#it’s not ‘almost spring’ it’s ‘time for spring.’ orpheus cannot let go of eurydice and it gives hades the courage to let go of persephone

[thewingedwolf]

i love the Fates in hadestown bc they have so much sympathy for Eurydice during the chips are down, of course they do, she’s just a poor hungry girl who can’t escape her Fate, and we shouldn’t judge her bc if we were in her shoes, hungry and scared, and a god came to us and offered us a home, a lover that is cold and distant but will keep us safe and fed, could we really say we wouldn’t do the same.

but when Eurydice despairs over how shitty the deal she made actually is, they are practically gleeful at her pain. and when the people rail against Fate, when the workers straighten their backs and look Fate in the eye, dare to love and care and fight against the hand they’ve been dealt, and the Fates are livid. no longer full of sympathy for orpheus’ suffering, they ask who dares fight Fate.

i think the switch is so interesting in how it plays with the despair, poverty, and depression of all the central characters. Our grief and fear are happy to comfort us with “there was no good choice to make” when we’re down but when we pick ourselves up and try to be better, the depression rages back as a monster to stop us. The Fates love humanity and love the gods - until they dare to defy the Fates. Until they dare to hope for more than what is simply fated to happen.

[therainbowwillow]

https://therainbowwillow.tumblr.com/post/640901334281879552/therainbowwillow

Part 12. Yes. I will confidently state that this is part 12 of my “short” fanfic. GOD. WHY DO I DO THIS.

Premise/what’s up with everyone:

Hades heads for Olympus to bribe convince his brother, Zeus, to help him keep a hold on his kingdom. Thanatos heads for Olympus to get medical treatment for Hypnos’s concussion. Neither knows that the other is also going to be there. Orpheus sings and sings and sings. He tries to hide how disappointed he is by how awful he sounds. Smoke inhalation in Hadestown didn’t do him good. Eurydice and Hermes make sure he’s adequately drugged up enough not to notice the stab wound through his stomach. Hyacinthus is super excited to see his namesake flowers for the first time thanks to Orpheus’s springtime. Apollo resists going on any long spring walks after being shot through the ankle. Persephone cannot believe it’s really spring. Not too hot, not too cold, it’s a miracle! Dionysus enjoys getting drunk, but in the spring this time. Achilles and Patroclus wonder whether or not they’re going to be allowed to stay out of Hadestown.

Ps. My phone has decided to autocorrect ‘Orpheus’ to ‘AirPods’ now, rather than ‘Orange.’ This is not important, but I don’t think my phone likes his name very much.

———————————————

A week has passed since they’d arrived back home. Eurydice, for all the novelty the springtime has brought, hasn’t changed her routine since the day they’d arrived. Sitting beside her lover seems to her to be enough. The others spend most of their time enjoying the pleasantries of the world in bloom, but Eurydice had hardly leaves Orpheus’s bedside. Through the days, he sings and scribbles down notes.

The nights are harder. By sunset, she’s found, his pain medicine begins to wear off and Apollo gives him something stronger to sleep. Tonight, they’re trying to wean him off of the powerful medicine. His sleep has been restless already. Eurydice hasn’t closed her eyes.

She’s almost drifting into sleep when Orpheus wakes with a start. “Orpheus? You okay?”

His eyes well with tears. He clutches his chest and cries out, in fear or pain, Eurydice can’t tell. She considers running for Apollo, but she can’t bear to leave his side. “Orpheus, look at me.”

He won’t meet her eyes. Tears roll down his cheeks and he shakes with sobs. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

His lips move, but no sound comes out, save for his sobbing hiccups. She takes his hands. “Please look at me,” she pleads gently.

He tucks his head into his arms. “No... please...” he moans.

“Orpheus, can you tell me what’s wrong?” Much longer and she’ll have to leave him to wake Apollo.

She pulls him into her arms and lets him cry. “I... I wanna go home,” he whispers.

Her brow furrows. “You are home, lover.”

He shakes his head against her chest. “No... no.”

“This is home. You’re okay,” she reminds him.

He squeezes her hands, desperately. “No. No. No,” he repeats, over and over again. His tears soak Eurydice’s shirt.

