by Alexa Silver
A blast of frigid air froze her in place. “By the gods!” She pulled back her wind-whipped hair and took in the scene before her.
Her jaw dropped. This was Enna? Her beautiful home?
Instead of a lush green meadow dotted with sun-dappled flowers of yellow and orange, there lay a blanket of white crystals swirling in a dull mist. The sky was not cerulean, but an array of ominous shades of gray, the darkest resembling puffs of ash from Mount Etna. In the distance, Lake Pergusa did not shine like a rippled mirror, but remained unmoving and cloudy.
Persephone pointed to the ground where the white crystals had puddled to water at her feet. “What is this?”
“Demeter calls it ‘snow’.” Hermes gestured broadly. “She calls this devastation ‘winter’.” He raised a brow in her direction.
Persephone shielded her chill-puckered nipples from Hermes’s lascivious gaze. “I don’t understand.” She swallowed a sob. “What’s happened?”
Hermes chuckled wickedly. “This is what your lustful blackguard of a husband hath wrought.” He leered at her. “A better man would have ruminated over the consequences before plundering your maidenhead.”
The mist parted to reveal a solitary figure shrouded entirely in black. A woman, from her shape, cloaked and veiled as if in mourning, the sight a dramatic disruption against the bleak landscape. She opened her arms wide and beckoned to Persephone.
“Mama!”
New strength surged through Persephone’s veins. She ran to the waiting embrace, each slap of her sandals turning the snow to grass, each exhale warming the frosty air, each thud of her heart a bass note to the birds’ reviving melodies. She touched the tips of Mama’s fingers and clouds scattered to reveal a firmament of blue, inviting flowers of every hue to spring from rich soil. She fell into Mama’s arms, heaving breath, Mama supporting her enervated form, imbuing it with vitality.
“My baby, my precious baby, you have been found! You have been returned to my bosom.”
Found? Persephone pulled back to gaze into Mama’s tear-rimmed eyes. She searched her face. The usual glowing visage was newly etched with deep creases, lines of distress implying recent horrors. “Mama, didn’t Papa tell you where I was?”
Mama released her hold and spat on the ground. “Your father may be King of all Olympian Gods, but sometimes he is a complete ass.” Mama fussed with Persephone’s hair, trying to smooth the tangles. “When I discovered Zeus knew where you were, I had to make threats.”
“Is that what you did to the meadow and the lake?” Persephone glanced around. “When I arrived, everything looked dead.” The desolation had fully returned to spring’s verdant glory.
“Yes, precious. I killed the Earth as I had thought you dead. I struck a compromise with your father. I have to endure your absence for four months of every year, and mankind and the gods have to endure the death of the Earth during that time.” Mama cupped Persephone’s chin, turning her head side to side, examining her. “Was he so very cruel to you? It must have been harrowing living in Hell all these months. You look a fright.”
“Mama, I’m fine. Hades was good to me.” More than just good, her husband had pampered and spoiled her. What Mama didn’t understand was that it was the trip out of Hell that was harrowing, not Hell itself. An ornately carved staircase at the outset devolved into rough-hewn, practically unnavigable rock. The hot dry air turned foul and overly humid about half-way up. Her dress was torn and her hair was tangled from a barrage of spidery roots near the top of the climb. And she was exasperated from suffering through Hermes’s constant stream of dick jokes. After all that, anyone would look like she’d been to Hell and back. Someone came up with that expression for a reason.
“You’re skinnier than when you left.”
Persephone snorted a laugh. “No, I’m not, Mama!” She had to maintain the fiction that she had only indulged in four pomegranate seeds. In truth, she had been so well-fed she surely gained weight. She contained a giggle. Probably all the exercise in the bedroom had burned off a slew of calories.
Mama stood back and examined her body. “Hmm. Perhaps you’ve finally grown into your womanly form.” She clutched Persephone once more. “My baby was abducted as a child and returned a woman.”
No. That was wrong. She had not been a child when she had climbed into Hades’s chariot. She had been a curious young woman eager to explore love’s banquet.
