At the Crossroads of Love and Loneliness – A Journey into the Underworld
Summary:
The Queen of the Underworld is known by many names—Death, Reaper, Legacy,...Rogue.
Her lot in life is a lonely one, filled only with her duty and the fleeting presence of the lives she ends with his touch.
Remy is a Thief with blood on his hands. The world as he knows it indelibly changes when he has a chance encounter with Death herself. His life will never be the same as he sets out to take the biggest gambit of his life.
It is a quest, a journey, a challenge. Will Fates change at the crossroads of Love and Loneliness?
Written for Writer's Month – Day 25: Underworld
Author's Note:
I was intrigued by the idea of putting Rogue and Gambit in a Hades/Persephone AU. While Rogue slipped easily into Hades, I couldn't quite fit Gambit into the Persephone role. In the end, he became an amalgamation of several roles.
Likewise, I've dipped into mythology for inspiration and have adapted bits and pieces as they seem to fit for this story/these characters.
I hope you enjoy. Thanks for reading, ~rose
Chapter 1 - Dramatis Personae
Her touch was Death.
Mortals feared her. Her fellow immortals shunned her. No one wanted to be reminded that everything must eventually end. She was a rogue among the Pantheon. A dealer in death and it trailed her like an inky cloak.
She answered to many names, though she had no name of her own. Most called her Reaper. Those who understood death as a natural part of life, named her Legacy. She preferred Rogue. Yet, no one had called her such for many, many years.
Her realm was the Underworld. Though few saw beyond her role as bringer of death, her rule was fair and compassionate. With her touch, she not only absorbed the life of those passing into her realm, she claimed their psyches and their memories as her own. Through her touch, their memories lived on as their souls passed on to their eternal rest.
Despite a glittering realm of precious stones and performing a vital duty she did not ask for, she was alone. Out of fear of her powers, no one dared come too close. She dared not allow anyone to breech the walls of her heart. Long ago and far away, when she still had a name of her own, she learned the cruel lesson of her powers. Her touch was death and no mortal could love her and live.
She would always be alone. This was her burden to bear. No matter how she wished for the circumstances of her existence to change, they would not alter.
Her touch was Death.
—
Remy—or, as he was better known, Gambit—loved the most beautiful woman of all creation. Though she did not live among the mortals. Rumors which whispered along the currents of electricity told tales of the Queen of the Underworld. A femme as beautiful as she was untouchable.
They called her Reaper. They called her Legacy. But, in the privacy of his mind, he called her by another name—Rogue.
It was the name he heard on the currents the day he saw her. She had come to claim the soul of the man he murdered. The death had been an accident, a duel pushed too far. Yet, the blood still tainted his hands and stained his soul.
It should have been his wedding day. The ceremony was resplendent in reds and purples. A union of the two clans which fought for dominance of the city—those who stole possessions and those who stole lives. Instead, the day was stained with death and banishment.
As his would be brother-in-law took his final breath, Remy saw her. His Lady. His Rogue. She stoically performed her duty. With a touch, she absorbed the final threads of the dying man's life. A weary sigh escaped her ruby lips. The tales which spoke of her, told of her gifts—the power to not only absorb a mortals life, but their memories and soul as well. The man he killed was not a good man, a man of wicked deeds and wickeder thoughts. Surely, it had not been a pleasant experience. He wished he could spare her that duty.
With her task completed, she glanced up and caught Remy's gaze. Her eyes were sad, heavy with the weight of her responsibility. He longed to touch her, to whisper words of comfort. To help her bear her burdens. As though sensing the direction of his thoughts, she fled, leaving naught behind but a name on the currents. Rogue.
His bride-to-be paled in comparison to the goddess. Even if Belladonna would still have him after he killed her brother, he would not have her. His heart had been stolen by His Lady. They were the same. Forsaken souls forced to wander this world and the next alone. He firmly believed, they could find comfort and companionship along their lonely paths, if they traveled together.
And now, exiled from the city of his birth, Remy knew what he must do. It would be the biggest gambit of his life. Leaving behind the only life he'd ever known, Remy—now Gambit—would steal his way into the Underworld and seek His Lady.
—
Years passed. Seasons turned. Days became nights. Hours, minutes, seconds, ticked by.
