We're back! Sorry for the long delay. I had hoped to get this next part done in time for Hadestown's 5th anniversary on Broadway...but like Persephone, I am late again. Ah, well...better late than never? Enjoy part 2!
Chapter titles for this chapter and the last one are from the Hadestown cast holiday album, If the Fates Allow.
A loud whistle echoed through the station as the train came to a stop with a sudden jolt. Orpheus opened his eyes. The light was so dim that at first he could not see anything at all, but in the faint yellowish glow filtering through the windows, he began to discern the dark shapes around him. He was lying flat on his back, stretched out on a long bench. There were other benches like this on either side of him, with shadowy figures stirring and slowly rising from them. He felt a slight weight on top of his legs, and reached out to clasp the neck of his lyre. Soft, ruffled petals brushed against his fingertips as he moved his hands. He closed his hand around the stem of the flower, and clutched it to his chest. One last gift from Lady Persephone—and he knew exactly who it was for. He sat up, slung the strap of his lyre over his shoulder, and followed the others who were slowly making their way off the train.
The train station in Hadestown was a cavernous space with rows of ornate ironwork supporting the arched ceiling. Large hanging lamps illuminated the space with an amber light. The new arrivals made their way slowly down the platform toward a pair of large iron gates. The infamous hound lying just outside the gate raised one of his three heads and yawned as they approached, while the other two heads slumbered on. His tail thumped lazily on the floor a couple of times, and the gates swung open behind him.
Beyond the gates, uniformed officers directed the dazed travelers toward a row of little booths with glass windows, where the faces and hands of workers could dimly be seen behind green-shaded lamps. The slow, shuffling crowd began to funnel into an even slower line.
"Orpheus!"
Someone was moving in the wrong direction, forcing a path through the crowd toward him. He could barely see her over the heads of the crowd, but he knew that voice… She elbowed two taller bodies out of the way, and then there she was, standing in front of him.
"It's you!" she exclaimed joyfully.
Orpheus stood rooted to the spot, hardly daring to believe his eyes. "It's me," he replied.
Eurydice flung her arms around his waist, hugging him tight. "Orpheus!" she cried.
"Eurydice!"
Orpheus wrapped his arms around her, cherishing the feeling of her body pressed close to his, her head tucked beneath his chin, the palm of his hand filling the small of her back, all so familiar, and yet as strange and wonderful as though they were holding each other for the first time.
Eurydice leaned into her lover's embrace, relishing the feeling of his arms around her once more. When they first met she had been hesitant to let him hold her, especially in any way that she could not easily break free from if she chose. But once she had grown to trust Orpheus, she found herself missing his touch when they were apart. Ever since he had been forced to return to the world above without her, she had been longing for him to hold her again. The feeling was so familiar, and yet it was different from before. Her arms reached farther around his waist than they used to. Orpheus had always been slim, but now she felt hard, bony ridges along his back, even under the layers of new clothing. When she pressed her cheek against the soft velvet vest, she could no longer hear the rhythm of his heart, which always used to pick up its tempo when she was close to him. She sighed, and hugged Orpheus a little closer.
"You're early," she murmured.
"I missed you," Orpheus replied.
Eurydice tilted her head back to look up into his eyes. They were filled with a deeper sorrow than she had ever seen there before. Yet as he looked down at her, they also shone with joy. She stretched up onto her toes, bringing her face toward his, and twined her arms around his neck as they kissed, long and deep.
That kiss might have lasted forever if Eurydice had not felt a small tug on the edge of her skirt, and looked down. Orpheus noticed then that she was no longer wearing the standard worker's uniform: she had on a soft white shirt with short sleeves that left her shoulders bare, and a skirt the color of daffodils. It was different from anything Orpheus had ever seen her wear before, but it suited her perfectly.
The second thing he noticed was a tiny girl, no more than three years old, peeking out from behind Eurydice's leg with wide brown eyes. Eurydice did not seem in the least surprised. She bent down and spoke softly to the child. "Don't be scared," she said. "This is Orpheus. He's the one I told you about. Do you want to say hi?"
The girl whispered an inaudible response. Eurydice lifted the child up onto her hip. "Orpheus," she said, "this is Chloe."
"Hi there, Chloe," said Orpheus.
The little girl immediately buried her face against Eurydice's shoulder. Eurydice smiled and shook her head. "She's a bit shy with new people," she explained.
