Hadeia

Everything returned to its place.

Quiet, slow, the routine of life and death moving without error. It was all satisfactory. Naturally so.

There would be no disturbances, unexpected accidents, annoying arguments, or childish power struggles ever again. Isn’t the underworld where people come when they can no longer endure such unpredictability in life? 

Everything in the underworld must remain motionless like a mountain. Even the king himself.

No one asked if I missed him. Of course not.

Why would I miss him? What reason could there be? The ruler of h*ll, Hades, had no reason to miss that golden-haired boy, that blue-eyed colt.

Yet whenever I sat on the throne, I thought of him. I thought of him tearing off branches until his white hands were covered in blood while looking at the pitiful, stripped white poplar tree. 

The white poplar would regain its fullness with time. But I would never forget that sight.

Every night when I retired to my chambers, I thought of him, and every morning when the nymphs brought in my black clothes, I thought of him. 

I remembered the dark green silk cloth he had wrapped around me. The thrill that sent chills down my bare skin. I could have never known that sensation. 

Now I must live a life of only darkness while knowing the various colors.

So I didn’t miss him. Rather, I hated him. I wanted to blame him for why he happened to be in that daffodil field, why he happened to be struck by the golden arrow. 

I hated him. So much that I didn’t even want to utter his name.

Everything returned to its place. Except for one problem.

It was due to the absence of poor Minthe. Minthe was a diligent and loyal servant. Although I don’t know what he was thinking when he brought up the story of Leuce and provoked my anger, the devotion he showed me deserved respect. 

So I made a request to Hermes as he was preparing to go up to the surface. I asked him to plant this tear-scented herb in good soil along his way.

With Minthe gone to the surface as well, the position of the servant who would deliver offerings and prayers from the living world to me was vacant. 

Thanatos occasionally brought some items when he led the dead, but it wasn’t enough. Given Thanatos’s rather unrefined temperament, the items he salvaged were quite disorderly. 

Flower bouquets that had absorbed too much water drooped like they had drowned, and prayers were swollen and difficult to decipher. 

Nevertheless, I didn’t complain. I knew Thanatos was being considerate of my mood.

About two weeks after the underworld had quieted down, something unusual caught my eye among the offerings Thanatos had collected. 

It was a white parchment scroll tied with a glossy pink silk cloth that showed off like a rose. Despite having been carried by the river for a long time, it showed no signs of being wet, clearly touched by a god’s hand.

It was a letter from Eros.

He requested a meeting with me. In a very long, clumsy, hesitant, and doubtful tone.

I asked myself: Why should I meet the son of Aphrodite?

Eros was the owner of the golden arrow that Persephius had been struck with. He had also watched the entire scene when Aphrodite took revenge and insulted me. 

What benefit would I gain from seeing Eros? 

Besides, there was no proof that this was Eros’s idea alone. What if Aphrodite were by his side when I appeared at the place he requested? 

I was the god of death and knew well what I could do. I might have brought one humiliation upon myself, but I had no intention of enduring it twice.

I read Eros’s letter several times, checking if there was any shadow of his mother between the characters mixed with childlike fear and strange earnestness.

“There is something I must tell you…”

What could be so necessary to say now? 

Hades was disgraced for underestimating Aphrodite’s power. Pure Persephone safely returned to his mother’s embrace. Wasn’t that the end of the story? So, what more?

I sat alone on my throne all night. As the white poplar branches healed, I smelled the scent of blood that couldn’t possibly exist in the fragrance. I heard the sound of pure blood, as innocent as a dove and hot as the sun, dripping to the floor along white fingers. I thought of Persephius.

Eros arrived first and was waiting for me.

It was a ravine just before the Cocytus River fell into the underworld. It was an eerie place even in broad daylight, covered with densely rising coniferous trees like awls. 

The offerings sent by my priests flow freshly into the underworld along this river carrying the chill of the dark blue forest.

Because I wore the Kyneē, Aphrodite’s son didn’t notice me. He seemed quite nervous. Even with my magic helmet, I couldn’t hide the rough breathing of the horses pulling my chariot. 

He kept looking around furtively, hunching his shoulders, seemingly alert to the horses’ snorting, mistaking it for the growling of monsters hidden in the tree shadows. 

He must have heard some terrifying stories about this area. Well, even gods avoid the underworld, so what impression would the riverside that flows directly into the underworld give?

I decided to observe him a bit longer. The truth ripens with time. If he got the impression that I was late, or not coming at all, perhaps the true intentions of that little one would be revealed. 

Or perhaps his impatient mother, hiding somewhere above the clouds, might appear and stamp her feet. 

Anyway, Eros was certainly Aphrodite’s biological child. His strawberry-tinted golden curly hair resembled his mother perfectly. His beautiful features were the same. When he grows up, he’ll have as many followers as his mother.

The resemblance between parent and child had always fascinated me. Perhaps because it felt like a mystery I would never know. 

My father swallowed me as soon as I was born, and my mother couldn’t stop him. Zeus, who resembled our father, overthrew him, and Hera, who resembled our mother, married Zeus.

I didn’t resemble either my parents or any of my siblings. Perhaps that’s why it was taken for granted that I would go alone to the underworld. 

If I had bright golden hair like Zeus and stubbornness like Poseidon, if I had Hera’s strong principles and skin as warm as Demeter’s, would my siblings have hesitated even a little before sending me to the underworld?

I would never have children who resembled me either. Because…

“Lady Hades?”

I came to my senses at Eros’s cry. What idle thoughts! 

Eros was pacing around, hugging his shoulders with both arms, perhaps feeling cold.

“Are you there? If you’re here, please say something! It’s cold here, and also somewhat scary… Oh, what am I doing? Talking to empty air! Hades won’t come. Yes, it was a futile effort after all. Now…”

“Yes, what words are necessary now?”

