Epitaph Empress
Author's Note: The abduction is here! In this chapter we have an appearance from Hermes (like Kate said in one of her reviews, he's also fast becoming one of my favourite Gods of Greek Mythology), Artemis and Apollo! And later on look to see many of the other deities, if you still haven't seen your favourite yet (feel free to mention who you'd most like to see in your reviews if you like). I don't how I came up with the Eclipse idea (you'll see what I mean. . .) or if it's any good but I had to make an excuse for the abduction to go unseen and this seemed like a reasonable idea. Anyway, happy reading and remember how delighted I am at getting feedback!
Epitaph Empress
Chapter V
Time flew by as it was measured carefully by the Fates as they gave each creature a destiny and watched it play out until they signalled change. Never hearing from Hades again, Demeter blissfully welcomed forgetfulness and his proposal and its significance was forgotten. After all, how could one dwell on dark matters when surrounded by the cheerful spirit of her daughter? The Goddess of the Grain went on as she always had, tending her duties with careful regard that fell short with how she tenderly cared for her daughter.
She lived in the golden warmth of Persephone's soul, basking in its light whilst Hades dwelt in dusk and misery, tormented by an unbearable love for the young maiden. But, though he was never seen by mother or daughter again did not mean that he was not present. Still, garbed in the cold magical shroud of his helm of invisibility he watched the young Goddess through eyes of stone, ice and agony. He was in misery when he was not near her, but to be so close to her and yet so far away, without being seen or spoken to sharply dug its agonising way into his heart with brutal stabbings. It was as if her love was tangible and attainable to all but him. He had seen her laugh merrily with Hermes, run wildly and recklessly through the thick forests with Artemis and prepare a surprise for her mother with Hestia. All others seemed to have a great part of her heart yet he was not allowed a single, minute fragment. Today he had his chariot and mighty horses, knowing that he needed a swift return, as his former zealous regard of tending his duties had severely lessened to make time to gaze adoringly at sweet Persephone. The Goddess who he could never had and indeed, was shamed for even wishing such a thing. To look upon her beauty and gentle, light- hearted manner was to gaze upon perfection itself. It brightened him, though the return was always difficult, the darkness so much more intense. How he began to neglect things to the degree of needing an escorting chariot for the sake of Persephone. How he longed for her light, her love! But it could never be. And how it drove him to despair, to such madness!
However, as she danced through her beloved meadow, singing to the trees, the sunlight and to each flower by name, Persephone, having strayed away from the company of her dear nymphs, was unaware of any of this. As she flitted through thickened forests, over gentle brook and through expansive fields, she felt the joy of freedom, though she also existed as bound to the land as the majestic trees with their roots spreading underground like long fingers, lovingly clutching the earth.
Today it seemed different, as it had been for some considerable time, a heady, misty lull - invisible but tangible - dreamily falling over sleeping Sicily. It seemed to draw the night ever nearer, as though the immortal twins Artemis and Apollo were racing towards one another, day meeting night. It created a detached though comforting sense of serenity and Persephone, one so sensitive to the atmosphere surrounding and becoming her, was vulnerable in great degrees to its effects. And as though she had drunk a charmed elixir with the unquenchable need of one dying of first, was now drugged by nature's soothing and was now submerged beneath the thick layers of feeling and intuitive sensitivity. Something of great awe was approaching; her divine blood sang of it.
She moved gracefully as she danced, flowing in her movements like gentle musical notes sparkling through the air. She seemed in her own world, a word of spark, seeping rivers of petals, melting hearts, chasms of plantlife, clouds of strong and free birds and the shimmer of sunshine. She sung of the dancing flowers, waltzing so freely, reaching out to caress their patron and companion, tangling in her hair and draping her young body. As she lost herself in the surreal imaginative land, she found her home of pearls of petals, spirits of the air and the muses themselves.
"It is difficult to say where the flowers end and the Goddess begins." A light, humorous voice broke her trance. She came to a sudden, stumbling halt though it somehow managed to appear as a carefully planned movement in her dance. She stood, bemused, as the wind playfully poured her thick almond locks across her face, the stray strands playing a wicked game of hide-and-seek with her soft malachite eyes. She recognised the teasing and boyish tone without need of seeing the spindly form, the warm beige, tawny hair, the trademark winged sandals and the laughing metallic-green eyes, light and comically sly. At her recognition, he cocked his head to one side and a thin-lipped friendly grin began to writhe up his face, amused and then gave a theatrical bow.
"I told you I would visit and I never lie!" He cried out joyfully.
"Hermes!" she cried out with a childish overjoyed shriek and bounded towards him, her dance forgotten, and gracefulness forsaken for the delighted thrill of having a friend close by as she raced across her kingdom of petal and pollen. Reaching him, she embraced him tightly, flinging her arms around him as she had done as a child with careless disregard, laughing from her heart.
"Who else would it be, Little Flower?" he said jocularly between laughs, calling her by an old nickname "Unless Eris allowed Ares to 'accidentally' get his warrior's hands on my sandals - I shudder to think what might happen then!"
Persephone laughed and released him from her embrace and began to absently toy with a flower that had become caught in her dark hair "You used to let me play with those when I was a child, you used to let me go flying in them, do you remember? It was wonderful."
"Yes, I remember letting soar five whole feet off the ground and then your mother - as dear and lovely a goddess as she is - becoming frighteningly livid and attempting to screech the immortality out of me. And then I remember returning the next day or so and being faced with you begging me to let me do it again. . .after adorning them with as many flowers as you could find." He said with a smile.
