Seeds: Volume Two (14 page)

     “... Very well.” Zeus wanted to ask more specific question about his daughter's welfare, but Hades' tone made it clear that he had already given all the information he considered necessary.

     “There is no more reason for me to be here,” Hades replied. Before his brother could say anything, the sunny room suddenly darkened for a moment as the shadows thickened, and then the Dark God was gone.

o0o

     Zeus pondered about his son Perseus, relieved that he at least had one less child to worry about. He was now king of a prosperous nation, had a beautiful bride that he saved from a sea-monster, a healthy baby son and another child on the way, and his mother was restored to her royal status.

     Doubtless Danae wouldn't have predicted her life to turn out this way. Yes, becoming with child had led her down a life that was not without hardship. But better that than miserable languishing for who knows how long in that tower, never to see or speak to anyone. And she
had
welcomed his attentions, showing a warmth and gratitude and such
enjoyment
of his presence that he had not experienced for a long time.

     And now, through Zeus' aid for his son, she had become blessed by him again. She got on well with her daughter-in-law and doted on her grandson. Raising her son in a distant country had matured her, and she no longer needed a man to feel secure, becoming an efficient and competent woman, even in the luxurious and comfortable surroundings as mother to the King. Everyone was just dandy down there. He didn't have to worry about them anymore, which he was thankful for as he now had considerably more pressing matters on his conscience.

     He was fully aware that the longer Demeter went on without finding her daughter, the fiercer her wrath was most likely to be. Wishing that situations in the past could be changed made no difference, so he knew it was useless to dwell on what could have been. He had three options regarding his own actions. He could simply keep quiet for as long as he could, letting Demeter find out on her own for however much time it took – which he knew would be cruel – or he could decide on a set time to tell her. If Hades would only allow Kora to come up to Olympus, then Demeter could see that her daughter was well, then Zeus would be happy to tell her the truth
after
mother and daughter were reunited. But his brother would not be pushed to it. And who knew how long before Hades saw fit to bring her to the surface?

     That left a third option – he could just come clean about it now and end Demeter's depression and worry. He did not enjoy seeing his sister wander through Hellas, heartbroken for her child. It would be cruel to let her go on any longer, but he feared her wrath. He might be King of the Gods, but they had been sired from the same elder god and delivered from the same womb. She was his older sister and a powerful deity in her own right. Look at what she had done to Ares! Would she seek a similar vengeance against her brother if she found out? Ooh, that was not something he wanted to consider.

     So he definitely would maintain his silence.

o0o

     Persephone would only have the water, regardless of the wine and nectar that sat in chilled flasks, waiting to be poured down thirsty throats. Hades shook his head as he stared at her. Even now, with all the things she enjoyed in the Underworld, still she feared to eat its food! She took several long gulps from her goblet, but he knew that water was a poor substitute to food. Hunger would maintain its edge, so he felt confident in giving her this small concession.

     Even as she drank her water, he saw her eyeing the food. The only cold thing on the table was the drinks. Everything else was hot, steam from the dishes rising into the air in sinuous and thick tendrils, filling the room with the delicious aroma of centuries of culinary experience of his chefs. Everything was cooked and spiced to maximize the smell and flavor, promising an exciting experience to anyone who would explore the food before them. Hades made a small sound of approval as he ate a piece of freshly-baked bread, relishing the faintly sweet yeast flavor.

     He could feel her eyes on him, and he pretended to not see, chewing slowly and savoring the bite. Only when he swallowed his food did his eyes meet hers. She quickly looked away. He thought about the truce that had been drawn between them, but knew that it would not go on indefinitely. One day, she would again ask about the surface world. When he came back from Olympus, he had gently insisted that she sit with him at mealtime, for eating by himself while she hid from him was lonely. He would not try to force her to eat, but he wanted to remind her of what he had to offer.

     “Would you like a bite of my bread, my dear? It is fresh from the oven. And there is olive oil to dip it in, if you like. Or honey, or jam. It fills the mouth and stomach with warmth.” He smiled. “Yeast bread is my favorite.”

     “Mine too.” she replied, then bit her lip, looking down.