I replied, removing my Kyneē. Eros seemed quite surprised by my appearance. The small wings on his back nearly jumped out on their own.

“You were here, so why were you so quiet? I was so startled my heart almost jumped out of my throat!”

“One must be cautious in all matters. I am a god who doesn’t trust easily.”

Eros was about to retort but then closed his mouth tightly. He seemed to be recalling the humiliation his mother had inflicted on me last time. 

He fidgeted, looking at me nervously, then fiddled with the string attached to his quiver for a while.

“What urgent matter made you send a letter to the underworld? The king of the underworld has personally come to the world of the living, so I won’t tolerate nonsense.”

“Well… actually.”

Though I didn’t show it, I was just as anxious and tense as Eros. Now that my suspicion of Aphrodite’s scheme had been proven wrong, the only thing Eros could tell me directly was related to Persephius. Yes, now.

He had drunk from Lethe, so he had forgotten everything about me. 

That day when he fell into the underworld, ah, how he looked at me, how amusing it was when he puffed out his chest pretending to be manly while telling me his name despite being angry, and that night filled with heat, all of it now remained only with me. 

Since he had completely wiped away both his memories and emotions, I felt doubly suffocated.

There is no way to restore memories erased by Lethe. Moreover, he was only enchanted by the golden arrow. But, now.

Eros cleared his throat. The short coughing sound shook the quiet black forest.

“I want to confess my sin.”

“Sin?”

“Yes. I dared to lie to the god of death.”

I looked down at Eros while holding the reins. I hadn’t even dismounted from my chariot yet. 

I could see Eros catching his breath. He was clasping his hands so tightly that only his hands were pale white amidst his rosy skin.

Only after taking several deep breaths did Eros raise his head and look straight at me.

“Great Hades, most black and most white one, I never drew my bowstring against Persephone.”

“What?”

“Persephone was never struck by my golden arrow. Never!”

I opened my mouth. But no words came out.

He wasn’t struck by the golden arrow?

“My mother lied to take revenge on you, Lady Hades. From the beginning, the one my mother wanted me to hit with the golden arrow wasn’t Persephone but you, Lady Hades. But she judged that saying Persephone was hit would hurt more than saying you were hit. She also calculated that I, being her son, would never contradict her at that moment.”

It felt like everything before my eyes was crumbling into whiteness. I gripped the chariot tightly to barely maintain my composure.

If he wasn’t struck by the golden arrow, then, was his confession not a lie? Was it not a trick caused by the arrow’s magic, but his true feelings?

I remembered his crying face. The expression as he tore at the white poplar while crying, his scream asking if he was a substitute for Leuce, hit me like a wave. 

I couldn’t breathe. My chest hurt, like my lungs were filled with seawater. Did I even have a heart?

“Then… if not Persephone… was I… struck by the golden arrow?”

“No. Actually, that’s not it either. I’m sorry, things got a bit complicated. Please don’t be angry…”

“I’m not angry.”

Not yet. I swallowed the rest of my words. My dry tongue tasted like metal.

Eros looked at me cautiously and then bowed his head deeply.

“On the day Lady Hades visited Olympus and returned… that is, the very day you met Persephone. At that time, I was with my mother on a cloud near Mount Eryx. Mother was furious after hearing that Lady Hades had belittled the kestos himas. When mother gets heated up to her head, she doesn’t listen to anyone. I tried to persuade her, but it was useless. Continuing to speak would only be like pouring oil on the fire, so I eventually kept quiet. Mother told me to make Hades fall in love with Persephone. She told me to shoot a golden arrow. But… as you can see now, I’m terribly afraid of you, Lady Hades. So I was scared of the consequences… I didn’t shoot the golden arrow.”

“What?”

My voice growled like Cerberus. The skinny trees trembled.

“Then what did Aphrodite see that made her so certain you shot the golden arrow? Do you take me for a fool?”

“No! Listen, Lady Hades. You’re right. I can never disobey my mother. That’s how all children are. No matter how afraid I was of crossing you, I couldn’t not shoot when my mother told me to, so I did shoot. But I mean it wasn’t a golden arrow. My quiver has many arrows, and golden and lead arrows aren’t the only ones. Wouldn’t it be wasteful to use gold or lead arrows even when practicing archery at olive trees or apples? So I also carry around a few toy-like arrows that look convincing on the outside. They’re coated with brass, tin, or silver. These have no power. They’re just arrows. To great gods, they cause nothing more than the slight sting of a mosquito bite or a bee sting.”

I was at a loss for words.

Persephius was not struck by a golden arrow. I was not struck by a golden arrow either.

We were not struck by golden arrows.

I bit my lip. I couldn’t bear the conclusion drawn from this simple fact. It was too late to turn back.

“I heard that Persephone drank from Lethe and returned home. So I’ve been thinking a lot about whether I should tell you this. I was worried I might be stirring up something that was already over. My mother seems to have forgotten all the grudges between you two, but anyway, it felt like I was betraying her… but I couldn’t keep deceiving you forever either, Lady Hades. Because the truth will eventually come out.”

The truth will eventually come out?

But Persephius drank the water of oblivion. Because of me. Because I insisted that his feelings were due to Eros’s trick.

Now that even the truth to be revealed has been erased from his soul, what can I do?

“Lady Hades, won’t you forgive me?”

Eros asked with a frightened look. His face was pale, and his small wings had shrunk and were stuck flat against his back.

I didn’t smile. I didn’t extend a kind hand.

“No. I forgive you.”

I simply concluded with a brief response, befitting the god of death.

Before Eros could breathe a sigh of relief, I put on my Kyneē. Then, without saying goodbye, I spurred my horses through the air back to the underworld.

I couldn’t forgive myself.