She smiled warmly at the memory "Oh yes, but they seemed so much prettier with them! As for my sweet mother, I couldn't bear keeping secrets from her and told her every time only to ask you to let me have another turn the next time. I don't know why you kept returning to such a troublesome infant! Here, have a flower." She said simply, handing him the stray blossom that had become entwined in her hair, its petals shining a wild blue flecked with tender caresses of shy jade.
"You need not worry dear friend, I will not beg for them today, I promise." She said with a smile.
"That is a pity - I was planning to ask to let to fly swiftly and unabondoned to touch the stars themselves today. But if you do not feel like a flight today. . ."
They both burst into fits of warm laughter at the old joke, carried from her earliest memories, one both stubbornly refused to let go of. Hidden in the arms of trees, seeming to hold him back in a prison of rough bark and cruel leaves, refusing to let him get any closer to the beautiful maiden Goddess, Hades felt a cold stab of envy. Envy of Hermes for having so much of her laughter, for being able to speak so freely with her, to have a place in her heart. To see nymphs, priestesses, Demeter and other Goddesses so easily have what had been denied him was one thing but to see another God able to bask in the light of her smile was another thing altogether. . .
"Tell me dear Hermes," Persephone said settling down on the soft grass to craft a wreath out of the flowers she found there, the small cluster of violet and simplistic yellow, scarlet and deep plum and a misty blue and clouded amber. "Tell me how does my beloved father?"
Hermes chuckled "Your father is well, Little Flower, though in truth I do not know where he would be without my assistance in the Io incident. In a great deal of hilarious and humiliating trouble I suspect!"
"Io incident?" she questioned.
"Yes, your father can be somewhat of a fool at times, as this incident proves. As you have no doubt been told by a laughing Aphrodite or enraged Artemis -"
"And doubtless you also." She added.
"I am defeated. Yes, as you have heard he has a habit of somewhat free in his love. Now, Io came into play a few short weeks ago when. . ."
Guilty laughs arose from the wide meadow of Sicily at the story. Hades watched, enchanted, as her innocent green eyes widened in amused shock and her clear bells of laughter shone like the sun, marred in his eyes only by the sound of Hermes' somewhat nasal laughter. Still, the passing sound of the conversation was enough, though much of the quietly spoken words were lost on him. However, her random shocked comments were as clear as her musical voice.
"Oh dear! How could he be so silly? How did he ever let himself avoid being caught by Hera?"
"Oh poor, dear Hera!"
"What do you mean I should be crying 'poor dear Io'? What happened to her?"
"He did not! He could not!"
"A cow?!"
"Poor Io!"
"But. . .however. . .however did.?"
"No! She did not!"
"Oh how wicked of her!"
"Though it does serve Father right."
"Is this where you enter the tale?"
"What did you do, Hermes?"
"You sang to him?"
"I will tease you if I wish to! You have teased me in the past!"
"And so he slept and you stole away poor Io?"
"She was restored, wasn't she?"
"The poor mortal! I would never wish to speak to speak to a man again after such a terrifying experience! How terrible for the poor girl! What a catastrophe for Father!"
And soon Hermes' recounting of the tale ended in a burst of heartily laughter from the both of them and then more wondrous laughs as the God of Messages regaled more tales of Olympus to Persephone, listening intently, as an enchanted child to an elder sibling weaving a fantastical story. Persephone smiled brightly "That is why are my best friend, dear Hermes. You make me laugh so very much. Anyone else would have crafted it into a moral tale but you have given it humorous life, you should be commended. Though, my gentle mother would not approve at laughing at such an awkward situation for my Father."
"Your mother must admit, Persephone, that he did bring it on himself." He replied. With that, familiar laughter grasped them once more.
"How childish we are!" Persephone exclaimed, through laughs.
"You say it like it is a bad thing, Little Flower." Hermes replied with boyish charm. "Next time, instead of accusing us of being childish - for I think we are by nature - accuse us of having our minds addled by nectar!"
"You are right, for I suppose I am but a child myself, still. And I wish to remain so."
"So you should, it is a great thing to be young - both wild and innocent!" as if to prove his point, he did a sleek cartwheel in the air, quick and agile as lightning.
She smiled, nodding her head in agreement. "Yes. It is wonderful to be free of such. . .adult problems of Father, Hera and Io."
He smiled warmly, a grin of barely suppressed bouts of laughter forming once more. He reminded himself to visit Persephone more often, it seemed to have been a long time since she had laughed so much.
"I better not tell you such stories of the foolishly-dramatic goings-on up on Olympus. If you ever asked your mother if you could leave the meadows I am sure I would have to flee to the most obscure realm to escape her." he joked.
"I am not quite that impressionable, you know I never wish to leave. I could never leave my mother's side - this is my home, my paradise - not for one day, one hour or one minute! It is all that I am. I do not understand what it is about Olympus that is so wonderful next to this wonder and treasure of life and natural beauty."
"It would not remain so pristine and beautiful if it had a group of petty, squabbling immortals live here." He said with a knowing grin.
"I cannot win."
"NOW you are learning."
"Do not say such things unless you wish to have those sandals you favour so much embroidered with wildflowers."
Laughter. And then a comfortable silence, both enjoying the quiet, friendly, familiarity of a moment spent in reflection.
Hermes resigned himself to a sigh of regret "I must leave you know, Little Flower."
Her face fell in a child-like manner "You will return soon? I do love your visits and our talks, perhaps mother will join in next time also."
"Wonderful," he said, beaming "I vow to bring my dearest companion a gift when I return. A surprise."
"Thank you! But. . .you must not, it would be much trouble."
"A gift in return for a gift."