"That's okay," said Orpheus. "Is she…yours?"
"For now," Eurydice replied. "I'm taking care of her until her mother comes down here. And she's been looking after me while I waited for you, isn't that right?"
Chloe's only answer was to nestle further into Eurydice's shoulder. Eurydice wrapped an arm around the little girl's back, giving her a slight squeeze. "We were both waiting for someone," she explained to Orpheus. "I thought it might be nice if we kept each other company."
Chloe raised her head a tiny bit. Orpheus raised his hand to wave at her, and realized he was still holding the red flower. He held it out to the little girl.
"Lady Persephone gave this to me when I boarded the train," he said. "I was supposed to give to Eurydice, but…maybe she won't mind sharing it with you?"
Eurydice let out a tiny gasp of recognition and delight as she reached out and took the flower from Orpheus.
"Oh, Chloe, look what he brought!" Eurydice exclaimed. "What is that?"
"F'ower," Chloe whispered.
"That's right," said Eurydice. "This is a very, very special flower." She tucked the flower behind the little girl's ear. Then she reached out and took Orpheus by the hand.
"Come home with me, love," she said.
Orpheus clutched Eurydice's hand tightly as she led him away from the train station. He had lost her once in this place, and even though he had come legitimately on the train this time, the fear that something or someone was about to tear her away from him still crouched at the back of his mind.
As they walked, Orpheus realized that Hadestown, or at least the part of it Eurydice was leading him through, was not the hellish industrial complex he had found her in before. Their way was still lit by lamps, but not the harsh, low-hanging bulbs he had had to dodge on his first trip to Hadestown: these were street lamps, that bathed the cobblestone walkways with a warm glow, calling to mind some of the old cities he had passed through on his travels. Neon signs blinked in windows here and there, adding flashes of bright blue, red, pink, and green to the patterns reflected off the streets. The rumble of machinery and the shrill whine of a factory whistle could still be heard in the distance. But the streets themselves were quiet. Chloe began to wriggle in Eurydice's arms shortly after they left the train station. Eurydice set her down, and she ran ahead of them from one pool of light to the next. The sound of her tiny sandals slapping the pavement echoed loudly off the buildings that lined the streets.
The buildings were different, too. They were still mostly towering, rectangular structures, but some of the walls were laid with bricks of different colors arranged to form patterns. Animal faces carved out of stone peered out over some of the doorways, carved garlands of fruit and flowers wound their way around the edges below some of the roofs. Wide windows spread across some of the ground-level floors, showing glimpses of people sitting at workbenches, or displays of the wares they were crafting: shoes, furniture, clothing, pottery.
One window was filled with glass vessels of varying sizes, shapes, and colors. The light from within shone through them, creating a glowing rainbow on the sidewalk. Chloe stopped in the middle of it, spreading out her hands before her and gazing at the brilliant colors reflected off her skin, until Eurydice and Orpheus caught up to her. Orpheus stood transfixed for a moment as well, looking from the glittering display in the window to the child reveling in her innocent joy. He would never have expected to find anything so beautiful in Hadestown, save for the woman who was holding his hand.
"Things have changed down here, haven't they?" he said to Eurydice, as the three of them walked on.
"Yes, they have," said Eurydice. "It didn't happen right away. We've had to fight for every bit of progress, and there's still a lot that needs to change. But once Hades started opening up to Persephone again, he started to become more open to other things too. Less so when his queen is away, but still…he's trying."
As they approached a corner, Eurydice called out, "Chloe, wait for me." When they caught up to the little girl, Eurydice took her hand. "We're gonna take walk through the gardens before we head home," she said.
"There are gardens here?" Orpheus asked.
"Did you forget who's queen?" said Eurydice with a smile.
"But…how?" asked Orpheus.
"It was Hades' summer project a few years back," Eurydice explained. "He wanted to find a way for Persephone's flowers to grow here year-round."
They turned the corner and walked for a while beside a gray stone wall, not much taller than head height. Once she recognized their route, Chloe let go of Eurydice's hand and trotted eagerly ahead of them toward the garden gateway.
Eurydice glanced up at Orpheus. "There's something you should know," she said. "We're not just going for a walk through the gardens. Chloe and I are, but you'll have to go on a little further. Hades asked me to bring you to the palace as soon as you arrived."
