Destroyer of Light (32 page)

A pair of giddy lovers dressed in saffron chitons dashed past him in the opposite direction, escaping the fires and torches for the privacy afforded by the open fields, the night sky, and the stars above. Aidon jogged after his wife, nearly losing her trail in the incense wafting from the temple. He looked about the crowd for signs of her, then felt a hand grasp at his.

“Come on,” she whispered. “It’s not much farther.”

The music faded into the background, a steady muffled drumbeat and a melody from the flute amidst the singing. Aidoneus and Persephone carefully scaled the rocky hillside north of the temple. She lifted the faceplate of her helm and perched it atop her head, becoming visible to him again. He followed her lead so he could be sure of his footing, but his helm still covered his face, his cloak hiding all but a single arm and a glint of his cuirass. Persephone held his hand and gathered up her skirts with the other, one pale foot carefully following the other, trying to find the scattered steps in the darkness.

“You climb these rocks barefoot?” he asked.

“Of course,” she said, smiling. “I always did so when I was Kore.”

The incline gentled and they soon came to a short wall of stacked stones and blocks of marble. Mason’s tools lay propped against one of the walls. This was an unfinished temple. “I know this place…”

“I’d hope so,” she said. “It’s where we emerged and struck the new Agreement.”

He frowned. “It’s where I lost you for half the year, every year. Why bring me here of all places, Persephone?”

“Look.” She paused and he turned in the direction she faced. All was silent except for the distant music in Eleusis. Her husband’s eyes widened and his mouth hung open. Persephone spoke. “You said you weren’t worshipped in the world above. You told me how you would be blamed for all that happened, how the mortals would never know you…”

Aidon shook his head and removed his helm, laying it on the ground beside him. Before them on a raised altar stood two life-size statues— his likeness and hers, carved from ash trees. They faced outward together, he standing slightly behind her, one hand gently holding her shoulder, the other cupped beneath her upturned hand. Cradled in her hand was a single, perfect pomegranate flower. Persephone’s free hand held a long stalk of asphodel. Her face was serene, his looked stern.

Fresh wreaths of poplar leaves and asphodel flowers crowned their heads and boughs of cypress lay at their feet, perfuming the air with their spicy scent. It mingled with the sweet smell of narcissus and pomegranate flowers that were strewn about the altar. Footprints littered the ground. This place was well visited and, judging from the crispness of the wreaths adorning their heads, recently and carefully tended.

Persephone’s hand intertwined with his, and the statues blurred. He quickly wiped away the tears that moistened his eyes and gazed down at her. “How… Persephone, have you…”

“Yes,” she answered softly. “I wasn’t expecting them to create all this, though. It was built by students of one of my mother’s priests. My priest, in truth— Eumolpus. He said it would take too long to work with marble; so this is temporary.”

“A shame. I quite like the ash wood.” Aidon took a step closer to look at the embracing statues and saw amphorae of olive oil stacked near the base of the altar, offerings to his realm. “So that’s where all the oil has been coming from.”

“Mortals have made offerings to the Underworld before, though. Haven’t they?” She remembered how he’d used the oil to slick back his hair, and shave his thick stubble.

“Only small libations,” he answered. “Nothing like this. Olive oil has been appearing in the great hall of the palace of late. What have you told them of our world?”

“The truth.” Persephone leaned against his arm. “That they are reborn above. About how peaceful Asphodel is, how you are firm but kind, a shepherd of souls.”

“
Sto Theo, kai Thea
,” he said, reading the inscription carved into the platform below.

“Is that what that says?” she said, a smile broadening across her face.

“To the God and the Goddess; yes. Unsurprising. We’re rulers of the dead. They will not call on us by name, or write our names, for that matter.”

“What about that one?” she said pointing to a heavy marble cornerstone at the entrance. She only recognized the first letter,
pi
, the same letter that started her name.

Aidon squinted to read it. The word
Plutonion
was scratched roughly into its surface to mark where the chisel would eventually do the rest. “The Rich One…” he said with a smirk. “Or rather, the sanctuary of the Rich One.”

“They’re not talking about gold, Aidon. That had little value here during winter. They call you the Rich One in Eleusis because you helped bring fertility back to the earth. You’re more than just the God of the Dead.”

“Hmm,” he grunted in acknowledgement and thinned his lips.

Persephone pointed to a much smaller cave littered with copper coins. “That one they dedicated to Charon.”

“Oh?” A wide smile broke on Hades face and he laughed. “Oh no, I can’t…”

“What’s wrong?”

“If I tell him they built this, I’ll never hear the end of it!”

“Oh, poor Charon; he should know, Aidon,” she said and laughed with him. “Fine. Hold off until I come back. It will amuse me to no end to see his reaction.”

He turned toward her and cupped her face in his hand. “You’ve done the impossible, my love.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve found a way to bridge the divide between our worlds. This is the first temple they’ve ever built where I am even mentioned. You’ve created a way for the mortals to know us as we are.”

“I couldn’t just stand by and let everyone speak for me, or for you. My mother had more than enough to say about our relationship during the winter. But I wanted the Eleusinians and all of Hellas to know that—”

He lifted her against him and silenced her with a kiss. Persephone gave in, holding him to her, grasping at his cloak, pulling him closer. He drew his shaking hands along her waist to her hips. “Persephone…”

“That I love you,” she whispered.

He gathered her close and kissed her again, and Persephone relaxed in his arms, her legs going limp and heat pooling in her belly.

“I love you, sweet one,” he said when they separated to catch their breath. “I often thought about how it was barely two months you were with me… the blink of an eye compared to the long aeons I've lived. But it feels as though a piece of me has been missing without you there.”

