Chapter 16 - Resentment

◆◆◆

Persephone dreamed of the Meadows that night. She was running through the fields, the wind in her hair. She looked out over the lakes and saw storm clouds gathering ominously, turning the brilliant blue sky black, and hiding the moon as thunder rumbled across the ground. Rain poured down, turning into thin golden threads that wove a web around her arms and neck, imprisoning her in the raging squall. She heard a scream echo in the distance and quickly turned her head, but before she could move, the Fates appeared before her echoing, “The man from the woods, he is coming. The King will go mad.”

She turned around, revolted by their sunken faces, and she realized she was in a cave. The darkness made it difficult to see, but she knew that he was there and she began to run, searching, searching, knowing that someone important was near. The one who called to her soul, the one who completed her.  He was hunched over in pain, clutching the gaping wound in his chest, and she could see the beat of his crimson heart as he gasped for air, blood dripping from his mouth. His eyes turned towards her and they gleamed red in the darkness. He growled, as mist began to shroud him from her view,

"Little girl. You have a scar on your soul. I see you." She reached towards him, but the wind had begun to carry her away as she screamed his name, screamed the truth at the red eyes in the mist.

She jerked awake and jumped from the bed, her heart beating wildly in her chest. The flames had reduced to coals in the hearth, and she looked for Hades in the darkness.

“Nightmares?” a low voice asked. Hades was standing at the foot of the bed watching her.

She put her hand to her head, “They are getting worse."

“They tend to do that down here. Come,” he reached his hand towards her, “I wish to talk to you.” She immediately placed her hand into his, smiling up at him as he led her to the dimming fire. He indicated the chair, then took a seat beside her, pulling the signet ring off his finger. Grasping her hand again he placed it onto her finger. “This ring will give you access to all the realms of the Underworld. Today, you will deal with the punishments of the men who will be sent to Tartarus.” She looked down at the ring, with shock and he gently turned her face towards him. “Listen to me, Persephone, this is important. You must remove the ring when you leave the throne room. It is not permitted past the gates of the Underworld.”

“Why are you giving this to me?” she asked, her voice trembling, as she began to slide the ring from her finger. “I do not want this, I do not want to sentence men to Tartarus. Where are you going?”

He steadied her and forced it back onto her slim finger, stilling her small hands in his own. “You are ready, Persephone, you must be. The time is coming when I may no longer be able to care for this Kingdom or care for you. What is happening is beyond me. Someone must protect the dead. As my wife, as my Queen, this falls to you. My riches, my power, my kingdom. Everything I have will be yours. Do not turn your back on them, Persephone.”

“But surely there is someone who is better suited than I? I cannot do this Hades. I have done little more than grow flowers my whole life. I am worthless--”

His hands tightened over hers. “Do not say such words,” he answered harshly. “You are pure and strong and worth everything. I would trust no one as I would trust you with this Kingdom.”

“But Charon or even your brothers…?”

“There is no one else. No one else I trust to take care of my people.”

“I cannot rule this land, Hades,” she cried frantically, “I cannot. I do not want this responsibility!”

“Want it or not, the burden will fall on your shoulders. There is no one else, Persephone, there is...only you.” He moved his hand along her finger holding the very tip of it between his. “You are sweet and you are kind and though you may not realize it yet, you are strong.”

She pulled her hand away from his, the weight of the ring feeling like an unwanted burden. He was wrong, her mind cried out, this illness must have clouded his judgment.

“I am not strong,” she said, her voice rising with hysteria. “I am the weakest of the Gods on Olympus. I could never be as powerful as Athena, or Poseidon, or...or you. I..I am anything but strong. I am a coward! You subject this world to the judgement of a coward!”

Placing a hand on her shoulder he gave a gentle nudge. “You knew the name of Kynthía. And you knew other things about her beyond her name, did you not?  Why do you think that is? Already you have begun to be able to touch souls, to probe their depths. Whether you know it or not, whether you accept it or not, you are already the Queen of the Underworld.  Your sorrow, your resilience, your compassion for even the most vile… these make you stronger than you know. You are not afraid to feel, Persephone, and that makes you braver than the hardiest of soldiers.” He paused, staring into space, and he blinked suddenly looking into her eyes. “And your ability, to...to let go when the time comes. These are the traits that make you strong. I would not want a cyclops or a war God sitting on my throne. I want you. The little goddess who cares for her little creatures. The one who weeps over the loss of every soul, however small or inconsequential to the rest of the world. Zeus will take over this kingdom the second an opportunity arises. If that happens, he will have unfathomable power over not just the living, but the dead. I cannot allow that. You cannot allow that. He will come down here demanding sacrifices and unending praise - never feeling the need to show his face while expecting blind obedience from his subjects who worship at the feet of their invisible cruel God. He will treat my subjects as he treats his own - disposable. But, they will hurt eternally at his hand and they will never have the release of death. I love my people. I do not want them to suffer below as they have above. Be a formidable queen - for me.”

