Epitaph Empress
Author's Note: Again, I'm very apologetic about the huge spaces of time between my updates, but my exams are closing in and most of my free time I have to use to study so that I don't fail miserably. I'm sorry to keep you guys hanging on like this, I know it isn't fair to everyone out there that looks forward to new chapters. I'd like to apologise to everyone I haven't been e-mailing as dutifully as I should, too - especially Kate. But I just don't have as much time as I used to. On the happier side, as soon as my exams end, things should pick up!
Epitaph Empress
Chapter XII
The hinge creaked and let out a low chilling groan, as Persephone opened the large ebony door of her chamber. She felt her small body press against its dead wooden weight and begin to push the door open, surprised at its heaviness. It felt like the ancient, smothering weight of the darkness itself. Yet, for unknown reasons, she was forsaking her solitude and wrestling with this heavy door, pushing against it - and why? To reach Hades.
The child in her was responding to his presence, the child that always had the time to lavish her affection and care on simple flowers and small animals. She knew it was wrong to deny him, especially if he wanted her company. Ever since she had arrived, she had felt a cold bitterness bite at her soul through the icy seas of her loneliness and sorrow but she refused to let it conquer her. No matter how sad she was, no matter how afraid, no matter how angry, she would not become cold and dead, she reasoned. She would not let this terrible world freeze her spirit and kill her, piece by piece. She would always be doomed to cry and beg to be returned if she kept hoping, she knew, but better to cry and always cling to the springtime she lost than to sit in the dusty gloom of her chamber and become one with its haunted chill. She would bring a little of the brightness into this world, not let the black misery of this world taint her. Besides, her mother would surely rescue her soon.
She promised herself to be as she always was, not to let the despair of the Underworld infect her. She knew she could not reach her mother, so she would have to pretend her mother was there, watching her. She would have to behave in a way that would make her far-away mother proud. She could succeed in that, she supposed, by being as kind as she could to Hades, even though he had not been kind to her by taking her down to the lowest layers of death and darkness. Opening the door to him would be enough for now, she thought, feeling very brave.
She opened it only a little, just enough so he could see her little, childlike face, awash with a sorrowful pallor through the black piercing darkness of her chamber. Timidly, she peeked out, inquisitive and pensive. Darkness greeted her. She shivered in revulsion and sudden fear of all that was not natural to her as the chill of the dead met with her. Were there no candles to light the cold stone halls, not even a glimmer of light?
The darkness sent a bolt of fear through her, as if with a single look, it could shatter her completely. For a brief moment, she wished that the nauseous horror that had been twisting and growing in her lost spirit would take hold of her and sweep her under its icy waves, if only to find oblivion and peace. She was suddenly so full of fear of the silent darkness that she wanted to faint. But she could not. She was suddenly angry at herself - it seemed she had too much of a spine to faint from fear, but she was still far too sensitive to the gripping power the darkness had over that to faint would be no humiliation, but a mercy. Everything was so dark! The darkness seemed to be stretching out to her, threatening to consume her. It was smothering her. Despite this, she held on to her determination and did not run back into her room but still timidly peered out into the shadows. She wanted desperately to scream or faint but could not. She was so afraid of it!
Suddenly, she felt herself in the grip of a new feeling, a feeling that gave her a sudden burst of courage that for one brief moment dashed against the darkness. She clutched her small hands desperately over her heart in a fleeting movement. She felt, beyond her fear, a great pity. Not for herself, but for others. She was a goddess, who knew not of the terrors of mortality whilst mortals were cursed to wander through this shrouded realm of dank secrets and forbidden darkness as cold, lonely spirits, as torn from their natural world as she was. And they were humans, who had not her supposed strength of spirit. She was queen of this world, given an expansive chamber, surrounded by shaded servants, attended constantly by the dark Lord Hades, always given company and - had she desire for such things as jewels and gowns - would be given all she desired. And still, she felt like a prisoner, thrown into the deepest, darkest dungeon. Her heart bled for those countless others beneath her who wandered into the lower regions of this pit of a domain. How terrible they must feel! How alone, how afraid! Surely a thousand times worse than she did!
It did not belittle the terror she felt, as she knew she was right to feel so alone and afraid. However, it hugely magnified the suffering of others. She, who had known nothing of suffering and pain in the lands of the sunshine could scarcely comprehend how awful a thought it was. It filled her with courage and resolve but also made her want to collapse on the pitiless cold slate of the floor from the agony of her sympathy. It was the most overwhelming grief she had ever known.
And yet she was Queen. Perhaps she should act the part, she thought, as long as stayed there, which - she hoped against hope - would not be long. She must not feel sorry or sad for those lost souls, but do something to help, as she had helped limp and weary flowers deprived of the joy of sunlight or the relief of rain. It gave her a stronger determination to survive the darkness.