Her brow furrowed, wondering what gift she had given him. Guessing her thoughts, he waved the tender young flower she had given him so freely earlier. She smiled warmly and getting to her feet, fixed the newly- completed wreath upon her brow and gave a light kiss on the cheek of the God she regarded as a brother. In the shadows, Hades' heart pounded with envy. With crooked grin and a wink, Hermes was off in the air, waving heartily towards the young Goddess in the vast tumbling meadow as he swiftly flew to the heavens.
Alone again, Persephone smiled to herself and with a huge feeling of freedom overcoming her, she ran in a bounding manner, simply for the sake of running, across the wide, flowered meadow as though she were chasing the wind. As she reached the centre she gazed up towards the sky, now furrowing in some foreign torment. The goddess gazed quizzically at the strange sight.
Now alone with her, the watchful Hades felt the flames of passion lap his soul once more, soon consuming him. Why did her torment himself in such a manner? To forever torture his eyes with the image he so longed for but could never touch - how he fell prey to the raw need for her embrace, just to hold her in his arms! It was wrong of Demeter to demand he take a more suitable bride, however noble her intentions. How he would despise one whose temperament was too much alike his own; he was now forever repulsed by the darkness that became his very soul, not wanting to take strength from it and use it to freeze any shred of warm humanity and extinguish light. Instead, it was the light he yearned for, the light to bring him hope, a warmth to share with him. He felt too much alone. Also, he instinctively knew that in a more 'suitable' bride's embrace, he would feel as cold and detached as before. And even more lonely. Such icy, numbing, consuming loneliness. Nay, it was not a fine creature of darkness he desired but the angel of light, love and laughter that graced his sight in those meadows of blossoms. Truly, his love for Persephone had spoiled him for all others; all he longed for was one of gentility, sweetness, serenity and passion and with such unconscious power to captivate. Her desired Persephone.
How lovely she seemed, so alone and innocent before him, beautiful of body, heart and manner. It was not beauty that a mortal man could comprehend but something far more enchanting; as though she were a tapestry delicately woven from all things found beautiful - beautiful forms and faces, all the tender, kind qualities of soul that made one inwardly beautiful and the small insignificant beauty like the return home after a frustrating day to find the first entered room bathed in calming sunlight. She was crafted from the beauty of nature; a particularly lovely tree, flower, a landscape that would steal away breath in wonder, the capricious loveliness of the weather and the devoted perfection of the skies in every mood, day and night. Also, she was made of the beauty crafted by the land of man, by the rapture of mortal lovers, by a child's imagination, the layman's dreams or the artist's inspiration and masterpieces. She was crafted from all that was considered beautiful - such was the divinity that made all Goddesses incomparable.
He was similarly built, but of all the cold, dark, horrifying elements of life, death, nature, temperament, craft and eternity that inspired fear. He was the aloof one of ice to strike terror into mortals and drive away all his immortal relatives. Yet, it seemed for the loneliness that consumed him without pity, that his soul was housed within the wrong form. And the love for Persephone had awakened the defect and to be loved by sweet Persephone was all that could transform him into whatever it was he truly was; to gain her love for who he was, though how foolish and desperate a dream it seemed. He contented himself with watching her, pushing away nervously at the increasingly strong desires and needs that wracked his soul. As he watched her, a terrible thought swept through his mind, only to be rejected, but still persisted to hover around him, chastising him in poisonous stings, like a swarm of bees.
Unaware of the terrible battle being fought so near to her, one that would forge her destiny, Persephone gazed on at the skies. Until a shimmering drop of rain fell upon her upward-turned elfin nose. She laughed warmly as more rain began to fall, wildly and full of freedom, beginning to coat her in its cold droplets, drenching the goddess. She laughed, enjoying the refreshing feeling, savouring it. On an impulse, she began to dance; though without the practised grace and fluidic movements as earlier she had, but twirling around in a bounding, gauche manner, laughing, her pretty head turned upwards, welcoming the rain. She twirled around like a child, her golden laughter seeming to make the sun come out, free of self- consciousness, only wanting to feel the moment, savouring the rain and the freedom. The sky was awash with rejuvenating tears and Persephone twirled on, head upwards and arms outspread. There was nothing else apart from her and the rain now, all else dissolved with the weather's wet blessings. Hades' heart leaped when he saw her, so young, so golden. . . All attempts at stilling his insatiable passions melted with the rain and he felt that thought return like an acidic poison, potently corroding his innards.
As though the Fates themselves had decided upon her destiny for belong in his embrace, at that moment, as the stars and course of the flight of the playful sun and hopeful moon predicted, the chariots of Artemis and Apollo met. Artemis; long-legged and free from pretension and shallow longing for beauty, her skin a delicate yet defiant light shade of olive, as pale as the moon she cared for so tenderly, her hawk-gold eyes, glittering with the raw intellect, instinct and passion of a hunter, hidden by curling swathes of rugged tawny hair, as thick and gleaming as a lion's mane about her, streaked here and there with the healthy brown shade of her scared deer's coat. She was the huntress with her untamed wildness but also the gentle moon of solitary wisdom. Above all, she was a virgin goddess, never to be touched as the moon, watching and guiding with understanding vigil and forever living for the chase, never succumbing. Her twin, Apollo, was cut from the same cloth yet an entirely different garment - adorned in a strange hybrid of a prophet's robes and the armour required to drive such a wild chariot; his chariot of burning gold as Artemis drove one of blazing silver, both streaking across the sky in tenderness and fervour. His hair was as curly and unruly as hers and coloured the exact same lion-like shade with the odd few locks and roots of burnished brown. His skin was the pale olive of Atremis', yet it had been long ago deeply bronzed by the glory of the sun he so dutifully tended to. His eyes were of a wise blue, like oceans of knowledge, tinged with a stormy gleam of his twin's golden hawk- eyed gaze, with equal sharp wit and measured material of kindness and wildness subtly lurking beneath the clairvoyant surface. Both their features were angular, their appearance pleasing and beautiful in a manner of both femininity and masculinity, both bearing the brunt of a trace of the opposite sex within their forms and visages. Both their souls were forged of the same unpredictable element that mixed both reserved gentility and knowledge with the chase of passion and the wildness of freedom, both brother and sister so similar yet so different. However, today the sky was lined with wreckage of silver and gold as both divine chariots colliding into one another, the solar eclipse sparking out the sun and moon, shrouding the awed earth in ethereal darkness; an event somewhere between amusing an irritating to the twin deities and also between beautiful and terrifying to those who dwelt on the earth.
