For who could ever learn to love The One who doesn't know love?
By Asso
Chapter Nineeten
A dutiful premise.
My absence was long.
Very long.
I apologize.
But believe me, I could not do otherwise.
Anyway, I'm here again.
And I earnestly hope that my beloved readers have not forgotten me.
And that they can still get pleasure from this story.
Here's the new chapter.
And after the evening...
The night.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
"Your curse is useless, Zeus."
Low and calm, yet heavy with some sort of dull, veiled, livid anger, the voice resounded under the high vaults of the Olympian abode.
Zeus startled.
Just so.
He startled.
His eyes ran to his wife's.
He saw them wide open and uncertain.
As he knew his too for sure appeared.
His gaze followed Hera's.
He stood up slowly and slowly turned around.
To look at where his wife's eyes were fixedly watching.
He assumed the most imperious of poses.
He raised his mighty arm.
Mighty, though quiet, was his voice.
"What do you mean, Demeter?"
And yet he was not sure that his voice was able to conceal the anxiety that had caught him.
The words of Demeter, who silently and inadvertently had appeared in his palace without him... without him noticing her arrival...
Those words were disturbing.
What did they mean?
Did they mean that she had no confidence in his curse?
This would have been extremely serious in itself, but it would have been even more serious if they had meant that...
That she knew!
That she knew who the kidnapper of Persephone was!
One... one on whom his curse nothing could.
Or... or worse...
No! This was not possible!
Demeter could not possibly know that he was conniving with the kidnapper!
This was not possible!
It could not be!
Zeus managed to mask his disquiet, disguising it with bored impatience.
He arched his shaggy eyebrow.
He pointed his finger at Demeter.
"Speak, woman. Zeus is waiting. Do not abuse his patience."
Demeter remained motionless and silent for a few moments.
It seemed that his brother's words had not even touched her.
Zeus scrutinized her, dissembling.
His anxiety grew.
She looked like a sore statue.
But dignified and proud.
Resolute.
She was no longer unkempt.
Her dress was in perfect order.
Her gaze was firm.
The statue came alive.
The beautiful and proud head turned around.
The bare and tapered arm rose up.
It beckoned.
In one with the head.
"Come forward."
Zeus' head snapped.
His eyes darted toward the two huge marble columns that somehow bordered the threshold of his palace.
A figure moved slowly among them, a shadow in the shadow of the night.
It hesitated between the columns.
Then it advanced slowly.
With hesitant step.
As if it were not fully able to realize what world it was in.
And it was so.
It was night.
That was not its world.
That was Selene's world.
Different and bright was its world.
The light from the torches illuminated the figure.
It revealed it.
At a safe distance from Zeus, Helios stood still.
It was night.
The night of the ninth day.
The ninth day in his Kingdom.
Tomorrow it would have been the tenth day.
And the dawn of that day would have been the dawn of a different day.
As different - quite different - it had been that night.
Persephone moved slowly.
She did not want to lose the sweet hug of his arm.
But she wanted to see him.
She wanted to look at his face.
Slowly she rolled over cautiously on the bed, in the crook of his arm.
There he was.
Laid on the pillow.
His head.
His diaphanous face.
Beardless.
Framed by that hair, so thin and at once strong. Young. And yet white by a time without time.
He was sleeping.
The pale eyelids hid his otherworldly gaze.
He was asleep.
She did not.
She could not.
She watched him.
She looked at that cerulean and timeless face.
At those very fine and ethereal features.
He was...
He was a god different from any other god.
But not less beautiful.
Indeed...
Indeed more beautiful.
Much, much more beautiful!
And...
And he was hers!
Persephone turned over back on the bed with a long sigh.
Her gaze wandered over the distant ceiling of the room, obscurely resplendent with myriads of fine lights.
Yes.
He was hers.
And she...
She was his!
She closed her eyes, relishing the memories.
The emotions.
The sensations.
He had played on her skin.
His light fingers had explored her.
His strong, sure hands had rummaged her.
His lips had claimed her.
His mouth had devoured her.
And his puissance had subjugated her.
His masculine vigour had invaded her.
She had shouted, happy and euphoric - intoxicated - at that welcome invasion.
Her back had got arched to welcome the tide of his strength.
