Epitaph Empress
Author's Note: Sorry that the last chapter was so short compared with the rest ::blushes:: but I guess it was more of a 'linking' chapter than anything else. Anyway, back to Hades and Persephone now! Enjoy!
Epitaph Empress
Chapter VII
Persephone's sharp cry shattered the silence of the lonely, dull realms between the Upper World and the Underworld, echoing down. Torn away from her mother, from the sunlight; the stark blackness surrounding her hurting her tender eyes. She trembled in fear, wanting her mother.
Words faltered and sentences broke as Hades' dark chariot and brutal horses tore through the bowels of the earth, thundering downward, the ghostly wails of the monstrous beasts silencing all as blackened, their Lord and Master travelled downwards to his solitary kingdom, his arms thickly about his soon-to-be bride, the one who would give it such joy and life. Ignorant of the terrible state the frightened child was in, ripped from golden threads of warmth into a void of sorrow, where she could feel nothing but alone. She trembled, her lower lip thrusting forward, eyes of deep green waves filling with crystalline loss.
Cold. It was so very cold. And dark. The darkness seemed to swipe at her, leering and intimidating, diminishing her own brightness completely, crushing out the dying flame of a single, solitary candle. The sunlight had long been shut out behind them and Persephone, daughter of Demeter, was plunged into darkness, but a darkness unlike that found in nature. There was no night sky, no pure harvest moon, no dancing starlight, no comforting sounds nor musky smell of dusk. All that surrounded her was dark, dull rough rocks and pungent earth, rotting, the stench of decay growing filling her nostrils, so used to the sweet scents of flowers, healthy fruits or the warm natural smell that surrounded her mother in a warm golden cloud of homely spices. Gone were the nurturing terracotta shades, replaced by dank, sodden earth. Everything was dead. And still they travelled downwards, down, down the void of corpse-like earth and rotten soils - so fast! - towards the Underworld. Her heart pounded violently and she felt a faint press at the very thought; the thought of such a cold world, without light or life. . .
The chariot sped so swiftly that any flowers holding her hair in place had long since forsaken her, bursting free of her wet, tangled locks, still soaked by rainwater, once so warm and gentle, now cold and harsh. Her long, thick hair now fanned out behind her, the drenched strands now cruelly snipping at her shoulders, their slaps stinging her prone, shivering body, quivering. Her captor did not escape her tousled locks' spite and also occasionally felt her long, beautiful hair snake around his back wildly, armed with venom. He welcomed it, savouring the exquisite feeling of her dark hair once more, his mind running back to that day he dared touch those thick burgundy depths. And now she was in his arms, the one she so longed for. The feeling of her quivering form pressed against his was almost euphoric, hindered only by the gnawing feeling that the feeling was not mutual, the lingering guilt.
Naturally, she had fought back. With all the crazed energy of children she had screamed, flailed her small, thin arms, kicking and lurching her petite form, trying to squirm and scratch her way free with total disregard and desperate abandon. However, Hades' grip upon her was total and despite her sprightly struggles, laced with a terrified need to flee home, a need for her mother to embrace her, to tell her it would be well. All she could do was reach out behind them, back to any rescuers, swiftly pursuing her abductor, born of her imagination. Reaching out to the sunlight.
Realising she could not fight or struggle her way free was like the sight of her nymph friend's weary eyes closing one last time, taking away all that she was. It was total and the world crashed, burnt and dissolved into bitter nothingness around her. Tears claimed her as she began to squall like a child, weeping and begging to be returned, fear; a terrible, dark, ominous fear, behind every word, every sufferable sob.
"Please, send me home. I want to go home. I want my mother." She repeated the words, begging him, a goddess begging. She was so afraid, afraid of her captor, afraid of what awaited her, afraid of the terrible realm of the thing she feared most - death. To her, Hades was death, death embodied, now that he had ripped her from all she knew and though she was almost paralysed with that gaping hollow of terror, still she begged.
"What have I done?" she sobbed, tears coming in a wild storm "Please, please don't do this. I wish to return - please escort me back to my dear mother and nothing will come of this, I swear! Please! I want my mother. Please. . ." her tone rose, her voice almost piercingly high and raw, her throat choked with thick, heavy sobs. She begged loudly, pleasingly, then quietly, whisperingly meek, still weeping. She cried like a child, loud sobs still coming thick and fast, though her body could not handle more teas, her rosy face coloured a savage red, streaked with tears, her green eyes rimmed red. Her body gave slight jerks as though in physical pain as she silently wept, robbed of the energy to wail as she had, but unable to stop, a low moaning from the throat, her body racked with silent sorrows.
Hades did not respond, though each plead cut him a little deeper, the sabre of her sorrow slicing into his heart. At one point, he faltered. She was crying so much, so much like a lost, frightened child. He frightened her! When he had previously forged an odd friendship with the maiden goddess, now he above all things, horrified her as he stole her away to his sombre land. Guilt stabbed him with sharp, cold brutality, the blade sliding within him with slick ease, all the way to the gilded hilt, wounding him. He almost considered returning her, begging for her forgiveness. Yet he would not, he resolved. He could not undo what he had done - had he the power to do such a thing he would have returned her, but it was beyond his own abilities, however great. If he returned her, she would be no better off and he would suffer, though he had done the right thing. And so, the icy nonchalant walls he had built around his heart protected him from his love for sweet Persephone.