Still, Gambit searched. Despite the passage of time, he never flagged on his quest. Everywhere he went, he witnessed the evidence of her presence. He heard the whisper of her name. His love grew like a blossom. Sweet and delicate, it carried the scent of hope. And, yet it was a determined bloom. It would not bend nor break, no matter the storm.
Over his travels, he learned much of His Lady. Unwinding myths and legends, he unburied the kernels of truth hidden among the layers of lies meant to keep others at arm's length. He discovered the path to her realm laid not among the stones and dirt of earth, rather it traveled against the current of the Mississippi. It was her river; it ran through her heart and through her home. Only those who breathed life's last breath found passage on the steamboat which carried souls to her realm.
It was not until he broke exile and returned home did he find the entrance he sought. At the mouth of the Mississippi, the portal to the Underworld opened. It was a gaping maw only visible to those who no longer walked the paths of the living. And, yet, he saw it clear as day.
Joining the other passengers, he paid his fare. Two coins finely wrought, each washed in the tears of a loved one. He had no mourners but the city he loved, so he bathed the coins in the brackish waters of Lake Pontchartrain. It was sufficient to gain him passage.
If the Bard spoke true and 'journeys end in lovers meeting,' he did not anticipate the meeting of Rogue and Gambit. For the journey was just beginning.
Gambit parted from his travel companions—shades of those who once were—and boldly strode into the throne room of the Goddess of the Underworld. He would not sneak into his Beloved's presence. It was a cavernous place, grandly resplendent in golds and silvers and precious gemstones. Her home put his wedding grandeur to shame.
Yet, his Rogue, Queen of the Underworld, outshone it all. No treasure of the earth nor under the earth could match the emerald green of her eyes, the ruby red of her lips, the snowy white of the shock of hair amid the cinnamon curls. She was steel and glass. Her true beauty did not lie in her appearance alone. Her heart was strong and compassionate. Kindness ran through her though she received none in return. An air of melancholy hung about her as she sat upon her throne.
Though he walked upon silent feet, her gaze was drawn to him the moment her entered her presence.
"Come, mortal," she beckoned him forward. "I recognize your scent. What is your name?"
He prostrated low before his lady. "I am called Gambit."
"Gambit." His name rolled off her tongue like she was tasting the nuances of a fine wine. "I remember you. There was a death. An accident by your hand. You saw me. How could this be?"
"I do not know, Lady Rogue." When he called her by name, she gasped a quick, sharp breath of air. "But, I have sought you since that day."
"There are easier ways to court death." Sadness which tasted of despair radiated from her.
He swallowed back the all too familiar emotions. "I do not wish to die. Rather, I seek your company."
"Rise, Gambit." She motioned for him to stand. "Tell me why you have sought me for so long."
Meeting her eyes, Gambit addressed the Queen of the Underworld as an equal. "Milady, I ask a boon of you."
"You are a bold one mortal," her voice was sweet as honey and sharp as cinnamon. "Few dare ask a favor of Death. Ask your boon and I shall deem if you are worthy to receive it."
"I ask for a kiss. A taste of your lips." He did not shy away from the radiance of her divinity.
Her laughter was sharp and brittle. A cynical smile quirked at her lips. "Foolish mortal, do you not know, even the briefest brush of my skin is to court death. I thought you did not wish to die."
"I am not afraid." He felt the buzz of energy beneath his skin. It burned to be released. Free from the confines of his mortal form.
"No. You do not understand what you ask. I deny your boon." Rogue turned from him. "Now go. Leave my presence and live your life. Do not return to my realm before your time."
A bone deep chill settled deep into his bones. Her loneliness bled from her, deep wounds weeping freely. Like the last time he saw her, she still possessed his heart. Did she not know they were bound together? That even without the brush of her skin, he was touched by Death herself.
As she left her throne room, Remy remained, alone in the vast chamber. An offering of all the wealth hidden beneath the earth glittered from the walls—diamonds, rubies, emeralds, sapphires. Veins of gold and silver ran though the walls. It was a thief's paradise. He was a thief, but he wasn't a fool. One did not steal from the Queen of the Underworld. Even he did not skimp on the steamboat's fare.
The wealth beyond the dreams of avarice did not tempt him. He did not desire her gold or diamonds. There was only one thing he wished to steal. And steal he would. A plan began to form in his brain. It would be difficult, but he would rise to the challenge.
Gambit would steal the Queen of the Underworld's heart.
—
(Quote: "Journeys end in lovers meeting" ~ Twelfth Night by William Shakespeare)