He wore high collared robes but she could see the tiny dark veins crawling further up his neck, rising like deadly serpents against his pale skin.

“Hades,” she whispered, reaching towards him. “How can I help you?”

He was just beyond her reach and he gave her a smile, so sweet it made her heart ache. Was this the smile he had before he had been tormented by his father, forced to kill his mother? Was this the man hidden behind the cold facade?

“You cannot help me, Persephone, I am far beyond that now,” he answered. “It is the ending I have always been destined for. You hold no blame in this.”

She shook her head, stepping closer to him, panic racing through her veins at his meek acceptance of … what? Not death, but something far worse. He would be locked in eternal madness, his beautiful mind untouchable, where she could never reach him. He deserved so much more from this life than he had received, so much more than she had been willing to give him. If only she had not misplaced her trust, if only she had not allowed herself to be shattered. She grasped his arm in her frantic grip, but he turned her gently towards the dressing room.

“You must change, my Queen, your subjects await you. The time for resolution is past. This game is played out.”

She moved behind a dressing screen and began changing into a gown, her entire body trembling. Her hands shook as she tried to reach for the back of her dress, but she felt his hands there and he was fastening the clasps she could not reach. Always there when she needed him.

“Where are you going?” she asked again, fear making her voice low.

“I will prepare for tomorrow, prepare for the end -- so I do as little harm as possible to this realm -- and to you.” His strong hands pushed down on her shoulders and he leaned towards her. “You can do this. You are stronger than you realize.”

She turned to face him and she could not help the sheen of tears in her eyes.  “Your wound…it looks very bad. Is there nothing we can do?”

He placed her hand over his heart and said with a weak laugh, “You could try loving me. That might help.”

She could feel the rhythm of the heartbeat beneath her palm and it felt slow and sluggish, and fear prickled in her own heart, causing it to accelerate in her chest. It felt like the heartbeat of a dying man. As his shadowed eyes watched her, she saw the fragility that lurked in their depths.

Her mind rejected the knowledge of his weakness, but the reality made  her knees tremble beneath her heavy gown. “I am sorry, Hades,” she whispered. “I am so sorry.”

“No,” he said fiercely, fire reappearing in the blackness of his gaze. “Never, never be sorry, Persephone. Never let guilt control you, for only the most despicable of men would use that to sway a heart. For those moments… for some of those brief moments, I knew what I wanted in life. I knew everything I’ve ever wanted could be found in you. All that I could ever ask for is reflected in everything you are. I will never be sorry. I hope that I will remember, somewhere in my mind, that even for the briefest second in time, you were mine and I was yours. I can ask for nothing more; I have received much more than I ever expected to find.”

“Hades,” she whispered and if she did not know it had died long ago, she would swear her heart was breaking. She pressed her lips against his and he groaned helplessly, pressing his mouth against hers. Then he let out a painful gasp against her lips and he pushed her away, falling to his knees as blood began to drip from his mouth, falling in long pools to the ground.

“Hades!” she cried, dropping to the ground beside him, her tears falling to join the blood flowing at their feet.

He gently pushed her away, struggling to catch his breath, as he wiped the blood from his lips. “I need to rest. You know your task for today, Queen Persephone.”

She pulled at his hand. “Do not be stubborn! Let me help you. You do not have to deal with this alone. I should stay with you!”

Suddenly his eyes shifted and as his black gaze narrowed, anger and lust shone in their depths. His hand shot out, his fingers snaking painfully around her wrist as Persephone gave a small cry of distress. “I am always alone, little girl. I am the Necromancer, I am the King of Death -- and no one touches me,” he whispered. “The line between love and hate is thin and soon it will be crossed. If you do not like love, how will you like hate? It is coming for you, Persephone.” He hissed out her name and the lines on his neck stood out darker against his skin, pulsating with his words. “What will happen when love turns to resentment, my Queen?” Suddenly his expression cleared and as he let go of her wrist, she realized for the first time he looked afraid. “Go, Persephone,” he said softly. “Go and do not return to this room.” He grasped the dagger that still lay on the bed and tucked it into her hands, closing her fingers over it. “Be a formidable queen -- for me.”