by eve
he could light you up and summon every swan or the lakeside off to cabo san lucas for some optical stimulus then you started to guess there was someone else though his flint glass seeing all of you immersed in his sepia
– Tori Amos, "amber waves"
Prologue: Bits and Pieces of Yesterday's Sorrows
The binding of souls is an event so scared that even the most turbulent of events cannot harm it. Once it is done, it is done for life and the lifetimes that follow afterwards. A bind signifies the consummation of soulmate, two halves that make one hole. However even the most turbulent of events can do its damage. I bring you a story, dear reader, of two souls as old as time itself. I bring you a story driven by a sacred promise made by a man in all things considered to find his beloved. I bring you a story of cycles, of chances failed.
And perhaps, dear reader, I would leave it at that if I didn't find it so amusing for your thoughts to be along the lines of dear god that damn authoress is gone again to depress us all again. But as much as I do enjoy a twisted mind game or two, a bid you not to consider those thoughts.
This is a story about chance.
A chance for love and redemption.
This a story about change.
A change of ideas and spirit.
This is a story, my dear readers, about one woman's acceptance of the change coming about in herself and the man she loves.
This is a story about winter kisses…
The Separation of Hades and his Wife Persephone
"How could you?"
Her lips trembled and her amber eyes glimmered with unshed tears. He replayed the images of past events in his mind and what had started it all--- temptation's kiss, a mistress, the darkness, and heartbreak. He waited for her to move. The cool breeze garnered by the passing souls lifted her coffee-colored curls. The ends of her navy toga moved gently against her legs, legs who skin--- white, ivory, the color of the glowing moon-- he'd give up his own immortality to worship.
"I did nothing to harm, wife. I don't understand these accusations of injustice that you claim. A man must tend to his needs as well."
Persephone, alas, his Persephone looked at him with a gaze that could set Olympus aflame. There were still some mysteries that he had yet to discover about the young goddess, such passion and such fire lay in her eyes, but now he wasn't too sure if he'd ever get the chance again.
"You know as well as I do that you must return to me in six months' time," he spoke tonelessly.
She pursed her lips together and then relaxed as she were contemplating something. Brushing a loose curl out of her face, she looked him straight in the eye. It was then that everything their bond stood for was related through her eyes--- her love, her pain, her outward desire for him—it all vanished within a blink of an eye. Finally, he had realized… painfully… that what she intended to do.
"My love," he whispered urgently, starting towards her.
But she held up her hand to stop him, her posture ridged and straight… exactly what a queen should encompass. Is that what he wanted?
"Husband," she began quietly, her voice cool and controlled. "I will recognize our marriage as my duty as wife and queen. And I recognize the significance of our binding, as the other half and as the laws-"
He fell to his knees. "Please."
"-will it done. But because of the failure on your part to recognize the sacredness of-"
It was amazing how one woman could bring a man to his knees.
Not a man, but a god.
"-our binding and our marriage, I separate myself from thee."
Such an overwhelming sense of loss filled his heart as the presence of his wife in his very soul was ripped away from him. Vaguely, he saw a glimmer of the fiercest sadness… but it was gone as quickly as it came.
"I must heed you good-bye, my lord. For I must go and meet my mother."
The only sound in the icy throne room was the fading echo of the swish of her toga and his own heavy breathing. He clenched his fist tightly, forgetting about them brushing against the coarse ground floor.
"I will make you mine again," he vowed. "I will make you mine again… even--- even if it takes lifetimes to do so."
And so began a promise, in the darkness of whispering and wandering souls.
* * *
Return from the Pope's CrusadeShe felt him even before he entered the room. She knew him like that and it was a comfort to her, she supposed. Especially when she missed him terribly… alas, if only her affections were returned. She lifted a shaky hand, her alabaster skin glowing in the pale moonlight. Would he love her like this, she wondered idly. Tired, weak and confined to the darkness of the night? Would he finally love her when she was at death's door? A large and calloused hand enveloped her own, scaring her nearly to her wits' end.
"Madeline," he whispered, his voice husky and endearing at the same time. She grimaced as she tried to sit up and muster a proper greeting, but was gently forced back down. "Don't… you are still ill."
"Aye," she whispered, sinking back into the silk-warm bed. "I wish I could give you a proper greeting, my lord. But it seems that I am confined to bed rest for eternity."
A deep chuckle rumbled close to ear, causing her to flush to her cheeks. It had been nearly a year since she had been able to garter any sort of reaction because of her illness and the leave of her husband. Perhaps fate might not be so cruel to her and leave her to be happy, for she and her husband had just started getting to know each other in the year before he left to fight for the Lord. However, deep down she knew that her time grew short.
"There will be time for that once you get better, love," he spoke, sending even more shivers down her spin as he brushed her hair back. "And Madeline, I am your husband address me as that. None of that kingly thing with you…"
She chuckled, reaching out to touch him in the darkness. It still amazed her to this day how deep their connection ran. He could hurt her like no other. She knew where he was without looking. She could describe his feelings with very little effort. A touch by him was the only sure way to send her over edge. And she loved, dear god, she loved him.
