no, he thinks to himself as she leaves, but he has heard
of this other queen. made of iron, they say, and the mortals
have stopped whispering her name for fear of what it would
mean to call upon her.
it intrigues him, this change that has come upon her.
that night the realm of the dead is in color. he knows there are
other kingdoms like his where this is a more common occurrence.
places where the dead are even more colorful in passing than
they ever were alive. in his realms it is different.
his halls are built of dark stone, embedded with gems that flicker
as brightly as starlight, but their wet gleam is dark and seductive
and not at all like the yellow burn of the earth’s sky at night. the
servants, the dead, the daimons and the gods that live here are
clothed in blacks, purples, rich and deep blues. these are the only
threads given to them by sacrifice of dark creatures, black woolly
lambs and oily feathered birds.
and there are, of course, brighter realms, the fields for one. a place
that mirrors the world above in most every way, but that is not the
realm most visitors end up seeing.
that night, however, the dark, dim halls are blanketed in reds and
golds, rustic colors of the harvest. there is a feast for the dead, as
usual, the sort that the visiting gods of above don’t touch, but with
each visiting god comes a consort with a platter of their own fruits
and cheeses, things they can eat without worry for being stuck in
hades’ kingdom.
they are all in masks, intricately made to represent each other, to
represent creatures and heroes. the honored guest, a heroic king,
wears a mask of silver with curled horns of a ram.
and hades? he has the mask that is white as bone, antlers like tree
branches rising from the crown. he is not the only antlered beast about,
nor is he the only one with a dark swathe of robes and a beard to match.
there is no doubt he is searching for someone when he moves about
the large feasting hall.
she wants to impress. she wants to show him just how much
she can shift and change, how she can be just as iron clad as
he can. persephone leaves no detail to chance.
her hair, normally pinned up, falls all the way down her back,
and tickles her bare skin. her dress is dark and clings to her
curves, something she’s always been taught to hide. she wants
nothing more than to prove that she can adapt as no one seems
to think she can.
but when she slides through the crowds she blends in.
maybe she fits into this world of darkness more than she first
assumed, more than anyone would think. none of the shades
shirk away from her, gods and goddesses laugh and drink and
pay her little attention other than to offer her glasses sloshing
with dark drink.
she has a mission though, even if she accepts a tall mug and
takes a sip. eyes dart from each mask to the next behind her
own dark shield pressing around her eyes and winding into
her hair and down her cheeks. feathers tickle the tips of her
ears when she steps too quickly, but she isn’t distracted
enough to not see a pair of antlers reaching into the ceiling.
there’s more than one, but she knows one of them will be him
and a quick glance at each of them has her moving closer,
eliminating one after the other.
jbbartram-illu
gummygunk
baratheonpilled
blakekathryn
jacobvanloon
