Destroyer of Light

by Rachel Alexander

  Daeira. An Oceanid, he remembered, who’d come to shelter in Eleusis. She’d been pleasant company this afternoon. More even than the heat within her, Hermes appreciated the warmth of just lying beside her. He usually didn’t sleep next to women after he coupled with them, and certainly not all day. But between the bitter cold, his eventual destination, and what he’d been tasked with, it was a welcome comfort. Long dark hair fell and pooled on the indigo himation she’d rolled up as a pillow, and she stared at him quietly with turquoise eyes. Their color reminded him of a pond he’d played in as a boy near Kyllene. He vaguely remembered saying that to her before he untied her seashell girdle.

  Hermes adjusted his belt and tunic and wrapped his chlamys over his left shoulder. It was too spare a garment for a night as cold as this, but he would only be outside for a few moments. Then he would fly through the endless caves and passages that twisted every which way through the depths of the earth. Those long roads would be warmer. The irony of that! He usually hated the descent because of how much colder it was in the Underworld. But there hadn’t been any warmth in the living world for weeks, and it was as dark as Erebus outside, storm clouds obscuring the moon and stars. He planned to arrive when there was daylight on the Other Side, dim as it was.

  His goal was to enter the Underworld when Hades was likely occupied, and Demeter’s daughter hopefully alone. Hermes lifted the heavy wool high on his right shoulder and held it fast with a finely crafted gold fibula in the shape of a caduceus. It had been a gift to him from his father, made by the Blacksmith.

  “I’m between the tides.” He jumped at the voice and spun around. Daeira lay resting her head on one arm.

  “Oh?” Hermes answered. “I thought the ice froze the tides. That’s why you left the sea.”

  She tittered. “No, milord. I mean that I am fertile. You probably gave me a child this evening.”

  “That would be nice, sweetling,” he smiled, and studied her face. Hermes cleared his throat, then went back to lacing up his sandals. “But there’s nothing being born right now. No one is having children.”

  “Except for here, you mean.”

  He turned to her. “Hmm?”

  “The Great Lady Demeter restored fertility to Eleusis, silly! A tabby cat in the basileus’s stables just birthed four kittens last night.”

  “Well, is a child what you want from me?” He cringed hoping she wouldn’t shove him out into the snow with what he said next. “I… ahhh, I don’t want to give you the impression that I don’t like the idea of making a child with you, it’s just…”

  Daeira sat up and clasped her hands in her lap, bundling the fur around her shoulders. They were silent for a moment, and then she started laughing. “Look at you! You turned as pale as the Lord of the Dead! I’m not looking for you to raise it with me, so stop worrying your pretty head. I’m just curious how a babe by the famed Argus Killer would look.”

  Hermes shuddered at Hades’s mention, relaxing only slightly when the nymph brought up the hundred-eyed giant he’d lulled to sleep and bludgeoned aeons ago. At least Daeira wouldn’t give him any grief in the coming years. Do I even have such a thing as ‘coming years’? Or is this all going to end in fire?

  “Your woman doesn’t mind, does she?”

  “What?” He slung his satchel over his shoulder and patted it to make sure its terrible cargo was still within. “No. She—” She’s used to it, he thought. “Penelopeia doesn’t mind. Just don’t… If we did conceive, be mindful of her feelings, would you?”

  “Of course I will.” She purposefully let her cleavage poke out from the fur. Hermes grinned as she spoke again. “And if nothing took hold the first time, milord, you can always come back to my bed tomorrow.”

  If I’m not thrown into Tartarus for this, he worried. “I wouldn’t mind that at all, sweetling.”

  “Hermes?”

  “Yes?” He pulled his petasos onto his head.

  “When you come back,” Daeira crooned seductively, laying back and lengthening her body in an inviting arch, “can you… you know… do that little thing with your tongue again?”

  “What little thing?” Hermes gave her an impish smile as he opened the door. She blushed. He wasn’t going to press it. It might be fun to rediscover what she meant without the encumbrance of words. “I think that can be arranged.”

