Author's Note: A retelling of the "Rape of Persephone" myth. The idea just
popped into my head and I had to expand on it. What if it wasn't rape?
What if this was really a story of two impulsive lovers? Enjoy.
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A lithe figure arched up against her confinement, the fabric across her back scrapping against the rough tree bark. Delicate hands and slender fingers clutched at black curls, using them as leverage to pull their mistress closer. Two sets of lips were flattened against each other as two tongues battled for authority. A soft moan could be heard from the smaller figure, her pale skin lit up in a pink flush, seemingly out of place with the olive tanned complexion of her partner.
Horses snorted and pawed in the distance, brilliant paints were scattered across the field, radiating out from where the buckets had dropped. Forgotten scarves and slippers littered the swaying grass from handmaidens that had fled in terror. And yet the couple seemed completely unaware of the impatient horses or the birds chattering in the distance. Their attention was solely absorbed on the way her small breasts pressed against his firm body and the way his free hand traced patterns down the outside of her leg.
Then suddenly, she let out a yelp, her teeth grazing the bottom of his lip as she jerked away. Violet eyes searched frantically around, even as milk colored hands tried to tame wild white blonde tresses. He pulled away just as quickly, even as a dark eyebrow arched mockingly at the false alarm. Even so, they both waited with baited breath, listening carefully. She was nearly in tears and while he showed no external emotions, his brain was wracking itself for an excuse.
The birds had stopped their songs, the horses ears were pricked, and the grass was beginning to bend and part. Clutching onto her partner's arm, the young woman arched up on her toes and brought her mouth to his ear. His eyes widened for a moment before he nodded. Then taking the maiden in his arms, the man made quick strides towards his chariot, and with one swift movement the horses had disappeared back down into the spot where they had appeared. And all that gave clue to their arrival were half a dozen buckets of spilled paints and an unusual flower ripped up by its roots.
Yet, that was enough evidence. It was enough to make the lightly tanned goddess flush with anger. It was enough for her dark auburn hair to prickle along the back of her neck. It was enough for her eyes to narrow and her fists to clench. As the birds chirped the same story and the grass bobbed in agreement, it was enough evidence for her to draw one dread conclusion.
Her brother had stolen her child. Her daughter that was all happiness and sunshine had been whisked down to the shadow world. He had taken her unwillingly. He had raped her dearest of dears. And she, who shied away from Olympus, simply turned on heel had made up her mind in an instant. Her daughter would come back to her or all Earth would pay. And Demeter would be damned if the Gods would turn a blind eye. There would be Hell to pay; Hades would pay for taking her precious one. Even as she implored her brother, ruler of the skies, and father of her daughter to bring Persephone back to her, the two lovers clutched at each other.
Hades knew that Persephone would never be truly happy in the bleak darkness that was his home and Persephone knew that she would never be truly happy without him. She needed his sweet words whispered in her ears, needed his fingers skimming over her body, needed to be overcome by his dark presence. And even as she vowed to live without the sun if it meant always being by his side, the goddess of spring could feel the Earth tremble under her mother's apathy.
"I love you."
"I know."
"I'll never leave you willingly."
"I know."
"What are we going to do?"
"I know...take this pomegranate..."
"But..."
"Just think of how long you could go without the sun, my darling."
---
Fin
---
End Note: I hope it turned out all right. It wasn't quite what I was excepting myself, a little short, but I still quite like it. Comments? Criticism? Writing in this category is a first for me.
---
A lithe figure arched up against her confinement, the fabric across her back scrapping against the rough tree bark. Delicate hands and slender fingers clutched at black curls, using them as leverage to pull their mistress closer. Two sets of lips were flattened against each other as two tongues battled for authority. A soft moan could be heard from the smaller figure, her pale skin lit up in a pink flush, seemingly out of place with the olive tanned complexion of her partner.
Horses snorted and pawed in the distance, brilliant paints were scattered across the field, radiating out from where the buckets had dropped. Forgotten scarves and slippers littered the swaying grass from handmaidens that had fled in terror. And yet the couple seemed completely unaware of the impatient horses or the birds chattering in the distance. Their attention was solely absorbed on the way her small breasts pressed against his firm body and the way his free hand traced patterns down the outside of her leg.
Then suddenly, she let out a yelp, her teeth grazing the bottom of his lip as she jerked away. Violet eyes searched frantically around, even as milk colored hands tried to tame wild white blonde tresses. He pulled away just as quickly, even as a dark eyebrow arched mockingly at the false alarm. Even so, they both waited with baited breath, listening carefully. She was nearly in tears and while he showed no external emotions, his brain was wracking itself for an excuse.
The birds had stopped their songs, the horses ears were pricked, and the grass was beginning to bend and part. Clutching onto her partner's arm, the young woman arched up on her toes and brought her mouth to his ear. His eyes widened for a moment before he nodded. Then taking the maiden in his arms, the man made quick strides towards his chariot, and with one swift movement the horses had disappeared back down into the spot where they had appeared. And all that gave clue to their arrival were half a dozen buckets of spilled paints and an unusual flower ripped up by its roots.
Yet, that was enough evidence. It was enough to make the lightly tanned goddess flush with anger. It was enough for her dark auburn hair to prickle along the back of her neck. It was enough for her eyes to narrow and her fists to clench. As the birds chirped the same story and the grass bobbed in agreement, it was enough evidence for her to draw one dread conclusion.
Her brother had stolen her child. Her daughter that was all happiness and sunshine had been whisked down to the shadow world. He had taken her unwillingly. He had raped her dearest of dears. And she, who shied away from Olympus, simply turned on heel had made up her mind in an instant. Her daughter would come back to her or all Earth would pay. And Demeter would be damned if the Gods would turn a blind eye. There would be Hell to pay; Hades would pay for taking her precious one. Even as she implored her brother, ruler of the skies, and father of her daughter to bring Persephone back to her, the two lovers clutched at each other.
Hades knew that Persephone would never be truly happy in the bleak darkness that was his home and Persephone knew that she would never be truly happy without him. She needed his sweet words whispered in her ears, needed his fingers skimming over her body, needed to be overcome by his dark presence. And even as she vowed to live without the sun if it meant always being by his side, the goddess of spring could feel the Earth tremble under her mother's apathy.
"I love you."
"I know."
"I'll never leave you willingly."
"I know."
"What are we going to do?"
"I know...take this pomegranate..."
"But..."
"Just think of how long you could go without the sun, my darling."
---
Fin
---
End Note: I hope it turned out all right. It wasn't quite what I was excepting myself, a little short, but I still quite like it. Comments? Criticism? Writing in this category is a first for me.