Persephone sighed. More like she was abducted a frustrated woman and returned a satisfied one.
*****
Hades slumped in his golden throne, drumming his fingers on his knee, his other hand barely holding his blood-red wine goblet. Tiny waves of fragrant liquor sloshed over the rim as he balanced the cup with two fingers on either side of the stem.
A ker scurried over to refill his cup every time it reached half empty. After the tenth time he waved the servant away. The attempts by his staff to satisfy his every desire were getting bothersome and tiring.
He had only one desire. And she was back home visiting her damn mother. A growl of displeasure rose in his throat. He was expected to wait how many months? Eight?
Zeus had promised his daughter, then had made good on the promise. The maiden had been exactly where the God of Gods had said she would be.
Hades stared at the golden chair next to him. His queen should be sitting at his side at that very moment. Even the usually fierce Kerberos looked dejected lying on his pillow between the thrones, three chins atop two crossed paws. The canine guard sighed as his three pairs of eyes stared dolefully at the empty seat his mistress used to occupy.
Hades downed the contents of the half-filled wine glass. Damn it all to Hell! It wasn’t right. He had captured the maiden fair and square and then her mother had to go and ruin it all.
He threw the goblet into the fire pit fronting the dais. Shards of glass exploded in a dazzling display of gold flames tipped with flares of white.
Gold like her hair. White like that dangerously sexy slip of a dress she had been wearing when he first grabbed her. The filmy fabric had exaggerated the tender curves of her nubile body. Before they made love for the first time, he had easily torn the chiton clean off.
Fuck. He was hard just thinking about it.
Hades gripped the arms of the throne chair, futilely digging his nails into the hot metal, then stood.
Well, maybe he’d just go grab her right back.
*****
“Oh, Persie, it was simply dreadful with you gone. All that snow and ice. Brrr.”
It was easy for Persephone to resume her old habits with her friends. The Okeanides, daughters of the river god Okeanos, had been picking flowers with her on the day she had been taken by Hades four months ago. They had not witnessed her seduction as Persephone had strayed far from the group. Later, they had alerted Mama of her disappearance.
Tykhe, Ianthe, and Galaxaura had invited her to the meadow to once again indulge their favorite pastime. Tykhe wove a pretty wreath of purple and orange wildflowers, then placed it on Persephone’s head.
“I’d say I felt guilty for not keeping an eye out for you,” Tykhe continued, “but I daresay you seem fine for what must have been a terrifying experience. Hell had to have been simply awful.”
Persephone chuckled at her friend’s naïveté. “The worst was the heat,” she said humoring Tykhe. “Hotter than summertime in Enna.”
“That was the worst?” asked Ianthe.
“That and Hermes leading me back here. I had to keep him in front, leading the way. He gets grabby if he follows behind.”
Galaxaura’s eyes widened. “I don’t think I would mind so much if Hermes grabbed me.”
Persephone rolled her eyes. “He’s a letch, Gala. When we were at the top, he wanted me to grab his rod for support.”
“His rod?” Galaxaura said. “You mean his cadeusus?”
“I’m not entirely sure he meant that.”
Tykhe giggled.
Ianthe leaned in. “What was it like?”
Persephone bolstered herself with a long breath. Probably not anything like what any of them had heard. “Kerberos is a really sweet dog.” Although with three heads wanting constant pats and scritches, a little too needy. “And Charon the ferryman always greets with pleasant chit-chat.” And Olympian gossip. “Plus, like I said, it’s quite hot down there. Lots of licking flames and molten rock and such. But it’s strange how nothing burns. I mean it’s not like one should tempt the fire by touching it, but if one accidentally gets too close, it just sort of rolls over the body without singeing.”
The girls stared at her as if she were mad. Tykhe giggled again.
“Not Hell, Persie,” she said. “We’ve all heard stories about what Hell is like.” Tykhe glanced around furtively. “What’s it like,” she said in a hushed voice. “You know, what a man does to a woman.”
