There was a far bit of uproar in the Underworld shortly after the titan decided to knock on the door of Tartarus and say hello to the Lord of the Dead. Hades sent word to his brothers who responded quickly and successfully in assisting him to fortify the most secure prison in all of the realms.
Poseidon had fashioned incredible bronze gates that took the hundred-handed giants days to fix to the entrance; when sealed they would only open for the blood of the Kings – the three sons of Kronos. It glittered and shone with unspeakable power and Poseidon had assured them all that all of the raw energy of the oceans, all of the forces of the storms and all the might of the earthquakes he racketed throughout the worlds could not stand against this impenetrable construction. Zeus for his part had been more conniving – any being who attempted to touch the entrance from the inside would be wracked with the force of his lightning until such time as they were found and punished. Hades could simply look through the door to spot the conspirer writhing on the ground in agony. Electricity shimmered in the darkness as a clear warning to all those trapped inside that there was no escape from the King of Kings.
By the time the construction was finished to Hades's satisfaction some weeks after his brothers had responded, Hades returned to his House. Persephone was waiting for him with astonishing news.
"Hades, we have a visitor – a live mortal visitor!"
Hades stopped and drew her aside. Persephone knew that usually anyone in his realm that was not supposed to be there was never a good sign.
"What has happened?"
"He came in by the main gates and played so sweetly to Cerberus that the great dog lay down and whined," Persephone rushed through her story, high spots of colour in her cheeks. "Then he played for the boat-man to make him laugh and, would you believe it, he succeeded! He is in our audience chamber. He made it all this way by himself!"
"Love," Hades brushed her hair gently. "Who is here?"
"Orpheus." She told him of her encounter with Eurydice and the observations of the servants as they had watched, breathless, as the mortal forged further and further where none of the living should go. They did it, everyone said, for the power of his love of Eurydice. He wasn't going to leave without her. He had ventured forth to ask for her back from the King of the Underworld himself.
He did it. Persephone was amazed and very touched by the man's resilience. He actually did it. Eurydice wasn't kidding, this man means business.
But her husband didn't share her enthusiasm.
"We cannot make good on his request," Hades told her firmly. "It would set a terrible precedent. The laws of my realm are simple – no one leaves once they are dead and judged."
"We should at least see him," Persephone urged. "No one else has ever made it this far."
Hades sighed. Persephone ran her fingers up into his hair and played along the back of his neck in small circles. He lent into her touch and she met his gaze.
"I know you're exhausted, you've been worried about Tartarus for so long." Persephone made her voice like honey, low and sweet. She saw the frustration in her husband and watched him relax at her soothing tone. "We shall just see this hero who fights for love and send him on his way, if you like."
"What I would like," Hades moaned, "is rest and quiet and to take of some wine with you." She smiled at that and Hades found the fortitude to push aside his irritation and exhaustion.
"Fine, let us see this Orpheus. Let this be done."
Persephone held out her hand and in it a silver goblet materialised with cool wine, which filled the cup to the brim like dark water filling a pool. Hades took it with a murmur of thanks and sipped. Warmth spread through his chest and the taste of sweet grapes lingered pleasantly on his tongue. He drained the goblet before realising that Persephone was smiling smugly at him.
"Daeira is a good teacher," Persephone grinned.
"You managed this over the last few days?" The last time Hades had asked Persephone of her progress nights ago she had been frustrated, vexed that although she could manage some small alterations her will would not manifest as she wanted. She had not given up though, and it appeared her diligence was beginning to pay off.
She laughed. "It takes a lot of effort and I seem to be better at anything to do with growing…" Persephone rolled her eyes. "There's mother's influence for you. But I'm getting better."
"I will assume your tuition when I can…"
Persephone silenced him with a kiss. "Don't be silly. You've been too busy. It's okay. I'm still at the basics. I'll let you know when I need a real challenge." There was a mischievous glint in her eyes that he liked. "You'll have to set me a task to test my skills."
They were bowed into the Throne Room by nymphs and dryads, attendants on every side. Daeira herself had set the thrones for the royal couple and assisted her Lady into place beside her Lord. Persephone peeked sideways at Hades and was reassured by the new bit of colour entering his face after the wine. He had been so drained and made anxious by the responsibility of Tartarus on him. Not to mention that neither of his brothers had come to assist in their contribution to the defences; Hades had to manage all by himself.
