glanced at the wizened crone thoughtfully, seeing how peaceful Demophon looked in her arms. It was a given that Demophon would die soon, but if this woman could offer some comfort to him in the final days of his short life, then so be it. Perhaps Fate had brought her here for a reason.
o0o
Persephone stared up as the sky above Hades's garden started to darken, tightening her wrap against the cool air, thinking about her dreams and the unsettling visions she had. Mother was angry, that much was starkly clear. What exactly was she angry about? Had she finally learned where her daughter was? She wondered if her mother would ever accept the fact that her daughter was no longer a little girl.
She would never be Kora again. That girl was dead in a sense, lost to the inevitable march of Time. Persephone had to admit that while she missed her mother, part of her was actually afraid of facing the woman who had given birth to her. What if Mother tried to change her back to a girl? Doubtless Mother would try to prevent her from ever seeing Hades again.
If she was ever to have a relationship with her mother again, things would have to be different, because there was simply no way that things would go back to the way they had once been. Nor did she wish to return to Mother's custody, with Demeter breathing down her back whenever she wasn't off performing her duties as a Goddess. Persephone looked down at her hands. What kind of Gifts did she have other than making things grow? What could she be a Goddess of? What were the abilities that the Fates claimed she had?
She closed her eyes, dozing off lightly as she sat there, meditating.
“Surely you would be more comfortable in my bed rather than under the tree.” Hades's playful voice broke through her reverie, and she opened her eyes, seeing him standing there with an open pomegranate in one hand.
“Hmm... oh! I just dozed off when I was meditating," she replied. He shrugged and smiled, sitting with her as he popped several seeds into his mouth. Persephone had adjusted to the lack of sunlight, so in the darkness, she wasn't blind. The seeds glistened wetly amidst the pale flesh of the fruit, and she stared at it for several moments, wondering what it would taste like.
Almost as if he sensed her thoughts, he extended his hand in offering, and she fought the urge to lick her lips. The seeds shone like polished garnets, promising a juicy reward to whoever ate it. It was forbidden fruit, so why did she want it so much? She longed to pluck a seed and pop it into her mouth and just bite down on it, and suck down the sweet jelly...
“Please share this with me, love,” Hades whispered, his voice both pleading and seductive.
“You just love tempting me, do you not?”
“Temptation implies that I am trying to get you to do something naughty,” he shot back lightly.
“You certainly have tempted me often enough.” She smirked, her eyes twinkling at the memories of shared pleasure.
“Very well then,” he shot back just as playfully, “But you must admit, being naughty is fun.”
“I do not know about that...” She batted her eyes at him.
“You do not know? Mmm, let me remind you." He leaned in, pulling her in for a kiss. She parted her lips eagerly, glad for a distraction from that damned fruit. She ran her tongue against his lips and jerked back violently as she tasted the sweet, lingering flavor of pomegranate. Hades blinked and frowned with concern, staring down at her intently.
“What is the matter?”
“Your lips... I could taste the pomegranate.” The taste still lingered in her mouth, tart and sweet and rich. She actually wanted more!
“Oh.” He touched his lips with his fingers. Persephone felt light-headed. What if that taste forever condemned her to the Underworld, to never see the surface again? She felt his hands on her shoulders.
“Do not look so frightened, Seph. A kiss does not count as food of the dead.” He lightly pressed his fingers under her chin, tilting her face up to look at him.
“Really?”
“Certainly. I have no desire to trick you. You can enjoy my kisses all you want.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.” He smiled before he lowered his head to kiss her again. She kissed him hungrily, relishing the lingering flavor of the fruit.
“Aidon...” she sighed softly as he broke the kiss to nuzzle her throat, peppering it with even more kisses. Suddenly, he lifted his head, and she looked at him quizzically before following his gaze, seeing a shade hover several feet away. The shade spoke in its odd, almost inaudible whisper-hiss, and Hades nodded, rising to his feet. He turned back to her, offering his hand and helping her to her feet.
“Get ready for bed, love. I will join you shortly.”
“Where are you going?”
“I am needed urgently.”
Before she could ask him to be more specific, he ushered her up the stairs firmly.
“Is something the matter? What is going on?”
“Just something I need to do as Lord of the Underworld," he replied evasively before disappearing. When she tried to leave the lavish apartment, she discovered that the door was sealed, much to her irritation.
o0o
Hades's dark robes billowed around him as he appeared on his throne, startling Hermes and causing him to flinch back.
“Hey, warn people when you do that!” the younger god muttered. His uncle merely smirked coldly at him.
“Tell me why you are here." the Lord of the Dead stated. "I assume you have a message from Zeus." He sounded almost bored as if what Zeus or anyone else might say was of no concern to him.
“Demeter is angry. Please, return Kora to her!”
This news did not surprise him. He knew of what had happened with Styx. How had his sister found out? Had Zeus finally confessed to her?
“No.”
“Demeter is ravaging Hellas and says she will not stop unless she has Kora back. Zeus has commanded that she stop what she is doing, but she refuses. And now, nobody can find her!”