Orpheus stopped in his tracks. "Hades?"
"Yes," Eurydice confirmed. "It's quite the honor, actually. Most people just get processed by the notaries at the train station, but he specifically asked that you be brought directly to him."
Orpheus let go of Eurydice's hand. "No," he murmured, shaking his head slightly, "no, no, I can't—I don't want to see him—"
Vivid flashes of his last trip to Hadestown began to crowd his mind: Hades' voice echoing off the ceiling when he discovered Orpheus and Eurydice together…his mocking laugh as Orpheus declared his intentions…his steely gaze bearing down from the balcony while his workers pinned Orpheus to the factory floor and beat him mercilessly…his harsh demand for a song, while Orpheus' hands trembled so much he could hardly strum his lyre.
"Orpheus!" Eurydice's voice cut through the storm of memories. Her hand cupped his cheek, and as he looked down into her worried eyes, he wondered how long she had been calling his name this time. His shoulders slumped as he looked down at the ground.
"I can't face him, Eurydice," he said quietly.
"He won't hurt you," said Eurydice.
Orpheus shook his head. "I can't…" he said, "I can't let him take you from me again."
Eurydice drew his face toward her and kissed him. "He won't, love," she said. "Things have changed since the last time you were here. He's changed, too."
They came to a set of wrought-iron gates, which stood open invitingly. In contrast to the streets with their bright lamps, the garden seemed dark at first. But as Orpheus looked around, he saw strings of tiny purplish-white lights suspended over flower beds, outlining paths on the ground, and wrapped around the branches of trees, shining down on the glossy leaves and colorful blossoms below. One wide path paved with flagstones ran the length of the garden, but there appeared to be many paths branching off from, running in different directions. There were fountains and little man-made waterfalls trickling water into the flower beds below. Arbors covered in trailing vines arched across the path, and here and there a gazebo lit with soft light from within shone like a lighthouse in the sea of greenery.
"This is one of Chloe's favorite places," said Eurydice. "We come here almost every day to run around the flower beds." The little girl did seem quite at home as she charged ahead of Orpheus and Eurydice, stopping every few feet to sniff a flower or pick up a pebble. There were others moving about the garden, too: a few people sat on benches tucked in between flowering bushes, quietly chatting, while others moved among the beds with watering cans or pruning shears. The warm, still air, and small, twinkling lights all around almost made it seem like they were walking through a public park on a summer evening in the world above.
"This is incredible," Orpheus said quietly. "I never knew the Underworld could be so…so…" He trailed off, struggling to reconcile the tranquil beauty around him with the harsh world of stone and steel he had been envisioning.
"Not what you were expecting, is it?" said Eurydice. "Told you things had changed."
"How?" Orpheus murmured. "How is any of this possible?"
"Well," Eurydice began, gesturing to the strings of lights hanging over the flower beds, "Hades got a team together—former scientists, and electricians, and a lot of folks who just loved gardening. They figured out how to build these special lights that give off the same type of light as the sun, or something close to it. The kind of light things need to grow. They converted one of the factories to build thousands of these lightbulbs. Other people built fountains and sprinklers and underground pipes to carry water all through the garden. We basically figured out how to make our own sunlight and rain underground."
"That's…really impressive," said Orpheus.
Eurydice smiled. "Yeah," she said, "turns out we can do a lot more than just build walls and run machinery, if we're given the chance." She pressed his hand. "You were the one who inspired people to take that chance, Orpheus. You stood up to Hades, and you reminded all of us that there was something still worth fighting for. Your song kept echoing through Hadestown, even after you were gone. People started talking about things no one had thought of in a long time. We started asking questions. And when we found we didn't like the answers, we decided to do something about it.
"The first strike started in the summer after you left. We shut down one factory for a week—and once we proved it could be done, more workers joined in. Our demands started small: just a limit to the hours we could be forced to work. But while the factories were shut down, people turned to other things to occupy their time, and we started imagining other ways to make life here more bearable. Freedom to choose what kind of work we would do, or what we would wear while doing it. The right to keep some of the things we made, and trade goods with each other. Art, and music, and games, and a place for each of us to call home. Little by little, we started to take back our humanity."
"I can't imagine Hades was pleased about that," said Orpheus.
"Not at first," said Eurydice. "But once he saw how much Persephone liked some of the changes we'd made, he became a lot more willing to negotiate. Your song stirred something in him, too."