Persephone stilled her dance and gazed, as still as a statue, the rain still persisting in its fall, only somewhat more gentle, perhaps as a sign of sympathy from the powers that be or the final bolt in the trap. She clung her hands together above her heart in a fleeting movement as she stared wide-eyed at the chaotic and fascinating sky, her heart ablaze with deep feeling, moved. She lost herself in what she saw, not allowing it to become a moment of childlike idealism or of poignant reflection leading to a strangely sad moment, but simply taking in the glory of the sky, so much like night, an obsidian moon framed by a pure white halo, shining down on the earth, committing it all to memory. Her last memory of the world she so adored.
Hades had been taken aback by the commotion above, and even impressed by the beauty it created out of the discord. Still, it all paled next to Persephone, still glowing with love in a light that was neither sunlight nor moonlight. Her form was trembling and shivering though not troubled by it, the tender rain caressing her body, causing her hair to darken almost to ebony black, clinging to her face, neck, shoulders and strong back in thick, tousled strands. Her pale face, dripping with rain, was illuminated by something and shining with a look or pure peace, her eyes large and loving, reflecting all the greens found inside of nature. Her small hands were clasped in an almost longing manner above her lovely breasts. And her body! Her pristine gown was soaked through by rain, clinging to her petite form, accentuating her lovely, ripe young body, scandalously revealing beautiful flesh through the drenched material, betraying her legs, thighs and breasts. And throughput this seductive vision, she still wore the face and heart of chastity, of childlike innocence. He had never seen her more beautiful, or irresistible.
Those desperate fires within him were now unquenchable as he gazed at the bride he coveted so much, trying to look away, to break the spell of her appearance. He did not wish to harm or frighten her! Yet he it was impossible to deny or overcome this terrible feeling that so seared his heart and loins. Finally, something snapped, as did his control and his selfish desires and needs won. He could bear it no longer.
Tearing out of the thick, protective forests, the sound of his powerful horses haunting and ghastly, the entire earth seemed to rumble, the flowers themselves seemed to cry out in horror to their naïve mistress before becoming crushed cruelly beneath the heavy wheels. The need for the Spring Goddess was too powerful to ignore and that desire raged in the heart of the Lord of the Underworld as his onyx carriage and monstrous horses bore down on Persephone. At the terrible sound to her left, the goddess sharply turned, feeling an alien strike of fear shudder through her. horror and confusion froze her as she took in the sight of Hades, shrouded in furious, frightening darkness in his majestic carriage, drawn by huge raven-black horses with fiery eyes and huge, heavy hoofs, mercilessly stampeding towards her and destroying her flowers.
Her eyes asked all the sudden, worried questions that she lacked the time to voice and the answer she received with a kick from her gut, crying out 'Run!' encouraged her to flee. Bolting away, desperately trying to escape, she bounded over her meadow in the rain, now falling hard and sharply, looking up to the blackened sky for aid from Apollo or Artemis, the ever- watchful guardians of her days and nights but found their concentration drawn elsewhere, not seeing the harm in turning away from viewing the world to resolve the incident with their carriages. In sheer terror, she continued running with all the speed she had within her, with all the energy and wilfulness in her frightened heart and the sprinting agility Artemis had taught her she persevered though her limbs tired her, her eyes searching for an escape as she fled her dread pursuer. But no, she was being chased in the centre of her largest meadow and there was no hope of quickly darting between trees. Her own world that she loved became as much her captor as the dark God bearing her down. Frantically, she screamed out for her mother and then to her beloved nymphs to no avail. She had strayed too far! Again, she called to her mother, begging for help, for rescue, terrified tears burning her eyes, panic drowning her soul, its cold hand strangling her.
As she approached the end of the meadow she bounded for the nearest line of trees, hoping to entangle herself within thick forests and lose her chaser, hope and relief gladly swelling within her scared soul. But as she neared, she felt the cold hands of Hades grasp her, his iron arms encircle her and haul her, kicking, screaming, flailing and crying out, her voice hoarse from screams, to her beloved mother. She felt her feet lift the ground and her fragile body dragged into the chariot, pulling her close to the terrible God, trapping her in his embrace, against his chest, his free arm fastened around her waist, keeping her clung by his side, his muscles beneath those ebony robes and shadows feeling like bars of metal against her tender skin. But still she bravely struggled, unknowing of what joys simply holding her in his arms brought her captor.
However, all the fight was wrung out of her and replaced by raw horror and overwhelming fear as the ground split open with a deafening roar, revealing a gaping dark hollow, spitting out splinters of earth, rough rocks lining the entrance to the Underworld like jagged, sharp teeth, anticipating consuming her. And with one final scream for her mother, Persephone was ripped from her world's embrace, her green eyes wide with fear and wet with tears of defeat, and plunged into darkness, leaving only a wreath and a few dead flowers in their wake when Artemis and Apollo parted and the sun's rays caressed the earth once more. But there would be no more joy for lonely Sicily, for Persephone was gone, stolen away and doomed to be Queen.
To rule over darkness and death alongside Hades.
