Persephone collapsed upon my throne room floor upon, her tears
splashing onto the polished obsidian flagstones. My heart broke to see her
tears, and I would have regretted my rash action had her golden presence
not lit up the chamber so beautifully, so in my heart of hearts I could not
truly grieve.
Gently I knelt to touch her shoulder (such a perfectly rounded shoulder, as pale and delicate as porcelain). She shuddered away from my touch, and I withdrew my hand quickly, afraid of vexing her further. "Persephone."
I knew I must say something, but the muses of inspiration refused to make my mind fertile. Unbidden words stumbled from my mouth.
"Persephone.I am Hades, Lord of the Underworld. I have long admired you from afar, and I wish to take you as my wife. You shall be Queen of the Underworld."
Finally, her sun-kissed face turned up to mine, but her verdant eyes were filled with horror and revulsion. Her perfect mouth opened, but her throat failed her.
Cursing my clumsiness, I rapidly attempted to rectify my misstep. The throne room vanished, and a beautifully ornate bedroom surrounded us. A large bed built of strong oak and covered with purple silks and soft fleeces became the centerpiece of the room and rich carpets from the East protected her tender feet from the cold stone floor. Jewels and stones of brilliant color and excellent craftsmanship glowed on their own account, spreading light throughout the room, and a table laden with meats and breads and wine of all kinds stood before her.
"Dine with me," I beseeched her. "You would disgrace yourself should you rudely reject such hospitality, whether it be from man or god." How I hated the stony sound of my own voice, but force of habit proved too great, and it would not warm!
However, the flowery Persephone realized the truth of my words, and reluctantly she stood and sat upon the lavish cushions. I too seated myself, and with great care I served her the tenderest cuts of lamb, bread baked from freshly cut wheat, the greenest and tastiest young shoots, and sweetly spiced wine.
Opposite her, I began to eat in order to make her feel comfortable, even though the food turned to dust in my mouth. She, however, sat stonily with her hands folded into her lap, her eyes downcast. Every few moments, I caught another pearly tear slipping down her cheek.
Finally, unable to bear to bear the tension any more, I reached for her hand and spoke to her, trying to force my voice to be warm and gentle. "Persephone.I realize that you are afraid.but I swear to you by the River Styx, I do love you, and I shall do everything to make-"
At this, she looked up at me, eyes burning like icy green fire. "You do not love me," spoke she in a voice that sprouted icicles. "I know of you, Hades. You are God of the Dead, cold and aloof, who despises the sun and is too bitter and conceited to join the other gods in their feasting and festivities. My mother, Demeter, told me this. No, Hades, you do not- cannot-love, and though I be your wife, neither can I love one who does not love light and life."
With those words and that look, she rose and resolutely flung herself onto the bed.
She turned away too quickly to see my heart shatter.
Gently I knelt to touch her shoulder (such a perfectly rounded shoulder, as pale and delicate as porcelain). She shuddered away from my touch, and I withdrew my hand quickly, afraid of vexing her further. "Persephone."
I knew I must say something, but the muses of inspiration refused to make my mind fertile. Unbidden words stumbled from my mouth.
"Persephone.I am Hades, Lord of the Underworld. I have long admired you from afar, and I wish to take you as my wife. You shall be Queen of the Underworld."
Finally, her sun-kissed face turned up to mine, but her verdant eyes were filled with horror and revulsion. Her perfect mouth opened, but her throat failed her.
Cursing my clumsiness, I rapidly attempted to rectify my misstep. The throne room vanished, and a beautifully ornate bedroom surrounded us. A large bed built of strong oak and covered with purple silks and soft fleeces became the centerpiece of the room and rich carpets from the East protected her tender feet from the cold stone floor. Jewels and stones of brilliant color and excellent craftsmanship glowed on their own account, spreading light throughout the room, and a table laden with meats and breads and wine of all kinds stood before her.
"Dine with me," I beseeched her. "You would disgrace yourself should you rudely reject such hospitality, whether it be from man or god." How I hated the stony sound of my own voice, but force of habit proved too great, and it would not warm!
However, the flowery Persephone realized the truth of my words, and reluctantly she stood and sat upon the lavish cushions. I too seated myself, and with great care I served her the tenderest cuts of lamb, bread baked from freshly cut wheat, the greenest and tastiest young shoots, and sweetly spiced wine.
Opposite her, I began to eat in order to make her feel comfortable, even though the food turned to dust in my mouth. She, however, sat stonily with her hands folded into her lap, her eyes downcast. Every few moments, I caught another pearly tear slipping down her cheek.
Finally, unable to bear to bear the tension any more, I reached for her hand and spoke to her, trying to force my voice to be warm and gentle. "Persephone.I realize that you are afraid.but I swear to you by the River Styx, I do love you, and I shall do everything to make-"
At this, she looked up at me, eyes burning like icy green fire. "You do not love me," spoke she in a voice that sprouted icicles. "I know of you, Hades. You are God of the Dead, cold and aloof, who despises the sun and is too bitter and conceited to join the other gods in their feasting and festivities. My mother, Demeter, told me this. No, Hades, you do not- cannot-love, and though I be your wife, neither can I love one who does not love light and life."
With those words and that look, she rose and resolutely flung herself onto the bed.
She turned away too quickly to see my heart shatter.