“I know…” She shook her head, her eyes watering. “Aidon, I’m so sorry, half the year was the best I could do…”

“No, my love. Don’t ever apologize for what you did,” he said, then looked away. “Do you regret it? Forever tethering yourself to the Land of the Dead? To me— after knowing me for such a short time?”

“Of course not,” she smiled at him. “You forget, it’s my world too. Your palace is my home… your bed is my bed.”

He kissed her again, harder this time, and she felt his fingers bunch in the fabric of her peplos. His lips played with hers, her tongue stroking his, boldly deepening the kiss. He pulled away from her and breathed shallowly, his pulse drumming in his ears. When he finally spoke again, his voice was low and vulnerable. “Can we…?”

“Here?”

“Anywhere.” His hands retraced their path up her waist. “I need you.”

“I can think of no better place,” she said with a smile. “This is your sanctuary— your home in this world, after all.”

“Our home,” he replied huskily, brushing his thumb over the outline of a taut nipple peaking against her dress.

She gasped and pressed herself to him, her body flush against the cold, muscular outlines of his cuirass. “How do I remove this?”

“If you want, I could change the armor back to my robes,” he said, his mouth twisting into a lusty half-grin. “Or I could just will it off my body.”

She looked at him in surprise. “I don’t recall you doing that before, Aidon. And I can think of several times where we would have benefitted from that expediency.”

“I like the ritual of removing clothes,” Aidon said against her neck, planting a soft kiss behind her ear. “Of revealing each inch of your skin… of discovering and knowing you one part at a time. And I love the expression on your face when you reveal mine.”

“As do I,” she whispered, impatiently running her fingertips over the edges of his armor. “Show me how to take this off…”

Aidon unlaced one of his gauntlets, and Persephone copied him with the other, albeit more slowly. She bent down and examined his greaves. He helped her by effortlessly pulling one forward, the metal springing back into the shape of his leg. Persephone removed the other. She quickly untied one of his sandal straps, then the other, the leather thongs loosening and falling around his ankles. She tossed the greaves aside next to the other pieces as he stepped out of his sandals and kicked them away.

Aidoneus unpinned his cloak, letting it drop to the ground behind him. She traced her fingers over the tensed muscles of his exposed arms and the veins winding their way to his wrists. He covered her hands with his, moving them to his sides, her fingers brushing over the straps that held his cuirass securely to his body. She kissed him and started working the leather through the bronze fasteners, three on each side.

The first strap took the longest; the others followed quickly once she figured out how to unlace them. Aidon lifted the strapped shoulders over his head as she pulled it up from the bottom. The golden carapace crashed loudly to the rocky ground.

Persephone jumped back and glanced about. Aidon chuckled at her reaction. “Afraid of being discovered, my love?”

“Only a little. I know that no one is coming here or looking for us. They’re all celebrating in the village. But, still…” she said, gazing off toward the glowing lamps and torchlight surrounding the Telesterion. She could vaguely make out what they were playing. It was the same song from her childhood— the one Charon hummed the first time she traveled the Styx in his boat, nestled into her husband’s side.

“Come, wife.”

She turned abruptly as he spread his cloak over the ground, the embroidered edges snapping against the thick wool before it billowed out and settled. He rose, and Persephone looked longingly at him, his tunic clinging to his form thanks to the warm summer night and his closely fit cuirass. His desire for her was evident. Persephone sauntered over to him, then slowly brushed her hands down the wrinkled fabric covering his chest. “I was thinking that we could do away with any barriers between us and the ground.”

He raised his eyebrows at her, his voice rough. “This is hardly a clover field. Your back will be raw before I’m done with you.” His last words came out strangled, and she reached for the edge of his tunic and lifted it. He took over once she raised it past his waist, and flung it away, pins and all, then untied his loincloth and let it drop to the ground in front of him.

Persephone stepped back, her eyes glassy, her breathing heavy as she beheld him naked in the dim light. Her mouth went dry. “Y-you forget my love, we are in
my
world…”

She stretched out her hand and the cloak flew away, settling in a heap with his tunic. In its wake were tufts of soft grasses and downy moss, clovers and small white flowers. They spread out under their feet, rising up from the dusty earth to cover the whole floor of the Plutonion.

“…And if I want to make love to my husband pressed against the earth,
our
domain, then I’ll do just that.”

“We must go to Nysa, sometime,” he ground out. “When the sun is up.”

“And have Helios see us?” She circled him.

“I’m sure he’s seen stranger things than a man and his wife joined in marital bliss,” Aidon turned toward her with every step she took, their movements like a dance.

“Even if said man and wife are creatures of the Underworld?” She giggled when he shrugged. “You’ve fantasized about us together there often, haven’t you?”

“Of course,” he said, looking her up and down. “How else do you think I’ve managed to get any shred of sleep these past three months?”

Persephone stopped and looked at him askance. Her lips formed a silent ‘oh’, understanding his meaning. She thought about her nights spent alone when her hands would wander beneath the sheet to mimic his caress. He must have done the same, perhaps even to completion. A riot of provocative images filled her head. “Show me.”

“First things first,” he crooned and snapped his fingers.

Her tightly wound hair relaxed and fell, and cool air nipped at the small of her back. The gentle breeze wafted against every inch of her skin and Persephone shivered. Her flesh broke out in small bumps and the tips of her breasts hardened almost painfully.

Persephone looked down at her body, now as naked as his, then to the pile of his clothes. Hers were folded neatly atop them, willed there by him in an instant. She laughed, but her mirth immediately subsided when she saw the tight set of his jaw, and his fingers clenching and unclenching at his sides.

“Forgive my impatience, my love,” he said raggedly. Aidon stepped toward her with every intent of laying her out on the soft earth. “Three months is long enough…”