After so many hours, she had hoped to become used to its drowning reaches, its festering stranglehold. But no, it still sent a terrible chill down her spine, still repulsed her, still made her want to call out to her beloved mother. It made her feel like a lost little girl, scared and cowering in the dark, crying out for her mother to save her. Each time she was faced with another disgusting facet of this unnatural darkness, so different to the gentle, natural dark of the night, she felt herself call out to her mother, in a plead to be rescued from all that was horrible and frightening. Always, she received no reply other than the hush of the depths of the darkness.
Staring into the dead air of the bleak halls, she felt a terrible dread fill her, a dread she had been unable to escape since arriving such a grey wasteland of a kingdom. She felt so small and vulnerable in its twisted grasp. It frightened her. It betrayed a thousand twisted nightmares and secret terrors and horrors she had never before imagined, and now those fears of the chill blackness haunted her. It was a fear that lived on the inside of her, clinging to her terrified soul with the cold grip of a drowned corpse, dampening her brightness with the murky iciness of fear. As she looked into the languishing shadows, her fear grew and grew as she felt the darkness become more and more powerful, dimming her light to a distant ember.
She felt every fibre within her scream in alertness, aware of a terrible danger but all that surrounded her was darkness and silence - the weight of solitude. Not only did it have her trembling in silent fear, host to a thousand secret terrors but it also made her poignant longing for the light and the familiar warmth of brightness and less all the more desperate. But all the light in her world was stolen. There was still no light, no life, no flowers, and no beloved mother: only coldness, blackness and the still scent of death. It unnerved and frightened her beyond comprehension, as it was everything that she was not, in its most monstrous, crushing form. She was afraid, but still she stared out into its haunting reaches, her gaze quiet and searching.
But beyond that terrible abyss of black and emptiness, as she scrutinised its dark terrors, she saw something different. Blue. Out of the pits of deep pitch blackness, came a sudden light, the light of colour. The deep blue of a thousand distant seas with no end, only layer after layer of deeper blue. It was almost calming, to see a colour that was not frozen but filled with the rich texture of emotions and life. At the same time it was shocking, to see a shade so vivid and powerful against the murky black and shadowed greys of her surroundings. The blue shone with so many different feelings, impossible to discern or understand; soft, deep and thick enough to drown in blissfully. But it also carried a harsh glint of coldness that chilled those moving sapphire depths, that faded them in a mist of loneliness. Now, fixed on her, the sorrowful shade was completely unguarded. And so alive, she thought with a sudden thrill of joy. Alive!
She found it impossible to tear her eyes away from such penetrating, beautiful colour, gripped with a sudden love for it simply because it was as alive and lovely as the distant seas skirting her dear island-home. She longed to never have to part with that colour, to never have to leave it, as she felt the richness of its emotions embrace her spirit tightly. She wanted only to stay with that innocent, intense, tormented colour, the only thing that soothed her soul since she had been first brought to her dark new land. She wanted to absorb that hue, to become inseparable from all that it meant to her, to never have to leave it and its blue brightness and return to the darkness and shadows. She had never known such incredible yearning. She belonged there, in that beautiful, deep blue, she realised and wanted nothing more than to remain there forever.
Only then, after drawing the few moments out into a too-brief eternity of peace, did she realise that she was gazing into Hades' eyes.
She gasped sharply in disbelief and jumped back, jolted back into reality, flailing wildly through a feeling of reeling horror and disgust. She had not known it was him! In her previous reverie, she had forgotten he was there entirely and the blue had taken her so much by surprise that she had not recognised its source. Soon enough, it was not just blue she could make out, but the entirety of his eyes, followed by a flawless face of ivory, smooth, raven-black hair and finally, his heavily-robed figure, tall, imperious and - as always - garbed in darkness. How long had he been there, inseparable from the darkness and shadows until he finally emerged, one detail at a time, from his consuming surroundings?
She suddenly felt attacked by a thick delirium of horror. Not only did she feel shock at his sudden presence as well as a little portion of fear and unease but a burning anger at how he could dare do such a thing - to spring from the blackness, at one with the silence, like that? To frighten her so! She was ignited by indignance as she glared at him with childish fury and humiliation, a humiliation that burned bitterly in her belly with desperate righteousness. More than the shock and the hurtful sense of confused pain at his sudden appearance, the angry embarrassment came from shame, also. A shame that burnt every inch as bitterly as the humiliation. She was ashamed and appalled by her initial response, how she had been so enthralled by the blue of his eyes, how she had suddenly burned for them. It was horrible, to now know that it was the eyes of her captor that had her so bewitched. She was outraged at both him and herself. She felt exposed, hurt and filthy.
