The lightening sky became a diminishing light blue dot as the earth closed behind them. Hades let go of Persephone's hand and smiled. I love you too, he said.
His eyes carried a light in the darkness, but Persephone could not see the way so Hades lit a torch and they descended into the ground.
While they were walking Hades told her the story of his gorgon wife, a hideous beast who had stolen his seed and borne three children. How did it happen, Persephone asked, three times? I don't know, said Hades, putting the root of the deceit down to darkness and confusion.
As impressive as her trickery was, it wasn't as complete as her anger, he said, so we must hide you from her hurt feelings or she will steal away my children. But if you love me, shouldn't we stand together, asked Persephone, because that is the truth. Hades shook his head. No, she will not allow it, he said. Persephone frowned in the dark.
It was dark, and beautiful, thought Persephone, turning to see what could be seen as she adapted to life without light. Fungi glistened in the torchlight and luminescent insects shimmered in the black. Beyond the fire's light, unseen animals' eyes winked and moved.
At last they came to the lapping edge of a river. Beside the wide water was a small house made of old timbers. Opening the door, the light flowed out on the ground, the fireplace fire reflected on finished logs. Here, said Hades, we're safe here, and again he warned her: I don't want to hold you back. Persephone smiled up at him and put her arms around him. What a beautiful place, what a beautiful person, what a beautiful life.
I have to go, said Hades. The demands of his kingdom were calling him away, and Persephone nodded. The door closed behind him and she fell into the sleep she had been missing in bed beside him.
In dreams she felt the touch of the sun and the hush of wind through leaves, a golden thread of light hummed around her. She awakened in darkness.
Three days later, the door flew open and Hades' face was pale. He had done it, he had broken away from the beast that was the mother of his children and now he was frightened. What have I done, he said.
Hades had been working to break the spell for years, waiting until the beast was sated and sluggish and then quietly stealing away the timbers from their home one by one until it was as strong as paper. At last, the day to leave had come with Persephone's arrival, and he said the words to the beast that would release him. I do not love you, he said, facing the beast, I never did, and I never will again.
Hades stopped mid-story and looked at Persephone. His eyes were filled with a glimmer of righteousness as he told her how the beast had howled and refused to release him as though she owned him. Rising up, the beast held a whip in her hand, ready to strike him in his disobedience but Hades had been quick and snatched the whip, threatening her instead. Away she slunk, the beast who had consumed all the riches of his work and joys of his life. But he knew this was not the end.
She could do anything, he said. We must not let anyone know about you, he told Persephone, not my family, not anyone. So instead from time to time he stole to the cabin, a lacuna of solace and light in darkness, and Persephone waited to be freed herself from the remnant power of the beast.
Occasionally, the pair would venture out, visiting the forests of fungi or bathing their knees in the river. But any passing pair of eyes was a threat, and Hades would shield Persephone from view. Many days he was caring for his children, tending to the needs of his kingdom. Persephone, excited to discover more about her new love, offered a hand even in her hidden capacity but the risk was too great. The beast was lumbering through the land, said Hades. His now ex-wife had used the bearing of children as an excuse to devour hillsides, he said, and was now enormous as well as unstable. Disgust and anger stained the words that fell from his mouth: she's crazy. Fear battered the light around Persephone, but her resolve held. She would stay here in love.
Hours passed day by day in the darkness, the crepuscular changes in temperature the only timekeepers. At the last of one day, Persephone opened the door to find the beast before her. But instead of an imagined slavering evil creature, in front of her stood a woman with fine red hair and beautiful almond-shaped eyes filled with shock and pain. And anger.
He's done this before, you know, she shot at Persephone. The beast was filled with anger, just as Hades had said, and Persephone knew it was his beautiful heart that saw the hideousness of anger and the pain the beast inflicted through her greed. You don't own him, said Persephone, he is his own person, remembering Hades' stories of bondage at the hands of the beast.
Suddenly, a small, vicious dog lunged from behind the beast, snapping at Persephone. The bitch's fangs caught a corner of her dress and pulled, suddenly leaving her naked. She held her arm across her breast and kept the dog at bay. With a gentle kick, she pushed it back behind the beast. Go away, said Persephone, waving her free hand and closing the door.
Leaning against the frame and feeling her heart beating in her chest, Persephone, once the girl of flowers, felt tears run down her cheeks. What had happened? From a fruitful field to darkness and deceit and intrigue, her life had changed.
Although the dog's petty snapping had been surprising, it was the sense that she was an alien thing in a strange place, something to hide away in shame, that was perplexing. Why did Hades not want to share lives with her? She had asked him many times if he would like to come to Demeter's table but he declined all invitations. Finally he had told her that it was too much pressure to think about her and his family. Persephone, seeing his ex-wife's hostility, acquiesced, believing that in time after his escape he would want more once he had healed, once he returned to his source.
Along the ridge of a nearby mountain from deep within the earth, a source of scalding water rose, joining a cold river to form a shallow pool. It was at this place that Hades spent most of his days, ruling his kingdom from the edge of the hot spring. When his work was done, he and his entourage convened along the bank of the river Lethe, dipping their cups in its somnolent waters. Draughts downed drained their brains of all the small happenings of the day, and minds free, they played their games along the river's edge. It was like peace, at last. At last, Persephone had been invited to join them in their sport, but found only confusion, not the peace they seemed to win. But Hades' joy running with the boys also made her happy, taking delight in his fortune.
Once after an evening at the Lethe Hades had visited Persephone spontaneously mid-night, waking her at the window. Opening the door, a drunk and tired Hades fell immediately into her bed, sprawling and snoring, and she looked forward instead to the morning.
After the chill of dawn and Hades' wandering hands had woken her and they had fallen into each other, Hades was soon standing and pulling on his clothes. Don't you want breakfast, asked Persephone. No, said Hades, I have to go to work soon. Something dark settled into her stomach, killing her hunger as well. Doubt.
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