“Can you tell me what’s happening?” She probes. He trembles against her and begins to cry harder. Eurydice lays him back in bed. He holds her wrists. “I’ll be right back. I won’t even leave the room,” she promises. He sinks against the pillows.

Eurydice finds a box of matches and strikes one. She holds it against her candle lantern. A little light might help her examine him. Orpheus lifts his head when the light touches his face. His lips part. He glances around, shivering with shock. “Orpheus?”

His breaths are quick and heavy. “E-Eurydice... I’m... I’m home,” he studders.

She sits at his side. “Yes. You’re home and I’m right here.”

“It... it was so dark,” he mumbles.

It dawns on her then. “It was dark! Did you think you were back... there?”

“I don’t know... it was just so dark...”

“I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t know.”

“I-it’s okay.” His voice breaks and he leans into her again.

“Is it better with the lantern?” He nods. “Okay. We’ll sleep with lights, Orpheus.”

He lays in her arms a moment, until she feels damp heat against her torso. She lays him back in bed at the sight of his blood.

His eyes widen. “Eurydice!” He begs.

She lifts his shirt to find his bandages soaked through. “It’s okay, love. You just put too much strain on it.” She presses his hand over the wound. “Keep pressure on it. Try not to move. I’m gonna go get bandages.”

“Okay,” he agrees. Eurydice finds a few rolls of bandages and returns to his side. She cuts away the bloodsoaked wrappings. “Eurydice,” he wimpers.

“Hang on, you’re okay.”

He squeezes her hand. “It hurts.”

“I know.” She unscrews the cap of a pill bottle and tips a flask of water against his lips. “Swallow.” He does. “Good. It’s okay, Orpheus. You’re fine.” She holds a wad of gauze against his stomach and pulls the blankets up around his shoulders.

He lays in silence until the bleeding stops. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“You don’t need to be sorry, my love. I’m sorry I didn’t light a candle sooner. We’ll keep the lights on, okay?”

He takes a deep breath. “Okay.”

———————————————

Hermes stokes the fire. Another letter. And another. And another. The words light up as if they don’t want to be burnt. He tosses a handful of twigs over the papers. They all say the same thing: ‘Hermes, you’ve been summoned to Olympus. King Zeus asks for your immediate presence.’

He opens another, glances over the words and tosses it into the flames. Only another stack or two to go. He considers just tossing them all to burn without opening. Still, he opens another, afraid of missing details. ‘Lord Hermes,’ it reads. He recognizes the handwriting but cannot place his finger on whose it is. Not the usual messages, written by cupbearer Ganymede when Hermes himself is unavailable. The letter continues: ‘I understand your predicament and I believe I must inform you of our own on Olympus. Your summons are not those of common matters, as I’m sure you have determined. I fear, however, that you were not told of the severity of your situation. Hades arrived at the gates of Olympus yesterday.’

Hermes freezes. Hades. On Olympus. He’s calling Zeus to his aid. ‘My father, Zeus, wishes to keep you in the dark so he will have you in his grasp the moment you arrive. Though I am not permitted to say so, you must not abide by your summons alone. You will be Zeus’s to do with as he pleases. Hades’s case is against Orpheus first, but his arguments are unconvincing. He provides no contracts or legally-binding terms the boy was meant to follow. It is his case against you that worries your friends here on Olympus. You broke every major agreement in your terms in helping mortals flee the underworld and hiding a shade’s contract, as Eurydice’s pact is no where to be found.’

‘Regardless, I side with you, not the King of the Dead. You may have been foolish to break your terms, but Lord Hades attempted to end a life out of sheer selfish desire, after claiming Orpheus could leave unharmed. Your case is stronger. I await your arrival. Bring with you Apollo, Persephone and Dionysus as well as the poet, Orpheus and his lover. The others may accompany you if you wish. Remember, you have allies on Olympus, myself included. Regards, Athena, Goddess of Wisdom & War.’

