Chapter 15 - Visions

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Persephone lay on her bed staring up at the starry ceiling. Under the stars, the words seemed to echo in her head and stirred both helpless longing and revulsion. Longing for what she once believed in and disgust for what she had found. She thought of Hades’ eyes as the sun had shone in their black depths, the smile on his lips as they had played in the water. The day had held an almost dream like quality and for that span of time she had felt… happiness.

But the sun had set and the old fears had emerged from the shadows, reaching for her, consuming her. He is coming. A cold sweat began to trickle between her breasts and she pushed herself impatiently from the bed, her dark hair tumbling across her eyes as she pushed it impatiently from her face. She began to pace, and Olive cast his large concerned brown eyes towards her. When would she finally take control of her life? She was so tired of being scared; she had come so close to telling Hades what had happened in her life --  when

the Fates had appeared. The Fates who had promised that she would bring about Hades’ destruction. Those words had driven ice into her soul. She had seen with her own eyes how the blood still poured from the gaping wound in his chest, and how he was tormented endlessly because she could not love him. Both caused by a cursed golden arrow with her name on it! But the dark, horrible truth was that she could not love anyone. She was hollow inside and she had nothing to give anyone but a heart that had turned to stone. It was her dark and terrible secret -- that she was shadowed and empty. Evil had touched her and had stolen her light,  even her soul bore the scar of darkness. And now, evil was coming for her.

Olive touched his damp nose to her hand as she resumed her relentless pacing and she sat back on the bed, pulling the deer’s warm body to her chest.

“Olive, I am so tired,” she whispered. “I have nothing left to give anymore.” The fawn lifted his face to hers, pressing his soft pink tongue against her cheek.” Thank you, Olive, my dear one.” She laid her head next to his, and she felt the quick flutter of his heart. Strange that one’s heart continued to beat even in death, the rhythm of life pulsing through his small body. Hades would know why, she could ask him when she saw him again. “Hades,” she uttered on a silent breath.

She let her eyes begin to drift when a sudden chill pushed against her. Her eyes flashed open and a darkness seemed to dart from her vision. Grasping Olive tightly, she turned her eyes slowly to face the moving shadow and a dark vision rose before her, tall, menacing, and full of malice. Her voice caught in her throat as the smoky image begin to drift towards her. Without thought she leapt from the bed, Olive clasped tightly as she let out a scream of terror, racing from her rooms towards her husband.

She reached his doors, flinging them open as she pushed herself inside, closing them quickly behind her. She pressed her body tightly against the golden frame, Olive cradled securely in her arms, and her small noise of distress drew Hades’ eyes. He was standing before the fire adjusting the belt on his robe, his hair damp and slicked back from his high forehead. He had clearly just come from the bath and she flushed, remembering the hard, muscular strength of his body.  She straightened as he approached her with narrowed eyes, and she drank in his dark face.  But his gaze held no trace of the warmth she had seen in Elysium -- he looked cold and untouchable. She will destroy you. He drew closer to her but stayed out of arm’s reach, when she wanted so much to hide in the warmth of his embrace. Was he afraid of her now, she wondered.

“What is wrong?” His voice was so remote that she shivered at the loneliness of it. She felt for the handle behind her, wondering if she should retreat, but the angry shadow from her room was too near, and she felt fear curl inside her, driving the words from her mouth.

“There is a man in my room,” she cried.

“Stay here,” he said. He grabbed her arms briefly, setting her away from the doorway, and let go quickly as if she burned him… or disgusted him. In a second he had slipped into the blackness of the corridor and she was alone. Persephone walked to the fire and sat in the chair Hades had probably recently vacated. She could smell his faint scent in the room, dark, earthy, masculine, and something else that was purely -- him. The blue flames danced merrily in the hearth, but the warmth did not penetrate her and she shivered in the chair as the minutes passed.

Had Hades sought answers from the Lethe as the Fates had told him? Did he find what he had been looking for? The Fates had warned of the danger of seeking the River and there was a blankness in his eyes she had not seen before. He had looked at her before with anger, with despair, with passion, but never with the emptiness she saw now. Persephone jumped when his voice was suddenly close to her ear and Olive leapt from her lap.

“There is no one in your room,” he said.

She leaned her head back to look at him, her gaze searching his. “He was there! It was a dark shadow, looking at me. Watching me.” His expression remained unchanged, saying nothing, and a horrible thought occurred to her. “Do you believe me?”

Hades did not answer her but returned to the door, where a servant had appeared. “Bring Charon and several guards. Search the castle for a man. Check on Cerberus.” He closed the door again and went to the table pouring a glass of wine. “Here, drink this, it will warm you.”

She took the wine from him, letting her fingers brush over his. His face tightened but he stepped away from her, sitting at the chair farthest away from her.

“Do you believe me?” she asked again, her voice strained.

“Do I have a reason not to?” he asked rather bleakly.

The question hung in the air between them and her heart gave a peculiar twist at the implacable expression on his face. It was like looking at the cool, handsome face of a stranger.