His mind argued in his defence - perhaps he was doing the right thing! Surely, it was not right for him to be forever alone? Any scars that had swept across her soul could not be erased, therefore why return her? She was young and afraid, though she lacked true reason for those slick salt tears, he never intended to harm her. Nay, he intended to honour her as no other goddess had ever been honoured! He desired to make her his Queen, his love, partner in ruling over a vast, wealthy land - all that was his would be hers. This was his one dream, to see her seated gracefully in the throne next to his - so long empty it made him ache! - a beautiful, masterfully crafted crown resting upon her gentle brow, her eyes looking upon him with love. . .was it wrong to dream of such things? Was it a crime to love? Could it surely be deemed immoral to pursue her in the fashion he did, only out of love? Yes, she was afraid and confused, but it would pass, he reassured himself. She may be sullen at first but once she saw all he had to offer, such misery would swiftly vanish! How could she refuse him? He pulled her tighter to him, not out of a sordid wish to have her within his embrace but simply to hold her; the fine gentle innocent that she was, afraid that if he was not careful she might break or vanish. She was his dream.
Soon, they reached the very pits, the core of the earth and all was consumed in a wave of thick, inky black shrouding shadow, leading onwards, no light to guide the way. The shadows seemed to jump forward, seeming to lunge at Persephone's aura of light, wanting to tear it away and ravenously consume it. To her shame, she gave out a distressed sound and pulled herself tightly into her captor's embrace, wanting to escape from the howling darkness. However, realising what she had done, she felt only anger at herself and her instincts, pulling sharply away, willing to take her chances with the destructive shadows than find Hades' arms protective. He was death, it seemed, snatching her away without word, warning or sympathy.
Now as they left purest onyx black, devoid of warmth of feeling and entered the detailed torments of the Underworld, Persephone lost all tears, the urge to cry escaping her. She was frozen still as she gazed around her, fear stiffening her naturally joyous, alive, dancing form. No tears fell. Horror stripped her of movement, tears and words as she gazed in fearful awe at all she was not.
A feeling of nausea overcame her as she gazed of the land of the dead. Death. It was repellent to her, the opposite of all she loved, of all that made her who she was. She had been raised knowing laughter and love, thick forests of deepest tangles of green and rich browns, wide blue skies the colour of cornflowers, the sun golden and pure shimmering white. She had lived in a world of comfort, joy, friends and the warm love of her mother, ever protecting her. But here there was no warmth, only a phantom of what had been, grieving and alone, and only its misery tangible. All around her was death and horror - the river Styx, huge Cerberus - each terrible head giving a guttural growl, the lost souls, pale and dead, without colour or life wandering as hideous parodies of living beings, now only examples of fear and suffering, Charon, the ferryman of shadow and dusty bone, the cold stone walls and columns, rising further than her gaze could follow, the piercing icy temperature howling through her senses, the stench of a tomb filling her.
That feeling of loss and fear she had felt at the death of Rhoda, seeming to sweep her away into the nearby river of sorrow overcame her. And there was no light! Not a single shaft of light to dash against the leering darkness! Nothing grew, no trees, no flowers and no random fresh blades of grass. It was without warmth, without a cloud-filled sky, without life, only a terrible dark loneliness. It chilled her bones and made her sick to the stomach, her entire being rebelling against a land that opposed all she could ever love, all that had made her who she was. It was akin to stepping into the land of one's nightmares. Death was everywhere - she sensed it creep up her skin, pour through her, into her very core, polluting and poisoning it, tearing her apart. It made her flesh crawl. More than that, it drove her into a state of terror and panic. She hated this, she could not exist in such a place, it frightened her, and she wanted her mother. . .
All her noble courage that had reigned within her gentle heart quailed in the face of this terrible realm, so cold and cruel, darkness striking at her; her fiery passions dimmed down to a trembling ember, her heart itself crushed by the sight of this place. She began to breathe too hard and too fast, drawing in sharp, shallow breaths, as if breathing was suddenly a terrible, agonising labour, panic flooding her entire being. The air became stifling and pitiless and she seemed to wither now in the land of the Dead, where all was alien to her. More than alien - it diminished what she was, a creature of light and happiness. Where she not so choked by fear, she would have felt silent tears pressing once more, desperate to escape the prison of her eyes. she recalled her grief at Rhoda's death; her soul being corroded and hollowed by the bleeding, mourning wound of the bitter, cold emptiness that filled her. . .now she was in that wound, living in the lair of that feeling. The pit of all negative feeling. Her breath was ragged and quick, as she tried to calm herself.
But she would not be calmed, she felt she could scarcely move, everything frightening her with numbing precision, twisting her world upside down. She felt as though she had died and was now a lost soul, flung mercilessly into eternal torment. All around her, replacing the neutral, caring shades she loved was empty black, staring through her and dull grey, like the skin of a drowned corpse, scraping forward in a raw lull of mournful misery. The only flowers and fruits of this domain where the cold spirits, hovering and travelling in their own private world of charred grief. There was no life, only a solitary cold creeping through her skin, the stark outside worming into her. she wanted to cry again - it was so horrible! - but could not, held back, bound and enchained by fear.
At that moment she reached mentally for her mother, having been too shocked to do so before. Nothing. Distress crept inside her, hollowing her out brutally. She reached out again, hoping to feel the comfort of her mother's presence and spirit, though she could make no contact. Again, nothing - she felt their bond of iron and gold severed and frayed. It could not be. If the fear was overwhelming for Demeter then it was a thousand times worse for Persephone, now lost and stolen in the Underworld. She felt as a lost little girl reaching out to where her mother should be, but only chilling darkness meeting her. she felt her entire being cry out and howl, weeping for her without openly making a sound but still nothing. She wanted her mother. She reached out again and again, unable to comprehend that by being shrouded in so much darkness, her contacting bond with her mother had been destroyed. Still she attempted, needing her mother and the world shattered upon realising for the first time in her life that her mother was not with her; the knowledge breaking her spirit and never wholly freeing it of its corrosive stain.
