7. Underworld: Everything you have ever desired (PART 2)
Part 2: Chapter 7
This is Part 2: Chapter 7 of the serialised YA Fantasy Fiction novel ‘Underworld’, a reimagining (not a retelling) of the myth of Persefóni. Use the button below to access the Table of Contents and navigate back a chapter, or begin at the beginning. For SHORT STORY content click here instead.
As this was a huge chapter, I decided to split it into two parts out of respect for your time. This is PART 2. If you missed PART 1, click here.
CHAPTER 7: Everything you have ever desired (PART 2)
We descend to the lower levels of the palace, but we don’t make for any of the halls I’ve visited previously. Instead, we take another flight of steps I’ve never been down. It leads to a draughty gallery lit by torches in sconces. Our shadows dance in the wavering flames, leaping and cavorting on the walls, although we’re walking slowly, draped in our finery and weighed down with heavy jewels. At the end of the gallery, double doors stand open - the entrance to another hall. As we pass through, I notice that there’s a trident carved on each. The room is large, but it’s warm inside and very dim, the high ceiling lost in darkness. The only light comes from more torches, but it’s a strange light - it seems to shimmer on the ceiling, like the reflection off water inside a cave. Then I realise that’s exactly what it is; the whole centre of the room is a rectangular depression filled with water. Stone steps lead down into it and there are already several nymphs reclining on them, their feet and legs in the water. They are naked and, although I can’t be sure in the dim light, I think their eyes are glassy with the effects of ambrosia.
As in the other halls I’ve seen, there’s a raised dais at the far end. There is only one carved chair on this one, and the occupant is Poseidónas. He’s dressed in robes of dark blue, and winding up his arms are bronze sea serpents. I’m sure they’re the handiwork of Ífaistos; in the torchlight, they seem to move. A nymph sits on the arm of his chair, her chiton around her waist. Another is at his feet, her head resting on his knee. She looks at me without recognition as we approach, her eyes like the others, blank and staring, but I know her. It is Armónia.
Poseidónas gets to his feet when he sees us and her head drops off his knee, her temple striking the edge of the seat. Poseidónas doesn’t seem to notice and neither does Armónia. She only rests her head against the chair, her hair falling across her face.
“Goddesses!” Poseidónas shouts, descending the steps of the dais with his arms spread wide. “You are welcome in my hall.” He kisses each one of us in turn, once on each cheek. He comes to me last of all and his eyes linger on my face.
“You are welcome in my hall,” he says again, more quietly, only to me. He gestures to the pool in the centre of the room, the ethereal light that ripples and shimmers on every surface. “This is nothing. You know this is nothing. You and I alone in this hall understand the true power of the sea. These nymphs you see are all river-nymphs, or nymphs of well-springs and waterfalls. I do not bring my sea-nymphs here - they are too wild to be closed up in a palace on a mountain, so far from salt water and the cry of the gulls. You are too wild, Kóri. I see it in your eyes when we go to the shore. Let me take you away from here, somewhere you belong.”
Almost involuntarily, I lean closer to him, as if his words are pulling me and I can’t resist. I crave belonging; I long to be anywhere but here.
“I would share it all with you,” he murmurs in my ear. “Every pleasure, every victory. We would wreak chaos on the seas, decimate the fleets of men, and collect souls like seashells. I would walk with you in the deepest and darkest places of the Earth and show you their secrets. I could build a citadel under the sea and bring you creatures to worship you: mortals, gods and monsters. Together we would rule all the waters of the world. I would give you everything you have ever desired.”
He draws back to study my face, to gauge my reaction, but I keep my eyes downcast, watching the serpents twisting around his arms. I dare not look at him - his words have made me feel all over again the way I felt in the sea that day; as if at the touch of his hand I would dissolve into him, become enslaved to his vision, and be glad doing it.
He turns to the others. “And now let us celebrate the long dark together,” he says loudly. “This is the blackest night of the year - a dark night for dark deeds!”
They all laugh, and Poseidónas calls for wine. I glance at Armónia. She is still on the floor of the dais, but now she is leaning back on her hands, her chin tipped towards the ceiling and her eyes closed. She sways gently. I close my own eyes, trying to focus, to clear my head. How could I even think of allying myself to a god who treats my friend, or any living being, in that way?
I catch Poseidónas’ arm as he hands me a cup of wine. “That nymph there,” I say, nodding towards Armónia. “Do you need her?”
He gives me a knowing look. “Pretty, isn’t she?” he says.
I smile, looking down at the floor, avoiding his gaze. “She is.”
“Well, I had hoped to have a little fun with her myself, but I would not deny you. … Take her if you wish.” His tone is light, letting me know that it doesn’t matter to him either way. “When you tire of her, I will still be here. Midwinter is my time, and I will remain at the feast through all the long dark.”
I raise my head and meet his eyes, sea-green and stormy, trying not to lose myself again. “Later, perhaps,” I say.
“Later,” he replies.