More than that she felt confused. Why had she reacted like that? Why had she not recognised the blue as the eyes of Hades? Why was she so ashamed now, so angry? Innocently, she tried to discern her own feelings, picking out individual emotions from the massive tide of feeling that had washed over her so suddenly and completely. Still, she had no way of understanding them. And still, another question nagged ferociously at her: did Hades' eyes always look like that? She felt more confused than ever. Shyly, she glanced at his eyes, to find them as sorrowful and frozen with crusading intensity at ever. Why had she not noticed it before? It was too fascinating to behold, so abruptly, she turned her eyes away, dizzy with questions. Now she was aware of how he was looking at her, as if she was something unlike anything he had ever beheld before. More than that, he looked at her as if he could see into her very soul. It worried her. Nothing made sense. Why did she suddenly know that whatever fascination and wonder she had felt for his eyes was so wrong? She was an innocent, struggling to find her way in a brave new world.
All those feelings were channelled into anger. Not a bitter, corrosive anger but a sudden, irrational, childlike burst of feeling that needed some form of outlet. But she had no idea how to express her sudden anger: part of her wanted to run from it and Hades, to retreat back into her chamber. Another part of her wanted to scream and stamp her tiny foot in a childish temper tantrum, to purge herself of the massing feelings. Another part of her simply wanted to cry, to let hot, furious tears stream down her face and burn her reddened cheeks. Anything to make the sudden emotional whirl leave her alone.
But she did nothing. Instead she stood there, frozen, her emotions only mounting inside the cage of her small body. She felt it rise and grow within her, like a thick, heavy globe rising past her ribs. Her anger boiled and massed but then, as it reached its zenith within her still frame, died down into distant ashes again and was lost. There was no way she could react but to stay still and let it run its course. She felt used - abused by her own irrational feelings. She had stood there, still and flaring silently, her chest heaving, her face livid. But she had done nothing. It was gone now, the feeling was over. All that was left was the wearying aftershock as she had to pick up the pieces of herself and make sense of what exactly had raced through her in that moment.
Hades gazed on, transfixed. She was terrifyingly lovely and still so delicately unfathomable. He longed to understand all she had felt in those moments since she had graciously opened her door to him. He knew his gaze and haunting devotion made her uncomfortable but she was a sight too fascinating to flee - everything about her was bright, beautiful, endearing and gentle. And so splendid. Little did she know, but her face alone brought all the light of her tender heart into his solitary kingdom. It called out to him and he craved only to be allowed to see more, even if it left him starving for an opportunity to speak to her. Always, without any awareness at all, she left him dazed and helpless as one struck by lightning, with agonies far more deep-reaching.
He had known she had not seen him when she first peeked out of her door, the simple gesture alone filling his miserable heart with vulnerable hope. She was reaching to him, searching for him. She was afraid of the darkness, but he saw her driven on by a courage he had not seen before, a bravery that empowered both of them. She looked as if someone had struck her with a sword, thinking to slice her in two with ease but had hit upon a core of pure steel, sensitive but solid and the touch of her steel had shattered the offending sword in two. More than that, she looked as if the reverberations of the sword striking her core had rung through her entire body, awakening her, making her aware of this new inner-strength. It was profound, it was heartbreaking. He realised that she had reached a cathartic strength and peace with herself. And that it meant she would never resign herself to her situation but would always prevail to find her sunshine. In the face of such defeat, he knew it would only be right to return her but he was so in love with the new facet that had been revealed. He longed only to be closer to such delicate strength, such gentle nobility. He could not bear to part with her.
It had hurt to look upon her. She had been weeping, he could tell. Her face, usually so rosy with life, was pale, as if washed to pallor by many cold, sorrowful tears that left her face untouched and pale, marked only by a distant unhappiness. Her head had been tilted pensively as she looked outside her door, her expression more gentle and kind than curious, fearful, cold or angry. Her thick brown locks had began to fall loose of the elaborate regal wiring and drape down her shoulders, the locks deep and free. Her small but full mouth was as inviting its ever. Her lips, shaded the palest of rose-pinks, were parted ever so slightly, as if she were about to speak but her words had been frozen in her throat. Her pallid expression, weary and wounded but surviving, told him that though her words were frozen, her beautiful soul was warming them in her throat, ready for when she would speak to him.
Her eyes. They were what captured him the most, the part that held him so helpless because through the bright green knolls of her eyes, he saw the spirit shining through with the same moving strength and frailty. They glistened with her recent tears, giving a deep but bright shade of leaves newly kissed by rain, shining ever the brighter and more brilliantly in the sunlight. The look in her gentle eyes had been so questing, so open with every emotion - every fear, every longing, every hope, every inspiration, every burst of bravery. In looking upon her, into those eyes, at last he knew peace.
She had been so afraid, he could see it shine through clearly and sincerely, the sheer innocence of her fear both captivating and endearing. It gave him the sudden urge to shield her, to hold her and protect her, to allow her to find her own strength within him and then to plead with her to share it with him, so that they could both prevail. Together. Then he saw sympathy and anguish glisten there, finally followed by a fading but surviving courage strong enough to face down her terrible fears. He felt proud to see that, to see the light and sunshine within her heart dispel a little of the darkness around her.
