Farewell Happy Fields
by Persephoneia
E. Caddy Compson
Author's Note.
I cannot begin to offer my thanks to those who loaned their time in reviewing my first couple of chapters. Regrettably, the constraints of time that come with life have not left me with very much time, and so this chapter took a bit longer for me to get out than the others did. I do sincerely hope you will find it worth the wait. As always, any comments, suggestions, etc, are greatly appreciated. I'd love to hear what you think :)
As before: References to other works are more like easter eggs, no copyright infringement intended (though I think most of the works I'll allude to will be out of copyright scope…). My works may also be found elsewhere, under the same pen name and such.
III. In busy companies of men.
The halls of Olympus were elegantly decorated in all their regal splendour, grandeur of stately marble columns and matching floors and majestic tapestries and hangings all coming together at the home of the gods of the sky-realm, more wondrous during the day, under the light of Helios, than description could allow.
They had not changed at all, not in the more than half a decade since last the spring maiden had run about in a game of hide-and-seek with the messenger god weaving through the columns.
And yet, she had. She'd gotten taller, quite a bit so, and leaned out a bit, let her hair grow long and started weaving the flowers of the fields she so loved into its gentle waves. Her skin was sun kissed from days spent out in Enna – sometimes with Hermes, though those days had since become more seldom than she might have liked, sometimes with her friends the nymphs and river gods – long days in the morning and midday and into the evening and dusk, frolicking with the nymphs and swimming in the rivers, and bounding through the fields and reading scrolls from wise Athena and chaste Artemis under the slight shade of trees large and sturdy. Today was one of those days on which Hermes had a great deal of things to attend to, one of those days Persephone had found was becoming more and more typical, and the river gods were meeting in the seas under the realm's ruler Poseidon, and so protective Demeter, the apple-bearer, not wanting to leave her daughter alone in the fields on this day of the meetings at Olympus, had brought her along, warning her to be careful and stay within the premises, but not to disturb any of the other gods.
They had come to her.
Or rather, one had. But Apollo was known for his bold demeanour and being quite forward, and so it should not have come as a surprise that the moment he'd seen Demeter leave the side of this new sight at Olympus, he'd ventured over, met timidly but with welcome by the young maiden, unseen or noticed by Demeter as she closed the large door behind her and entered the chamber where the meeting would take place, taking her seat at a long table centuries old, next to dutiful Hera who was already present, the two speaking animatedly.
"So you had to bring her today?" the Queen of the Gods asked the Grain-Goddess.
Demeter nodded, somewhat nervously, but almost expertly concealing this. "Yes, I did. Hermes is running errands for Zeus, and I didn't want to leave her out with the nymphs, without the river gods who've gone to meet with Poseidon, so I brought her with me," she said.
"How long has it been since she comes here under Helios' light?" Hera inquired.
"A bit over seven years," Demeter answered, quietly.
The queen's dark brow furrowed. Well, the girl was Demeter's daughter, and Demeter could do as Demeter pleased with Demeter's daughter… That, of course, didn't mean that she understood Demeter's logic in the matter. The woman was much too overprotective and smothering. "I'm sure she'll be fine," she said, after a moment. "She's… how old is she now?" she asked, cautiously proceeding.
"Two years short of a score,"(1) Demeter said, sighing. "Seems like just yesterday—" she shook her head, reminiscing. "Time does fly, does it not?"
The mother queen nodded, in understanding, one understanding moment among many in which she'd failed to see Demeter's reasoning. "Yes, it does, especially when one has children…"
Meanwhile, outside the doors of the chamber, as the gods continued to enter for the meeting, another scene continued to unfold.
A charming male voice came from a youthful god, clean-shaven and tanned, typical lyre found in his hands absent this time, one of but a few. "And I've not seen you in quite a long time. My, you've gotten …quite pretty."