"Come here," she murmured. And he complied, her fingers dancing across the roughness of his skin--- months of not shaving. She ran her fingers through his hair, hair that had always reminded her of the color of the night. "My love…"
Able hands traveled up her thin body to undo the ties of her dressing gown, the cool air greeting her naked skin--- the first pleasant feeling she had in a while. Her cheeks flushed as she met her husband's emerald eyes, glittering like a serpent about to devour his prey. Those eyes did wicked things to her--- her mind and her body.
"Do you know how long I've waited?" His voice was no more than a whisper. She moaned as his hands teased her breasts. A rustle of movement caught of guard and she soon found herself encircled by her own husband, his lips brushing her shoulder.
"Do you know how long I have waited?" She countered. A chuckle breathed closer to her ear.
"Alas, my wife and my queen have returned. I must give her a proper greeting."
She arched her back against his naked chest as his fingers plunged inside of her. "Oh goddess… Richard, please… Oh Richard…"
He found her lips and pulled her in for a searing kiss. It was at that moment that she knew she loved, fully and completely. It was at that moment that she knew she could die a happy woman, even if he didn't love her. He was here and that was all that matters.
She could die happy.
Moments later when the sun arose to dawn a new day and to welcome back the king of, a sob racked the castle into a chaotic frenzy. The sob sound as if there were a wounded animal lurking in the castle. But it was the king, the almighty and powerful king, sobbing at the foot of his beloved and struggling to say the words that she had once begged him to say.
But it was useless.
The young and beautiful queen, beloved by her people and finally her king…
The queen was dead.
* * *
The Unattainable Heiress"He adores you, you know."
She chuckled, brushing a loose strand from her face. She paused in her writing with amusement clear and present in her face. She leaned back in her chair.
"Does he really? Are sure it's nothing more than just a passing fancy, Virginia? As I recalled, you were in his clutches only months ago."
Her friend blushed into her tea cup. "I only speak of concern for you, Helena. You are nearing twenty and it isn't proper for a woman to unmarried when she reaches twenty-one. Especially with fortune you carry."
She rolled her eyes, looking down. She still wore the dress from the party earlier. Crimson silk imported from Italy with a simple gold cross her mother wore when she had been.. well… courting. It was a luck charm for her grandmother.
"I'll believe it when I see it with my own two eyes."
Virginia let out a frustrated sigh. "Sometimes I wonder if you're trying to drive me bonkers?"
"Bonkers, Gin?"
"Helena…"
"All right, then," she spoke, leaning forward as if she were going to tell the most precious secret. "I want to Thomas to ravage me senseless. Happy?"
A deep chuckle rang from the doorway. Both women looked up to see none other than the object of their conversation and perhaps, desire, watching them closely. Virginia flushed in response, while she only gave the insufferable man (in her opinion) a stone-held glare.
"I think we can arrange your request, my dear Helena."
She raised an eyebrow. "I can hardly contain myself."
"Helena!"
Thomas laughed, unconsciously sending shivers down her spine. "Well then, shall we see?"
Years later, she found herself walking down an eerily familiar path up the stairs and down the hall to their bedroom. Her heart was pounding and her hands covered her pregnant stomach in a protective stance. She had carried her suspicions for months now about her husband's infidelity and it saddened her that she carried these thoughts about the man she loved.
Her hand reached for the door knob, lips moving in silent prayer… only to find it useless if anything. For there lay her husband in the clutches of her close friend Virginia, staring at her with shock.
"Lena!"
Her lips upturned into a sad smile, her hand holding a death-grip on the knob. "I only came to tell you that I will be leaving for London sooner than I thought."
"Lena, please," Thomas called as he struggled with his clothing.
She ignored his pleas, moving from the door and back down to her awaiting car. Ms. Parks gave her an encouraging smile and her coat, a motherly pat on the arm.
"Lena!"
She stopped, a slender hand on the door of the car.
"Good-bye Thomas."
* * *
The Lion and The Snake
Without you everything falls apart – nin, "the Perfect Drug"
In a cold and poor lit room, Lord Voldermont sat quietly in chair by the empty fire hearth. To the common eyes, the wizard looked as if he were a dark statue almost frightening. Suddenly, the hands in the arm chair clenched and flames spurred out of the hearth. In an impressive show of magic, the wizard's cloak fell and no longer sat Lord Voldermont the feared dark wizard but Tom Riddle the boy who started it all.
He leaned forward, clutching his heart. Strands of ebony fell into his face, doing nothing to block the intensity of his emerald green eyes. Why didn't I see her? He clenched his cloak tighter. She was right in front of me all this time. And for the first time in many years, the boy, the man, the god was going to have his second chance.
Across the sea, a young woman dropped a letter with strangled sob.
We need you home, Hermione.
* * *
author's notes:
This is a rather odd story I've had lurking in the back of my mind. I've always wanted to do a Tom/Hermione fic, so this is going to be my honest attempt at it. For those of you who are a bit confused, this is a prologue and don't worry I will explain it in due time. It's amazing what Greek mythology can inspire. ^_^
Review please!