“I have no reason to lie to you,” she answered, her voice so soft she wondered if he heard her.

“Tell me again what you saw.”

“I told you! It was a shadow and it was watching me. He moved towards my bed and I could feel his… anger. I see things down here!” she cried, leaning towards him, imploring him to believe her. “This place is playing tricks on me. And a few nights ago, I saw two golden figures in the throne room and now this. Am I going mad?” she asked desperately.

He continued to watch her, his face partially hidden by shadows, half light, half dark. “I want to see what you saw,” he replied finally. “May I touch you?”

Her brow furrowed at his question. Yesterday his touch seemed to follow her like the rays of the sun that had caressed her skin, but now he required her permission? What had happened at the Lethe she anxiously wondered.

“You may,” she said in what she hoped was a steady voice. He stood, then came closer to her. His hands drew her up slowly, his touch impersonal, his fingers cool as they moved against her skin. He placed his fingertips over her temples as she had seen him do to so many of the prisoners who had knelt before him in the throne room. For a moment, panic settled over he as she realized that he would be able to delve into any of her memories. She was helpless against his dark power, but then, thoughts, ideas, and dreams raced across her mind until she saw again the terrifying, shadowy figure that hovered over her. Suddenly, the dark figure vanished from her mind and was replaced by the golden figures that were entwined in the throne room, their sweet embrace causing her breath to catch. That vision, too, passed from her memory and she was once again staring into the dark eyes of her husband. He dropped his hands from her face, but he was so close that she could feel his breath on her cheek.

“Did you see him? What is he?” For a moment she thought he may close that small space between them, but then he merely moved away from her, pouring himself a glass of wine.

“You cloak the truth well. You are very good at clouding your thoughts. You have taught yourself to push memories away and it is difficult to see anything beyond shadowed movements, impressions.” He took a deep sip of the wine and then turned towards her again. “May I take these memories from you, so that I may study them?”

“You want to take my memories?” This time it was her who took a step away from him.

“Only these two. I want to see what you saw, see it through your eyes. I assure you, I will leave the rest of your memories intact, and I will return them to you in their original state when I am finished.”

She eyed him, trying to read anything in his expression. He had proved time and time again that he would do anything to keep her safe, to keep the demons at bay from her. She did trust him, she realized in surprise, she trusted him with whatever small piece that remained intact of her tattered soul. Taking a step closer, she gave a slight nod, not able to give voice to the emotions that had risen in her chest.

He took her arm again and drew her to the bed. “Sit,” he said softly. She complied, stretching out against the satin sheets, but her body was tense as he slid onto the bed, rising over her. “Relax,” his voice prodded softly. “It will be over in a moment.” She had closed her eyes, but they shot open when she felt his fingers flex against her face and her hands tightened on the smooth covers, letting their cool softness bunch in her fingers. “Relax,” he repeated again, and then his head lowered and she gave a small groan as his lips moved against hers. She ran her hands through his dark hair, pulling him closer, and his tongue brushed at the seam of her lips as she opened her mouth beneath his, welcoming the intrusion.

At the touch of his tongue against hers she felt memories begin to shift again in her mind; she was a child in the forest, her mother laughing as they splashed through a river, then older as she stood at a banquet in  the lavish halls of Olympus feeling hungry eyes on her, then crying in her bed in the quiet night of her mother’s temple, aching with fear and loneliness. She was helpless as the thoughts swirled in her mind. And then -- the shadowed man hovered to the forefront of her vision while  the golden figures hung suspended in time. He sucked and pulled at her lips and she felt panic consume her as the memories began to dim, become vague, and his lips seemed to draw away the figures until nothing remained of them except the awareness of loss. She felt a tear slide down her cheek as his head began to draw back. His lips were next to her ear. “Do you still hate me? Do you still curse the day you met me?” She stiffened beneath him, the words had been so soft she did not know if they were real or imagined, echoes of memories in her mind. Then he rolled off of her and sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes closed -- deep in thought.

“The dark figure could be anyone. I see no features,” he stated calmly. He twisted his fingers in intricate patterns, rewinding the vision over and over, trying to get any clue of what the vision was. “The room was too dark, but you are right, it is full of malice towards you, it wishes you harm.” There was a knock on the door. “Enter,” Hades said. It was the guards. The search so far had yielded nothing and Cerberus had seen no one enter or leave the Underworld. He instructed them to continue their search and to station more guards outside of the palace. Hades walked back to her, “You are safe now, no one is down here. Whoever or whatever it was has vanished.”

"I am not safe,” she replied quietly, sitting on the edge of his bed.

“Someone is coming.” He is coming. She began to stand, panic racing through her when Hades gave a gentle push against her shoulders and she fell back onto the bed. He placed a blanket over her and then sat close to her feet.

“Time is broken down here --  with Cronos locked in Tartarus. He is the keeper of time and there are moments when you can see glimpses of the past and the future -- things that have happened and things that have yet to occur. It is possible that the figure was a premonition of things to come. There is nothing we can do tonight.”