Not alone anymore, Persephone dropped a hand secretively to her stomach. He's definitely not alone.
A crier shouted out, "Before the Lord Hades, King of the Underworld and his Queen, the Lady Persephone. Enter Orpheus, a mortal man of the realm of Zeus, son of the Muse."
The mighty onyx doors swung outwards and there on the threshold was a scrawny man, his lyre over his back, his hands itching nervously at his sides. Persephone watched Orpheus gulp, his hands curl into fists and then, as though every step cost him extreme effort, the mortal man walked in and laid himself face-down before the throne of the Dead.
The entire room went silent.
"You have ventured far and wide to seek this place," Hades's magnificent booming voice was as quiet as a whisper but it spread throughout the cavernous room. "Such fortitude merits an audience. Speak, Orpheus."
"I have…" The man's voice hitched a little with nerves. Persephone wondered at the effort it would take just to get here, just to lie on the ground and know that all of your hopes were in this one moment. "I beg you, my Lord and Lady. I have endured such loss since my betrothed died before our wedding day… I have been driven mad. I have tried to live and cannot. I have tried to die and cannot. My Lord, I ask for my love to be restored to me, for without her everything in creation is utterly meaningless."
"Such a task I cannot achieve, as it goes against the doctrine of my realm." There was no arrogance in Hades's voice; he stated the facts without judgement.
"Let me play for you, your highnesses. Please." Orpheus did not look up or move but the urgency in his voice increased tenfold. "Let me sing of my love to you and then have your final word on the matter. If I cannot persuade you with music then I shall be on my way."
Persephone glanced at her husband. Hades was intrigued. She had told him of the incredible sway of his music but the Lord of the Underworld was curious to hear it for himself. Her gentle touch on his hand was enough for Hades to nod and announce his will.
"Play for the Throne, Orpheus. Sing of your Eurydice."
"As you command, my Lord," Orpheus struggled to his feet and took out his lyre. The whole room waited, entranced, for the musician to begin.
Orpheus played and saccharine, melancholic notes poured forth between his fingers. The haunting, soulful tunes crept higher and higher, filling the Throne Room with their aching sounds. It was magical. It was staggering. And it was extraordinarily sad.
Orpheus began to sing to the harmony of his instrument. His voice was rich and smooth, full of life but the words he sung were hollow, speaking of that terrible void grief had thrown him into. He sung of the colours of the world fading into shades of nothing. He sung of life losing all hope and meaning for him. His voice swelled louder as he professed his undying love, that he felt he'd let his beautiful soulmate down by failing to care for her. He promised her his heart, soul and mind forevermore and that he would not give up until they were together again, even for just a moment.
He sang of his memory of Eurydice that was now to him like belladonna – miraculously beautiful and deadly, a poison that burnt inside but one that he could not help but drink from, regularly. She was his muse, his breath, his one and only.
He sang on into the darkened room full of immortals about the fragility of life. He sang about how much mortals cherished growing old together, seeing that last sunset together and the inevitable march of death. He sung that he knew that there was no real chance for them, that everything had been decided by fate and that the world only had a single breath of hope left for him – that Hades would be merciful. That Hades, the great and powerful god who had fallen into an impossible love, could spare him his anguish. That he and his wife could see a kindred soul and deal him that last chance.
Growing steadily more beautiful Orpheus began to cry, but although the silvery tears raced down his cheeks it didn't affect his voice. He sang that he would love forever, as Hades would love Persephone forever and that the world would go on forever.
And as he came to last lines of his song, Persephone gasped at the tears lodged in her throat.
"For as the realms go on, there is no beauty to be found here,
My withered voice, crumbles, my heart aches. Everything shall be dust.
The woman that I love is dead.
But that hope that burns in the pit of my soul,
Be it madness or foolishness. It's fuelled by desire.
A desire for the one thing in all the realms that will make me whole again.
Eurydice. Let me take my bride home."
Orpheus stopped and as the last notes faded the spell upon the room was broken. Persephone was crying without pause, the hitching in her breath audible from where Orpheus stood. Her face was bright with silver tears. But he knelt, a pathetic man, and placed his head once more on the ground. That silent plea more than anything convinced Persephone that he was worth a chance, one slim chance, at happiness.
But she knew her husband and knew that the realms were strict on rules and some lines couldn't be crossed without an immense payment. The question was, had Orpheus suffered enough?