“My sister does have a flair for the melodramatic at times. But the same can be said for my brother...” Hades stroked his chin.
“She will stop if you let her see her daughter.”
“She will just take Persephone away from me.”
“... Persephone?”
“Kora is an unsuitable name for her. She is no longer a little girl.”
“... Oh. But what about the mortals above? Demeter has said she will not restore the harvest until her daughter is returned to her.”
“That is out of the question. Once she accepts the fact that her daughter is no longer a child, then I will consider allowing them to see one another. Besides, I know that it is Zeus who triggered her wrath.” He smiled thinly. “I know my brother too well.”
“That is what you want me to tell her?”
“Certainly. Feel free to assure her that Persephone is safe and well. Doubtless she has feared abuse or violation, but you can also tell her there has been no such thing.”
Hermes looked at Hades with curiosity. “No violation? But, you kidnapped her and...”
Hades's expression hardened. “I am not a brute like Ares.”
“Very well, then. So I am supposed to tell Demeter that her daughter is safe, but you still will not let her see her. That is not going to help.”
“You can tell my sister that I never had any intention to hurt her. I do care for her. I did not do this to spite or worry her, but she would not have allowed me to court Persephone. You have seen what happened with other men. I saw no other recourse, though I sincerely wish things could have worked out better.”
“What if Demeter still refuses?”
“Then I have no choice but to keep Persephone down here." The Dark God's tone was calm but carried an undertone of iron-hard certainty. Hermes swallowed and nodded.
o0o
The threads of the cosmic tapestry that the Fates wove resembled a spider web in a way and often manifested itself as such to the mortal eye. In mortal art and visions, Fate took many different form
s, and to some, she – or they – was a spider that forever spun the threads of life, designing a web far more intricate than anyone – mortal or god – could ever imagine.
As ordered as the universe was, chaos also existed. Balance could not exist without two opposing forces, and Fate was no exception. Sometimes, the cosmic threads that guided destiny moved on their own, turning into a different direction than had been laid out for it, much like a vine that did not wish to grow in the path that its gardener had established for it despite careful guidance and pruning.
“Look at that," Klotho whispered, pointing to a thin, almost invisible thread. It was barely noticeable amidst the glittering and multi-colored strands that surrounded it or the blue thread that it was already attached to, and was little more than a wisp as if it were but the phantom image of a thread. Many such threads existed, appearing briefly on the tapestry before disappearing, having no effect on the other strands within the web. The only thing that set this one apart from many of its ilk was the longer, stronger thread that clung to it tenaciously. Such instances had happened in the past, but these thin wisps of threads always slipped away, no matter what was there to hold onto them. This particular thread was about to break away and fade into nothingness. But now, a bright, shining golden-green thread was also intertwined with this little strand. Such a thread was not mortal in origin, and clearly belonged to a goddess, for the threads of the gods were always far longer and radiant than anybody else's.
“Fascinating,” Lakhesis murmured, gazing intently at the configuration of threads that surrounded it.
As this shining cord wrapped around the other two threads, an extraordinary thing happened. This little wisp of a strand – a short and weak life indeed – actually started to lengthen, and its end – the part of life that had not been lived yet – became thicker, taking on a faint green hue, safely nestled between the green-gold of the new thread, and the soft blue thread that it was attached to.
“The loss of one child has saved the life of another,” Atropos stated. She made no move to cut the newly grown thread, and let it be, leaving it to find its place within the cosmic web.
Chapter XXXIV
o0o
Metaniera smiled wistfully as she stood in the doorway, watching as Doso sang softly to Demophon. The baby was quiet, nestled against his nurse's chest. It had just been a couple of days, and already Demophon was a calmer baby. Knowing that her child was under the care of a competent and caring individual allowed her to relax somewhat and to be able to better concentrate on the rest of her family and kingdom. Just now, she had been able to enjoy supper with her family, and talk about various matters uninterrupted by the pained wails of her son.
Doso looked up, a smile on her wrinkled features.
“He has been a good boy. A bit of fussing, but nothing that some singing cannot take care of.”
“How are you able to manage so well?” Metaniera asked.
“Oh, you raise enough children and grandchildren, you learn a thing or two. They always responded well to my voice, so I saw no reason to not try singing to Demophon.”
“I wish I could sing as well.”
“Oh, my lady, everyone has their own talents. It does not mean you are any less of a mother. Is that right, Demophon? You know your mother loves you very much?”
To Metaniera's surprise, she actually heard a soft giggle from the child. It was a small sound, barely two gurgling laughs, but she found herself floored. She had never heard her baby laugh!
“He looks about ready to settle down for the night,” Doso stated.
“I think I will spend some time with my daughters. It has been a while since I sat down with them.”
“Certainly. We will be waiting here. Go, enjoy yourselves.”
Metaniera smiled before disappearing from the doorway. Demophon was quiet for several moments, and his nurse was about to put him back in the cradle when he started fussing again.
o0o
“Hmm, what's wrong?” Demeter asked, drawing the child back to her bosom. “Are you hungry?”