"Good to know it wasn't a complete failure," Orpheus muttered. He kicked at a stray pebble and sent it clattering across the path. Eurydice said nothing, but she held his hand a little tighter as they made their way toward the palace.
At the end of the garden, the path opened into a courtyard before the wide stone steps of the palace. Towering columns supported the roof, which in turn supported several light fixtures that illuminated the courtyard in stark, glaring rectangles. Between the two central columns stood a pair of doors, painted black and inlaid with silver.
Eurydice turned to face Orpheus. "You'd better head in," she said. "We'll wait for you out here."
"You're not coming?" Orpheus asked.
"Hades said he wanted to speak with you privately," Eurydice replied. She pulled him into a hug, and then stretched onto her tiptoes to kiss him. Orpheus tightened his arms around her waist, almost lifting her off the ground in his desperate embrace. "Love, it's all right," Eurydice whispered in his ear. "I'm not going anywhere. I promise." She walked with him to the foot of the steps, and gave his hand a final squeeze before she sat down, and beckoned Chloe over to sit beside her.
Orpheus approached the doors, and laid a trembling hand on one of the black iron handles. Though the door was heavy, it swung open easily enough, and he stepped inside.
The palace entrance seemed both dark and too bright at once. An enormous chandelier hung suspended from the high ceiling, reflecting a hundred points of light off the slick, black marble floor, and glinting off the golden leaves in the black and gold patterned wallpaper. At one end of the room, iron railings framed a flight of black marble stairs.
The room was so still and quiet, it took Orpheus a moment to realize he was not alone. A secretary in a prim, pin-striped suit, was seated at a large mahogany desk at the foot of the stairs, poring over an immense book by the light of a small, ornate lamp. Orpheus slowly approached the desk. The secretary took no notice of him, until he hesitantly tapped a golden bell that sat on the corner of the desk. The ringing sound echoed shrilly through the silent room. The secretary looked up sharply, and stared at Orpheus over the rim of her spectacles.
"Can I help you?" she asked.
"I'm here to see Hades," Orpheus replied.
The secretary raised one of her arched eyebrows. "Name?" she asked.
"Orpheus."
"Date of death?"
"Um…today?"
The secretary flipped over several pages in her book. "Hmm…you aren't in the registry yet…" she said, half under her breath. "Do you have an appointment."
"I…think so?"
A low voice echoed down the stairs. "I'll take it from here, Hecate."
Orpheus slowly raised his eyes, though he did not need to look up to know who had spoken. Hades stood at the top of the stairs. "Follow me," he said. Orpheus wondered for a moment what would happen if he refused. But since there was no real reason for him to do so, he climbed the stairs, and began to follow Hades down a long, dimly lit hall.
Halfway along the hall, Hades stopped and opened a door. He stepped through, and looked back toward Orpheus. "Step into my office," he said, sweeping one hand into the room in a half-hearted gesture that might have been welcoming under different circumstances.
As Orpheus stepped through the doorway, Hades raised his hand suddenly toward the young man's face. Orpheus looked him in the eye, determined not to flinch, even if the king of the underworld was about strike him or seize him by the throat. But Hades did neither. He touched his fingertips to the side of Orpheus' neck just below his jaw, and held the poet's gaze for a long, tense moment before lowering his hand. "Just wanted to be sure you're actually dead this time," he said. A faint smirk flickered at the corner of his mouth.
"Oh," was all Orpheus managed to say in response. He could not decide which was more unsettling: the thought of Hades feeling for his pulse, or the realization that he no longer had one.
Hades' office was more compact and simply furnished than the palace hall, but it had the same air of stifling luxury. The floor was covered with a thick, ornately patterned carpet, soft as velvet underfoot. Three of the walls were paneled with gleaming mahogany, but the last was mostly taken up by a large circular window, laced with intersecting lines that bore some resemblance to a gigantic spider's web. In front of the window stood a large ebony desk, with black studded leather armchairs on either side.
"Have a seat," said Hades, gesturing toward the closer of the two chairs. He circled around to the opposite side of the desk and eased himself into the chair facing Orpheus. When he looked up, Orpheus was still standing before the desk, clutching the worn strap that kept his lyre bound to his back. Hades rolled his eyes. "Relax, kid," he said. "I'm not going to hurt you. Just need to set a couple of things straight." He gestured to the chair again. Orpheus eased the strap off of his shoulder and slowly lowered his lyre to the floor. He held the instrument propped up between his knees as he sat down, partly so it would be easy to grab if he needed to make a break for it, partly because he felt marginally better having something to hold onto.