Oh. Of course. Persephone had been a virgin. Her unmarried clique were all still virgins and would most likely remain so for the rest of their days.
“And Hades no less,” said Ianthe either impressed or terrified.
“He must be such a brute. Large, rough hands pawing at you night and day. How barbaric.” Tykhe lifted Persephone’s arm, inspecting it. “Do you have bruises? Scrapes? Scars?” She was far too enthusiastic about the matter.
“Oh, Persie!” Galaxaura exclaimed. “Did he harm you?”
“I’ve heard gods like him can be large, you know, down there.”
“Ooh! It must have hurt. I’ve heard it hurts the first time.”
Persephone simply listened to the chatter swirling about her. What could she say? She’d not had any other experience except with Hades. She had nothing to compare him to. But each time they had made love she had soared to the heavens despite being in the depths of Hell. “Well,” she began, “I suppose he’s big. It did hurt at first. But then there was tremendous pleasure.”
All three Okeanides stared, wide-eyed.
Tykhe spoke first. “So you liked it?”
Immensely. But she shouldn’t say such things as might tempt the maidens. “Um, eventually. Or perhaps I became used to it. To him.”
“Are you going back?” Galaxaura’s voice dripped concern.
“I have to.”
Ianthe sighed. “Of course you do. You ate the pomegranate seeds.”
Persephone wished she could tell her friends the truth. That it was all a yarn Hades had spun when Papa was negotiating her return to Mama.
“Ooh, a butterfly!” Galaxaura cried. “I haven’t seen one of those for months.” She ran off in pursuit of the winged creature with Tykhe and Ianthe in tow.
Persephone chuckled. Such were the circumstances so many months ago when her friends had left her alone. At that time, she had wandered away in the opposite direction in search of a violet hyacinth to complete her garland. That’s when she had encountered her destiny.
He had stood near a clump of the flowers, his golden chariot with four black horses not far away. He was spectacularly handsome, his black beard trimmed neatly around his full mouth, dark eyes fringed by long lashes gazing warmly down at her.
Standing before him her breathing had become shallow, an unfamiliar response to a stranger. But he was like no stranger she had ever encountered. He filled her senses with longing for an unknown delight.
“I see we are of like minds,” he had said, his rich bass voice resounding in a sensual spot near her belly. He had reached down and plucked a flower, offering it to her.
Their fingers grazed as she had taken the gift, the heat of the touch thrilling her through and through, as if pierced by Eros’s golden arrow. The heady floral fragrance had swirled in her nostrils, danced in her brain, permeating her, tingling her fingers and toes, until new desires had roiled within…
Desires she had discovered that afternoon in the arms of her dark-haired lover.
Persephone smiled at the memory, then lay down on the soft grass, reeds and flowers shielding her from her friends’ view. She tugged up her hem to reveal her sex like he had done that fateful afternoon in his golden chariot. He had been so gentle, so considerate of her first time. But once her passion had been unleashed, she craved a more forceful touch, and Hades had been happy to oblige.
She threaded her fingers through the golden curls of her mons, then slid further to the sticky arousal between her legs. She stroked, trying to recall her husband’s attentions. She closed her eyes against the sky, the clear blue vista a distraction from imagining the reds and oranges of the fiery underworld.
She wished she could tell her friends the absolute joy she found in her husband’s arms, how his hands were large, but not crude. His touch was delicate yet insistent. How he wanted her pleasure as much as his own.
Persephone rubbed her clit fervently, trying desperately to replicate Hades’s commanding ministrations, but finding only loneliness in her solitary exploration.
She banked back tears. Could she really go eight months without her Hades?
*****
Hades had hunkered down the moment he had spied his Persephone in the meadow. Her friends’ girlish giggles twittered in the distance, too far for any of them to notice him. Still he’d have to be careful. The Lord of the Dead was not welcome on the living Earth.