She shifted around, adjusting her cowl and chiton. With a deft movement, she exposed a breast that contrasted sharply with her wrinkled face. The infant latched onto a full and plump tit, pressing his little face against the warm mound and sucking the nourishing milk that issued from it.
Demeter let out a low sigh of satisfaction. Since she was the Goddess of Bounty, she could produce any kind of bounty upon command, and for Demophon, her breast-milk flowed afresh. It comforted her immensely to feel that small suction on her breast, and she relaxed, letting the babe have his fill. She cooed softly as she stroked his hair, cradling him close to keep him warm as she stared distantly at the small fire that danced in the hearth.
The baby smacked his lips contentedly after he had his fill. Demeter smiled as she covered herself up before lightly poking the baby's arms. He giggled and waved his arms – something he had not done in a long time – and she continued, letting him grab her fingers on occasion. His grip was weak, but at least he was trying to hold onto her. Before, he had not had the strength to even reach for anything.
Carefully, she unwrapped him and tickled his feet. There was not much movement, but he did giggle and squirm around. This activity tired him quickly, and Demeter wrapped him up again, placing him in the cradle as she sang to him. He slept soundly, his breathing slightly shallow but otherwise steady.
She moved to the loom, resuming her work. Though she wasn't quite as proficient as her elder or younger sisters at the art of the loom, she was still very skilled at the craft and often used weaving as a distraction. She would sit at the loom and simply let her fingers dance along the threads. Kora had never cared much for weaving, and would often sneak away when she had been left alone to weave. And when she did weave, she made her fabric as plain as possible, not wishing to spend the extra time in weaving patterns, so as to complete her task more quickly. No matter how many times Demeter had tried to encourage or scold her daughter, Kora never showed any passion or affection for the craft, which was disappointing because women should learn how to weave. The domestic arts were indispensable!
But oh, if she could see her daughter again, she would just hug her close! The Underworld was a terrifying place, and she dreaded to imagine what her poor baby must be going through. It was simply unfair that Zeus and Hades had conspired against her over the welfare of her own daughter! What was this world coming to if a mother was not allowed to care for her own child?
She started working the loom more furiously, pouring her frustrations into the process, her hands moving rapidly across the fabric as she worked row after row.
“Doso? Doso!” she heard Metaniera say, and looked up, snapped out of her furious reverie.
“Pardon me, my lady. I was so intent on my work.” It felt odd to speak to a mortal this way, but Demeter was intent on keeping her guise.
“There is no need for pardons, Doso. I am just here to take Demophon. Please, weave for as long as you like. We have more material in the storeroom if you like. Enjoy your evening."
“I will.” Demeter nodded slowly, gazing at Metaniera as she scooped her slumbering child from the cradle.
o0o
Demophon barely stirred in her arms, but his breathing was even, much to her relief. Metaniera glanced down at him as she retired to the bedchamber she shared with her husband. Celeus stood by the window, wearing a warm robe over his tunic. As she entered, he glanced at her, and she was warmed by the affection in his eyes.
Rarely did happy marriages last, especially royal ones, but she was lucky. Even now, twenty-five years after she married the then-Prince of Eleusis, he looked at her with the same affection that he had on their wedding night. His eyes never strayed to a servant girl or city maiden, and he was also an attentive father to their children, sons and daughters alike. When it was discovered that Demophon was sickly, he hadn't made the decision to leave him outside to die, as the Spartans would have.
o0o
>
“How is he?” Celeus whispered as Metaniera set him down in the carved wooden cradle.
“Quiet and sleeping well. I do not know how Doso does it, but he actually looks content,” Metaniera said. Celeus walked over to the bundled-up baby, noting the placid expression on Demophon's face. His cheeks were still hollow, but he was no longer so pale.
“That he does." He stared down at Demophon for a moment, wondering if this meant that perhaps, just perhaps, his son might get better. Children died every day, that was a fact of life, but that didn't mean he liked it or wanted to accept it. No child should die. He gently tucked the blankets under his son's chin, a fond smile flashing for a moment on his face. Certainly, he had been surprised when his daughters brought home an old woman, but the laws of hospitality were to be honored, and it looked as if their kindness was being repaid. Metaniera liked Doso, and he saw no reason to not let the old woman stay. She had a kind appearance, though he found himself slightly unnerved by her vivid green eyes.
“The baby is getting his rest. We should, as well,” Celeus whispered, cupping his wife's cheek with a hand, giving her a loving smile. The kingdom was beleaguered with many worries, among these the meager harvest. Already the family was rationing their own food, and Metaniera had plans to hide some of this year's harvest in their storeroom. Hopefully, he could find a way to budget the food for the city and see if they could reach some sort of compromise with the bandits outside the city. Only recently, he had been hearing that other cities were having disastrous harvests. When he was nestled in bed with his wife, he could allow himself to set aside his worries for a while.