She shivered at his words, at the memory of his horrible father who had committed such atrocities against his own son. He spoke cooly, but she knew that the hurt and rage simmered near the surface. His hand was so close to her own, but his remoteness kept her from grasping it. His posture was stiff and he looked ready to flee, when she longed for him to stay with her, to warm the coldness from her and keep the fear at bay.

“What else can you see?”

Hades gaze moved into the blue embers of the fire. “Sometimes you can see fragments of time - things that might have been, but did not come to pass. Endless futures that will never come to be. Time and fate are woven intimately together and one may alter the other. It is almost like watching another version of your life play out. Some better and some far worse. It can play tricks with your mind and can even drive you mad. Time is cruel -- like my father. It withers mortals and sucks the life out of them.” His face hardened as he stared into the flames, “Time… haunts all of us.”

“But why would this dark figure feel such anger towards me?”

Hades’ eyes moved towards her then, “In two days, Venus squares my planet, in the sky. The symptoms of the curse will heighten. My jealousy, insecurity, anger, and frustration will all be directed towards the one thing that consumes me... you.”

"What I saw, could not have been you,” she cried, sitting up. "It was mocking and filled with hate. You have never tried to scare or harm me!"

“In two days, I will no longer be me,” he cautioned her.

“Who will you be then?” she asked, her voice a whisper of sound.

He smiled and it came nowhere near his eyes. “I will be the monster you have always feared.”

She raised a hand to her throat. “What can be done?”

“I do not know. If I send you away - I will come and find you. Down here, no one can keep you safe.” He paused, his eyes moving from hers. “I might have to imprison myself in Tartarus.”

“No!” she exclaimed, this time giving into the impulse to grasp his hand tightly in hers. “You cannot do that. You would be tortured, think of all the evil men you have sent to spend eternity there. If you lock yourself in with them it is as good as asking for them to destroy you! There has to be another way.”

“I do not know if there is,” he said. “Tartarus seems appropriate. It is where the monsters go, after all, and if it can hold my father, it can hold me.” He removed his hand from hers and opened a drawer from the table near his bed, pulling out an object wrapped in a black silk cloth. He pulled back the thin material to reveal a jewel encrusted dagger, the light of the fire reflecting off its steely, ebony surface as he lifted it towards her.

“This is for you,” he said with intent.

She instantly recoiled at it, the thought of touching that cool, deadly blade causing her stomach to twist. “I do not want that,” she said, trying to scoot away from him.

He grasped her hand in his and easily pried her fingers open, forcing the hilt of the cold steel into her hands. The dagger was entwined between their fingers, the iridescent blue stones sparkled against the black blade as she felt a hot burn begin to scorch her fingertips through the sheath; Hades let go of her quickly.

“A fierce soul carved this dagger from the rock in the Acheron and dipped the blade in its waters. Its cut is painful enough to stop even the most powerful Gods in their tracks. This will not kill me, only maim me. One slash will give you a good head start. This is yours.”

Green eyes rose to black. “You want me to use this on you?” Her voice was tight and almost unrecognizable to her own ears.

“I want you to protect yourself,” he demanded.

“And you think that I would have no issue to hurt you?” she asked pointedly.

An emotion flickered in his eyes but was gone before she could assess it. “I think you will do what you must to survive,” he replied.

Persephone held the dagger loosely in her hand, feeling the coldness of the steel on her palm. She closed her eyes against his words, wondering if he really believed her to be that selfish and why his words hurt her so much.

“I am tired,” she whispered.

"You should sleep," his deep voice said.

“Alone?” she asked.

“I think that is best.”

She opened her eyes. “I do not want to be alone tonight.”

“I will watch over you, nothing will harm you tonight. Sleep, Persephone.”

She watched him walk away from her as he went back to the fire, sitting in one of the shadowed chairs. The darkness swallowed him and she felt the gap widen between them as he disappeared from her view. Tears began to fill her eyes and she could not stop them as they trickled  down her face. How had they become so close only to have such a cold distance between them again? He seemed revolted by her now, ever since the Fates had warned him against her. Tell him the truth, her mind whispered, tell him. She longed to set the words free from her lips, but too long had they been held prisoner in her heart, and her mouth was kept frozen against the truth. She brushed her face against the pillow, wiping away the traces of moisture on her face and she closed her eyes, willing herself to sleep, wondering why it felt like her soul was breaking. As she felt herself begin to drift, she reached for him in the shadows.

“Do not go to Tartarus,” she pleaded into the darkness.

Hades stood over her, watching the gentle fall and rise of her chest. Her lashes were dark crescents on her cheeks and she was so beautiful he felt the pain of it in his chest. His love burned for her, as it had always burned for her, long before the cursed arrow had pierced his chest.

He moved to the daybed in front of the fire, opening his palm to reveal Persephone’s thread of life. The golden light flickered across his face as he studied it, running his fingers back and forth over the mark. “I am sorry, Persephone,” he whispered, “for daring to love you, for letting my darkness touch your light.” He clenched his fist around her thread lowering his head as his heart contracted. “What a vile world it is to have loved and have lost you twice.”