A blushing female voice stalled a moment, brown eyes of its possessor blinking. "Thank you, milord, but really, I shouldn't. My mother would not—"
"Ah, but that's not a problem. I mean, surely you might like a ride on my chariot, lady Kore," came the male voice, something almost suggestive about his voice, and that same suggestiveness in his fair eyes.
"Well—" Persephone paused for a moment, giving him the most curious of looks, finally catching the twinkle in his light eyes before flushing a deep crimson. "Lord Apollo!" she said, placing a cold hand over her gaping mouth and looking something of a mix of embarrassed and outraged.
The archer-god looked at her with mischief in his hazel eyes, something almost predatory, very nearly as a cat waiting to pounce.
The Maiden backed slowly, her back hitting a column, and in half an instant, his arms rose, a hand placed on either side of her, as he leaned forward close to her. "Lord Apollo," she said, softly but sternly, "I cannot. I have pledged myself to eternal maidenhood—"
"Oh precious, pretty Persephone," he said, huskily, distance between them closing quickly as he interrupted her, diminishing at a rate far too swift for Kore, as she tried to turn her face to the side. The way he'd looked at her, the husky tone of his voice, the manner in which he'd addressed her, using the name only her mother and father used on sparse occasion for her in such a peculiar way, all of it was sending off warning bells, and she attempted to move away, finding the column of marble behind her and his arms at her sides despicable obstacles.
"Don't call me that—"
There was a cough, and a clearing of the throat not twenty paces off. "Apollo, I doubt most sincerely that Demeter will be pleased at your advances, and an angry Demeter means a less-than-pleased Zeus, so I do suggest you take you sea of never-ebbing hormones to the river-nymphs," came a voice deep and matter-of-fact. "Pity you couldn't be more like your twin."
The god of music and poetry turned to fix a glare upon his disturber, but the site his eyes met gave him pause. "Lord Hades," he said, immediately withdrawing his hands and placing them quickly at his sides. "I did not know you would be here."
The Underworld's king fixed the younger god with a look of disdain, peering down at him over his nose's brim. "And I did not know that the protocol of Mount Olympus has changed to welcome standard unchaste displays of affection at any location within its halls since last I visited," he remarked.
Persephone felt a flush rise, crimson, and turned away, wishing she could melt into the floor. This was completely mortifying, and while she would normally have raised protest shrewishly, adamantly objected, or snapped a witty retort, she found herself at a loss, completely taken aback at the entire situation, and particularly uncomfortable with the earlier-made insinuations. It had been years since the maiden visited Olympus; her usual haunts of fields and frolicking picking flowers and reading in the forest's shade were not ones she usually escaped. Confined there by her mother, under what was supposed to be the watchful eyes of the River-gods and her friends the nymphs and the company of Hermes, she rarely departed her domain, did not question it because she knew nothing greater, nothing save what she'd read in the scrolls of Athena and Artemis, the worlds she would escape to in her own mind. It was her first time in Olympus in over half a dozen years, having persuaded her mother to allow her to come along on the pretence of the absence of many she trusted to keep her safe. It was also the first time in as long that she'd been in the presence of the great Hades, a god she'd not recognized until Hermes had brought up the matter, all those years ago. She'd recognized his voice in an instant now, felt her heart leap at it, inexplicably. It was a deep voice, a voice she found strangely that she was not quite adverse to, and didn't at all mind listening to.
Except, of course, in the present situation.
Flustered, the god of medicine and healing, the archer, turned with a flurry of his chiton and crimson cape and walked away, down the hall, toward the meeting of the gods, a dismissive shaking of his head the only acknowledgement of the happenings of just moments before.
There was a moment of silence, and then footsteps, footfalls of boots echoing in the great hall of marble, not loudly resounding, but softly, and it took the light jade chiton'd goddess a moment to realize that the footfalls were coming in her direction, not the same as Apollo had gone a few instants earlier, for such was her discomfiture. She swallowed, hard, remaining still, and her eyes turned just slightly beneath her lashes to confirm what she'd heard.
