Hi. Welcome to my attempt at the epic story of Hades and Persephone. This is my first story published here, so please review! :)
The story is available for purchase for Kindle on Amazon under the name "By Immortal Souls" by Starlight Fountain, but you can still read the whole story here.
So I'll stop blethering, and you can read it now.
There is no sunshine in the Underworld.
There are no stars.
There is no day, and no night.
Time means nothing to the gods, but those who live above ground are at least conscious of the altering of the seasons and the constant shifting of days into nights. Down in the realm of the Dead, the realm of Lord Hades, time is measured with difficulty, and without a timepiece one would become oblivious to the elusive passage of time.
Lord Hades, sitting upon his dark throne, also cared nothing for time. It was useful for scheduling meetings, and for deciding when to hold court, but apart from these uses time was just a hindrance. It droned on and on, and every measured day was similar and lacking in variety.
Hades sat and regarded the demi-god before him. An Asian man. One who would not have believed in the gods if his father was not one of them. Given the man's sharp eyes and his light hair, Hades guessed he was a son of Apollo, or Hermes. Not that it mattered especially.
"My lord…"
The demigod's voice was desperate, as were his mannerisms. The man had faced all the perils of the Underworld and survived, and hence had earned the right to an audience. His armour was rent, and his face was gouged by claws. No pity rose in Hades' cold heart. He had seen too many pitiful things to be touched by this one.
Around the enormous pillars and fire-pits of Hades' audience chamber were gathered the gods and goddesses of his court. Each was dressed in dark finery, and many were as misshaped as the things they presided over. Near Hades' throne was Thanatos, God of Death, an advisor and reasonably trusted companion. Among the gathered crowd, the Lord of the Underworld noticed Hypnos, God of Sleep; Momus, God of Blame; Oizys, God of Distress. Each watched silently and emotionlessly. A wild-haired goddess, Eris, knelt on the smooth tiled floor, chanting softly to herself. Her clothes were spider's webs, and her eyes were blood. Three vengeful sisters, the Furies, whispered and cackled at the supplicants who came before their lord. Their eyes were fire and they seemed more like beasts than goddesses, with long spindly fingers and hunched backs. Indeed, there were many beasts there as well at the back of the hall. Centaurs paced and snorted, gorgons watched with vicious eyes and harpies perched up on the balconies above.
The audience chamber itself was like most of Hades' palace. It was dimly lit, with little decoration save tall grey statues of the residing gods and goddesses of the Underworld. A faint, musty odour of damp filled the air. Black banners depicting Hades' curling symbol of death hung from the walls.
"My lord Hades," pleaded the demi-god, with a brave, fearful expression. "Give me back my love. Without her, my life means nothing. I will do anything you ask."
Hades did not hesitate.
"Your bravery and courage I commend," he said in a powerful deep tenor. "To come so far, you do your love credit. But I will not return her to the realm of the living. No soul leaves the Underworld without another taking its place."
There was a murmur of agreement from the sinister members of court. The demi-god glanced around in fear, then back at Hades, the implications of what he had said sinking in.
"But we have a child."
"Then your child is without both parents now. Return to your life, and forget the dead."
"Mercy, my lord! You cannot understand my suffering!"
"No?" Hades said coldly. "I have been lord of the dead for over four thousand years and I have never failed to carry out my task. Do not presume to think that I do not understand your pain. I have seen it too often not to."
The cackling of the Furies made the demi-god shudder.
"I would rather die than be without her," he insisted.
"Truly? Then by all means die, and join her in the Fields of Asphodel where her soul now languishes. But know this; the souls of the dead do not know each other. You will continue to mourn her for eternity, not aware if she were right next to you."
Hades watched the man's face crumble. He began to weep uncontrollably, and the Lord of the Underworld gestured for two of the veiled Shades to remove him from the hall. The gathered gods and goddesses watched him be dragged out, wailing his love's name. Eris began to sob, but she was ignored. The goddess of Strife mourned for everyone, no matter what. The Furies crowed and laughed.
Odious creatures, thought Hades.
The lord of the Underworld was a tall, undeniable presence. His garb was the colour of shadows and night. He wore a thick black cloak fastened with a golden chain; the only bright colour in his ensemble. A jewelled sword hung at his side, but his robes were plain, hinting at his generally ascetic lifestyle. His time in the Underworld had made Hades harsh and cold. Strong features conveyed no strong emotion, and his expression was full of cheerless brooding. There was a sunken appearance to his dark eyes, and he had high cheekbones and thick brows. Greasy midnight hair covered his head, and his jaw was unshaven. His entire demeanour spoke of one whose cares were many and whose pleasures were few and self-denied.
Thanatos, a short, misshapen god with green-tinted skin and a clean-shaven face, cleared his throat at the foot of the throne. His considerable girth meant turning to see his overlord was a challenge.
"Will you ensure that one is escorted out?" he asked. Out, meaning above ground.
Hades pursed his cracked, pale lips.
"He does not seem to want to return to the living," he muttered grimly. "But yes, he will be escorted out."
The tediousness of listening to supplicants wore on him. Each wanted the same thing; "mercy". "Mercy" for those who had already crossed the Styx, as if returning souls to life would be a gift. Lovers came seeking their lost sweethearts, mothers came seeking their children, and sons came seeking their fathers. All left empty-handed or not at all. Here, "mercy" was a luxury.
Just then there was a stillness, and Hades, having seen the cause, sat up straight.
Approaching his throne were three unlikely creatures. Three goddesses clothed in brown robes and gossamer veils. Their skeletal hands were callused from their spinning of the destinies of all people, because they were the Fates. The power of these wizened crones had no bounds. Hades rose to his feet in respect.
"Moirai," he said, inclining his head and using their proper name. "What brings you to my palace?"
The Fates came forward, their serious gaze not leaving his face. The eldest, Atropos, approached ahead of her sisters.
"Unyielding Hades," she wheezed loudly, "You must go to Olympus."
There was a brief silence, filled only with crackling flames and the scratching of harpy claws from above. Then Hades laughed coldly, and shook his head in exasperation. Several onlookers hesitantly joined in his laughter.
"Why should I wish to journey above?" Hades chuckled without feeling. "I have not been in my brother's realm for a hundred years."
"A daughter has been born to your sister Demeter through the mighty Zeus," Atropos explained, "and there is much celebration."
"Demeter has many daughters," Hades sighed. "I have more nieces than I could count in an age. Tell me, crones, why should I care more for this infant than any of the others?"
The Fates smiled with yellowed teeth and blackened gums, unpleasantly knowing more about him and his future than he did himself.
"Go," said one. "You shall see."
"I do not enjoy your riddles, Moirai," Hades informed them, frustrated that they knew more than they were letting on.
"My lord, value our advice," urged Atropos.
Hades regarded them, ignoring the hushed comments of the gathered court. If anyone here was ancient, then the Fates were truly so. Their work was endless and taxing. For them to leave their spinning and weaving of destiny even for a short time meant their purpose was very important. He weighed up the options. Either ignore them, and possibly cause untold doom, or go to Olympus, and suffer the horrors of a birth celebration.
"…I will go," he consented finally, "out of the wisdom which teaches me that your words are measured carefully."
The Fates nodded, pleased, and without a word they turned to leave. Hades had the disturbing feeling that his destiny had just been thrown out before him and he had little choice but to follow its unseen path.