Farewell Happy Fields

by Persephoneia
E. Caddy Compson

Author's Note.

Thank you, once more, to those who have taken the time to review my work. I realize it has been quite a while since I have updated this, but your words have indeed brought me back to this piece, with determination to finish it.

As before: References to other works are more like easter eggs, no copyright infringement intended.

IV. Abduction: A fairer flower, by gloomy Dis was gathered

A sweet breeze blew across the fields of Enna, rustling the tall grasses and flowers as several nymphs ran through, hair twined with leaves of oak and laurel, short chitons waving in the wind. A laughing goddess joined them, running through the fields and picking flowers, plucking them with care, until the woods were reached, the maidens jovially continuing, splashing water at one another by a clear running brook. Another goddess and another, too, were with the group, one with her hair secured in a tight, neat, severe bun atop her head, lacking the helmet which had been entrusted to her by their mutual father, the other with a pair of messy braids. The scrolls they'd been studying, reading hungrily and discussing passionately, earlier in the day lay long-since forgotten in a satchel nearby, beneath a tree next to a gentle brook.

Each of the goddesses, and several of the nymphs, had in hand curious creations they'd made by weaving various flowers and fronds together. The sun had long since reached its zenith, was nearing the tree-line, but not quite there yet, in late afternoon, and the Goddess of Wisdom called out to Demeter's daughter, who was still searching for flowers.

"Kore, it's almost suppertime," she called.

The maiden looked back at her name, taking one last white violet, adding it to the others in her small wreath, situated alongside numerous white lilies, and waved.

"I'll be in in a bit," she said. "I'm just going to get a couple of more flowers, and I'll head back. Tell my mother I'll be there in a few minutes."

The Goddess of the Hunt gathered her things meanwhile, and joined Athena.

"Alright, Kore, we'll see you back on Olympus for supper," she said.

Athena shook her head. "Oh, nonsense. We can wait. The nymphs aren't heading in yet anyways," she said. "We'll be waiting by the brook, Kore."

"Sounds divine!" the girl called back, turning away once more, continuing her search. She walked further, beyond a bend, and into a clearing, spotting a most curious flower. She approached, running a hand through her long dark hair, wound in light loose ringlets into which flora were intertwined, no longer bouncing from her skipping through the fields.

She glanced at her wreath, noting the way the white violets and lovely lilies were carefully woven together, interlaced perfectly, as only the daughter of Demeter could. It had been missing something, she knew, had known since she'd placed that last flower on it, and she was determined to finish it at least, to show that she'd made something beautiful on this day. Her mother would probably laugh, she knew, but it would give her a feeling of accomplishment, something to add to the scrolls she'd studied earlier in the day with her half-sisters, something to look at when she lay awake at night, thinking of things she kept inside.

Kneeling down, she peered at it astutely, perusing it with interest as she took in each and every detail of it, from its white petals to the golden, yellow-to-orange fading centre of it, the corona, or trumpet. She traced a finger over and noted the soft texture, the way it was an herbaceous perennial, how the monocot grew from a bulb, the entire thing a neat little diagrammatic picture in her head.

Carefully, she reached out and plucked it, twining it into her wreath, looking lovingly down at her creation. It was not a wreath, no. It resembled more a tiara, a sort of crown of flowers, the narcissus a crowning jewel to go at its front.

Chuckling at the thought, she placed it atop her head, mock-curtsying as she'd been taught, before chuckling once more, unable to keep a straight face, dancing circles in a lovely girlish fantasy, there among her flowers, dark auburn ringlets twined with flowers waving in the air, crown atop her head with flowers as well.

Slowing in her dance, she nearly ran into something as she stopped, deadpanning, her eyes opening wide at the sight that met her, flushed with embarrassment, though something else made her insides jump, as well, something she could not contemplate.

"Oh, by the Styx, I'm terribly sorry!" she said, cheeks rather red. She curtsied before him eloquently. "Lord Hades, I did not hear you approach."

The Underworld's King had been watching her, staring with ravenous eyes as she danced, so sensual in her movements and unaware of the seductive sway of her hips, how her tresses waved, wanton ringlets bouncing with each step. Beneath his helm of invisibility he'd stood there, watching, silent and waiting for her to take the flower he'd made for her, caused to grow from Gaia, a snare for the bloom-like girl, a marvelous, radiant flower. He stepped forth and took her chin in his hand, titling her head up gently.

"Your eyes should face the ground for no one," he said, his deep voice soft.

Persephone's brow furrowed in confusion, dark eyes looking at him, questioningly.

"What--?" The neighing of steeds distracted her from adding further to her inquiry, however, and as she turned to look, her face moving from his hold, she realized the dark horses—darker than any she'd ever seen before, drawing a winged chariot, hurrying near—were practically upon them. Her eyes snapped back to him, open wide, in a split second, the girl paled, blush of color gone from her cheeks.

He took her then, grabbed hold of the goddess in one swift movement and mounted the chariot drawn by his steeds. Flowery diadem still on her head, she cried out, kicked and wrenched, writhed and pushed against him, shouted as the black manes plunged down to the black pit.