He longed for her to see him, as shadowed and hidden as he was. He longed to see himself reflected in those lively green eyes, bursting with such innocent passion. Inwardly, he begged her to see him, to look upon him.
Then she had turned and her eyes met his.
And the world fell away.
Her eyes! They had been filled with such love, such longing, as if she had finally found true freedom, compassion and understanding within the cold blue depths of his iced eyes. His own eyes bled with the renewed intensity of his love for her, as he used all his willpower not to gather her in his empty arms at that very moment. He had been frozen with fear and vulnerability as she gazed upon him with such warmth, clearly not recognising him. She had looked as though she finally found a state of belonging, as if a great happiness swelled inside her and bled out of her, not in pain but with such tender love. Her longing matched his own and burnt with a gentle flame that could consume deeply, nonetheless. She looked upon him as though he were the rarest rose lost in a dead chilled field, a newly-found treasure. It was she, however, that was found - never had he seen her look so beautifully discovered, as if she wanted to be his forever, as she wanted him to be the only one to keep her from the blackness. As if she loved him.
It was a sight that he knew would haunt him until the end of time. More than that, it was a sight he would forever treasure and cherish. Were the world to some day end and he with it, the dazzlingly tender and deep look in her gaze would be the image reflected in his eyes upon that fated day. Whoever it was that would see him end, would see her again in his dying gaze.
He had stepped forward then, thinking to touch her smooth, pale face, to alight his feeling further but in doing so, he had returned the both of them to reality. She had paled then in horror and stepped back in shock. He was not hurt by this, only grateful for such a brief blessing, but still thirsty for more. Now he only wanted to erase the look of hurt and confused shame from her face as she regarded him with gaping horror. She looked so lost, all he wanted to do was take her confusion away and give her rest but now she could not even bring herself to look at him. Then she had stood, fuming. Clearly, she blamed him and he was not so sure himself if she was entirely wrong to do so. And still, she awed him, now her strength was in motion. All the girlishness had fled from her face, chased out by her anger and a young woman had been ignited by the fury she felt. The change had him entranced and enchained, gazing deeply at her, prying into her soul, like one possessed. He regarded her that way now, longing for her eyes to meet his, so he could be given at least one glimpse into the spirit he yearned for.
Hesitantly, feeling awkward because of her sudden anger and silence in his imposing presence, unsure of why she allowed herself to be drawn into conversation, Persephone spoke, her gentle voice hushed. "You were outside my chamber."
He nodded gravely, the motion surprisingly fluidic. "I confess, I did linger, Persephone and I also knocked upon your door. I apologise if I disturbed you - it was not my intention."
"If not, then what was your intention?" she asked with innocent curiosity, only slightly laced with the smoky tone of her previous anger towards him.
"I desired only to speak with you, if you would allow my company." He replied.
"Is there much you would like to say to me?" she asked quietly.
His voice was as lingering and hushed as the light of the moon. "I abhor knowing that you are in solitude, I only wished to perhaps ease any loneliness and discomfort. Also, to speak with you would give me great happiness."
The corridor was silent, the pause between them heavy. She bit at her lower lip, feeling awkward and suddenly sad again.
"Do not!" He said in sudden alarm, his tone not commanding but concerned.
As he spoke his impassioned words, he brought a chilled hand to her lips, to try and still her action. She froze, no longer chewing at her lip, but staring at him, feeling and outstretched finger still pressed against her lower lip. She now realised why his eyes had frightened her: his gaze felt the same as his touch. She was suddenly quite nervous. He withdrew his icy hand, his eyes humble and apologetic, still locked onto hers, her own eyes large and searching.
She spoke. "Is there much you would like to talk with me about, my Lord Hades?"
"There is much, sweet Persephone."
She flinched slightly at his use of a term of endearment but with a hesitant smile, tried to wave away her instinctive reaction. She shut her door behind her and stepped out into the cold air of the halls, giving Hades a brief flicker of a smile and timidly allowing their conversation to begin. She was acutely aware of how close the few steps forward had brought her him, so she turned towards the corridor, preferring to walk closer to the cold walls than to risk closeness to her husband.
She remembered how she wanted to learn more about the wandering souls of mortals and their fate. Thinking of that, she realised that in the presence of the lord Hades, the surrounding blackness was not so frightening. She gazed at the ground, relishing the fleeting feeling and felt herself more at ease. Better to hear his voice, she thought, than to have to look into his eyes. She shivered at the memory; the answers she longed for again evading her as the Lord and Lady of the Underworld traversed down the dark halls of their domain, sharing their first taste of discussion.
"My Lord," she spoke up, her voice an untethered but lonely thing "I would like to see more of your realm."
"Our realm, dear Persephone."
"Oh, yes. Ours."