  When it closed behind him, he went pale again. If Hades doesn’t cut my tongue out first.

  ***

  “Is it lopsided?”

  Aidon leaned around her, studying her reflection in the polished hematite. “No.”

  “Are you sure?”

  He straightened his crown of golden poplar leaves and cocked a half smile at Persephone. “I don’t know why you’re fussing over your appearance so much.”

  “I’m nervous,” she said, rearranging an asphodel flower for the fifth time.

  “Why? It’s only your mother.” He considered the implications of that statement, and his smile faded.

  “I haven’t been above for two months, and when I do see her again, I want her to see me as Queen. Not as Kore.”

  “You’ll always be Kore to her.”

  “Yes, but I need to look like a queen,” she said, pulling at the edges of her mantle. The fine linen draped over her shoulders, held in place by ruby clasps. She wore the necklace he’d left on a table for her when she’d first awaked in the Underworld, garnets and fire opals cascading from her neck to her collarbone. Aidoneus was formally dressed, ready to see to the numerous shades waiting to be judged. He stood behind Persephone and met her eyes in the mirror.

  “You look like a queen even if you didn’t have a single flower, a single jewel, or a stitch of clothing on you. It’s who you are, and they can never take that away from you.” He planted a kiss on her cheek then looked at her askance. “Even if your hair is lopsided.”

  “Wait! You told me it—” she stopped when she saw him biting back a smile. She scrunched up her nose at him, then playfully smacked his chest.

  “You look beautiful,” he said, smoothing his hands down her shoulders. He remembered that Merope was no longer there to attend to his wife and good-naturedly tease him. Having a servant had been strange for him. The Olympians had plenty, but he’d seen no need for them in his kingdom, more so because Olympian gods were known for having their nymph attendants see to other wants, a service he’d had no need of. Aidon watched her push a stray lock behind her ear. His face fell. “As beautiful as the moment I first saw you in the moonlight…”

  She turned around and gazed up at him. “Aidoneus…”

  “I know it will be only be a few days at most.”

  “I’ll miss you, too. And I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  “At least there’s work to keep me busy while you’re away. I have to oversee eight judgements today. And nine tomorrow. The bloodiest wars don’t yield this many rulers. I haven’t had such numbers come before me since recruiting the three judges.”

  “You’d think that after this, you might want to just let them judge the rich and powerful in the same manner as everyone else, hmm? Aren’t all equal in death?”

  “And risk impartiality?”

  “Are your judges trustworthy or not?”

  “They are, but…”

  “Aidon, how long have Minos and Rhadamanthys been here?”

  “Fifteen centuries.”

  “And Aeacus?”

  “Thirteen.”

  “And they were kings of men?”

  He grunted in acknowledgement.

  “Aidon, they’ve all been dead for well over a millennium. Their bones, their empires crumbled long ago. The Minoans, Mycenae… they’re all gone. There are only the scattered cities in Hellas and Ilion now.”

  “Maybe you’re right. I’ll consider it.” He kissed her forehead. “Unless, of course, I am receiving a direct order from my Queen.”

  “Oh, Aidoneus, honestly!” She smiled, shaking her head. Persephone rose up on tiptoe to peck him on the
cheek, only to have him lean into it and steal the kiss from her. “Will you walk me at least as far as the Styx?”

  “I’d go further if I could.”

  “I should go alone— and leave from the opposite side of the river. This is my first time crossing between worlds on my own. But I would love to have you with me for the first leg of my journey.”

  “Charon will be glad to take you to the far shore. He’s been pestering me to see you again.”

  “And why ever haven’t we paid a visit to dear Charon?” she asked, coyly.

  “Well, we’ve been… otherwise occupied. I’m sure he understands. We’re newlyweds, after all…”

  She bit her lip and smiled.

  “And though we don’t make an exhibition of it—”

  “We didn’t make an exhibition of it until this morning, you mean,” she teased.

  Aidoneus pointedly cleared his throat and continued. “Even though we don’t, what I feel for you is no secret here.”