Hades reached across the desk to switch on a small lamp that sat on one corner. "You look like hell," he remarked. "What'd you die of, anyway? Don't you dare say a broken heart. That's no longer accepted as a cause of death."
"I, um…I was sick," said Orpheus. "Not sure what it was. I don't remember much of it."
Hades grunted. "Sick, huh? You look it."
He pulled some documents toward him, took a fountain pen from its holder near the lamp, dipped it into a jeweled inkwell, and began to mark the pages here and there with an X or a short note. Now and then he gave a short murmur or hum to himself, but he said nothing aloud. Despite his insistence that Orpheus be brought to him immediately upon arrival, Hades seemed in no hurry to reveal the purpose of this visit. At last, he set the pen back in its holder, shuffled the documents together, and leaned back in his chair.
"So," he said, "you finally made your way back to Hadestown."
Orpheus nodded slowly, not quite sure how he was supposed to respond.
"I'm surprised you lasted as long as you did," Hades continued. "You could've gotten yourself back here much sooner. Once the cards were on the table, I thought for sure you'd fold."
"I…I did think about it," Orpheus said quietly.
"What stopped you?" Hades asked.
"I didn't think you'd allow it," replied Orpheus. "I already broke your rules twice, and it didn't change anything. Figured I might as well accept my fate, and see if there was any good I could still do with whatever time I had left."
"And did you?" Hades asked.
"I tried," said Orpheus. "I may not have much to show for my time on earth, but I did the best I could with what I have. That's all mortal men can do, isn't it? And if it's not enough, then just tell me what more I have to do. Put me to work, set whatever terms or conditions you want me to follow. Just…please…let me be with Eurydice while I do it. I'll keep whatever rules you set for me this time, I promise. And if I can't, then punish me all you want, but not her. She doesn't deserve to suffer for my failures."
"I'm not going to punish you," said Hades. "You've already punished yourself more than I ever could."
"Then…why am I here?" Orpheus asked. "What do you want from me?"
"You're here," said Hades, "because I don't like being in debt. I owe you my thanks…and an apology."
Orpheus stared at him. Was this another trick? An attempt to lull him into a false sense of security before delivering some crushing blow? Was Hades apologizing in advance for whatever cruel fate he had in store?
Hades slowly stood, and faced the window behind the desk, gazing into the darkness outside. His reflection stared back at him in the glass, but he kept his gaze downward, unwilling to meet his own eyes.
"This place isn't quite what you were expecting, is it?" he said. "I assume your little songbird took you through the nice part of town on the way here, showed off the fruits of her labors—some of 'em, anyway. She and her union put up one hell of a fight after you left. Strikes, rallies, protest marches… No matter how I tried to keep 'em in line, they kept finding new ways to throw a wrench in the works. Quite literally—more than once, too. I've got to hand it to them. Hated every minute of it, but when I look out there, I see things I never thought were possible."
He glanced at Orpheus, who was still staring at him with a look of disbelief and distrust.
"Do you know what first drew me to Persephone?" Hades asked.
Orpheus was fairly certain the question was rhetorical. Hades continued after a moment's pause.
"She had the power to imagine color, beauty, and warmth where there was nothing," Hades said. "She could make bare, gray branches burst into bloom. She brought green shoots out of the cold, hard ground. She looked at a world that seemed as good as dead, and she saw the way it could be. And when she looked at me, she saw the man that I could be—the man I wanted to be, for her.
"But when she was gone, all I had was silence, and the voices in the back of my mind: the ones that told me I would never be good enough for her—that she could never be happy in a place like this—with someone like me. I tried to drown them out with the music of machinery, but they just kept getting louder, until it was all I could hear. I fought so hard to drown them out that I couldn't hear anyone else's voice—not even Persephone's.
"I don't know how your song managed to get through all the walls I'd built up, and rise above all the noise in my head. But you reminded Persephone of what she used to see in me. You made me want to be the man she loved again, and turn this place into what she once imagined it could be. So the first thing I want to say is, thank you, for what you did for us."
He turned fully around to face Orpheus, who dropped his gaze and began to fidget with the strap of his lyre, winding and unwinding it around one hand.