Hermes sinks back against his chair. He curses under his breath. Zeus has sided with Hades. He knows others will follow. Still, he has support. Demeter, certainly, would do anything to disrupt Hades’s goals. Hera will likely side against her husband out of spite. Artemis will join Apollo, if she bothers to show up at all. Aphrodite might defend Orpheus for the purity of his love of Eurydice. Ares, however, for all of his arguments with his father, seems predicated to choose the powerful side. Zeus, the King of the Gods has prospects. Regardless, he hopes Orpheus will harbor more support than prosecution. With Athena on their side, they have a chance.

Another envelope catches his eye. It is addressed to his name, in perfectly formed capital letters. He wishes he could throw it into the fire. Hades’s handwriting. He tears it open.

‘Hermes, I regretfully inform you that you have broken terms 1.1-1.3 of your contract, which state: The return of mortal souls to the overworld by your hand is prohibited. The aid in the return of mortal souls to the overworld is prohibited. Aid is defined by giving directions, supplies, or tools to any individual, mortal or divine. You have also broken terms 2.4-2.7, which state: Copies of important shade contracts will be delivered to Olympus in a timely matter, without interference. Other terms you have broken include: 5.5, which states: Insighting the overthrowing of the hierarchy of the underworld is prohibited. 6.1, which states: All contact with traitors to the underworld is prohibited. 7.3, which states: Removal of goods from the underworld without permission is prohibited.’ Hermes rolls his eyes. Orpheus had been wearing Hadestown-issued clothing.

‘7.4, which states: Delivering goods to the underworld without permission is prohibited.’ They’d brought food and drink for Orpheus and Hyacinthus. ‘2.8-2.9, which state: Release of underworld prisoners by your hand is prohibited. Aid in the release of underworld prisoners is prohibited. 3.1, which states: The return of shades to the Styx by any purposeful means is prohibited.’ Apollo’s killing shot on their aggressor. The letter continues on: ‘3.8, which states: Agression against any individual under Lord Hades’s power is prohibited.’ More charges are listed. It seems Hades wants to use everything he has to argue his guilt.

‘Due to the aforementioned breaches of contract, your employment under Lord Hades has been permanently terminated. Lord Zeus has been granted jurisdiction to decide your punishment.’ Hermes sighs. The last man to recieve Zeus’s wrath thanks to Hades was Asclepius. The poor son of Apollo had been repeatedly struck by lightning until his heart stopped. He shudders at the thought. Even if he could take it, Orpheus most certainly couldn’t.

The letter finishes with the charges against Hermes’s son: Insighting revolution against Hades, freeing shades from the underworld, insighting riots causing property damage, manipulation against the king, and breaking the terms of a verbal agreement. Hermes almost laughs at how pathetic the accusations are. Entering Hadestown is no legal contract. Orpheus hadn’t had rules to break. His agreement was to leave without singing, which he hadn’t broken, according to Eurydice. If he’d sing in his cell, the terms had been nullified by his assumed death. Hades has nothing.

Nothing on Orpheus, that is. Hermes knows his own punishment will be brought against Orpheus, rather than himself. If Hades wants to hurt him, Hades knows Orpheus’s suffering is the way to do so, especially now. They have to win, for Orpheus’s sake.

[joyfulsongbird]

“Eurydice finds out she's pregnant after going to hadestown and Persephone makes hades let her go back to Orpheus.”

🦥 anon, it wouldn’t let me post it as a reply to an ask so here we go: I meant this to be short but 5000+ words burst from my fingertips so here you go.

I had to change it slightly so that Eurydice has the baby BEFORE Seph gets back (assuming she’s about one to two months pregnant, which wouldn’t be showing yet, when she goes to hadestown) cause Seph leaves and doesn’t come back for six months.

***

work, work, work

constant, pulling, weight on her shoulders, never ending

gods, she’s tired

so tired

she’s never been this tired before

will it ever end?

la la la la la la la

two voices, so many souls. her mouth is closed and she’s screaming, echoing, crying.

and then the bell, the signal that this is not never ending. that work doesn’t last to the end of time, that Hadestown has some mercy for it’s workers. for the people who cry at the foot of the wall every day, except now they are tearing it down. and they cry, they cry, they cry for all of the blood and sweat that went into building and now their tears sink into the mortar, slowly tearing down what they dedicated their life to. what they believed would save them from poverty. and now mister Hades, every morning, reminds them that the wall must come down. that someday, they will see the sunshine again. he doesn’t speak in that hopeful tone, of course not, but Eurydice hears it.

