History will repeat until all the pieces are in place.
As a forewarning, it does get a bit more mature in later chapters. You've been warned. Read, review, enjoy!
Chapter 1: Resolve
Dark, damp and cold; everyday his home was the same. His chambers were quiet and still, with an air of death and an overbearing feeling of passing time. His bed has lain cold and undisturbed for centuries.
As he reclines back against his throne, the once-feared God of the Underworld drums his fingers against the armrests. His expression growing grim as each year passes.
It has been a long time since he'd given up his search for his beloved Persephone; that damned Demeter always interfering, pulling her away every time. How could she live with herself, knowing her daughter was destined to an eternal cycle of death and rebirth? Having to watch her daughter die repeatedly when he... he could give her everything: all the wealth hidden in the earthy soil and deepest veins, happiness that they once shared so thoroughly, immortality... life. If only he could get his hands on her, he could restore her divinity.
He was there when she was a thick, round-faced Indian girl named Padma; growling when recalling the memory and allowing his eyes to slowly close as he drifts into a silent reverie.
He had recognized her soul the very second she was near. Turning on his heels, his mundu twisting violently around him with the sudden movement as he felt a pull that he hadn't felt since he first lost her. Every step tugged at his heart the same way it always had when his wife would return, signifying the end of her mother's custody and the beginning of his safekeeping of the ever young and whimsical Persephone. His long measured strides taking him deep into the marketplace and careening into a young woman; sending her sprawling onto the dusty street and her male chaperone stumbling to retrieve her.
"My apologies," he utters, in the guise of a handsome mortal Indian man, bending over to offer a hand to the young girl. "I'm afraid my mind was elsewhere. I am Haatim, may I ask your name?"
"That is none of your concern," the chaperone snapped, dressed richly in bleached white clothes, his dhoti showing intricate embroidered gold patterns while he scowls at the proffered hand. "She's always been this clumsy, even when we were children."
She lowers her gaze, pink tinging her cheeks as she mumbles too softly to be understood and reaches for his open palm. The contact gives her a shock, and she draws her eyes up to lock onto his. The derisive and indignant snort of her chaperone is ignored as she breathes out in a stronger, yet still quiet murmur.
"Padma. I was so caught up with the colours from a nearby stall that I wasn't watching where I was going. I'm very sorry."
"There is nothing to be sorry for." With a gentle tug, he rights the young woman, her blush darkening as his fingers linger around hers, receiving a gentle squeeze before she's tugged sharply into the chest of her escort.
"We'll be going now. Our families are still going over the details for our Vivaah Samskar." The young man eyes the stranger over in reproach, tucking Padma closer to his side and turning her to walk in the opposite direction. Haatim stays standing in the middle of the market street, his gaze never leaving the back of the young woman and his dazed smile splitting into a grin when he's rewarded with her head turning to look back at him while she's led away, her cheeks still flushed.
The very instant he dares to blink, a large hand claps over his shoulder, snapping him out of his reverie and nearly sending him sprawling onto the dusty street when a booming voice and heavy arm lays across his shoulder.
"I stood by my decision all those years ago and I stand by it today. I don't believe Mommy Dearest detects your presence yet, so do be quick, would you?" A hearty laugh emanates from the overbearing and loud man now standing beside him.
"She'll come willingly," he grunts, his demeanor souring the longer he is in the presence of the obnoxious male.
"Going to try your hand at wooing a female, huh? Well good luck with that. I bet you'll have as much success with that as Dionysus would have in an archery contest against Artemis," the man says, his laugh louder the second time around and drawing the attention of passersby.
"You know, you're not as funny as you'd have yourself think, Zeu-."
The weight on his shoulder suddenly lifted. Turning his head to the side, he finds himself standing alone once more in the middle of the street; talking to no one and losing sight of the young woman, Padma, as well.
"She's back," he murmurs, the displeased grimace from the arrival of his fellow God being replaced with one of contentment, joy seeping back into his heart after so long since his queen faded.