"I'm glad," Orpheus said quietly. "It's nice to know that it wasn't all for nothing."
Hades sighed. "I know the past several years have been hard for you," he said.
"Stop," said Orpheus. His hands were clenched into fists in his lap, his eyes squeezed shut, as if it took every bit of concentration he had to maintain control. "I am not going down that road again," he said. "I don't want your sympathy. You have no idea what I've suffered. I spent the remainder of my life in torment, and it was my own fault—you made damn sure of that. Don't you dare pretend to know what it's been like for me."
Hades slammed his hands down on the desk. "Haven't you been listening?" he said. "I know all too well what it's like to be trapped in another world from the woman you love. You said it yourself: you and I were just the same."
"No!" Orpheus stood up, meeting Hades' eyes across the desk. The lyre clattered to the floor at his feet with a discordant twang. "You and I are not the same," he said. "You had a chance to make things right with Persephone. You had a chance to build the life you wanted together. And I could have had that chance with Eurydice, but you wouldn't let that happen."
"I hoped you would make it," Hades said quietly. "I didn't think you would, but…I was hoping you would prove me wrong."
Orpheus huffed a short, mirthless laugh. "You know, for a moment," he said, "I actually thought I had gotten through to you. I heard you growl out your old melody. I saw the light in your eyes when you smiled at your queen. And thought it was real. I was such a fool to think I could make a god change his mind—no man has that kind of power. But hey, you did give me a chance. You gave me a chance, and I failed, just like you knew I would." He shook his head. "Maybe…maybe that's why I never had the courage to end it all," he said. "Maybe I was too ashamed to look Eurydice in the eye and have to own up to my failure."
Hades drew in a long breath. When he spoke, his voice was almost as low and tentative as it had been that long-ago day, when he had croaked out the old, forgotten melody. "Orpheus," he said, "I am sorry."
"You don't have to apologize to me," said Orpheus. "You laid out the terms—and they were simple enough! I'm the one who couldn't keep my end of the deal."
"You never should've had to," said Hades. "You had nothing left to prove, not to me, and not to Eurydice. I could have put you both on the next outbound train and sent you home with no conditions except to enjoy the rest of your lives together."
"Then…why?" Orpheus asked. "Why didn't you?"
"Because I was afraid, damn it!" said Hades. "I'd spent years building up my walls. Your song opened up a crack—showed me a glimpse of what could be, and it was everything I wanted. But I was scared if I let those walls come tumbling down, I'd lose everything I'd worked so hard to build. And I wasn't ready for that." He sighed deeply. "I made you pay the price for my cowardice," he said. "I won't ask your forgiveness. But I hope that you forgive yourself."
Orpheus sighed. "We both failed, didn't we?" he said.
"That's one way to look at it," said Hades. "But…allow me to show you another."
He turned to face the window, and beckoned for Orpheus to join him. Orpheus slowly made his way around the desk, and stood beside Hades. On the other side of the round window, the palace gardens spread out below them, the thousands of tiny lights twinkling like a sky full of stars above all the flowers and greenery. Beyond the garden wall, the warm glow of the street lamps looked almost like the beginnings of a sunrise.
"Last time you were here, this was an empty courtyard fenced in with barbed wire," said Hades. "Then it was full of angry people with picket signs. I liked it much better now." He pointed to the rows of buildings beyond the garden wall. "There's a few factories they let me keep up and running," he said. "But most have been converted into apartments. A couple got turned into schools—apparently you can't put children to work all day, so we had to figure out something else to do with 'em. In a few hours, the workday will be over. Folks will head home, or come strolling through the gardens here, or congregate at that speakeasy I'm not supposed to know about." He looked over at Orpheus. "It may not be paradise, but…it is a vast improvement, wouldn't you say?"
Orpheus was gazing down at the palace steps, where Eurydice still sat waiting for him. Chloe came trotting up to her with something cupped carefully in her hands. When she reached Eurydice, she threw her precious load of pink flower petals into the air, sending them showering down on both of them. Eurydice laughed, as she scooped a handful of petals from her lap and sprinkled them over Chloe's head, while the little girl spun in circles, giggling.
"It's more than I ever could have imagined," said Orpheus.
"It all started with a song," said Hades. "A song I had forgotten, until you taught me how to sing it again."