  Secrets. Persephone licked her lips and debated whether this was a good time to tell him about her suspicion— that they may both be harboring a greater secret yet. “Aidon, there’s something I—”

  A loud knock at the door to their antechamber interrupted her, and she halted her words.

  “Your majesties?” a muffled female voice said.

  Hecate, Aidon said with a silent thought. He walked hand in hand with Persephone from their bedroom to the antechamber, where they sat next to each other on one of the divans. It wouldn’t surprise me if she already knows that you’re going to see your mother.

  Nor I, she answered, then called out through the door. “Enter, please.”

  The Goddess of the Crossroads, dressed in a crimson peplos, pushed open one side of the antechamber doors. Her eyes were red, the lids swollen from lack of sleep, and she looked pale and gaunt. Worry lines creased her forehead, foreshadowing by a week the transition into her aspect of the Crone. “Good full moon to you, Queen Persephone, Lord Hades.”

  “And you, as well,” Aidon replied.

  “Is something troubling you, Hecate?”

  “Only a single fork in a solitary path, my queen. One of many. And there is another matter,” she said, giving Persephone a knowing look. “I should speak with you about it later. Tomorrow, perhaps?”

  Persephone swallowed. The Goddess of the Crossroads already knew. And if she intended to speak with her about it tomorrow, then Hecate already knew Demeter would relent after only a day. This heartened her. “Thank you, Hecate.”

  Aidon quirked an eyebrow at the exchange, then moved on. “Since you’re here, I assume you’re aware that my wife intends to journey to the world above and put some sense into Demeter?”

  “Yes,” she said distantly. “Yes, I suspected she would. Especially after the torrent of voices in Asphodel last night when you two shared the Key…”

  Persephone turned pink and felt sheepish embarrassment wash over her husband. “Is there anything else?”

  “Unfortunately, yes.” Hecate pulled a pomegranate— their pomegranate— from her sleeve. “It seems that someone has salted the sacred soil of you grove.”

  The pink that colored each of their cheeks turned a brilliant shade of red. The King and Queen exchanged a furtive glance and squeezed their hands together.

  Hecate cleared her throat. “I see. I suppose I’ll offer an apology to Askalaphos.”

  “You didn’t go too hard on him, I hope?” Aidon chortled.

  “Other circumstances may have colored my… accusations,” she said. Hecate held up the fruit, its torn skin plainly visible to both of them. “Six seeds are missing. My queen, please answer with crystalline clarity: did you eat even a single seed from this fruit?”

  “Don’t worry, Hecate,” Aidon answered for her. “I picked the fruit. Those seeds are missing because of my own curiosity. I’d never eaten a pomegranate before.”

  “I was going to,” Persephone added, “but we decided it would be best to wait until after I return from Eleusis.”

  Hecate paused a moment, her face falling further. Her voice wavered. “I see.”

  “It would be foolish to bind myself here prematurely. I need to speak to my mother first, and she would blame Aidon if I ate anything in the Underworld.”

  The Goddess of the Crossroads blinked back tears. “Yes. Yes, I suppose she would.” She forced a smile. “I shouldn’t linger and keep you from your goodbyes.”

  “Are you sure there is nothing else?” Aidon asked, perplexed by her reaction to so simple a thing.

  “No, my lord,” she said solemnly. “A twist of fate, so to speak. All will follow the will of the Fates. I must go.” She walked to the door and dipped her head before she departed. “Farewell, my queen.”

  ***

  “I love you,” he said quietly, for what must have been the ninth time since they closed the palace gate behind them. They stood at the Styx, his voice the only sound disturbing the peaceful lapping of water against the gravel shoreline.

  “I love you too,” she replied. The golden poplar tree hung overhead as Aidoneus and Persephone gazed across to the other side. It was taking Charon longer than usual to reach them. Of course, given the number of souls departing his boat on the road to the Trivium, that was to be expected.

  Aidoneus didn’t mind the delay. It gave him a few extra moments with his wife. The shades waiting for his judgement— the high priest of Delphi, three kings and two magistrates from Hellas, a prince from Ilion, and an Amazonian tribal queen— could wait just a little while longer. They had eternity to do so. “Promise me, no matter what they might say to you…”

  She let herself melt into him as his arms closed around her. “I know who I am, husband. They can’t take that away from me.”

