For the Love of Hades (The Loves of Olympus) (24 page)

“And how do you find Olympus?” Hermes asked.

“Odd,” she answered. “White. Cold.”

“Cold?” He laughed.

“Yes. Cold.”

“But you can be no closer to the sun,” he said, leading her into the gardens. “Unless you rode with Apollo in his chariot.”

She shook her head. “I am cold.”

Hermes stopped, tilting her chin up. “You have lost your smile.”

She felt the prick of tears in her eyes. “I will find it again.”

He sighed.

She shrugged, pulling gently from him to stroke the burgeoning bushes and vines.

“You’ve spent much time here?” Hermes laughed. “I’ve never seen it so abloom.”

She nodded.

“It is an improvement,” he continued.

“Tell me.” She turned, ignoring the tears that rolled down her cheeks. “Tell me, honestly, that he is well, Hermes. My heart aches to know the truth.”

Hermes took her hands in his. “He will be well.”

How she wanted to believe him.

“Have you found no happiness here?” he asked.

She sighed. “I have tried…”

“But?”

“I miss him.”

“Who?” Demeter’s voice was soft. “Who do you miss, daughter? Tell me, so that I might help ease your sorrow.”

Persephone spun. “Mother? I… I–”

“You thought you were alone with Hermes.” She took Persephone’s hands from him. “What does he know that I, your mother, do not?”

“I shall leave you,” Hermes murmured, though neither Persephone nor her mother acknowledged him.

Persephone studied her mother, considering her words. Would her mother understand? Had she ever felt such love? Or been rejected so completely? She trembled, whispering, “Hades. I miss Hades.”

Demeter’s brown eyes went round, her hands tightening. “Hades?”

Persephone nodded. “I love him.”

Demeter continued to stare at her.

“But he does not love me,” Persephone’s words choked her. “He does not.”

Demeter pulled her to one of the stone benches. No sooner had they sat than Demeter drew Persephone into an embrace.

“He knows little of love,” Demeter’s breath brushed her forehead. “If he did, I’m sure he would love you. None is more deserving than you, sweet child.”

Persephone clung to her mother, crying in earnest. “It hurts, to be parted from him. I ache… ache for him. To see his smile, and hear his laughter. I can scarce breathe from the hole in my heart.”

Demeter held Persephone pulled back, regarding her daughter with surprised eyes. “You have seen him smile? And laugh?”

Persephone nodded. “Many times.”

“I thought he’d forgotten such things.” Demeter’s thoughtful gaze swept over her. “Did you give yourself to him?”

Persephone felt heat scalding her cheeks. Not from shame, she felt no shame in their joining, but from the memory. “Most happily.”

Demeter drew in a deep breath, releasing it slowly. Persephone watched, regretting her words.

“I am sorry,” Persephone began. “Not that I gave myself to him. I cannot and do not regret a moment of our time together. I am sorry that I kept it from you. But I feared your reaction… That he might be punished for such things.”

“I can hardly punish him when you were willing.” Demeter’s smile was tight. “I can punish him for hurting you–”

Persephone shook her head. “No. You cannot. He told me,” her voice wavered. “He told me he could not give me what I wanted. He held me at arm’s length as long as he could. It was I who forced his hand, I who took what he would give. If you would punish anyone, punish me.”

Demeter’s hand cupped Persephone’s face. “Oh, Persephone. There is nothing to punish, child. You found love. That is a gift.”

Persephone allowed him to enter her thoughts, then. And with his memory, she found her smile.

Hades’ gaze swept the meadows. How quickly the green had returned.  The grasses waved, supple with life. Flowers bloomed and fruit hung heavily from the trees. All about him were signs of life.

Signs that she had returned to those who loved her – and needed her. As he needed her.

He offered silent apologies to the plants but did not slow his team as they reached the base of Olympus, tearing up the trail in his haste to reach the Council Chamber and Persephone.

He knew what he had to do. That he would humble himself before all. And he was ready to do so.

He leapt from the chariot and took the steps two at a time, entering the gleaming white hall and heading swiftly to the Council Chamber. He paused only long enough to draw in a fortifying breath, then pushed the doors wide.

She was not there.

Neither was Hermes. Or Apollo. But the rest of the Olympians regarded him.

“Hades?” Zeus stood, coming to greet him. “’Tis a surprise to have you with us, brother. But I am pleased to see you recovered.”

Hades clasped Zeus’ forearm in his. “I am.”

Zeus wore an odd expression. Amused or expectant, Hades could not be certain.

“You are most welcome.” Hera smiled stiffly.

Hades nodded, but said nothing.

Zeus stepped back, encouraging Hades to take his seat.

None spoke as Hades moved towards it.

Hades hesitated. He stood tall and moved to Demeter.

She watched him. “Hades.”

“Demeter. I…” He paused. “You offered me a gift.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I did. For you cared for my daughter, did you not?”

His throat tightened as he nodded. Would he be forced to do this in front of all?