Author's Note: Again, I'm very apologetic about the huge spaces of time between my updates, but my exams are closing in and most of my free time I have to use to study so that I don't fail miserably. I'm sorry to keep you guys hanging on like this, I know it isn't fair to everyone out there that looks forward to new chapters. I'd like to apologise to everyone I haven't been e-mailing as dutifully as I should, too - especially Kate. But I just don't have as much time as I used to. On the happier side, as soon as my exams end, things should pick up!
Epitaph Empress
Chapter XII
The hinge creaked and let out a low chilling groan, as Persephone opened the large ebony door of her chamber. She felt her small body press against its dead wooden weight and begin to push the door open, surprised at its heaviness. It felt like the ancient, smothering weight of the darkness itself. Yet, for unknown reasons, she was forsaking her solitude and wrestling with this heavy door, pushing against it - and why? To reach Hades.
The child in her was responding to his presence, the child that always had the time to lavish her affection and care on simple flowers and small animals. She knew it was wrong to deny him, especially if he wanted her company. Ever since she had arrived, she had felt a cold bitterness bite at her soul through the icy seas of her loneliness and sorrow but she refused to let it conquer her. No matter how sad she was, no matter how afraid, no matter how angry, she would not become cold and dead, she reasoned. She would not let this terrible world freeze her spirit and kill her, piece by piece. She would always be doomed to cry and beg to be returned if she kept hoping, she knew, but better to cry and always cling to the springtime she lost than to sit in the dusty gloom of her chamber and become one with its haunted chill. She would bring a little of the brightness into this world, not let the black misery of this world taint her. Besides, her mother would surely rescue her soon.
She promised herself to be as she always was, not to let the despair of the Underworld infect her. She knew she could not reach her mother, so she would have to pretend her mother was there, watching her. She would have to behave in a way that would make her far-away mother proud. She could succeed in that, she supposed, by being as kind as she could to Hades, even though he had not been kind to her by taking her down to the lowest layers of death and darkness. Opening the door to him would be enough for now, she thought, feeling very brave.
She opened it only a little, just enough so he could see her little, childlike face, awash with a sorrowful pallor through the black piercing darkness of her chamber. Timidly, she peeked out, inquisitive and pensive. Darkness greeted her. She shivered in revulsion and sudden fear of all that was not natural to her as the chill of the dead met with her. Were there no candles to light the cold stone halls, not even a glimmer of light?
The darkness sent a bolt of fear through her, as if with a single look, it could shatter her completely. For a brief moment, she wished that the nauseous horror that had been twisting and growing in her lost spirit would take hold of her and sweep her under its icy waves, if only to find oblivion and peace. She was suddenly so full of fear of the silent darkness that she wanted to faint. But she could not. She was suddenly angry at herself - it seemed she had too much of a spine to faint from fear, but she was still far too sensitive to the gripping power the darkness had over that to faint would be no humiliation, but a mercy. Everything was so dark! The darkness seemed to be stretching out to her, threatening to consume her. It was smothering her. Despite this, she held on to her determination and did not run back into her room but still timidly peered out into the shadows. She wanted desperately to scream or faint but could not. She was so afraid of it!
Suddenly, she felt herself in the grip of a new feeling, a feeling that gave her a sudden burst of courage that for one brief moment dashed against the darkness. She clutched her small hands desperately over her heart in a fleeting movement. She felt, beyond her fear, a great pity. Not for herself, but for others. She was a goddess, who knew not of the terrors of mortality whilst mortals were cursed to wander through this shrouded realm of dank secrets and forbidden darkness as cold, lonely spirits, as torn from their natural world as she was. And they were humans, who had not her supposed strength of spirit. She was queen of this world, given an expansive chamber, surrounded by shaded servants, attended constantly by the dark Lord Hades, always given company and - had she desire for such things as jewels and gowns - would be given all she desired. And still, she felt like a prisoner, thrown into the deepest, darkest dungeon. Her heart bled for those countless others beneath her who wandered into the lower regions of this pit of a domain. How terrible they must feel! How alone, how afraid! Surely a thousand times worse than she did!
It did not belittle the terror she felt, as she knew she was right to feel so alone and afraid. However, it hugely magnified the suffering of others. She, who had known nothing of suffering and pain in the lands of the sunshine could scarcely comprehend how awful a thought it was. It filled her with courage and resolve but also made her want to collapse on the pitiless cold slate of the floor from the agony of her sympathy. It was the most overwhelming grief she had ever known.
And yet she was Queen. Perhaps she should act the part, she thought, as long as stayed there, which - she hoped against hope - would not be long. She must not feel sorry or sad for those lost souls, but do something to help, as she had helped limp and weary flowers deprived of the joy of sunlight or the relief of rain. It gave her a stronger determination to survive the darkness.