She was now alone. For the first time in her life, she was completely alone.
Hades sensed her disturbance as he directed the chariot over the River Styx towards his grand castle. He vowed to be patient with her, sympathising with the despair that consumed her kind heart. Again, he felt shame at causing it within such a perfect creature. Still, soon she would recover and all would be well - she would be happy, he reasoned, unaware of how he was leading himself down the gold-paved path of self-delusion. Her anger had left him unaffected, her crying had hurt him and filled him with doubts, her silent sobs more than her outright weeping and wailing and now her fear and despair at his kingdom he understood. He understood how alone and afraid she must now feel. It disturbed him, again that sharp pang of remorse and regret taunting him! Why should he be so tormented? Why should he know only anguish - longing anguish without her and guilty anguish now that he had her? No, he could make her happy, for he would give her everything. He could offer vast wealth and riches in place of pitiful flowers, they would have no need for light for her smile and laughter could bring sunshine enough to the lonely chambers. And she would be wanting for nothing when it came to love, he would devote himself completely to her!
He felt her go limp in his arms and wondered if she had fainted. No, she was aware of herself but her appearance shocked him. She seemed so pale, so fragile, as if something vital to her had been stolen and now misery leaked into her through the gashing wound. It must be the shock of the stark contrast to her own familiar land, he mused, it must be because she has never before aquatinted her gentle gaze with such terrible sights.
He hoped she would be impressed at the sight of his home, knowing her previous disgust at death he reasoned she would not initially admire her kingdom, still hoping at least his castle could awe her. The darkness hit their eyes before the bright bombast of the huge rocks of gold surrounding the fortress-like castle, the building itself seeming more like an illusion of shadow than made of actual raven-black rock, surrounded by murky, wailing waters of the Styx and the mountainous gold, gleaming. He hoped if not the magnificence and scale of her home would impress her then perhaps she would take comfort from the brightness of the gold.
However, it only served as a poignant reminder of the world she had been stolen from, the shining gold seeming pitiful next to the laughing light of the glorious sun. The castle itself horrified her, so tall and filled with towers and turrets, going on and on like a black labyrinth. It seemed like shadow given form, built from a thousand ebony ghosts than of stone. It reminded her only of what she had been snatched away from, and her heart ached for all she had lost. Her mother. . . She felt tears form once more, but attempted to fill herself with bitter, hollow courage - the only courage she now knew - and not letting all that he had done steal her dignity and reduce her to tears once more. She felt so alone. She wanted to die.
Outside the grand imperious castle of darkness and shrouds of death the chariot halted and Persephone took swift advantage of Hades' momentary distraction to leap out of his cold arms, out of that terrifying chariot and run away, unknowing of where to, though willing to wade through all the rivers of the Underworld if it meant she could escape. She ran, determination coursing through her fiercely, drowning all else, even her fear. She wanted to go home. However, she did not get far before she felt sinews of shadow embrace her, grief's grip tighten around her and pull her back towards the Lord of the Underworld. She did not cry out in rage or defeat, nor in fear.
Hades stiffened in worry as he saw the look in her blazing green eyes; it was a bizarre hybrid of hate, fear, revulsion, pain, betrayal and sorrow. And he was the cause of it. Again, the blade of guilt claimed him as a victim once more. He pushed it down, feeling as though he could walk upon it, reprimanding himself and reminding himself of how wonderful it would eventually.
Persephone wanted to glare at him with a furious flare of anger, ignorant as an innocent is to how darkly and devastatingly handsome he was in his own element. She did not notice such things. She wanted to hate him and let him know how hated he was. She wanted to spit in his face and demand to know why he had stolen her away and betrayed their so-called friendship. She wanted to scream at him and tell him she detested him no, in a childish temper tantrum. But she could not. It drove her to despair; she could not hate him. It was not within her nature to hate. She intended to question him still, keeping her voice aloof and level, to be as cold of the dark domain he had hurled her so mercilessly into, though she could not succeed in that task either. She could not suppress her emotions.
"Am I to be your prisoner? Why have you stolen me from my loving home and gentle mother? What have I done? Why am I here? Will you not return me? Of why - what have I done? I believed us to be friends!" The questions flowed forth in a flourish of feeling, rendering the Goddess of Spring unable to stop herself. She now wept again. Though another may have attempted to hold back tears in the face of one whom had wronged and hurt them, she could not; it was one of the flaws of her sensitive nature.
"It is no fault of yours, fair Persephone." Hades replied quietly, something deep within him trying to hide itself.
"Then why have I been abducted so cruelly? I thought us to be friends!"
"And I hope we shall be once more, I hope you can forgive me for such conduct, for my world would end if I were forever to lose your companionship."
"I was afraid. . ." was all she could reply, sobs suddenly choking her. She felt a flush of shame at appearing so helpless, but with her bond to her mother - her lifeline - broken, it felt as if all her strength had evaporated.
Hades abruptly commanded that the shadows that imprisoned her to release her from their dark bonds and at his wish, they fled away, though Persephone had felt their whispered phantom forms drink deeply of her light aura, now so lost, confused, afraid and alone. As he was usually within her glowing presence - and despite her recent shock she still glowed and spilled forth gentle rays of light from her spirit - his pragmatic, cold, if somewhat sardonic wall collapsed and he was bound by spontaneity. When he was with her, it truly felt as though he pursuing something real, something alive and it had a profound effect on his senses, normally so finely set in stone. He reached out and wiped away the hot tears from her burning cheeks, drinking in the feel of her soft skin, how it was to touch another creature.