  “I only say it because you are entering a different world. They will only respect my protection of you up there— not who you really are. If you need to use that to your advantage, do so.”

  Persephone turned to face him, his hands now resting at her mid back. “It’s only my mother that I’m speaking to, Aidon. What worries you?”

  His stomach did another turn as he thought about Hecate’s strange reaction to the pomegranate and the look on her face when she learned that Persephone hadn’t consumed any seeds. “Nothing.”

  Her mouth twisted into a half smile. “We know that isn’t true.”

  “I’m worrying over nothing, more accurately. Demeter cannot do anything to you. Even by the laws of the world above, you outrank her now. Only one among the immortals could stop you from returning here, and he swore an oath that your place was with me— gave you to me, by his understanding.”

  “So did my mother.”

  “This is different.”

  “Tell that to her.”

  “I thought that’s what you were planning to do,” he said with a rueful smile.

  Persephone leaned into him again. “I’m going to miss you, Aidon. I’m going to miss this. Even though I’ve only been here for two months, it seems like a lifetime has transpired.”

  “Oh?” he said in confusion.

  “Not in a bad way,” she giggled. “So much has happened in so little time. It’s like my time as Kore in the world above was a dream I awoke from.”

  Aidoneus was about to respond when he heard the swish of an oar through water. Both looked up to see hooded Charon rowing across the Styx at an even pace, until the prow of his boat raked against the rocky shore.

  “Can your majesties forgive my tardiness? The boat was full.”

  “Full?” Aidoneus said, his voice betraying his surprise.

  “Yes, full. Even for a craft such as this and beings as insubstantial as they. But to look at the far bank, does it surprise you?”

  “Concerns me, is all.” He straightened and lifted his chin. “Charon, can you permit us a moment?”

  “Of course, my lord.”

  Hades turned to Persephone and cupped her face, staring down at her. I will be here waiting for yo
u.

  No, she answered. More important matters await you. As they await me. Give me a few days, Aidon. I can reason with her, I can say goodbye, and I can arrange to see her again.

  He knitted his brow.

  Briefly, she said with a smile. But I must concede some things. I think visiting her from time to time is fair.

  He grimaced and gave her a heavy sigh, grinding his teeth together. I suppose.

  Aidon, only to visit. This is my home. You are my home.

  Persephone tilted her head up to look into his eyes, then closed them as his lips descended to hers. She held his shoulder blades, the sinews of his back cording under layers of cloth when he drew her closer. Aidon pulled away slowly and brushed a thumb over her cheekbone. “I will miss you, my queen.”

  “And I you, my lord. Take good care of our realm while I’m away.”

  “I always have,” he said, giving her a warm smile. “And I always will.”

  Aidoneus suddenly bent down and swung Persephone off her feet and into his arms, to her delighted surprise. He walked to the edge of Charon’s boat, the Styx drenching his himation up to the knee, and carefully sat her on one of the bracings. The Boatman cocked an amused half smile and said nothing.

  Aidoneus held Persephone’s hand for a long moment before placing a light kiss on her upturned wrist. “Farewell.”

  “And you.”

  He walked to the prow and leaned into it with one shoulder, giving the boat a mighty push. It rocked and settled into the water, gently swaying to and fro before the Boatman steadied and guided it the rest of the way with his oar. Persephone watched Aidon walk backward until he was standing once more on the shore. A quick brush of his hand instantly rid his clothes and sandals of the cold water clinging to them. He grew smaller in her sight as Charon rowed them away into the slow current.

  Persephone locked eyes with him one last time before Aidoneus opened the gate behind him and walked inside. She raised her hand in a farewell as the door closed, then repositioned herself on the bracing opposite Charon, quickly losing herself in thought.

  “My lady has a smile on her face, though she departs her realm?”

  Persephone glanced up at him. “What? No, not because I am leaving. That’s not why.”