His heart thrummed at the sight of her. He had almost forgotten what she looked like in the brilliance of Helios’s rays. Her hair gleamed gold like wheat swaying in the wind, her skin glowed like polished ivory. Her dress was a pale purplish blue, a delicate shade like the hyacinth he had offered her on the day of their first meeting. Like the queen she now was, she wore a corona of purple and orange wildflowers.
After a smile twitched on her lips, she had lain down. He had to scoot forward and pull aside spring’s bounty of grasses and reeds to catch a peep.
And what a view he had found!
She was touching herself. His gaze fixed on her hand moving over the thatch of golden curls covering her feminine delights, her fingers lengthening to touch the honeyed prize. Lust coursed through him, hardening his cock already aroused from the mere sight of her. He opened his cloak and grabbed his erection.
She touched tentatively, petting herself gently as she always did at first. He mirrored her movements with gentle tugs on his shaft. Yet, impatience for release soon took over, and her ministrations quickly grew in earnest. He followed her lead, spitting on his cock to speed his pace. His orgasm teased his stones, threatening to burst forth before he was truly ready. It had been too long…well, barely a week, but he missed his Persie terribly. He slowed his strokes. He would not come until she did.
Suddenly, she rubbed with a determination he’d never before witnessed. He gripped his cock, pumping furiously, until a heart-wrenching sound filled the air.
He stilled his hand. Persephone’s excited huffs alternated with choppy intakes of breath. Tears poured down the sides of her face, marring the blush of her perfect cheeks. This was not exhilarated sensuality, but despair.
He wanted to go to her, to kiss her, whisper soothing words in her ear while he enveloped her in his arms. He understood the tempest of emotion vexing her sensibilities. He felt it, too. Eight months was an eternity neither of them should have to endure.
She thrashed on the grass, frigging frantically, lust overtaking sorrow as sobs turned into moans. She bucked her hips, holding herself in the air as if waiting for his culmination. With two quick strokes he finished himself off, spewing his infertile seed onto the rich, loamy soil.
Hades sat back on his heels, catching his breath, watching as Persephone rolled over in his direction. A faint smile played upon her lips as she picked the yellow petals off a marigold. She wiped a tear away and the smile grew wider. Her face brightened, reviving the fresh bloom of her cheeks. She was so beautiful, she was so captivating, she was so…
Clean. So very clean.
Hades looked down at his grime and soot-covered body, his cloak soaked with sweat from enduring Helios’s unrelenting rays. His appearance was all very w
ell and expected for Hell, but in the upper world he’d be shunned as the terrifying King of the Damned who brought death and destruction to the living. No sense in bringing attention to himself.
“Persephone!”
He crouched lower as Demeter’s worried cry broke the silence of the placid meadow. Persephone stood and called out to her mother, oblivious to his presence, then waved and scurried away.
Hades waited a moment before taking off in the opposite direction. It was time to check in on his brother Poseidon for a bath.
*****
Persephone grew restless from the smothering supervision she was subjected to. If it wasn’t Mama, it was the Okeanides, or one of her servants who constantly dogged her. Mama refused to let her leave the house on her own.
“But Mama, I’m here for eight months. That’s the agreement. I’m not going anywhere.”
“My darling child, the world is a cruel place. You must be chaperoned. I cannot risk what might happen if you are left alone. Hades is much like your father—a vile, unscrupulous scoundrel with only his own base needs as his concern. He’ll snatch you right back if he gets the chance.”
“Hades would do no such thing! He’s not what you think.” He was kind and generous and honorable. “He would never renege on the agreement.”
“I’m sure his flattery has lulled you into believing him to be so virtuous, Persephone.”
Ugh! Frustration incited her to action. She feigned an inability to sleep due to nightmares of the terrors of Hell. Hypnos provided her with an elixir of poppy and a kindly word.
The next day, Persephone poured the potion into her maid’s morning infusion, then grabbed a loaf of bread, a measure of wine, and a book of love poems. She carefully slipped out the back door to momentary freedom.
Once out in the world, veiled and cloaked, she headed for Lake Pergusa. The vistas were lovely, and the place was imbued with the memory of her one true love.