I go to Armónia and drag her to her feet. She staggers, leaning heavily on me. Once she’s upright, her head lolls on my shoulder, and she twists her neck at an odd angle to look into my face. There is no recognition in her eyes, however, and she doesn’t attempt to speak.
“Come on,” I say to her. “Let’s go.”
I take her up to my chambers, as I don’t know where she sleeps. It takes a long time as she’s so uncoordinated and unsteady on her feet. Once there, I undress her and scrape away her makeup. I wash her face and hands with water and braid her long silver hair. Throughout the whole process, she stands immobile, her eyes glazed. She doesn’t seem to register when I touch her face or unfasten the fibulae holding her chiton. It falls to the floor, and I realise I could do anything to her and she wouldn’t protest, she wouldn’t make a sound. I’m thoroughly disturbed by this. I had thought ambrosia made a person compliant, but I hadn’t realised that it rendered them completely insensible. I stand in front of her, looking directly into her startling blue eyes, and see nothing of Armónia there. I say her name, but she only tilts her head a little, as if she hears something far off in the distance. She’s shivering with the cold by now, her teeth chattering, but she makes no move to cover herself. I’m frightened by the power I have over her in this moment. If I led her outside into the snow and left her there, I believe she would let herself freeze.
As I guide her to my bed and pile furs on top of her to keep her warm, I wonder how many times they have made her eat ambrosia, and what they have made her do. I smooth her hair and kiss her forehead.
“Sleep now,” I tell her, and she obediently closes her eyes.
I return to Poseidónas’ hall. By now it’s crowded, and the humid heat from the warm water and so many bodies packed together radiates out of the open doors. I hesitate on the threshold, wondering why I came back at all. I could have stayed with Armónia in my chambers, no one would have missed me. Is it Poseidónas I came back for?
I don’t want to answer that question, even to myself. He was the one who gave my friend that poison. I should hate him, and I’m shocked to realise that I don’t, and I don’t even understand why.
Confused, I turn to go back the way I have come, and find myself face-to-face with Ermís.
“Leaving so soon, little cousin?”
“I’m tired.”
“It is Midwinter, and the feast is only just beginning.”
“What do you want?” I ask, guarded against whatever new mischief he seeks to instigate.
“She's lying to you, you know,” he says with a sly smile. “Dímitra.”
“About what?”
“Who you are. Or, rather, who you could be.”
“What do you mean?”
“Without her, you could be something much greater even than she.”
“Don't be ridiculous. Dímitra is one of the Children of Krónos. Even if I had power, which I don't, it could never come close to hers.”
“That’s not what I heard,” he answers.
“What are you talking about? Who told you this?”
“Oh, no one told me. But I hear things. I hear everything.” He leans closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur. “I can make other people hear things too - courtiers, gods, whole kingdoms of mortals. What do you want me to tell them about you?”
“Nothing.”
“Is that so?” He regards me steadily. “I could tell them of an enchantress who bewitches mortal men with her eyes so that they waste away for love of her. Or I could make you a symbol of innocence and chastity, and vestal virgins would flock to your temples to serve you and offer you sacrifices.” He smiles again. “It is easy to make a goddess. It starts with a whisper.”
“I don't want you to start any rumours about me, either at court or in the mortal world.”
He shrugs. “Suit yourself, but know that rumours already exist, with or without my assistance.”
I remember the nymph of the waterfall, back in the valley in Arkadía, telling me she had heard a whisper in the waters.
“Where do these rumours come from?”
He waves his hand to indicate everywhere and nowhere.
“Who knows?” he replies. “The gods, the trees, the waters of the deep, the Fates, the Pythía - anyone can start a rumour. Some are lies, some false prophecies. Some may even turn out to be true.”
“What do they say about me?”
He grins. “I thought you did not care for hearsay.”
“I don't. But -” I pause. “Those rumours you heard - did they - did they talk about death at all?”
Triumph glitters in his eyes. “So it is death and destruction, is it?” he asks. “I thought as much.”
“What? No! You’re putting words in my mouth!”
“Then you did not slay half the Lakedamonian army at the Battle of the Fetters?”
He is watching me carefully. I open my mouth and close it again. Ermís smiles.
“I could make them worship you as a warrior-goddess, Kóri. Would you like them to love you or fear you? All it takes is a whisper.”
“I told you no!”
“Then Dímitra will spread her own tales about you,” he says, sounding almost regretful. “She will make you out to be a dutiful daughter, complicit in everything she does. But no one will really notice you. You'll be a shadow at the side of a much older, more powerful deity.” He sighs. “It is a pity.”
“Why do you care?”
“I don't, not really. I just thought you might make for a more interesting story, that's all.” He gives me that sly look again. “You still could, you know, if you wanted to.”
“I don't,” I say shortly. But it’s true that I don't want to be Dímitra's lackey either. I scowl at him, annoyed.
He shrugs again, still smiling. “Well, if you change your mind… Only don't wait too long. Reputations, once made, are very hard to un-make.”
He brushes past me and heads into the hall, leaving me standing alone in the entrance.
To be continued …