Plouton (2) peered at her with a degree of interest, seeing the realization of his approach dawn on her and garnering the faintest of pleasures at her display; it wasn't oft that he was among the living, and it had long ago occurred to him that many found his presence imposing, daunting, in many cases, and it was something he (perhaps not secretly) had grown to enjoy, this seeing the reactions of others to him and relishing in their discomposure.
"Lady? Are you coming to join us?" he inquired, deep quiet voice echoing as his footsteps had through the hall. There was something almost like teasing in his voice, though a slightly gentle rare undertone betrayed Hades' imposing appearance.
A very embarrassed Persephone met his eyes, more flushed than ever, trying to gather herself, to regain her composure, trying to act as though nothing had just happened, and finding this course of action easier now that Apollo had gone (though not quite as easy as she would have liked) raising her head high despite the very scarlet colour of her cheeks, a stark contrast with the peachy tanned skin on her face, unnoticed by Kore herself but quite evident to the god of the Underworld. "I wasn't sure that I was invited," she remarked somewhat tartly. "My mother is non-too-fond of my going to these things," or most anywhere else, she added, silently.
Her dark look betrayed her thoughts.
"--Or of you going anywhere, in fact," the tall god added, with a raised brow, meeting her evenly as she gave him a look of perplexion at his having guessed her train of thought. "Come with me."
Persephone shook her head. "No, Lord Hades, really, I oughtn't."
With a chuckle, the so-called Unseen One looked at her pointedly. "Lady, would you deny me?" he inquired, relishing further in the conflicted look that graced the maid's features as he asked. "No one will say a foul word to you or so much as give you a foul look, I swear it by the Styx," he said. "Come with me," he entreated, once more, offering her his arm.
The goddess tugged at a few locks of her long brown hair behind her back, thoughtfully, considering this for a moment. Should she? Her mother would be quite displeased, she knew; her mother had indeed been quite against any interactions of Kore's with the outside world. But this was Olympus. And Persephone was older now, no longer a giggling little girl running about and hiding behind the columns with Hermes chasing after or anything of the sort. Nodding after a moment, she took his arm, and the pair walked toward the chambers where the Olympians had assembled about a long table, Zeus at its head.
And as the door closed behind the two final arrivees, those already situated peered over, and murmurs started. An occupied Demeter sat, chatting idly with Apollo, who seemed to be pleading something with her, the War-god glaring sulkily at the conversing pair from his other side, until, nudged by Hera, she looked at the pair who'd just entered.
…and nearly fainted at the sight. She would have, anyways, had she been standing; she was quite certain of that.
"Persephone, what are you doing here?" she asked, in the clipped tone of a mother displeased with the actions of her daughter.
The younger goddess opened her mouth to speak, but paused as Hades gave her the slightest of nudges.
"Demeter, surely she's old enough to attend such a thing. Besides, why leave her outside alone while the rest of us are in here?" he inquired rhetorically, "I invited her to join us. So if you need take it up with someone, do so with me," he said, tone of finality in his voice.
Demeter's eyes narrowed and she glanced at Zeus, father of her daughter, with a look attempting to get him to say something, almost daring him not to.
The thunder-god gave her a look of comforting. "Now, Demeter; it's alright. I think Hades is quite right; Persephone has to grow up sometime, and why not let her sit in on things?" he asked. His tone was almost gentle, entreating, trying to reason with an obviously angered mother over the treatment of her daughter.
Their daughter.
He could practically hear Hera rolling her eyes at his left, between Zeus and Demeter. "Hades, please have a seat, and Persephone, as well," he said, "and we can discuss this later on, like adults; there's no need for jeering or teasing or any bad feelings."
Hades raised a brow. "I'm sure we certainly shall," he said, leading Kore as he went toward his usual seat, across from Zeus, in a chair that sometimes was empty when the Underworld's reigning lord was absent from meetings and general proceedings. He held out the chair next to his, to his right, for her to sit, and she took it with a small nervous smile and quick whispered thanks. Then he took his own seat, next to her, giving most a look of disdain and daring them to question him.