Author's Note: The abduction is here! In this chapter we have an appearance from Hermes (like Kate said in one of her reviews, he's also fast becoming one of my favourite Gods of Greek Mythology), Artemis and Apollo! And later on look to see many of the other deities, if you still haven't seen your favourite yet (feel free to mention who you'd most like to see in your reviews if you like). I don't how I came up with the Eclipse idea (you'll see what I mean. . .) or if it's any good but I had to make an excuse for the abduction to go unseen and this seemed like a reasonable idea. Anyway, happy reading and remember how delighted I am at getting feedback!
Epitaph Empress
Chapter V
Time flew by as it was measured carefully by the Fates as they gave each creature a destiny and watched it play out until they signalled change. Never hearing from Hades again, Demeter blissfully welcomed forgetfulness and his proposal and its significance was forgotten. After all, how could one dwell on dark matters when surrounded by the cheerful spirit of her daughter? The Goddess of the Grain went on as she always had, tending her duties with careful regard that fell short with how she tenderly cared for her daughter.
She lived in the golden warmth of Persephone's soul, basking in its light whilst Hades dwelt in dusk and misery, tormented by an unbearable love for the young maiden. But, though he was never seen by mother or daughter again did not mean that he was not present. Still, garbed in the cold magical shroud of his helm of invisibility he watched the young Goddess through eyes of stone, ice and agony. He was in misery when he was not near her, but to be so close to her and yet so far away, without being seen or spoken to sharply dug its agonising way into his heart with brutal stabbings. It was as if her love was tangible and attainable to all but him. He had seen her laugh merrily with Hermes, run wildly and recklessly through the thick forests with Artemis and prepare a surprise for her mother with Hestia. All others seemed to have a great part of her heart yet he was not allowed a single, minute fragment. Today he had his chariot and mighty horses, knowing that he needed a swift return, as his former zealous regard of tending his duties had severely lessened to make time to gaze adoringly at sweet Persephone. The Goddess who he could never had and indeed, was shamed for even wishing such a thing. To look upon her beauty and gentle, light- hearted manner was to gaze upon perfection itself. It brightened him, though the return was always difficult, the darkness so much more intense. How he began to neglect things to the degree of needing an escorting chariot for the sake of Persephone. How he longed for her light, her love! But it could never be. And how it drove him to despair, to such madness!
However, as she danced through her beloved meadow, singing to the trees, the sunlight and to each flower by name, Persephone, having strayed away from the company of her dear nymphs, was unaware of any of this. As she flitted through thickened forests, over gentle brook and through expansive fields, she felt the joy of freedom, though she also existed as bound to the land as the majestic trees with their roots spreading underground like long fingers, lovingly clutching the earth.
Today it seemed different, as it had been for some considerable time, a heady, misty lull - invisible but tangible - dreamily falling over sleeping Sicily. It seemed to draw the night ever nearer, as though the immortal twins Artemis and Apollo were racing towards one another, day meeting night. It created a detached though comforting sense of serenity and Persephone, one so sensitive to the atmosphere surrounding and becoming her, was vulnerable in great degrees to its effects. And as though she had drunk a charmed elixir with the unquenchable need of one dying of first, was now drugged by nature's soothing and was now submerged beneath the thick layers of feeling and intuitive sensitivity. Something of great awe was approaching; her divine blood sang of it.
She moved gracefully as she danced, flowing in her movements like gentle musical notes sparkling through the air. She seemed in her own world, a word of spark, seeping rivers of petals, melting hearts, chasms of plantlife, clouds of strong and free birds and the shimmer of sunshine. She sung of the dancing flowers, waltzing so freely, reaching out to caress their patron and companion, tangling in her hair and draping her young body. As she lost herself in the surreal imaginative land, she found her home of pearls of petals, spirits of the air and the muses themselves.
"It is difficult to say where the flowers end and the Goddess begins." A light, humorous voice broke her trance. She came to a sudden, stumbling halt though it somehow managed to appear as a carefully planned movement in her dance. She stood, bemused, as the wind playfully poured her thick almond locks across her face, the stray strands playing a wicked game of hide-and-seek with her soft malachite eyes. She recognised the teasing and boyish tone without need of seeing the spindly form, the warm beige, tawny hair, the trademark winged sandals and the laughing metallic-green eyes, light and comically sly. At her recognition, he cocked his head to one side and a thin-lipped friendly grin began to writhe up his face, amused and then gave a theatrical bow.
"I told you I would visit and I never lie!" He cried out joyfully.
"Hermes!" she cried out with a childish overjoyed shriek and bounded towards him, her dance forgotten, and gracefulness forsaken for the delighted thrill of having a friend close by as she raced across her kingdom of petal and pollen. Reaching him, she embraced him tightly, flinging her arms around him as she had done as a child with careless disregard, laughing from her heart.
"Who else would it be, Little Flower?" he said jocularly between laughs, calling her by an old nickname "Unless Eris allowed Ares to 'accidentally' get his warrior's hands on my sandals - I shudder to think what might happen then!"
Persephone laughed and released him from her embrace and began to absently toy with a flower that had become caught in her dark hair "You used to let me play with those when I was a child, you used to let me go flying in them, do you remember? It was wonderful."
"Yes, I remember letting soar five whole feet off the ground and then your mother - as dear and lovely a goddess as she is - becoming frighteningly livid and attempting to screech the immortality out of me. And then I remember returning the next day or so and being faced with you begging me to let me do it again. . .after adorning them with as many flowers as you could find." He said with a smile.