She did not know whether the emotion that flared through her was comfort or fear at his icy touch, remembering how violently those hands had held her to him, how those fine hands like that of a musician's, could have been so rough and claw-like. She shivered. But the tears stopped, though, unable to this time give the Lord of the Underworld the benefit of the doubt, she was not at ease and suspicion lingered.
She gathered her courage "Why did you steal me from the world I love?" There it was - the question she feared, dared not ask. Yet still she had asked. Of course, she could hardly go on without pressing the question; it needed to be voiced. She did not care for ignorance and going on as though nought had happened whilst she dwelt in such a horrifying kingdom.
He had also feared the question, feared answering her, seeing as she looked at him with those hopeful emerald eyes, so sweet, gentle and innocent, regarding him without judgement. He felt his age, her youth. Perhaps it was not too late to pretend and create some other reason? Yet his passions won once more, he could deny them no more and they devoured him in that moment.
"I love you, gentle Persephone."
Broken shock from the Goddess of Spring.
"I have long loved you since the moment I first laid eyes upon you that first day, in the thick green of the forests where your nymph entered my dark land. I have brought you here for you are my beloved and. . .I wish to make you my Queen; to rule by my side for all eternity."
Harsh silence.
"I. . .regret so. . .abruptly escorting you to my solemn domain, but I wish you to rule as my Bride and Queen. You will be happy and want for nothing; I will see to that. With every moment I endeavour to deserve you ."
His answer seemed surreal as it crashed upon her ears, so used to words of love only from her worshippers, companions and her dearest mother. Her purity wanted to understand, to be kind but her childish simplicity, her humanity wanted the opposite. She was unsure how she should react. One surety was that she did not return the feeling. Terror gripped her once more. This was an adult feeling, not for her! How could he love her? She was her mother's daughter! Suddenly, all became clear to her, why she had been so fiercely kidnapped. Something within her green gaze snapped and was left incredulous, a solitary tear slipping down her cheek, pearl-like, the last breath of her childhood. In pouring out his heart to her, he had broken hers and she grew more in that moment than she had in all the years of her life.
Her voice again fled to that child-like high pitch "And if I refuse?"
"You would not refuse, for there could be great happiness to be found. You will have a vast kingdom and will be greatly loved -"
She could not hold back her vast spill of feeling and let it run loose "I was loved! My mother loved me! And I loved her and her world; this world is vast, yes, but I fear it! It is everything I am not, it diminishes my light, and it diminishes me! It. . .sickens me and terrifies me! I cannot stand; a world without flowers or life or not even a single stray shaft of sunlight - it is not a realm, it is a tomb!"
Her flush of childlike temper raged then clamed in a burst of sobs "Forgive me, I did not intend to be so crass."
His heart leapt and pounded with the passions of dementia, first from her rejection, then from her sweet-natured apology. To apologise to him after such. . .! it spoke in volumes of her and he felt her hold on his heart tighten into even more solid a permanence. He could not let her go, could not have her leave him, could not be without her.
Persephone struggled on "I detest for my words to sound cruel to your ears, but what you have done is wrong, it is a crime against me, you know not how your dark realm distresses me. I am sorry to say this, but I do not love you. And I do not believe I ever could love you. I am my mother's daughter - it is my destiny to remain hers, by her side as her most loving and devoted maiden lady and child, for I am a maid in body, heart and spirit. That is my destiny. Not to be anyone's beloved."
"But you are MY beloved! And for that you must be my bride!" he was desperate now.
"Please, I beg you to return me, I miss my mother - I want my mother and I want to go home, please!" desperation gripping her, also.
"You know I cannot." He said gravely.
"You intend to keep me here? As your prisoner?"
"As my Queen."
"No!" her clear voice and singular word cut through the shadowy domain, echoing throughout.
"You will be happy in time. You will learn to love me."
"I do not wish to learn! And I will not!" she cried "Please, I plead to you, return my to my dear mother, I cannot be without her! Please! I will not become your Queen for it is not my wish, please understand. How can you love me if you would do such a thing?"
"It is because I love you I do this. But I know I could bring you happiness. . ."
"This is wrong!"
". . .and because of this I will keep you by my side as my Queen and only love. You have captured my heart. . ."
"But you have not captured mine! Though you would imprison the rest of me!"
". . .and do not think I do not understand or feel sympathy for your grief at the loss of the Upper World's brightness. I know it was your all, but if only you would for a moment consider the great light you would bring this dreary realm! You are all I long for."
"You feel no sympathy for me, or if you do it pales next to the sympathy you have for yourself. Please - let me go. I want to go home. I want my mother. I am afraid here, please show mercy and allow me to return. I do not wish to be your bride. I do not love you. Please!" she tried to hold back distressed tears, but they flowed freely, the frightened child once more claiming her.
"I want to go home," she wept pitifully "I want my mother. . .please, do not keep me here. . .please. . ."
He approached her, but she would not allow him near her. she wept silently, thinking of means of escape, the fear taking control, the loss haunting her still. She had no will to move, no will to live. She wanted her mother. She longed for sunlight! She did not wish to be Queen of such a repellent world, so dead and dark. Unable to escape, she cried like a child once more, wishing for her mother to hold her and calm her.
Taking advantage of her distress, ignoring the conflict within him, he carried the struggling girl. With ease, he took the weight of her shoulders and thighs and lifted her off her feet, carrying her into the black mouth of his obsidian castle and home as one would a prize. He was weighed down with the pressure of her sorrow but still persisted, determined to go ahead with the ceremony, as was their destiny.