Clear across the table, Apollo whispered something to Demeter, and she punched his arm with a look of ardent distaste on her face. Next to his mother, Eros took careful note, though Aphrodite gave him the slightest shaking of her head. The love-god instead turned to his brother, Anteros, the mutual love-god, who nodded (3). The pair intently watched the subtle exchanges going on.
Artemis, goddess of the hunt, twin of Apollo, cleared her throat, having been standing.
"Ah yes, Artemis, please, proceed," came Zeus's voice.
The goddess nodded, "thank you, Zeus," she said, attempting to ignore the happenings in the hall, but unable to resist the urge to cast Hades a look of disapproval. "The issue of mortals over-hunting populations of animals near Thebes has come to my attention; I believe it does need to be addressed."
Athena nodded. "I am in agreement. Perhaps we should send a message; I would think Tiresias(4) might be able to convey our meaning with aptitude."
Persephone watched with interest as the proceedings continued, taking note of the issues discussed raptly. Next to her, Hades took note of the intrigue with which she paid attention. Normally, he would have been lost in his own musings until it was his turn to make a point, or until something particularly pretentious came up, but watching her was occupying his own attention, and he took idle note of the points made, explaining to her what he knew of the things she appeared not to know about and fighting the urge to grin as she would nod and the left corner of her mouth would twitch up in a half-grin of her own. She was shrewd, he would say, cut of the same mould as delightful Athena or Artemis, with a keen calculating sort of mind; he could tell from watching her dark eyes shine as she followed the proceedings cannily, the way she'd smirk at one thing, or quirk a brow at another.
The Underworld lord likewise did not fail to realize that his attention was not the only one she had. Glancing about the table, maintaining a façade of his usual demeanour, he too observed Apollo getting glares from the Grain Goddess, insatiable Ares beside him smirking, something half-plotting, half-predatory about his gaze as it fixed itself on the young goddess next to Hades himself.
The look of disdain on Demeter's features Hades knew well; he knew too that his sister would no doubt reject any and all gifts and promises and words the two nearest her might offer, and was near certain she would do likewise for any others. He knew she'd taken note of how like Athena and Artemis the girl was, and had tucked her away often in their company, knew she'd prodded the girl to seek out that long-preserv'd virginity. Quaint honour, indeed. Hades wanted to chuckle at the thought. Such a waste of potential; he nearly wanted to scoff.
And yet, he couldn't help but entertain a possibility. He had to fight a smirk as he delineated an outline of it in his cunning mind, glancing at his brother, whose eyes met his with a most curious look as the Queen of the Skies argued with the messenger god, who'd just entered and was demanding attention.
They would speak later.
And next to the Lord of the Underworld, the Maiden watched as Hera and Hermes bickered, before her father bid them stop. She had to suppress another smirk, entertaining the idea that perhaps he rather liked to watch the arguments that happened, and perhaps that was part of why he'd allowed the quarrel to continue. The eyes of Plouton fixed on her, watching the twitching of her lips as she fought the smirk, taking note of where she was looking, and glancing away before smirking himself.
…If she only knew.
Notes.
(1) A 'score' is twenty years.
(2) Plouton was another name for Hades. Alternatives include Haides, Aides, and Aidoneus.
(3) The meeting is not exclusively confined to Olympians (as you might have already guessed). Eros and Anteros were both sons of Aphrodite (consensus of sources indicates Ares as the father, though there are variations on this), and while Eros was the god of love, Anteros was the god of love returned and the avenger of unrequited love.
(4) Tiresias (also spelled Teiresias) was a seer, who is also referenced in the works of Sophocles and Aeschylus, and appears in Homer's Odyssey. He was famous for having changed his sex (and as a woman, was actually a priestess of Hera!). Very interesting fellow.