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And Yet They Shine
Chapter 8: Worry
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The tour of the Underworld went quickly thereafter. Edward showed Isabella the Asphodel fields, full of those who time had forgotten. He took her past the entrance to Tartarus, and whispered that she should never, ever enter there. He led her to the five rivers, and explained their purpose in turn: this one for sorrow, this one for lamentation, that one burned with fire, this one reeked with the too-sweet scent of forgetfulness.
"And of course, you've seen the Styx."
Isabella nodded. Her hand was so small against his large palm, and he marveled again at the fragility of her – small, thin bones and tender, tender skin.
"Where do you live? I mean, do you have a…house?"
Edward smiled. The word was so mismatched, both for the Underworld, and for the palace he would take her to see.
"This way," he said, wrapping his arm about her shoulders and spinning them once around.
When he stopped, they stood on marble steps encrusted with jewels. Columns of silver and gold stood tall, and Bella gaped at them in wonder.
"It's so beautiful. How can you…I mean…." He grasped her question and chuckled.
"It's why my brothers all hate me, you know. As the god of the Underworld, all of the earthly goods belong to me, save those that belong to the Oceans. Every pieces of gold, of silver, every precious gem…they are all within my domain."
Isabella closed her mouth, trying to work her head around the riches her suitor must possess. The crossed into the receiving hall, and she saw that the marble floors were inlaid with gold, each panel telling one story or another in pictures. There was writing on the walls, as well; some language she didn't understand but it was beautiful, nonetheless.
"This is your home?" she asked, and Edward's heart panged. Home? No…he had never felt the simple pleasure of home, of ease and comfort and happiness to return to one place each day. He felt relief, at times, that he had a place to escape the daily turmoil, the pain of lives left to live too long, to suffer. The bewilderment of those who felt they'd been taken too soon, and the help entreaties of the living, as they begged for just one more day, one more hour, one more moment of happiness with their loved ones.
He did not understand them, these humans. Death was a matter of course, and only the Gods were immortal. To grant their wishes would not be a kindness. It would create more turmoil, more fear, more suffering. It was a grim responsibility, housing the souls of the dead, but it was necessary, and, Edward liked to think he did it well.
"This is where I live," he answered.
He led her through the halls, allowing her to peek into this room or that. There was a music room where talented shades were invited to play, and where Edward sometimes joined them. There was a feast set in the banquet hall, tables laid heavy with food of every flavor, every spice. There was a library, and Isabella clapped her hands together as she walked along its walls, taking in titles and running her fingertip over the spines of her favorites.
There was a room full of toys, creations of Athena or Vulcan, or sometimes Daedelus. Edward walked to a shelf and plucked a butterfly from the mass. It had wings of pink gossamer and a body of steel. He whispered to it, and it fluttered on his fingers, then flew toward Bella, lighting upon her outstretched hand.
Bella cooed at the small creature, before holding it aloft. It clicked and fluttered about Bella's head, and the girl smiled with delight.
Yes, Edward thought. I can charm her with toys, and ply her with jewels. I can make her mine.
When the creation resumed its place upon the shelf, Bella smiled at it, in a forlorn way. Edward picked it up again and held it out to the girl.
"I insist. Anything that makes you smile so shall be yours."
The butterfly flew around her once, twice, before alighting on her shoulder, where it looked as pretty as a decorative brooch. Now and again as they walked, Bella would look at it, and the creature would flutter its wings with pleasure.
"Did you make this?" she asked, and Edward had to bow his head, no.
"It's so clever. Who did?"
"I believe that is one of Athena's creations – she likes to think she can improve upon the original design of things." Edward wore his lopsided grin, and Isabella felt he was letting her in on some secret that only they knew. It felt nice, good, to be held in his confidence.
"So," he asked, as they approached the banquet hall. "How do you like my kingdom? Is it – is it all you'd hoped?"
Isabella stopped and stared up, into his green eyes that shined like springtime. She wanted to say yes, and tell him so with no reservations. She took his hand in hers and when she felt him pushing into her mind, she allowed it.
There, he saw her conflict. He saw her hopes of long talks with her Gran, and her enchantment with the mechanical butterfly. He saw her wonder at what other charms his halls might hold. And he saw himself, through her eyes. Handsome. Fearsome.
"You are undecided," he said.
She ducked her head and pulled her hand away.
He wanted her to say yes to him. He wanted her to want him, to take his kisses with a happy heart, to desire him, to desire this – his life. He wanted her to want him. But no matter what he offered her, he feared it would never be enough.
Edward had hoped that she would make the choice of her own free will. He'd hoped that he would not have to resort to trickery, but he knew that if he had to, he would make the choice for her.
It was the last thing he wanted, and the only thing he trusted.
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