For who could ever learn to love The One who doesn't know love?
By Asso
Chapter Four
The chariot of Helios was settling down there.
Nyx - The Night - was slowly obscuring the vast sky.
Everything was quiet.
All was peace.
Zeus stepped forward between the columns which were the majestic portal of his divine palace.
He leaned out on the immensity of his domain.
He was alone.
All were gone.
Only he had remained.
To think about that wonderful day.
The day of the consecration of his beautiful daughter.
He was alone.
In the quiet of the dying day.
In the peace of the coming night.
Alone.
In waiting.
For him.
And he came.
Falling asleep?
And how was it possible?
That day... her day!
Goddess! She was a Goddess! A… a Great Goddess!
The Goddess of the light of the new season that she would bring into the world!
Equal... equal to her mother!
Her mother!
She would have made possible the seasons!
She would have completed and made bigger the work of her mother!
She would have been Persephone!
The Goddess of Spring!
Forever young!
All time...
Always beautiful!
Beautiful!
So Aphrodite... so Hera had told her!
That she was beautiful!
And Hera had said that she would have brought a new and shining light in the world!
Falling asleep.
Impossible, after a day like this.
The ceremony...
Her father, the supreme Zeus...
So proud... so proud of her!
For her!
And... her mother too! Her mother Demeter!
And the divine nectar!
And... and the ambrosia!
And all the Great Gods; and the minor Gods; and...
And everyone!
EVERYONE!
Singing hosanna to her!
How was it possible to sleep after a day like this?!
And how was it possible to sleep... to try to relax, at the thought of the labours of tomorrow?
Her new labours?
And how...
Persephone sat bolt upright on the bed.
Something...
What was it?
Something in her chest...
Inside...
In the heart.
Again.
That strange, absurd thought...
That question...
Unexpressed...
Vague...
Undefined...
And yet so vivid...
Inside her.
In her mind.
In her soul.
Who would teach her?
Who?
WHO?
And Persephone found herself standing upright.
In the moonlight which cut through her room as a silver sabre.
Who? Who ever...?
And vivid, powerful...
Almost... almost distressing...
An image...
An image in her mind...
That throne...
That empty throne.
Of white marble and black ebony.
That obscure throne.
Zeus slowly raised his head.
Behind him.
On that throne.
It was impossible not to feel his presence.
Persephone had understood.
She knew who should have been sitting on that throne.
She knew... she knew everything about him.
She had never seen him.
Thanks to Uranus she had never seen him!
But she knew who he was.
She knew what he was!
Oh Uranus! Uranus, Uranus!
Thanks thanks thanks!
Thank you for having prevented him from being sitting on that throne, while my father was consecrating me!
Thanks, Uranus!
Thank you, Gaia!
Thank you for having preserved me from his horrible sight!
Thank you for not having allowed his maleficent gaze to alight on me!
Thank you!
THANK YOU!
Thank you for having made sure that throne to remain empty!
That throne...
THAT THRONE!
Persephone began to go up and down her room.
Agitated.
Restless.
Shaken up.
Shaken up...
She stopped short in front of the window.
She looked out into the silvery light of the moon.
But…
But why - why! - that empty throne continued to stand out in her mind?
Why...
Why she seemed to feel... far away... on that throne...
His horrifying presence?
Slowly Zeus turned around.
Here he is.
Exactly how he remembered him.
Why... why she seemed to see… to see him?
Dark.
Tall.
Mighty.
Raven hair.
Alabaster face.
And alabaster hands.
Resting, quiet and strong, on the armrests of his throne.
The only things that his long black shapeless mantle let see.
Besides his eyes.
Those eyes of him.
Those two cold, obscure and mesmeric pits made of dark nothingness.
Dark.
Tall.
Mighty.
Raven hair.
Alabaster face.
And alabaster hands.
Resting, quiet and strong, on the armrests of his throne.
The only things that his long black shapeless mantle let see.
Besides his eyes.
His eyes…
The eyes she had heard to talk about.
That she had never seen.
That she… that she seemed to see, now. As if they were showing off for her.
Just for her.
Two cold, obscure and mesmeric pits made of dark nothingness.
Overflowing with a dark fascination.
Overflowing with… overflowing with…
What...
What was...
What was that thing she felt?
What...
What was that... that… that…
That dark fascination!?
For who could ever learn to love The One who doesn't know love?
End of Chapter Four
TBC