After so many hours, she had hoped to become used to its drowning reaches, its festering stranglehold. But no, it still sent a terrible chill down her spine, still repulsed her, still made her want to call out to her beloved mother. It made her feel like a lost little girl, scared and cowering in the dark, crying out for her mother to save her. Each time she was faced with another disgusting facet of this unnatural darkness, so different to the gentle, natural dark of the night, she felt herself call out to her mother, in a plead to be rescued from all that was horrible and frightening. Always, she received no reply other than the hush of the depths of the darkness.
Staring into the dead air of the bleak halls, she felt a terrible dread fill her, a dread she had been unable to escape since arriving such a grey wasteland of a kingdom. She felt so small and vulnerable in its twisted grasp. It frightened her. It betrayed a thousand twisted nightmares and secret terrors and horrors she had never before imagined, and now those fears of the chill blackness haunted her. It was a fear that lived on the inside of her, clinging to her terrified soul with the cold grip of a drowned corpse, dampening her brightness with the murky iciness of fear. As she looked into the languishing shadows, her fear grew and grew as she felt the darkness become more and more powerful, dimming her light to a distant ember.
She felt every fibre within her scream in alertness, aware of a terrible danger but all that surrounded her was darkness and silence - the weight of solitude. Not only did it have her trembling in silent fear, host to a thousand secret terrors but it also made her poignant longing for the light and the familiar warmth of brightness and less all the more desperate. But all the light in her world was stolen. There was still no light, no life, no flowers, and no beloved mother: only coldness, blackness and the still scent of death. It unnerved and frightened her beyond comprehension, as it was everything that she was not, in its most monstrous, crushing form. She was afraid, but still she stared out into its haunting reaches, her gaze quiet and searching.
But beyond that terrible abyss of black and emptiness, as she scrutinised its dark terrors, she saw something different. Blue. Out of the pits of deep pitch blackness, came a sudden light, the light of colour. The deep blue of a thousand distant seas with no end, only layer after layer of deeper blue. It was almost calming, to see a colour that was not frozen but filled with the rich texture of emotions and life. At the same time it was shocking, to see a shade so vivid and powerful against the murky black and shadowed greys of her surroundings. The blue shone with so many different feelings, impossible to discern or understand; soft, deep and thick enough to drown in blissfully. But it also carried a harsh glint of coldness that chilled those moving sapphire depths, that faded them in a mist of loneliness. Now, fixed on her, the sorrowful shade was completely unguarded. And so alive, she thought with a sudden thrill of joy. Alive!
She found it impossible to tear her eyes away from such penetrating, beautiful colour, gripped with a sudden love for it simply because it was as alive and lovely as the distant seas skirting her dear island-home. She longed to never have to part with that colour, to never have to leave it, as she felt the richness of its emotions embrace her spirit tightly. She wanted only to stay with that innocent, intense, tormented colour, the only thing that soothed her soul since she had been first brought to her dark new land. She wanted to absorb that hue, to become inseparable from all that it meant to her, to never have to leave it and its blue brightness and return to the darkness and shadows. She had never known such incredible yearning. She belonged there, in that beautiful, deep blue, she realised and wanted nothing more than to remain there forever.
Only then, after drawing the few moments out into a too-brief eternity of peace, did she realise that she was gazing into Hades' eyes.
She gasped sharply in disbelief and jumped back, jolted back into reality, flailing wildly through a feeling of reeling horror and disgust. She had not known it was him! In her previous reverie, she had forgotten he was there entirely and the blue had taken her so much by surprise that she had not recognised its source. Soon enough, it was not just blue she could make out, but the entirety of his eyes, followed by a flawless face of ivory, smooth, raven-black hair and finally, his heavily-robed figure, tall, imperious and - as always - garbed in darkness. How long had he been there, inseparable from the darkness and shadows until he finally emerged, one detail at a time, from his consuming surroundings?
She suddenly felt attacked by a thick delirium of horror. Not only did she feel shock at his sudden presence as well as a little portion of fear and unease but a burning anger at how he could dare do such a thing - to spring from the blackness, at one with the silence, like that? To frighten her so! She was ignited by indignance as she glared at him with childish fury and humiliation, a humiliation that burned bitterly in her belly with desperate righteousness. More than the shock and the hurtful sense of confused pain at his sudden appearance, the angry embarrassment came from shame, also. A shame that burnt every inch as bitterly as the humiliation. She was ashamed and appalled by her initial response, how she had been so enthralled by the blue of his eyes, how she had suddenly burned for them. It was horrible, to now know that it was the eyes of her captor that had her so bewitched. She was outraged at both him and herself. She felt exposed, hurt and filthy.