     “Well, help yourself.” He waved her forward, inviting her to sit on his divan – perpendicular to her own so they sat a snug distance from one another – and beckoned with a graceful tilt of the head to let him feed her. She shook her head, staring away resolutely. The temptation was overwhelming. She could smell the warm, sweet pungent yeast, and it beckoned to her like a siren's call. To take a piece of bread, and wash it down with some wine... and to sample the hot stew and hummus... and some of that breaded and glazed chicken... Unconsciously, her hand went to her stomach.

     Mother, feed me!
She let out a low, wavering sigh, trying to rise from her seat.

     “The doors are sealed. You will sup here with me,” Hades whispered as he stared at her.

     “I will not eat.”

     “You act as if this is torture.”

     “It is.”

     “Are you tied to the chair, unable to help yourself to the food? Have I been the one to starve you?”

     She looked down sullenly.

     “You know that you can have anything you like. Nothing's stopping you, yet you squirm around in hunger. I do not like seeing that.”

     Persephone continued to ignore him. She thought of the surface world and Mother. Perhaps now that she had grown, Mother would treat her like an adult. After all, hadn't Mother agreed to take her to the autumn festivals and let her participate in the harvest rites of the Goddess? She had often hoped that her mother would treat her as an adult and equal.

    
Just like Hades does
, her inner voice whispered. He was the first person in her life to have ever treated her like an equal. She frowned to herself. But he also wouldn't let her go to the surface world. Hmph. She was only equal to him in
some
ways.

     When he coaxed her with a few other items, she shook her head resolutely, even when he joined her on her divan, stroking her arm and waving a plate of various aromatic tidbits under her nose. She turned her face, closing her eyes and resolutely ignoring his offerings as she buried her face in her arms against the arm of the divan, muffling the scent from her nose.

     After a while, she felt a faint swoosh move past her, and lifted her head to see the shades clearing away the dishes. She sat up but kept her gaze averted, knowing that he was hurt by her refusal of his offering and pleas. She didn't want to admit it, but she was also pained by her own actions, so she remained silent as she felt his eyes on her.

Chapter XVIII

o0o

     After a month of being host to his lover, Hades had already planned what to do next to acclimate her to the Underworld. Persephone was familiar with the Underworld, exploring its different realms as well as spending time watching the Judges or Kampe at work, or visiting with Hekate. He was pleased that she did this on her own, for it showed an interest in the workings of the Kingdom of the Dead. She also asked him questions, and had also inquired of various matters to the Judges and the Furies, listening with an attentive ear to their stories. She was a good listener, direct and polite with her questions.

     He decided that it was time to take the next step. This was the first occasion where she would formally sit as Queen of the Underworld. Before this, she had been treated more like a guest, given no real responsibilities so that she would become more used to her new home. Still, she refused to eat his food. Hopefully, the weight of a crown would strengthen her bond with him and this realm.

o0o

     Persephone gazed in her reflection as Cloe fussed over her hair, its misty fingers arranging several curls in her hair. An intricate crown of platinum, diamond, and black opal graced her head, and a matching set of jewels glittered at her neck, ears, and fingers. Her black silk gown and cowl were woven with silver thread in a detailed, swirling pattern along the hems.

     Her calm appearance disguised the nervousness she felt. She knew she could throw herself at his feet and ask him to not do this, and he would acquiesce. But she was curious, and she did want to see how Hades held his Court while she participated. She would be Queen of a kingdom as well, and she felt a small thrill at that thought, even if she hadn't sought the role.

     And besides... she had always wondered what it would be like to be worshiped as a Goddess, to sit in a throne and to be acknowledged as a Queen. What did Mother do on her duties as a Goddess? As Thermasia, she was priestess of the people of Enna, using her Gift to enrich their lives, but it had been a village, and 'Thermasia' was modest. What of the mighty temples built to her in other places, and the festivals and the throngs of people who came to worship her? Persephone had always wanted to see the great city-states, and to see them from Mount Olympus, and never failed to be disappointed whenever Mother left her behind with her father and then the nymphs.

     As the Queen of the Underworld contemplated her reflection in the mirror, she recalled a time where she hadn't even had any say over her wardrobe.

     She huffed softly as she went through the clothing she had. She wanted garments more like the nymphs wore, even though she did not have the curves to fill such clothing. She knew she should be a woman by now, but over the last few years, puberty had mysteriously eluded her, and she found her wardrobe choices unsatisfying. She didn't have any jewelry other than a few plain pins to hold up her clothing, and none of her clothing was as fine as the beautiful and ceremonial robes that Mother wore when she left for other parts of Hellas to perform her duties as a Goddess.