Author's Note: Sorry that the last chapter was so short compared with the rest ::blushes:: but I guess it was more of a 'linking' chapter than anything else. Anyway, back to Hades and Persephone now! Enjoy!
Epitaph Empress
Chapter VII
Persephone's sharp cry shattered the silence of the lonely, dull realms between the Upper World and the Underworld, echoing down. Torn away from her mother, from the sunlight; the stark blackness surrounding her hurting her tender eyes. She trembled in fear, wanting her mother.
Words faltered and sentences broke as Hades' dark chariot and brutal horses tore through the bowels of the earth, thundering downward, the ghostly wails of the monstrous beasts silencing all as blackened, their Lord and Master travelled downwards to his solitary kingdom, his arms thickly about his soon-to-be bride, the one who would give it such joy and life. Ignorant of the terrible state the frightened child was in, ripped from golden threads of warmth into a void of sorrow, where she could feel nothing but alone. She trembled, her lower lip thrusting forward, eyes of deep green waves filling with crystalline loss.
Cold. It was so very cold. And dark. The darkness seemed to swipe at her, leering and intimidating, diminishing her own brightness completely, crushing out the dying flame of a single, solitary candle. The sunlight had long been shut out behind them and Persephone, daughter of Demeter, was plunged into darkness, but a darkness unlike that found in nature. There was no night sky, no pure harvest moon, no dancing starlight, no comforting sounds nor musky smell of dusk. All that surrounded her was dark, dull rough rocks and pungent earth, rotting, the stench of decay growing filling her nostrils, so used to the sweet scents of flowers, healthy fruits or the warm natural smell that surrounded her mother in a warm golden cloud of homely spices. Gone were the nurturing terracotta shades, replaced by dank, sodden earth. Everything was dead. And still they travelled downwards, down, down the void of corpse-like earth and rotten soils - so fast! - towards the Underworld. Her heart pounded violently and she felt a faint press at the very thought; the thought of such a cold world, without light or life. . .
The chariot sped so swiftly that any flowers holding her hair in place had long since forsaken her, bursting free of her wet, tangled locks, still soaked by rainwater, once so warm and gentle, now cold and harsh. Her long, thick hair now fanned out behind her, the drenched strands now cruelly snipping at her shoulders, their slaps stinging her prone, shivering body, quivering. Her captor did not escape her tousled locks' spite and also occasionally felt her long, beautiful hair snake around his back wildly, armed with venom. He welcomed it, savouring the exquisite feeling of her dark hair once more, his mind running back to that day he dared touch those thick burgundy depths. And now she was in his arms, the one she so longed for. The feeling of her quivering form pressed against his was almost euphoric, hindered only by the gnawing feeling that the feeling was not mutual, the lingering guilt.
Naturally, she had fought back. With all the crazed energy of children she had screamed, flailed her small, thin arms, kicking and lurching her petite form, trying to squirm and scratch her way free with total disregard and desperate abandon. However, Hades' grip upon her was total and despite her sprightly struggles, laced with a terrified need to flee home, a need for her mother to embrace her, to tell her it would be well. All she could do was reach out behind them, back to any rescuers, swiftly pursuing her abductor, born of her imagination. Reaching out to the sunlight.
Realising she could not fight or struggle her way free was like the sight of her nymph friend's weary eyes closing one last time, taking away all that she was. It was total and the world crashed, burnt and dissolved into bitter nothingness around her. Tears claimed her as she began to squall like a child, weeping and begging to be returned, fear; a terrible, dark, ominous fear, behind every word, every sufferable sob.
"Please, send me home. I want to go home. I want my mother." She repeated the words, begging him, a goddess begging. She was so afraid, afraid of her captor, afraid of what awaited her, afraid of the terrible realm of the thing she feared most - death. To her, Hades was death, death embodied, now that he had ripped her from all she knew and though she was almost paralysed with that gaping hollow of terror, still she begged.
"What have I done?" she sobbed, tears coming in a wild storm "Please, please don't do this. I wish to return - please escort me back to my dear mother and nothing will come of this, I swear! Please! I want my mother. Please. . ." her tone rose, her voice almost piercingly high and raw, her throat choked with thick, heavy sobs. She begged loudly, pleasingly, then quietly, whisperingly meek, still weeping. She cried like a child, loud sobs still coming thick and fast, though her body could not handle more teas, her rosy face coloured a savage red, streaked with tears, her green eyes rimmed red. Her body gave slight jerks as though in physical pain as she silently wept, robbed of the energy to wail as she had, but unable to stop, a low moaning from the throat, her body racked with silent sorrows.
Hades did not respond, though each plead cut him a little deeper, the sabre of her sorrow slicing into his heart. At one point, he faltered. She was crying so much, so much like a lost, frightened child. He frightened her! When he had previously forged an odd friendship with the maiden goddess, now he above all things, horrified her as he stole her away to his sombre land. Guilt stabbed him with sharp, cold brutality, the blade sliding within him with slick ease, all the way to the gilded hilt, wounding him. He almost considered returning her, begging for her forgiveness. Yet he would not, he resolved. He could not undo what he had done - had he the power to do such a thing he would have returned her, but it was beyond his own abilities, however great. If he returned her, she would be no better off and he would suffer, though he had done the right thing. And so, the icy nonchalant walls he had built around his heart protected him from his love for sweet Persephone.