She smiled warmly at the memory "Oh yes, but they seemed so much prettier with them! As for my sweet mother, I couldn't bear keeping secrets from her and told her every time only to ask you to let me have another turn the next time. I don't know why you kept returning to such a troublesome infant! Here, have a flower." She said simply, handing him the stray blossom that had become entwined in her hair, its petals shining a wild blue flecked with tender caresses of shy jade.
"You need not worry dear friend, I will not beg for them today, I promise." She said with a smile.
"That is a pity - I was planning to ask to let to fly swiftly and unabondoned to touch the stars themselves today. But if you do not feel like a flight today. . ."
They both burst into fits of warm laughter at the old joke, carried from her earliest memories, one both stubbornly refused to let go of. Hidden in the arms of trees, seeming to hold him back in a prison of rough bark and cruel leaves, refusing to let him get any closer to the beautiful maiden Goddess, Hades felt a cold stab of envy. Envy of Hermes for having so much of her laughter, for being able to speak so freely with her, to have a place in her heart. To see nymphs, priestesses, Demeter and other Goddesses so easily have what had been denied him was one thing but to see another God able to bask in the light of her smile was another thing altogether. . .
"Tell me dear Hermes," Persephone said settling down on the soft grass to craft a wreath out of the flowers she found there, the small cluster of violet and simplistic yellow, scarlet and deep plum and a misty blue and clouded amber. "Tell me how does my beloved father?"
Hermes chuckled "Your father is well, Little Flower, though in truth I do not know where he would be without my assistance in the Io incident. In a great deal of hilarious and humiliating trouble I suspect!"
"Io incident?" she questioned.
"Yes, your father can be somewhat of a fool at times, as this incident proves. As you have no doubt been told by a laughing Aphrodite or enraged Artemis -"
"And doubtless you also." She added.
"I am defeated. Yes, as you have heard he has a habit of somewhat free in his love. Now, Io came into play a few short weeks ago when. . ."
Guilty laughs arose from the wide meadow of Sicily at the story. Hades watched, enchanted, as her innocent green eyes widened in amused shock and her clear bells of laughter shone like the sun, marred in his eyes only by the sound of Hermes' somewhat nasal laughter. Still, the passing sound of the conversation was enough, though much of the quietly spoken words were lost on him. However, her random shocked comments were as clear as her musical voice.
"Oh dear! How could he be so silly? How did he ever let himself avoid being caught by Hera?"
"Oh poor, dear Hera!"
"What do you mean I should be crying 'poor dear Io'? What happened to her?"
"He did not! He could not!"
"A cow?!"
"Poor Io!"
"But. . .however. . .however did.?"
"No! She did not!"
"Oh how wicked of her!"
"Though it does serve Father right."
"Is this where you enter the tale?"
"What did you do, Hermes?"
"You sang to him?"
"I will tease you if I wish to! You have teased me in the past!"
"And so he slept and you stole away poor Io?"
"She was restored, wasn't she?"
"The poor mortal! I would never wish to speak to speak to a man again after such a terrifying experience! How terrible for the poor girl! What a catastrophe for Father!"
And soon Hermes' recounting of the tale ended in a burst of heartily laughter from the both of them and then more wondrous laughs as the God of Messages regaled more tales of Olympus to Persephone, listening intently, as an enchanted child to an elder sibling weaving a fantastical story. Persephone smiled brightly "That is why are my best friend, dear Hermes. You make me laugh so very much. Anyone else would have crafted it into a moral tale but you have given it humorous life, you should be commended. Though, my gentle mother would not approve at laughing at such an awkward situation for my Father."
"Your mother must admit, Persephone, that he did bring it on himself." He replied. With that, familiar laughter grasped them once more.
"How childish we are!" Persephone exclaimed, through laughs.
"You say it like it is a bad thing, Little Flower." Hermes replied with boyish charm. "Next time, instead of accusing us of being childish - for I think we are by nature - accuse us of having our minds addled by nectar!"
"You are right, for I suppose I am but a child myself, still. And I wish to remain so."
"So you should, it is a great thing to be young - both wild and innocent!" as if to prove his point, he did a sleek cartwheel in the air, quick and agile as lightning.
She smiled, nodding her head in agreement. "Yes. It is wonderful to be free of such. . .adult problems of Father, Hera and Io."
He smiled warmly, a grin of barely suppressed bouts of laughter forming once more. He reminded himself to visit Persephone more often, it seemed to have been a long time since she had laughed so much.
"I better not tell you such stories of the foolishly-dramatic goings-on up on Olympus. If you ever asked your mother if you could leave the meadows I am sure I would have to flee to the most obscure realm to escape her." he joked.
"I am not quite that impressionable, you know I never wish to leave. I could never leave my mother's side - this is my home, my paradise - not for one day, one hour or one minute! It is all that I am. I do not understand what it is about Olympus that is so wonderful next to this wonder and treasure of life and natural beauty."
"It would not remain so pristine and beautiful if it had a group of petty, squabbling immortals live here." He said with a knowing grin.
"I cannot win."
"NOW you are learning."
"Do not say such things unless you wish to have those sandals you favour so much embroidered with wildflowers."
Laughter. And then a comfortable silence, both enjoying the quiet, friendly, familiarity of a moment spent in reflection.
Hermes resigned himself to a sigh of regret "I must leave you know, Little Flower."
Her face fell in a child-like manner "You will return soon? I do love your visits and our talks, perhaps mother will join in next time also."
"Wonderful," he said, beaming "I vow to bring my dearest companion a gift when I return. A surprise."
"Thank you! But. . .you must not, it would be much trouble."
"A gift in return for a gift."