Her head had snapped back in the ecstasy of her surrender.
Her mouth had cried out his name, as his liquid essence invaded her, spread inside her.
Her lips had murmured it, repeatedly, while her body relaxed slowly, among the last after-shocks of unutterable bliss.
While her arms were holding his head strict against her naked breast.
While her mouth was lost in the soft cloud of his hair.
It had not been painless.
She had never welcomed anyone inside her.
And he...
Persephone's eyes widened in ecstasy at that thought.
He...
She had understood it.
With her body.
With her mind.
With her heart.
He had never taken possession of a woman.
The tremendous, feared, vituperated Hades...
The mighty lord of nothingness...
The ancient, powerful...
Neglected...
Ostracized...
Hideous!
Monstrous!
Hades...
The antithesis itself of love!
Had learned love from her and with her.
Like her from him and with him.
No. It had not been painless.
But his delicacy had made the pain sweetness.
The terrible Hades had made of her pain pure joy.
Elation.
Happiness.
And no one else - God or demigod or human - would have been able to do it.
She was...
She was happy!
Happy to be his!
Hera stood up, her gaze fixed on Helios.
So she had not been mistaken.
Demeter had not resigned herself at all.
And she had found the way to know.
There was someone whose eyes nothing could escape, who everything could see.
Everything.
Even the kidnapping of Persephone.
Also - perhaps - her kidnapper.
An ancient God.
Helios.
And Helios was there, now.
Despite it being night, he was there.
Rare thing.
Which only happened on great occasions.
But that was not a night of great occasions.
Yet he was there.
And he was uncomfortable.
To say the least.
Enormously.
It was visible.
As if he were forced to do something he would never have wanted to do.
As for example...
Revealing to Zeus the name of the kidnapper of Persephone!
An unease - perhaps, even more, a fear, if not terror - more than understandable, if you thought about who the kidnapper was.
He was not a kidnapper to challenge with impunity!
But not even Demeter could be challenged with impunity.
She was one of the major goddesses.
And how can you do to counteract the orders of such a goddess, if you are not at least equal to her?
It was not possible.
So Helios was there.
Because he knew.
And Demeter had rightly thought he could know.
And she had forced him to say what he knew.
Hera's eyes ran to his spouse.
She realized perfectly.
Behind his marble and determined face, behind his frowned lashes, his concern was clear and obvious to her.
Things were taking an unpleasant turn.
What would have happened?
Would her spouse have been able to control a situation that could also be a prelude to the unveiling of his deception?
Eh sure.
Because Demeter was not a fool at all and the question that certainly would have arisen, now, was why ever Zeus...
Why ever Zeus, who had done so much, he said, to find his beloved Persephone and his kidnapper and who had felt so broken and powerless and angry for not succeeding...
Why ever hadn't he thought of doing what Demeter had planned to do?
Namely to consult the one who, since the sun had begun its perennial course in the celestial vault, had been the conductor of the solar chariot and, for this reason, able to see everything that under the light of the sun happened?
Unless...
Unless, ultimately, he - Zeus - did not really want to know because... because he already knew.
And in this case... in this case...
Could it be that Demeter's composed and confident attitude - but also hard, you could see it, even if clearly doleful - was a spy that she had fully realized that that of Zeus had merely been charade? A sham? A turbid farce?
And in case it was so...
Hera sat down.
She certainly would not betray her spouse and lord.
And, on the other hand, she understood very well the reasons that had pushed him to act in the way he had done.
And she knew very well how much this had had to cost him.
Oh yeah.
Because, as to his affection for Persephone, she did not nourish the least doubt.
But she could not help but feel a subtle, inscrutable pleasure, in perceiving - palpable - the embarrassment, the worry of that damn scoundrel, that arrant liar of her husband.
And, also, she was curious.
She knew how tortuous his cunning was.
His mind was vivid and prompt.
How would he muddle through?
His strength and power, his regal superiority would not have been enough to him.
But the arrows in the quiver of his guile were at least as many as the bolts of lightning he could launch by his hand.
Hera crossed her legs, a thin smile on her beautiful face.
It boded to be a superb show.
End of Chapter Nineteen
TBC
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
The night.
The night of revelations.