    
Mother was gone again, having left hours ago. Kora had been left under the care of nymphs, under the strict admonishments to be a good girl, mind the nymphs, and to practice her weaving.

    
Ugh. How she hated it. She had no patience for the work that went into the kind of weaving Mother wanted her to do. Her mind usually wandered to other things, driving her to distraction, especially if she was left alone without Mother looking over her shoulder.

    
Leave the weaving to Hestia, she often thought as Mother would rap her fingers on the frame to snap her attention back to the task at hand, something Kora always hated. Mother extolled her elder sister's qualities, saying that Hestia was a good woman, a Goddess who did not interfere with the affairs of others and led an quiet, productive life. Such a life did not appeal to the girl.

    
She was now alone, the nymphs gossiping and frolicking outside. Kora had excused herself, saying she wished to take a nap. Ignoring the looms that sat in the sunny main room, she slid down the hall that led to the bedchambers. The opportunity was golden to explore Mother's wardrobe and try on some of her jewelry, or her fine ceremonial robes.

    
The Goddess had two large trunks, both made of masterfully carved wood and identical to one another, crafted by Hephaistos himself. One sat at the foot of her bed, containing ordinary and oft-worn clothing. The other one was tucked away in a corner, and held all her finer accoutrements.

    
Kora went to this chest, lifting the lid and staring down at fine white linen and cloth dyed with rare and deep hues like ultramarine and purple, or brilliant emerald. There were also a couple of pairs of fine sandals as well as several elegantly-woven cowls and cloaks, gold and silver thread glittering amidst the fabric.

    
She grinned as she took out the violet peplos and replaced her own with it. Naturally, the garment was too large for her, but she wrapped a deep gold girdle around her narrow hips and folded and rearranged the excess folds before tucking them into the belt. There was a necklace of gold and polished amethyst nuggets, and she placed that around her own neck. Doing the best she could, she pinned up her hair in her mother's style with the gold pins she found within the jewelry box. The arm and waistbands did not fit her slender arms and there was no way to make them fit, so she left them along with the sandals that were too large for her feet.

    
It had been several years since she had last seen her mother's mirror, but she knew that this trunk also contained said treasure, since Mother rarely looked into it. It was a handheld mirror, its silver surface unblemished and framed in gold wrought in the Harvest Goddess' symbol of bushels of wheat. She propped it up on the platform beneath the window and backed away, seeing the upper half of her body in the reflection. She had never worn such a lovely and deep color, and she smiled at herself, admiring how mature she looked, though keenly aware of the fact that under the generous swaths of her mother's clothing, she had nothing to fill it out with.

     “
How I tire of looking like a little girl,” she muttered. Yet every time she tried to talk to her mother about things that women did, like marrying, or growing up or asking to be told the truth about certain things, Mother always changed the subject.

    
She returned to the chest and tried the green outfit. Mother's favorite girdle – the one made by Hephaistos – went twice around her waist, but she admired the design and was determined to try it on.

    
How nice it would be to have such clothing of her own, and to be seen, and recognized, and praised! She was bored and lonely in this existence despite the attention of Mother and the nymphs. She grinned to herself as she twirled around quickly and did a curtsey to the mirror.

    
She was careful to put everything back in its proper place and the nymphs were none the wiser. The next day, she decided to try the white robe, the most special item in her mother's wardrobe. It was of snow-white linen and came with a matching cowl, and both were woven with gold thread in an intricate design that like her other accessories, was woven in the shape of wheat, along with several other symbols of fertility and bounty.

    
Kora was especially careful with these articles of clothing, since it was vital that she not get a smudge or dirt on it. Mother kept her house clean, so the floor was well-swept. Even then, Kora took care to not drag the fabric along the floor as she donned the white garb. As with the other clothing she had tried on, she had to fold and tuck the fabric to make it fit. She fastened it with a deep green-and-gold girdle before wrapping the cloak around herself. The cowl itself was of a thinner linen than that of the chiton, making her body and hair faintly visible. She studied her reflection in the mirror, arranging the cowl this way and that.