More than that she felt confused. Why had she reacted like that? Why had she not recognised the blue as the eyes of Hades? Why was she so ashamed now, so angry? Innocently, she tried to discern her own feelings, picking out individual emotions from the massive tide of feeling that had washed over her so suddenly and completely. Still, she had no way of understanding them. And still, another question nagged ferociously at her: did Hades' eyes always look like that? She felt more confused than ever. Shyly, she glanced at his eyes, to find them as sorrowful and frozen with crusading intensity at ever. Why had she not noticed it before? It was too fascinating to behold, so abruptly, she turned her eyes away, dizzy with questions. Now she was aware of how he was looking at her, as if she was something unlike anything he had ever beheld before. More than that, he looked at her as if he could see into her very soul. It worried her. Nothing made sense. Why did she suddenly know that whatever fascination and wonder she had felt for his eyes was so wrong? She was an innocent, struggling to find her way in a brave new world.
All those feelings were channelled into anger. Not a bitter, corrosive anger but a sudden, irrational, childlike burst of feeling that needed some form of outlet. But she had no idea how to express her sudden anger: part of her wanted to run from it and Hades, to retreat back into her chamber. Another part of her wanted to scream and stamp her tiny foot in a childish temper tantrum, to purge herself of the massing feelings. Another part of her simply wanted to cry, to let hot, furious tears stream down her face and burn her reddened cheeks. Anything to make the sudden emotional whirl leave her alone.
But she did nothing. Instead she stood there, frozen, her emotions only mounting inside the cage of her small body. She felt it rise and grow within her, like a thick, heavy globe rising past her ribs. Her anger boiled and massed but then, as it reached its zenith within her still frame, died down into distant ashes again and was lost. There was no way she could react but to stay still and let it run its course. She felt used - abused by her own irrational feelings. She had stood there, still and flaring silently, her chest heaving, her face livid. But she had done nothing. It was gone now, the feeling was over. All that was left was the wearying aftershock as she had to pick up the pieces of herself and make sense of what exactly had raced through her in that moment.
Hades gazed on, transfixed. She was terrifyingly lovely and still so delicately unfathomable. He longed to understand all she had felt in those moments since she had graciously opened her door to him. He knew his gaze and haunting devotion made her uncomfortable but she was a sight too fascinating to flee - everything about her was bright, beautiful, endearing and gentle. And so splendid. Little did she know, but her face alone brought all the light of her tender heart into his solitary kingdom. It called out to him and he craved only to be allowed to see more, even if it left him starving for an opportunity to speak to her. Always, without any awareness at all, she left him dazed and helpless as one struck by lightning, with agonies far more deep-reaching.
He had known she had not seen him when she first peeked out of her door, the simple gesture alone filling his miserable heart with vulnerable hope. She was reaching to him, searching for him. She was afraid of the darkness, but he saw her driven on by a courage he had not seen before, a bravery that empowered both of them. She looked as if someone had struck her with a sword, thinking to slice her in two with ease but had hit upon a core of pure steel, sensitive but solid and the touch of her steel had shattered the offending sword in two. More than that, she looked as if the reverberations of the sword striking her core had rung through her entire body, awakening her, making her aware of this new inner-strength. It was profound, it was heartbreaking. He realised that she had reached a cathartic strength and peace with herself. And that it meant she would never resign herself to her situation but would always prevail to find her sunshine. In the face of such defeat, he knew it would only be right to return her but he was so in love with the new facet that had been revealed. He longed only to be closer to such delicate strength, such gentle nobility. He could not bear to part with her.
It had hurt to look upon her. She had been weeping, he could tell. Her face, usually so rosy with life, was pale, as if washed to pallor by many cold, sorrowful tears that left her face untouched and pale, marked only by a distant unhappiness. Her head had been tilted pensively as she looked outside her door, her expression more gentle and kind than curious, fearful, cold or angry. Her thick brown locks had began to fall loose of the elaborate regal wiring and drape down her shoulders, the locks deep and free. Her small but full mouth was as inviting its ever. Her lips, shaded the palest of rose-pinks, were parted ever so slightly, as if she were about to speak but her words had been frozen in her throat. Her pallid expression, weary and wounded but surviving, told him that though her words were frozen, her beautiful soul was warming them in her throat, ready for when she would speak to him.
Her eyes. They were what captured him the most, the part that held him so helpless because through the bright green knolls of her eyes, he saw the spirit shining through with the same moving strength and frailty. They glistened with her recent tears, giving a deep but bright shade of leaves newly kissed by rain, shining ever the brighter and more brilliantly in the sunlight. The look in her gentle eyes had been so questing, so open with every emotion - every fear, every longing, every hope, every inspiration, every burst of bravery. In looking upon her, into those eyes, at last he knew peace.
She had been so afraid, he could see it shine through clearly and sincerely, the sheer innocence of her fear both captivating and endearing. It gave him the sudden urge to shield her, to hold her and protect her, to allow her to find her own strength within him and then to plead with her to share it with him, so that they could both prevail. Together. Then he saw sympathy and anguish glisten there, finally followed by a fading but surviving courage strong enough to face down her terrible fears. He felt proud to see that, to see the light and sunshine within her heart dispel a little of the darkness around her.