Her eyebrows rose. “What do you want, Hades?”

“Yes.” Poseidon laughed. “This should be interesting.”

Hades turned and smiled at his brother.

Poseidon grew still, his face wary.

“I will tell you,” Hades’ voice rose. “So that there is no worry that what I want might be misunderstood. You will all hear, and know, so that none can claim ignorance.”

Hades ignored the rest, turning back to Demeter. “I would have Persephone as my wife.”

Her reaction startled him. There was no surprise, no anger, only the slightest tightening of her mouth.

“My Persephone?” she asked. “Tell me, Hades, are you the cause of all her tears?”

Demeter’s words struck him. “I’d never meant to be.”

“Wife?” Hera gasped. “But, but she’s a Goddess of the earth. How can she go… there?”

“There is balance in life and death,” Zeus spoke carefully. “One fuels the next. Does it not?”

Hades did not turn from Demeter.

“Will she have you?” Demeter asked.

He did not know. He’d hurt her, he knew that. He’d intended to, to force her from him. His plan might have worked too well. “I know not.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I will not part with my daughter.”

He sucked in a sharp breath. “I would not keep her from you.”

“She is safest in his realm, Demeter.” Ares’ voice startled Hades.

“The Fates–” he began.

“You visited them?” Demeter’s face was startled now.

He nodded. “I did. I would not enter into such an arrangement without knowing their mind. I’ve never betrayed their call for order. I would not start now.”

“And what did they say to such a union?” Hera asked softly.

“She is life, I am death. Compromise will be required for such a union. She cannot stay gone from her realm, nor I from mine. Her time would be divided, between her realm and mine–”

“Children?” Demeter asked. “In the Underworld?”

“There will be none.” Hades swallowed. Of all the conditions the Fates had demanded, this was the harshest. “Any child of our union would be too powerful. A threat to many. So none will be born.”

“You ask too much of her.” Demeter’s voice trembled.

He nodded. “But I ask it anyway.” He turned then, coming to stand before Poseidon’s throne. “I will watch over her. I will keep her from harm. And if Persephone agrees, you will remember who she belongs to.”

Poseidon smiled. “If she is truly yours, I cannot take her from you.”

Hades felt fury. “And you will not try. Whatever scheme or plot, ruse or mischief you devise. You will leave Persephone alone. Or I will see you suffer.” Hades glared into his brother’s pale blue eyes, his every word a promise. “I will make you crave death. I vow it.”

Poseidon sat forward in his chair, his body stiffening with tension. “You forget yourself–”

“No, Poseidon.” Hades didn’t step back. “I’ve given you a choice. All here have heard it. What you choose to do with my vow, I can only wait and see.”

“She will not choose you,” Poseidon hissed.

Hades smiled.

Athena cleared her throat. “Well. I look forward to the future with great anticipation, Hades. You surprise me.”

“He surprises us all,” Hera said, then went on, “I think?”

Hades saw her glance at her husband. Zeus looked pleased. A little too pleased. Had his brother known? Hades sighed, making his way back to Demeter.

Her face was no longer remote. For the briefest moment, Hades saw Persephone in Demeter – vulnerable, yet strong. She looked away, shaking her head. “I cannot undo the damage you have done to her. She grieves–”

“She hardly eats,” Athena agreed.

“We feared she was ill,” Aphrodite added. “And she is, I think. Her heart suffers.”

Hades clenched a fist, hating himself.

“I have much to think on,” Demeter muttered. She frowned at Hades, then turned to Zeus. “What say you, Zeus? Are you in favor of this match? Would you give my only daughter to… Hades?”

Hades saw the smile on Zeus’ face, saw the immediate nod. “Most happily, Demeter. But she is yours to give. I leave the choice to you.”

Demeter stood, looking up into Hades’ face. Her voice was low. “I want nothing more than her happiness. Her smile is lost since you’ve returned her to me. I will be forever thankful to you for saving her from Erysichthon. But I will never forgive you for breaking her heart.” Her eyes bore into his. “I will leave this choice to her. If you love her–”

“I love her.” The words were a strangled whisper.

Demeter’s face softened. “You do.” Her hand touched his cheek. “But does she still love you?”

“There is still the matter of Erysichthon,” Ares interrupted. “If your Persephone is willing to return to your realm, she will still have to travel from here to there. He will be waiting.”

Athena nodded. “If he knows she belongs to Hades, he’ll want her all the more. Isn’t that right, Poseidon?”

Poseidon smirked. “How would you know what it is to be wanted by a man, Athena?”

“Have you a plan, Ares?” Hades asked. As much as he wanted Persephone to return, he would not risk her safety.

“I do,” Demeter sighed. “If this, if
you
, are what she wants.”

###

Persephone leaned against the tree, savoring the calm within her. She had missed much, and the spruce was eager to tell her all it had seen and heard. She was in no hurry, either, and savored each and every word.