    
She ran her hand against the gauzy linen, admiring the feel of the fabric under her hands. How exciting it must be to be a Goddess!

     “
Kora!” The girl whipped around with wide, startled eyes at her mother's furious scream.

     Persephone let out a sigh at that memory. Mother had been furious, of course. It mattered not that her daughter had been very careful with her clothing and treated everything with the utmost respect. It mattered not that her daughter had explained that she merely wanted to see what looking like a Goddess would be like. And most of all, it mattered not that Mother refused to listen to her or treat her as she ought to be treated.

     And now, the daughter of the Goddess of Bounty was swathed in fabric far finer than her mother had ever possessed in her long lifetime, and the jewels that glittered around her head and neck was wrought with far more valuable gems, the most brilliant of diamonds and black opals and wrought by the souls of blacksmiths with centuries of experience.

     Like her mother, she was a Goddess in her own right, offered the rule over an entire kingdom and the freedom to do as she pleased. Not once since she had been brought here did she have to do a single stitch of weaving.

     She looked down at the large diamond that glittered on her finger before eying her reflection. When she had imagined how she would look grown-up and dressed up, she had never envisioned
this
.

     She angled her head to admire the gauzy silk veil that had been pinned to her crown. It was fastened under the sides and back of the crown, and trailing down to her ankles. It added the touch of understated elegance and mystery that her outfit needed.

     Satisfied with her reflection, she stalked towards the door and emerged into the larger room, her veil fluttering around her almost like an aura. The glint of open admiration in Hades' eyes and the smile of appreciation on his lips told her all she needed to know.

     Hades himself was garbed in robes of black and dark gray, with a crown and wristbands of silver and onyx. His cloak swept around him in a powerful and graceful manner, emphasizing his turns and movements as well as billowing out when he strode forward quickly.

     Persephone felt the proverbial butterflies in her stomach as she followed him. She still had a few more moments to plead out of this, but she was determined. She wasn't some weak, sniveling maiden, and she would show her captor no fear. If she could handle Tartarus, this should be nothing!

     She wondered where she might be sitting as she remembered the raised dais with Hades' impressive throne on it. He said that he had set up something special for her. She wondered what that could possibly be, after all the fantastic and splendid things she had already seen in this place.

     They emerged into the throne room from a side entrance and her eyes scanned the wide hall before resting on the throne on the dais. She blinked and stared. Had the throne gotten wider?

     “Go ahead, look.” Hades gently nudged her forward. She approached the steps and saw the distinct form of two separate but identical seats, and her head tilted to one side as the implications sunk in. Upon closer inspection, the throne to the right had a different design than the other one, which she already recognized as Hades' throne. The new throne had a more delicate pattern – resembling vines and spirals in many places – in an organic pattern as opposed to the geometric pattern on Hades' throne. However, in size and stature, it was identical to its mate. The chairs sat close together, but with just enough space between them so that they could both use their own armrests comfortably or touch one another's arm with a slight reach.

     The cushion was soft and plush, offering a comfortable place to sit during Court sessions. She circled around the thrones, trailing her fingers along the arms and backs of both pieces of furniture.

     “Come sit down.” Hades smiled as he climbed up the steps. Persephone slid into her seat, wiggling around on the cushion as she leaned back. The spacious chamber had a slight chill to it, but her cowl kept her warm.

     “People from the Asphodels ask me to be allowed to drink the Lethe waters. They come to me with their petitions and I determine whether they have learned enough during their time in the Asphodel Fields to be allowed to drink the Lethe waters. For even as their past lives are forgotten, the lessons they learn remain with them.”

     “How often do you do this?”

     “As often as needed. My Gift connects me to this realm and I can sense its needs.” In that aspect, he was no different than Kharon.

     Persephone could imagine how such a connection with their kingdom would benefit a king of any realm. Did Zeus and Poseidon share such rapport with their domains?

     Several shades floated into the room, followed by a group of about thirty souls. Some of them had sharper outlines while others looked fuzzier in her vision. The group was varied, with old and young men and women. She let her eyes move along the group, making a quick study of each one.

     When her eyes fell on the last soul – who had situated himself at the very back of the group – she found herself too stunned to speak or react.

     She barely heard the first soul as it floated forward to petition Hades. The words of the man did not register to her as she stared forward.