His mind argued in his defence - perhaps he was doing the right thing! Surely, it was not right for him to be forever alone? Any scars that had swept across her soul could not be erased, therefore why return her? She was young and afraid, though she lacked true reason for those slick salt tears, he never intended to harm her. Nay, he intended to honour her as no other goddess had ever been honoured! He desired to make her his Queen, his love, partner in ruling over a vast, wealthy land - all that was his would be hers. This was his one dream, to see her seated gracefully in the throne next to his - so long empty it made him ache! - a beautiful, masterfully crafted crown resting upon her gentle brow, her eyes looking upon him with love. . .was it wrong to dream of such things? Was it a crime to love? Could it surely be deemed immoral to pursue her in the fashion he did, only out of love? Yes, she was afraid and confused, but it would pass, he reassured himself. She may be sullen at first but once she saw all he had to offer, such misery would swiftly vanish! How could she refuse him? He pulled her tighter to him, not out of a sordid wish to have her within his embrace but simply to hold her; the fine gentle innocent that she was, afraid that if he was not careful she might break or vanish. She was his dream.
Soon, they reached the very pits, the core of the earth and all was consumed in a wave of thick, inky black shrouding shadow, leading onwards, no light to guide the way. The shadows seemed to jump forward, seeming to lunge at Persephone's aura of light, wanting to tear it away and ravenously consume it. To her shame, she gave out a distressed sound and pulled herself tightly into her captor's embrace, wanting to escape from the howling darkness. However, realising what she had done, she felt only anger at herself and her instincts, pulling sharply away, willing to take her chances with the destructive shadows than find Hades' arms protective. He was death, it seemed, snatching her away without word, warning or sympathy.
Now as they left purest onyx black, devoid of warmth of feeling and entered the detailed torments of the Underworld, Persephone lost all tears, the urge to cry escaping her. She was frozen still as she gazed around her, fear stiffening her naturally joyous, alive, dancing form. No tears fell. Horror stripped her of movement, tears and words as she gazed in fearful awe at all she was not.
A feeling of nausea overcame her as she gazed of the land of the dead. Death. It was repellent to her, the opposite of all she loved, of all that made her who she was. She had been raised knowing laughter and love, thick forests of deepest tangles of green and rich browns, wide blue skies the colour of cornflowers, the sun golden and pure shimmering white. She had lived in a world of comfort, joy, friends and the warm love of her mother, ever protecting her. But here there was no warmth, only a phantom of what had been, grieving and alone, and only its misery tangible. All around her was death and horror - the river Styx, huge Cerberus - each terrible head giving a guttural growl, the lost souls, pale and dead, without colour or life wandering as hideous parodies of living beings, now only examples of fear and suffering, Charon, the ferryman of shadow and dusty bone, the cold stone walls and columns, rising further than her gaze could follow, the piercing icy temperature howling through her senses, the stench of a tomb filling her.
That feeling of loss and fear she had felt at the death of Rhoda, seeming to sweep her away into the nearby river of sorrow overcame her. And there was no light! Not a single shaft of light to dash against the leering darkness! Nothing grew, no trees, no flowers and no random fresh blades of grass. It was without warmth, without a cloud-filled sky, without life, only a terrible dark loneliness. It chilled her bones and made her sick to the stomach, her entire being rebelling against a land that opposed all she could ever love, all that had made her who she was. It was akin to stepping into the land of one's nightmares. Death was everywhere - she sensed it creep up her skin, pour through her, into her very core, polluting and poisoning it, tearing her apart. It made her flesh crawl. More than that, it drove her into a state of terror and panic. She hated this, she could not exist in such a place, it frightened her, and she wanted her mother. . .
All her noble courage that had reigned within her gentle heart quailed in the face of this terrible realm, so cold and cruel, darkness striking at her; her fiery passions dimmed down to a trembling ember, her heart itself crushed by the sight of this place. She began to breathe too hard and too fast, drawing in sharp, shallow breaths, as if breathing was suddenly a terrible, agonising labour, panic flooding her entire being. The air became stifling and pitiless and she seemed to wither now in the land of the Dead, where all was alien to her. More than alien - it diminished what she was, a creature of light and happiness. Where she not so choked by fear, she would have felt silent tears pressing once more, desperate to escape the prison of her eyes. she recalled her grief at Rhoda's death; her soul being corroded and hollowed by the bleeding, mourning wound of the bitter, cold emptiness that filled her. . .now she was in that wound, living in the lair of that feeling. The pit of all negative feeling. Her breath was ragged and quick, as she tried to calm herself.
But she would not be calmed, she felt she could scarcely move, everything frightening her with numbing precision, twisting her world upside down. She felt as though she had died and was now a lost soul, flung mercilessly into eternal torment. All around her, replacing the neutral, caring shades she loved was empty black, staring through her and dull grey, like the skin of a drowned corpse, scraping forward in a raw lull of mournful misery. The only flowers and fruits of this domain where the cold spirits, hovering and travelling in their own private world of charred grief. There was no life, only a solitary cold creeping through her skin, the stark outside worming into her. she wanted to cry again - it was so horrible! - but could not, held back, bound and enchained by fear.
At that moment she reached mentally for her mother, having been too shocked to do so before. Nothing. Distress crept inside her, hollowing her out brutally. She reached out again, hoping to feel the comfort of her mother's presence and spirit, though she could make no contact. Again, nothing - she felt their bond of iron and gold severed and frayed. It could not be. If the fear was overwhelming for Demeter then it was a thousand times worse for Persephone, now lost and stolen in the Underworld. She felt as a lost little girl reaching out to where her mother should be, but only chilling darkness meeting her. she felt her entire being cry out and howl, weeping for her without openly making a sound but still nothing. She wanted her mother. She reached out again and again, unable to comprehend that by being shrouded in so much darkness, her contacting bond with her mother had been destroyed. Still she attempted, needing her mother and the world shattered upon realising for the first time in her life that her mother was not with her; the knowledge breaking her spirit and never wholly freeing it of its corrosive stain.