Her brow furrowed, wondering what gift she had given him. Guessing her thoughts, he waved the tender young flower she had given him so freely earlier. She smiled warmly and getting to her feet, fixed the newly- completed wreath upon her brow and gave a light kiss on the cheek of the God she regarded as a brother. In the shadows, Hades' heart pounded with envy. With crooked grin and a wink, Hermes was off in the air, waving heartily towards the young Goddess in the vast tumbling meadow as he swiftly flew to the heavens.
Alone again, Persephone smiled to herself and with a huge feeling of freedom overcoming her, she ran in a bounding manner, simply for the sake of running, across the wide, flowered meadow as though she were chasing the wind. As she reached the centre she gazed up towards the sky, now furrowing in some foreign torment. The goddess gazed quizzically at the strange sight.
Now alone with her, the watchful Hades felt the flames of passion lap his soul once more, soon consuming him. Why did her torment himself in such a manner? To forever torture his eyes with the image he so longed for but could never touch - how he fell prey to the raw need for her embrace, just to hold her in his arms! It was wrong of Demeter to demand he take a more suitable bride, however noble her intentions. How he would despise one whose temperament was too much alike his own; he was now forever repulsed by the darkness that became his very soul, not wanting to take strength from it and use it to freeze any shred of warm humanity and extinguish light. Instead, it was the light he yearned for, the light to bring him hope, a warmth to share with him. He felt too much alone. Also, he instinctively knew that in a more 'suitable' bride's embrace, he would feel as cold and detached as before. And even more lonely. Such icy, numbing, consuming loneliness. Nay, it was not a fine creature of darkness he desired but the angel of light, love and laughter that graced his sight in those meadows of blossoms. Truly, his love for Persephone had spoiled him for all others; all he longed for was one of gentility, sweetness, serenity and passion and with such unconscious power to captivate. Her desired Persephone.
How lovely she seemed, so alone and innocent before him, beautiful of body, heart and manner. It was not beauty that a mortal man could comprehend but something far more enchanting; as though she were a tapestry delicately woven from all things found beautiful - beautiful forms and faces, all the tender, kind qualities of soul that made one inwardly beautiful and the small insignificant beauty like the return home after a frustrating day to find the first entered room bathed in calming sunlight. She was crafted from the beauty of nature; a particularly lovely tree, flower, a landscape that would steal away breath in wonder, the capricious loveliness of the weather and the devoted perfection of the skies in every mood, day and night. Also, she was made of the beauty crafted by the land of man, by the rapture of mortal lovers, by a child's imagination, the layman's dreams or the artist's inspiration and masterpieces. She was crafted from all that was considered beautiful - such was the divinity that made all Goddesses incomparable.
He was similarly built, but of all the cold, dark, horrifying elements of life, death, nature, temperament, craft and eternity that inspired fear. He was the aloof one of ice to strike terror into mortals and drive away all his immortal relatives. Yet, it seemed for the loneliness that consumed him without pity, that his soul was housed within the wrong form. And the love for Persephone had awakened the defect and to be loved by sweet Persephone was all that could transform him into whatever it was he truly was; to gain her love for who he was, though how foolish and desperate a dream it seemed. He contented himself with watching her, pushing away nervously at the increasingly strong desires and needs that wracked his soul. As he watched her, a terrible thought swept through his mind, only to be rejected, but still persisted to hover around him, chastising him in poisonous stings, like a swarm of bees.
Unaware of the terrible battle being fought so near to her, one that would forge her destiny, Persephone gazed on at the skies. Until a shimmering drop of rain fell upon her upward-turned elfin nose. She laughed warmly as more rain began to fall, wildly and full of freedom, beginning to coat her in its cold droplets, drenching the goddess. She laughed, enjoying the refreshing feeling, savouring it. On an impulse, she began to dance; though without the practised grace and fluidic movements as earlier she had, but twirling around in a bounding, gauche manner, laughing, her pretty head turned upwards, welcoming the rain. She twirled around like a child, her golden laughter seeming to make the sun come out, free of self- consciousness, only wanting to feel the moment, savouring the rain and the freedom. The sky was awash with rejuvenating tears and Persephone twirled on, head upwards and arms outspread. There was nothing else apart from her and the rain now, all else dissolved with the weather's wet blessings. Hades' heart leaped when he saw her, so young, so golden. . . All attempts at stilling his insatiable passions melted with the rain and he felt that thought return like an acidic poison, potently corroding his innards.
As though the Fates themselves had decided upon her destiny for belong in his embrace, at that moment, as the stars and course of the flight of the playful sun and hopeful moon predicted, the chariots of Artemis and Apollo met. Artemis; long-legged and free from pretension and shallow longing for beauty, her skin a delicate yet defiant light shade of olive, as pale as the moon she cared for so tenderly, her hawk-gold eyes, glittering with the raw intellect, instinct and passion of a hunter, hidden by curling swathes of rugged tawny hair, as thick and gleaming as a lion's mane about her, streaked here and there with the healthy brown shade of her scared deer's coat. She was the huntress with her untamed wildness but also the gentle moon of solitary wisdom. Above all, she was a virgin goddess, never to be touched as the moon, watching and guiding with understanding vigil and forever living for the chase, never succumbing. Her twin, Apollo, was cut from the same cloth yet an entirely different garment - adorned in a strange hybrid of a prophet's robes and the armour required to drive such a wild chariot; his chariot of burning gold as Artemis drove one of blazing silver, both streaking across the sky in tenderness and fervour. His hair was as curly and unruly as hers and coloured the exact same lion-like shade with the odd few locks and roots of burnished brown. His skin was the pale olive of Atremis', yet it had been long ago deeply bronzed by the glory of the sun he so dutifully tended to. His eyes were of a wise blue, like oceans of knowledge, tinged with a stormy gleam of his twin's golden hawk- eyed gaze, with equal sharp wit and measured material of kindness and wildness subtly lurking beneath the clairvoyant surface. Both their features were angular, their appearance pleasing and beautiful in a manner of both femininity and masculinity, both bearing the brunt of a trace of the opposite sex within their forms and visages. Both their souls were forged of the same unpredictable element that mixed both reserved gentility and knowledge with the chase of passion and the wildness of freedom, both brother and sister so similar yet so different. However, today the sky was lined with wreckage of silver and gold as both divine chariots colliding into one another, the solar eclipse sparking out the sun and moon, shrouding the awed earth in ethereal darkness; an event somewhere between amusing an irritating to the twin deities and also between beautiful and terrifying to those who dwelt on the earth.