He longed for her to see him, as shadowed and hidden as he was. He longed to see himself reflected in those lively green eyes, bursting with such innocent passion. Inwardly, he begged her to see him, to look upon him.
Then she had turned and her eyes met his.
And the world fell away.
Her eyes! They had been filled with such love, such longing, as if she had finally found true freedom, compassion and understanding within the cold blue depths of his iced eyes. His own eyes bled with the renewed intensity of his love for her, as he used all his willpower not to gather her in his empty arms at that very moment. He had been frozen with fear and vulnerability as she gazed upon him with such warmth, clearly not recognising him. She had looked as though she finally found a state of belonging, as if a great happiness swelled inside her and bled out of her, not in pain but with such tender love. Her longing matched his own and burnt with a gentle flame that could consume deeply, nonetheless. She looked upon him as though he were the rarest rose lost in a dead chilled field, a newly-found treasure. It was she, however, that was found - never had he seen her look so beautifully discovered, as if she wanted to be his forever, as she wanted him to be the only one to keep her from the blackness. As if she loved him.
It was a sight that he knew would haunt him until the end of time. More than that, it was a sight he would forever treasure and cherish. Were the world to some day end and he with it, the dazzlingly tender and deep look in her gaze would be the image reflected in his eyes upon that fated day. Whoever it was that would see him end, would see her again in his dying gaze.
He had stepped forward then, thinking to touch her smooth, pale face, to alight his feeling further but in doing so, he had returned the both of them to reality. She had paled then in horror and stepped back in shock. He was not hurt by this, only grateful for such a brief blessing, but still thirsty for more. Now he only wanted to erase the look of hurt and confused shame from her face as she regarded him with gaping horror. She looked so lost, all he wanted to do was take her confusion away and give her rest but now she could not even bring herself to look at him. Then she had stood, fuming. Clearly, she blamed him and he was not so sure himself if she was entirely wrong to do so. And still, she awed him, now her strength was in motion. All the girlishness had fled from her face, chased out by her anger and a young woman had been ignited by the fury she felt. The change had him entranced and enchained, gazing deeply at her, prying into her soul, like one possessed. He regarded her that way now, longing for her eyes to meet his, so he could be given at least one glimpse into the spirit he yearned for.
Hesitantly, feeling awkward because of her sudden anger and silence in his imposing presence, unsure of why she allowed herself to be drawn into conversation, Persephone spoke, her gentle voice hushed. "You were outside my chamber."
He nodded gravely, the motion surprisingly fluidic. "I confess, I did linger, Persephone and I also knocked upon your door. I apologise if I disturbed you - it was not my intention."
"If not, then what was your intention?" she asked with innocent curiosity, only slightly laced with the smoky tone of her previous anger towards him.
"I desired only to speak with you, if you would allow my company." He replied.
"Is there much you would like to say to me?" she asked quietly.
His voice was as lingering and hushed as the light of the moon. "I abhor knowing that you are in solitude, I only wished to perhaps ease any loneliness and discomfort. Also, to speak with you would give me great happiness."
The corridor was silent, the pause between them heavy. She bit at her lower lip, feeling awkward and suddenly sad again.
"Do not!" He said in sudden alarm, his tone not commanding but concerned.
As he spoke his impassioned words, he brought a chilled hand to her lips, to try and still her action. She froze, no longer chewing at her lip, but staring at him, feeling and outstretched finger still pressed against her lower lip. She now realised why his eyes had frightened her: his gaze felt the same as his touch. She was suddenly quite nervous. He withdrew his icy hand, his eyes humble and apologetic, still locked onto hers, her own eyes large and searching.
She spoke. "Is there much you would like to talk with me about, my Lord Hades?"
"There is much, sweet Persephone."
She flinched slightly at his use of a term of endearment but with a hesitant smile, tried to wave away her instinctive reaction. She shut her door behind her and stepped out into the cold air of the halls, giving Hades a brief flicker of a smile and timidly allowing their conversation to begin. She was acutely aware of how close the few steps forward had brought her him, so she turned towards the corridor, preferring to walk closer to the cold walls than to risk closeness to her husband.
She remembered how she wanted to learn more about the wandering souls of mortals and their fate. Thinking of that, she realised that in the presence of the lord Hades, the surrounding blackness was not so frightening. She gazed at the ground, relishing the fleeting feeling and felt herself more at ease. Better to hear his voice, she thought, than to have to look into his eyes. She shivered at the memory; the answers she longed for again evading her as the Lord and Lady of the Underworld traversed down the dark halls of their domain, sharing their first taste of discussion.
"My Lord," she spoke up, her voice an untethered but lonely thing "I would like to see more of your realm."
"Our realm, dear Persephone."
"Oh, yes. Ours."