She was now alone. For the first time in her life, she was completely alone.
Hades sensed her disturbance as he directed the chariot over the River Styx towards his grand castle. He vowed to be patient with her, sympathising with the despair that consumed her kind heart. Again, he felt shame at causing it within such a perfect creature. Still, soon she would recover and all would be well - she would be happy, he reasoned, unaware of how he was leading himself down the gold-paved path of self-delusion. Her anger had left him unaffected, her crying had hurt him and filled him with doubts, her silent sobs more than her outright weeping and wailing and now her fear and despair at his kingdom he understood. He understood how alone and afraid she must now feel. It disturbed him, again that sharp pang of remorse and regret taunting him! Why should he be so tormented? Why should he know only anguish - longing anguish without her and guilty anguish now that he had her? No, he could make her happy, for he would give her everything. He could offer vast wealth and riches in place of pitiful flowers, they would have no need for light for her smile and laughter could bring sunshine enough to the lonely chambers. And she would be wanting for nothing when it came to love, he would devote himself completely to her!
He felt her go limp in his arms and wondered if she had fainted. No, she was aware of herself but her appearance shocked him. She seemed so pale, so fragile, as if something vital to her had been stolen and now misery leaked into her through the gashing wound. It must be the shock of the stark contrast to her own familiar land, he mused, it must be because she has never before aquatinted her gentle gaze with such terrible sights.
He hoped she would be impressed at the sight of his home, knowing her previous disgust at death he reasoned she would not initially admire her kingdom, still hoping at least his castle could awe her. The darkness hit their eyes before the bright bombast of the huge rocks of gold surrounding the fortress-like castle, the building itself seeming more like an illusion of shadow than made of actual raven-black rock, surrounded by murky, wailing waters of the Styx and the mountainous gold, gleaming. He hoped if not the magnificence and scale of her home would impress her then perhaps she would take comfort from the brightness of the gold.
However, it only served as a poignant reminder of the world she had been stolen from, the shining gold seeming pitiful next to the laughing light of the glorious sun. The castle itself horrified her, so tall and filled with towers and turrets, going on and on like a black labyrinth. It seemed like shadow given form, built from a thousand ebony ghosts than of stone. It reminded her only of what she had been snatched away from, and her heart ached for all she had lost. Her mother. . . She felt tears form once more, but attempted to fill herself with bitter, hollow courage - the only courage she now knew - and not letting all that he had done steal her dignity and reduce her to tears once more. She felt so alone. She wanted to die.
Outside the grand imperious castle of darkness and shrouds of death the chariot halted and Persephone took swift advantage of Hades' momentary distraction to leap out of his cold arms, out of that terrifying chariot and run away, unknowing of where to, though willing to wade through all the rivers of the Underworld if it meant she could escape. She ran, determination coursing through her fiercely, drowning all else, even her fear. She wanted to go home. However, she did not get far before she felt sinews of shadow embrace her, grief's grip tighten around her and pull her back towards the Lord of the Underworld. She did not cry out in rage or defeat, nor in fear.
Hades stiffened in worry as he saw the look in her blazing green eyes; it was a bizarre hybrid of hate, fear, revulsion, pain, betrayal and sorrow. And he was the cause of it. Again, the blade of guilt claimed him as a victim once more. He pushed it down, feeling as though he could walk upon it, reprimanding himself and reminding himself of how wonderful it would eventually.
Persephone wanted to glare at him with a furious flare of anger, ignorant as an innocent is to how darkly and devastatingly handsome he was in his own element. She did not notice such things. She wanted to hate him and let him know how hated he was. She wanted to spit in his face and demand to know why he had stolen her away and betrayed their so-called friendship. She wanted to scream at him and tell him she detested him no, in a childish temper tantrum. But she could not. It drove her to despair; she could not hate him. It was not within her nature to hate. She intended to question him still, keeping her voice aloof and level, to be as cold of the dark domain he had hurled her so mercilessly into, though she could not succeed in that task either. She could not suppress her emotions.
"Am I to be your prisoner? Why have you stolen me from my loving home and gentle mother? What have I done? Why am I here? Will you not return me? Of why - what have I done? I believed us to be friends!" The questions flowed forth in a flourish of feeling, rendering the Goddess of Spring unable to stop herself. She now wept again. Though another may have attempted to hold back tears in the face of one whom had wronged and hurt them, she could not; it was one of the flaws of her sensitive nature.
"It is no fault of yours, fair Persephone." Hades replied quietly, something deep within him trying to hide itself.
"Then why have I been abducted so cruelly? I thought us to be friends!"
"And I hope we shall be once more, I hope you can forgive me for such conduct, for my world would end if I were forever to lose your companionship."
"I was afraid. . ." was all she could reply, sobs suddenly choking her. She felt a flush of shame at appearing so helpless, but with her bond to her mother - her lifeline - broken, it felt as if all her strength had evaporated.
Hades abruptly commanded that the shadows that imprisoned her to release her from their dark bonds and at his wish, they fled away, though Persephone had felt their whispered phantom forms drink deeply of her light aura, now so lost, confused, afraid and alone. As he was usually within her glowing presence - and despite her recent shock she still glowed and spilled forth gentle rays of light from her spirit - his pragmatic, cold, if somewhat sardonic wall collapsed and he was bound by spontaneity. When he was with her, it truly felt as though he pursuing something real, something alive and it had a profound effect on his senses, normally so finely set in stone. He reached out and wiped away the hot tears from her burning cheeks, drinking in the feel of her soft skin, how it was to touch another creature.