Persephone stilled her dance and gazed, as still as a statue, the rain still persisting in its fall, only somewhat more gentle, perhaps as a sign of sympathy from the powers that be or the final bolt in the trap. She clung her hands together above her heart in a fleeting movement as she stared wide-eyed at the chaotic and fascinating sky, her heart ablaze with deep feeling, moved. She lost herself in what she saw, not allowing it to become a moment of childlike idealism or of poignant reflection leading to a strangely sad moment, but simply taking in the glory of the sky, so much like night, an obsidian moon framed by a pure white halo, shining down on the earth, committing it all to memory. Her last memory of the world she so adored.
Hades had been taken aback by the commotion above, and even impressed by the beauty it created out of the discord. Still, it all paled next to Persephone, still glowing with love in a light that was neither sunlight nor moonlight. Her form was trembling and shivering though not troubled by it, the tender rain caressing her body, causing her hair to darken almost to ebony black, clinging to her face, neck, shoulders and strong back in thick, tousled strands. Her pale face, dripping with rain, was illuminated by something and shining with a look or pure peace, her eyes large and loving, reflecting all the greens found inside of nature. Her small hands were clasped in an almost longing manner above her lovely breasts. And her body! Her pristine gown was soaked through by rain, clinging to her petite form, accentuating her lovely, ripe young body, scandalously revealing beautiful flesh through the drenched material, betraying her legs, thighs and breasts. And throughput this seductive vision, she still wore the face and heart of chastity, of childlike innocence. He had never seen her more beautiful, or irresistible.
Those desperate fires within him were now unquenchable as he gazed at the bride he coveted so much, trying to look away, to break the spell of her appearance. He did not wish to harm or frighten her! Yet he it was impossible to deny or overcome this terrible feeling that so seared his heart and loins. Finally, something snapped, as did his control and his selfish desires and needs won. He could bear it no longer.
Tearing out of the thick, protective forests, the sound of his powerful horses haunting and ghastly, the entire earth seemed to rumble, the flowers themselves seemed to cry out in horror to their naïve mistress before becoming crushed cruelly beneath the heavy wheels. The need for the Spring Goddess was too powerful to ignore and that desire raged in the heart of the Lord of the Underworld as his onyx carriage and monstrous horses bore down on Persephone. At the terrible sound to her left, the goddess sharply turned, feeling an alien strike of fear shudder through her. horror and confusion froze her as she took in the sight of Hades, shrouded in furious, frightening darkness in his majestic carriage, drawn by huge raven-black horses with fiery eyes and huge, heavy hoofs, mercilessly stampeding towards her and destroying her flowers.
Her eyes asked all the sudden, worried questions that she lacked the time to voice and the answer she received with a kick from her gut, crying out 'Run!' encouraged her to flee. Bolting away, desperately trying to escape, she bounded over her meadow in the rain, now falling hard and sharply, looking up to the blackened sky for aid from Apollo or Artemis, the ever- watchful guardians of her days and nights but found their concentration drawn elsewhere, not seeing the harm in turning away from viewing the world to resolve the incident with their carriages. In sheer terror, she continued running with all the speed she had within her, with all the energy and wilfulness in her frightened heart and the sprinting agility Artemis had taught her she persevered though her limbs tired her, her eyes searching for an escape as she fled her dread pursuer. But no, she was being chased in the centre of her largest meadow and there was no hope of quickly darting between trees. Her own world that she loved became as much her captor as the dark God bearing her down. Frantically, she screamed out for her mother and then to her beloved nymphs to no avail. She had strayed too far! Again, she called to her mother, begging for help, for rescue, terrified tears burning her eyes, panic drowning her soul, its cold hand strangling her.
As she approached the end of the meadow she bounded for the nearest line of trees, hoping to entangle herself within thick forests and lose her chaser, hope and relief gladly swelling within her scared soul. But as she neared, she felt the cold hands of Hades grasp her, his iron arms encircle her and haul her, kicking, screaming, flailing and crying out, her voice hoarse from screams, to her beloved mother. She felt her feet lift the ground and her fragile body dragged into the chariot, pulling her close to the terrible God, trapping her in his embrace, against his chest, his free arm fastened around her waist, keeping her clung by his side, his muscles beneath those ebony robes and shadows feeling like bars of metal against her tender skin. But still she bravely struggled, unknowing of what joys simply holding her in his arms brought her captor.
However, all the fight was wrung out of her and replaced by raw horror and overwhelming fear as the ground split open with a deafening roar, revealing a gaping dark hollow, spitting out splinters of earth, rough rocks lining the entrance to the Underworld like jagged, sharp teeth, anticipating consuming her. And with one final scream for her mother, Persephone was ripped from her world's embrace, her green eyes wide with fear and wet with tears of defeat, and plunged into darkness, leaving only a wreath and a few dead flowers in their wake when Artemis and Apollo parted and the sun's rays caressed the earth once more. But there would be no more joy for lonely Sicily, for Persephone was gone, stolen away and doomed to be Queen.
To rule over darkness and death alongside Hades.