"Hades…" Persephone tightly clenched Hades's hand with her own. "He's just like us. Gods and goddesses, they're just like us when we thought…"
She couldn't finish but she didn't have to. She saw Hades also remembered the agony they had felt, feeling they were separated forever, when they thought it was a foregone conclusion that they couldn't be together.
"Orpheus," Hades addressed the stricken figure on the floor. "Your song has moved us all. I thank you for it. We in the Underworld forget what life means to those in Zeus's realm all too easily and what power lies in love. I am willing to grant you a single chance."
Orpheus's head shot up at his pronouncement and his gaze locked on Hades. Naked hope shone there, waiting for the chance for his Eurydice to be his again.
"I shall command Hecate to summon forth your beloved's spirit. You must play your lyre and walk back whence you came without looking backwards to glance at Eurydice's spirit. Until you both stand in the sun, you must not look backwards. This is the most fundamental rule. A mortal cannot glimpse the rebirth of a Shade unto its flesh. Once there, she shall be restored to mortality and you may spend the rest of your natural lives together, if the Fates permit."
Hades's speech had a profound effect on all those listening. Daeira's eyes were huge with amazement. Hecate stepped forth from the crowd and motioned, grim-faced for Orpheus to turn his head. The man cried out in wordless thanks, bowed the Thrones and started to play a sweet tune. As he walked, the doors shunted open and Hecate summoned a thin Shade to follow the man and the lyre.
Good luck, Persephone wished him silently. Go Orpheus. Don't look back.
When he was gone from sight, Hecate pulled a great black handkerchief from her gown and blew into it.
"He won't make it," she declared sadly. She met Hades's eyes. "Nice try."
"Why won't they make it?" Persephone asked.
"Doubt." Hecate's answer was blunt. "She doubts her love of him. He doubts that she would follow. It will be enough to make him turn his head too early…"
"I thought it unlikely that he would succeed." Hades's made the admission as he escorted Persephone from her throne. "The Underworld does not allow Shades to leave freely. Elsewise every lover of one of the dead would be here, knocking at the door."
"Doubt." Persephone chewed the word and didn't like it. "Eurydice didn't doubt him, though. He knew he'd come for her and she was right."
"Would a life restored be what she truly wants?" Hades asked.
"I don't know…"
Hecate just sobbed. "It's all so tragic! He loves her enough to come to the gates of the Dead but then they can't trust one another to get back to the surface…" She blew her nose again loudly, like a trumpet. "Oh, gods and goddesses. I'm a mess! Oh," she caught Persephone quickly at the elbow a moment. "And congratulations by the way, my dear. Can't wait to meet her. I'm already planning the party!"
Hecate sashayed away, blowing loudly into her cloth as she went.
Hades was frozen to the spot, his white face even paler than usual. Persephone took it as a sign to be gentle.
"I'm with child," she told him and the truth of it warmed her from the icy emptiness that Orpheus's song had left behind. "We're going to have a little girl, Hades."
The Lord of the Dead took a moment to process. Persephone giggled at the poor stunned god, she couldn't help it. She watched the joy turn him into a beaming idiot, like herself.
"We will have a daughter?" Hades spluttered out.
"Yes!" Persephone was swept up into her husband's arms and they held each other, scarcely believing their own story. Persephone clung dizzily as Hades danced her around. She laughed and buried her face in his shoulder, unable to believe her own happiness.
"When?" Hades asked.
"Impatient already?" Persephone teased. She touched his cheek with gentle fingers and stared deep into his eyes. "She will be due when I return. She'll be born here, in the Underworld."
"By all of creation," Hades whistled. "So long…"
Persephone laughed at him and he answered her teasing by cuddling her close to his chest until her giggled were smothered in her own hair and his breastplate. She pulled back and kissed him.
"There's so much to do before then," Persephone assured him. "Macaria will be early."
"Macaria?"
She nodded. "I've been dreaming of her since the night we were wed," she admitted. "Our daughter is going to be amazing. You'll see."
As the happy god and goddesses laughed together and stood lovingly in each other's embrace, rapt over the fortune that would soon bring them a family, Orpheus's own luck ran out. He stepped one foot into the blinding sunlight and, impatient, spun around. In the darkness mere moments behind him he heard his wife's Shade whimper and then the rush of an icy wind. Orpheus clutched his head and fell, screaming, to the ground in utter despair. Eurydice's Shade flittered away as quickly as a bird. She was lost to him forever.