The dwindling of her followers as other religions grew in strength had sapped her immortality until it was as if she was nothing but a myth. Suddenly the years acted as if they were only in temporary stasis; the ever young and vibrant queen succumbing and wasting away in mere seconds, leaving his arms that were filled with the warm, soft body of his only love, covered in ashes and perfumed with the sweet smell of her skin and the sharp acrid tinge of death that had long since passed.
Steeling his resolve, he devised his plans to woo her back to her place at his side while three females were sitting quietly at a spinning wheel, shaking their heads. The treadle of the instrument pressed once, then twice and continued in a slow rhythm by a seemingly young girl clad in green, the wheel beginning to spin slowly and gaining little momentum.
"Not..." the green-clothed child murmurs as she begins pulling the thread out.
"This..." a slightly taller child, clothed in a flowing white dress continues, a measuring rod held in hand as she begins to evaluate the length of thread with rapt precision.
"Time..." whispers the tallest of the trio, clad in red as the sound of golden shears being pried open filling in the silence as she waits for the rod to end its meticulous measuring.
Haatim continued through the next few weeks, the girl coming out of her shell much to her intended's chagrin; sneaking out to meet the secret suitor with her mother never the wiser. He happily continued wooing her, determined and greedy to gain her love that he so desperately sought after before he would drag her back to his home. Their home. Many nights were spent taunting her; teasing and flirting with the emboldened girl each night she managed to steal away. Eventually she grew daring enough to confront her mother about the arranged marriage between her and her childhood friend, to plead and have her preferred suitor, only to be hidden away.
Padma had gotten her wish; the marriage was called off as her mother guarded her with such ferocity that even the doctors in the city were turned away when she had caught what was believed to be a simple fever. She passed away while suffering from malaria, a disease that would not have a name for a long time to come. Soon, the only sound to accompany her last breath was a soft 'snick' of shears. The thread that had begun sewing his heart up to contain the love she had so rapidly filled him with was cut slack and the wound laid open once more.
Demeter pulled her away and guarded her as she would countless other times.
Finally opening his eyes and snapping out of his trance, his gaze sweeps over the cold, uninviting marble surrounding him.
He is Hades. God of the Underworld and all the souls that swim within its waters. He knows everything there is to know of life and death. He has seen much of both, yet he cannot understand why Demeter would choose the repeated death of her daughter instead of permitting her an immortal life with him.
He needed a change, no more moping and stewing over that damned Goddess or her doubly damned daughter. Standing up abruptly, Hades walked across the gentle current of the River Styx, his robes skimming the top of the waters and yet not a single drop dared to cling and saturate the fabric.
At the opposing shore, a tall and lanky hooded figure leans heavily on a long pole as a single gold coin is flipped over the backs of the holders decayed fingers. The moment Hades sets his foot to the silt of the shore he finds the pole blocking his path to the gates that lay just beyond and the hood falling back from the figure just enough to show a hollowed cheek, the tendons visible and wet.
"You are awfully daring, Charon," growls the god, half his face turned up in a sneer to show his displeasure at being interrupted.
"Been a while since you came for a visit, my friend..." said Charon, lazily looking over the god with a bored expression, his curiosity barely piqued; one piercing blue eye settled on him as the other rolls in its socket, dulled to a blind grey and seemingly disconnected entirely.
"Indeed," Hades replied, his bristling demeanor deflected by the ferryman and briskly cuffing Charon on the upper arm, a wet snap of a joint dislocating further breaks the last of the tension. "I wish to see how the mortal realm has changed since last I visited."
Charon smiles wryly, the least rotted half of his mouth turning up as best as it can and simply nods in silent acquiescence as he steps aside, watching as Hades passes through the gates.
"He's gone to find her again," he says as he feels a hot breeze blow at his back; the cold, wet noses of a three-headed dog pushing at the ferryman with surprising gentleness. He pockets the gold coin and reaches to stroke one of the heads behind its ear, earning him another hot breeze from their huff of contentment.
"He just doesn't know it yet."
AN:
Haatim Indian boys name meaning "Judge"
Padma Indian girls name meaning "Goddess" (Lakshmi)
Vivaah Samskar is a Hindu marriage ceremony. I also suggest you look it up if you're curious. My words won't do it justice.
Mundu and dhoti are both traditional Indian sarong/skirts. Look them up, they're pretty awesome looking.