Her fingers pressed against the slight gash on the tree’s trunk. “I’m pleased that you were spared.” She pressed her cheek against the rough bark, sighing.

Too many great trees had been cut down for ships, spears, and makeshift camps for Grecian and Persian troops.

“How much longer?” Hermes asked her.

“It’s not finished.”

Hermes sighed. “The sun is setting, Persephone.”

Her eyes flew to the horizon. When the sun slept, the light went with it. She had no desire to be found by Erysichthon. She pressed her hands upon the tree. “I must leave you. But I will come soon. Keep the rest of your stories ‘til then?”

The tree wasn’t happy with this, so she wrapped her arms about the trunk. “I missed you so. But never fear, I shall never be so long away from you again.”

The tree was somewhat mollified. But its next question startled her.

“No,” she whispered. “I didn’t come here to get away from him.”

The tree continued. Hades had ridden by, headed for Olympus…

“Today?” she asked. The tree answered quickly.

She swallowed, unable to deny the heaviness that flooded her chest. “Hermes?” She turned, placing a hand upon his arm. “Why would Hades go to Olympus?”

Hermes had been watching Persephone’s nymphs with wide-eyed interest. “What?” he asked.

“Why would Hades travel to Olympus?”

“Today?” He shook his head. “I know of no cause.”

“None have summoned him?” She knew her mother would not do such a thing. Surely not.

Hermes shook his head again. “Why?”

“The tree says he passed by, headed for Olympus.” She glanced toward the distant mountain.

“Did it?”

She nodded. “I’m glad I’m here, then.”

Hermes sighed, loudly. “Why? You don’t ask after him, or speak of him. You don’t want to see–”

“No,” she spoke quickly, scowling at him. “Why would I want to see him? Why would I want to be reminded of such joy, only to know it was gone forever?” She blinked back tears before they could betray her. “I would not look on him. Not ever again.” Her heart twisted, refuting every word she’d uttered.

He studied her, then scanned the dimming sky. “I’m afraid we’ve no choice now. Come, let us return to Olympus.”

She nodded, pure anticipation stealing her breath. She waved farewell to the nymphs and placed her arms about Hermes’ neck. He carried them both, swift as the wind, to Olympus. When they arrived, the Council Chamber doors were closed. And still, she could hear yelling from inside.

Hermes set her down and moved to the door, but she stood back.

Hermes glanced at her. “Persephone?”

She shook her head. “I shall retire… I cannot face....” She did not finish, she could not. Instead she ran to her rooms, far from the Council Chamber and any hope of seeing him.

Was he here?

She picked up the comb Demeter had given her, brushing through the tangles in her long hair. It calmed her, busying herself. But once her braid was tied, her thoughts returned to him.

Time had passed, yet her heart held onto him. She did not draw breath without thinking of him. She did not dream without feeling his presence at her side. His voice, in memory, was sweeter than any she’d heard. And she did not want to be without him. She knew what she must do… but was she brave enough?

“
Be brave, Persephone.
” His words brushed over her.

She stared at her reflection. “I will,” she murmured. In no time, she’d tied her heavy white cloak, filled its pockets with apples, and crept from her room, down the hall, past the doors of the Council Chamber and down the steps of the mighty Temple.

Night was quickly falling, but she could not wait.

There was no sign of Hades’ chariot in the fields. The horses that came to meet her were tawny and sleek. Apollo’s steeds perhaps? She raised a hand up, offering an apple. As the horse chewed its second apple, she pulled herself onto its broad back. She gripped its wheaten mane and nudged its side, remembering all that Hades had taught her. The horse responded, setting a brisk pace as they descended the mountain path.

The plains greeted her, stretching without end. The sun’s rays retreated, stretching long fingers of black and gray in their wake.

She squeezed the horse with her knees and tangled her hands in his mane. The horse quickened its pace, flying so swiftly that Persephone bent low over his shoulder. Her hood blew back and pulled her hair free from its braid. She looked to the light, following its path as they raced across the plains.

The tall grasses whispered to her, welcoming her as they brushed against her calves. The sun was gone, blocked by the towering trees that edged the plain. Patches of light dappled the plains, but not enough. She would not reach the rocks, or his cave, before darkness reached her.

Still she tried, tugging the horse towards each break in the dark. Until there were none.

The grasses faded, kissed by neither sun nor moon. She looked up into the blackening sky. While the stars had begun to sparkle and dance, the moon would clearly be of no help. The slightest sliver, the thinnest crescent moon, offered no protection on her journey.

The rocks rose up ahead. Their jagged peaks offered her no menace, only comfort. His cave, her home, was close now.

And then all fell silent. The grass hushed. No bird or owl called out. Nothing but the whistle of the wind against her face.

She felt a rush of cold upon her back, and closed her eyes against it. She had no reason to feel fear. She was so close.

The horse shied, pulling against her and rising on his hind legs. She clung to the animal, whispering frantically, “Shhh, there’s nothing to fear here. I promise. Help me. Help me, and I will free you soon enough.”