Hades turned back to the desk. "Are we…done here, then?" Orpheus asked. "Do I need to sign anything, or––?"
Hades shook his head. "No," he said. "The papers here are only for my records—I don't do contracts anymore. I just wanted to give you this." He opened a drawer, and took out a tiny, black velvet box. "I had these made a while ago. It was…the least I could do, after…everything." He handed the box to Orpheus. "I can't give you back the life you might have had," he said. "But I hope…no, I know, you and Eurydice can build something beautiful here. Together."
Orpheus opened the box. Inside lay two gold rings, on slightly smaller than the other.
"You two never had a proper wedding, did you?" said Hades. "We'll have to fix that. Maybe wait until the fall: Persephone will want to be there."
Orpheus closed the box and slipped it into his pocket. "Thank you," he said. He held out his hand to Hades, who, after looking at him with some surprise, took it and gave him a firm handshake.
"Don't forget your lyre," said Hades.
Orpheus picked up the instrument from where it lay on the floor, and slung the strap over his shoulder. He looked back at Hades, and smiled. Hades waved a hand, shooing him away. "Go on," he said, "Eurydice's been waiting for you long enough."
Hecate looked up from her record books in some alarm as the young poet came bounding down the stairs behind her desk, but Orpheus was out the front door before she could say a word.
"Eurydice!" Orpheus cried, as he ran down the palace steps. Eurydice was barely on her feet before she found herself swept into his embrace. She hugged him back, leaning her head on his shoulder.
"Told you I'd be right here," said Eurydice. "Can we go now?"
"Before we do," said Orpheus. "I have something to give to you."
He knelt on the ground in front of her, and drew the velvet box from his pocket. "Since we first met, I've wanted to give you a ring," he said. "I know you said you didn't need one. And I know…I failed to keep the promises I made to you before. But now, we have a chance to start over. So will you wear this, as a reminder of the promises we once made each other? And…will you let me try again?"
Eurydice took the larger ring from the box and held it out to Orpheus. "I will," she said, "if you will."
"I will," said Orpheus. Eurydice took his hand and lifted him to his feet. She slid the ring onto his finger, and then let him put the smaller ring on hers. Once the ring was on, Orpheus drew her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers. Eurydice cupped his cheek with her other hand, and drew his face towards her for a proper kiss.
Their blissful moment was interrupted by the sharp twang of a lyre string. Eurydice peered over Orpheus' shoulder. "It seems we're being watched," she said.
Orpheus slowly turned around. Chloe was standing just behind him, her hand still hovering in the air where she had reached up to pluck one of the strings on his lyre. She retreated a few steps, drawing her tiny fists up under her chin. Orpheus smiled as he crouched down to look Chloe in the eyes. He pulled the instrument around the front and held it out toward her. "This is a lyre," he said. "Have you ever seen one before?"
"We have," Eurydice answered for her, "but not up close like this. It's very interesting, isn't it, Chloe?"
"Would you like to hear how it sounds?" Orpheus asked.
Chloe nodded. Orpheus sat down on the steps, drawing the lyre onto his knee. Eurydice settle back on the steps nearby, and lifted Chloe onto her lap. The little girl stared, mesmerized, as Orpheus began picking out a melody, each note reverberating off the stone roof above them and across the quiet garden.
At the round window high over their heads, the king of the Underworld looked down, smiling as he softly murmured, "La la la la la la la…"
Author's notes:
Thank you for your patience! This chapter took a lot longer to write than I expected: Hades is a tough one to write, and I was trying to walk the fine line between showing he's changed and having him go completely OOC-not entirely sure if I've succeeded there.
And yes, surprise, Eurydice is a mom now (at least for the time being). Welcome to parenthood, Orpheus! I do feel a bit bad for springing that on the poor boy unexpectedly. I almost left Chloe out, since she didn't end up serving much of a purpose in this chapter, but she'd been in my mind pretty much from the time I started working on this story, and I couldn't bring myself to get rid of her. I am planning one more chapter where we'll learn her backstory and how she came to be with Eurydice. Her name means "blossom" or "green shoot" in Greek: I thought it a fitting name for a child who represents the hope of a new future and new shared experiences for Orpheus and Eurydice.
Hopefully I'll get the next chapter up before the summer is over. Orpheus and Eurydice have a LOT to catch up on...and there are more people waiting to welcome the new arrival…