She did not know whether the emotion that flared through her was comfort or fear at his icy touch, remembering how violently those hands had held her to him, how those fine hands like that of a musician's, could have been so rough and claw-like. She shivered. But the tears stopped, though, unable to this time give the Lord of the Underworld the benefit of the doubt, she was not at ease and suspicion lingered.
She gathered her courage "Why did you steal me from the world I love?" There it was - the question she feared, dared not ask. Yet still she had asked. Of course, she could hardly go on without pressing the question; it needed to be voiced. She did not care for ignorance and going on as though nought had happened whilst she dwelt in such a horrifying kingdom.
He had also feared the question, feared answering her, seeing as she looked at him with those hopeful emerald eyes, so sweet, gentle and innocent, regarding him without judgement. He felt his age, her youth. Perhaps it was not too late to pretend and create some other reason? Yet his passions won once more, he could deny them no more and they devoured him in that moment.
"I love you, gentle Persephone."
Broken shock from the Goddess of Spring.
"I have long loved you since the moment I first laid eyes upon you that first day, in the thick green of the forests where your nymph entered my dark land. I have brought you here for you are my beloved and. . .I wish to make you my Queen; to rule by my side for all eternity."
Harsh silence.
"I. . .regret so. . .abruptly escorting you to my solemn domain, but I wish you to rule as my Bride and Queen. You will be happy and want for nothing; I will see to that. With every moment I endeavour to deserve you ."
His answer seemed surreal as it crashed upon her ears, so used to words of love only from her worshippers, companions and her dearest mother. Her purity wanted to understand, to be kind but her childish simplicity, her humanity wanted the opposite. She was unsure how she should react. One surety was that she did not return the feeling. Terror gripped her once more. This was an adult feeling, not for her! How could he love her? She was her mother's daughter! Suddenly, all became clear to her, why she had been so fiercely kidnapped. Something within her green gaze snapped and was left incredulous, a solitary tear slipping down her cheek, pearl-like, the last breath of her childhood. In pouring out his heart to her, he had broken hers and she grew more in that moment than she had in all the years of her life.
Her voice again fled to that child-like high pitch "And if I refuse?"
"You would not refuse, for there could be great happiness to be found. You will have a vast kingdom and will be greatly loved -"
She could not hold back her vast spill of feeling and let it run loose "I was loved! My mother loved me! And I loved her and her world; this world is vast, yes, but I fear it! It is everything I am not, it diminishes my light, and it diminishes me! It. . .sickens me and terrifies me! I cannot stand; a world without flowers or life or not even a single stray shaft of sunlight - it is not a realm, it is a tomb!"
Her flush of childlike temper raged then clamed in a burst of sobs "Forgive me, I did not intend to be so crass."
His heart leapt and pounded with the passions of dementia, first from her rejection, then from her sweet-natured apology. To apologise to him after such. . .! it spoke in volumes of her and he felt her hold on his heart tighten into even more solid a permanence. He could not let her go, could not have her leave him, could not be without her.
Persephone struggled on "I detest for my words to sound cruel to your ears, but what you have done is wrong, it is a crime against me, you know not how your dark realm distresses me. I am sorry to say this, but I do not love you. And I do not believe I ever could love you. I am my mother's daughter - it is my destiny to remain hers, by her side as her most loving and devoted maiden lady and child, for I am a maid in body, heart and spirit. That is my destiny. Not to be anyone's beloved."
"But you are MY beloved! And for that you must be my bride!" he was desperate now.
"Please, I beg you to return me, I miss my mother - I want my mother and I want to go home, please!" desperation gripping her, also.
"You know I cannot." He said gravely.
"You intend to keep me here? As your prisoner?"
"As my Queen."
"No!" her clear voice and singular word cut through the shadowy domain, echoing throughout.
"You will be happy in time. You will learn to love me."
"I do not wish to learn! And I will not!" she cried "Please, I plead to you, return my to my dear mother, I cannot be without her! Please! I will not become your Queen for it is not my wish, please understand. How can you love me if you would do such a thing?"
"It is because I love you I do this. But I know I could bring you happiness. . ."
"This is wrong!"
". . .and because of this I will keep you by my side as my Queen and only love. You have captured my heart. . ."
"But you have not captured mine! Though you would imprison the rest of me!"
". . .and do not think I do not understand or feel sympathy for your grief at the loss of the Upper World's brightness. I know it was your all, but if only you would for a moment consider the great light you would bring this dreary realm! You are all I long for."
"You feel no sympathy for me, or if you do it pales next to the sympathy you have for yourself. Please - let me go. I want to go home. I want my mother. I am afraid here, please show mercy and allow me to return. I do not wish to be your bride. I do not love you. Please!" she tried to hold back distressed tears, but they flowed freely, the frightened child once more claiming her.
"I want to go home," she wept pitifully "I want my mother. . .please, do not keep me here. . .please. . ."
He approached her, but she would not allow him near her. she wept silently, thinking of means of escape, the fear taking control, the loss haunting her still. She had no will to move, no will to live. She wanted her mother. She longed for sunlight! She did not wish to be Queen of such a repellent world, so dead and dark. Unable to escape, she cried like a child once more, wishing for her mother to hold her and calm her.
Taking advantage of her distress, ignoring the conflict within him, he carried the struggling girl. With ease, he took the weight of her shoulders and thighs and lifted her off her feet, carrying her into the black mouth of his obsidian castle and home as one would a prize. He was weighed down with the pressure of her sorrow but still persisted, determined to go ahead with the ceremony, as was their destiny.