she hears it and hopes. she hears that he is reaching for them with this withered outstretched hand that hasn’t known mercy for so long, and she’s taking it. and saying “this is what it’s like to be merciful”.

look me in the eyes and see what it is to forgive.

for she knows forgiveness like the back of her hand. she knows forgiveness like the deepness of his eyes. knows forgiveness like that the pit of hunger in her stomach. she knows forgiveness. he does not. she can teach him, she can teach him. teach them. It’s only been about two or three months since Persephone went back for spring, it could be longer than that, could be shorter. what is time in Hadestown? there is only the toll and the wall and the crumbling of what they lived for.

she drops her hands to her sides, still coated in grime, her body aching to stretch her hands towards the sky (well, what they call the sky, it isn’t that, it is red and dark and unforgiving). it’s under her fingernails, it’s in her hair, it’s on her cheeks. she is a full fledged creature, with mud on her body like camouflage. she is a machine, work, move, clean, again. what is cleanliness if you are just going to get dirty again tomorrow?

and what is germs in Hadestown? there is no sickness here. that’s what they were promised. a warm place of wealth and no pain. they don’t get sick, they don’t get cold, they don’t go hungry. that’s what was promised to them. but she can’t feel anymore. yes, now she can remember his face, remember his voice, but now... now she feels nothing when she sees his face.

it’s definitely worse.

it’s like she’s looking at the face of a boy she saw in passing on the street. she knows that she loved him, that she still loves him. but there is nothing in her memories that twinges her feelings back into what they were. she sees everything through her own gaze, she knows that at some point she felt these emotions that were so extreme that she cried real tears, that she laughed with this joyousness that filled the entire room. she remembers how he looked at her. with reverence. with love. how he smiled every time she entered a room, and she smiled too. she knows that she smiled too, she remembers that.

she goes through her routines, goes to her shared apartment flat with two other women. they never really speak, they don’t even make eye contact most of time. Eurydice just taps her foot against the floor, waiting for her turn in the shower. directly across the wall, one of her roommates, Afra, stands there. doing the same thing; waiting, listening, all impatiently. Eurydice doesn’t know her well, doesn’t know how she got here but she assumes they all came for the same reasons. security. safety. or maybe, just to get away. Eurydice is sure that if she’d known about Hadestown when she was a younger girl, living in a home with people she loathed, with people who loathed her, she would’ve flown off to hadestown long ago.

Eurydice gets the shower next, stepping into the already steamy small room with the tub and rusty shower head against the wall. the mirror is fogged up and Eurydice leaves it that way, there’s no need to see herself this way. there’s no need to see herself at all. what’s the point down here? who needs mirrors in hell?

shedding her outer layers, she steps right into the shower, watching as the water below fills with dirt and grime, turning it a muted gray color, she stands there until the water turns clear again. she scrubs aimlessly at her skin with the soap bar for a minute or two, trying to feel clean but the dirt stays no matter what she does. it’s under her nails. it’s in her hair. it’s under her skin. she’ll never be rid of it. she’ll never get rid of-

she doubles over in the shower, the dizziness catching her off guard.

“woah, okay.” she murmurs to herself, reaching to clutch the slippery edge of the tub, steadying herself. it passes after a brief ten seconds but she steps out of the shower after that, turning off the water for fear of falling and hitting her head. she knows, objectively, that she can’t really be hurt here in Hadestown but old habits die hard.

dressing slowly and carefully, she addresses the main problem here is that both her head and her stomach are killing her.

well actually the largest looming problem here is: you don’t get sick in Hadestown.

Oh gods, does she have to be the anomaly here?

she’d like to just be normal, just blend into the crowd, but no, she has to be different. she has to stick out like a sore thumb in every place.

before she even knows what’s going on, she’s thrown up what little she’d eaten that day. it makes her feel a little better but sweat makes her forehead sticky, her whole body feels shaky and not quite right.

“Eurydice?” Afra’s voice is unsure of itself, they don’t often use their voices down here. “everything okay in there?”

“yes.” Eurydice calls back. “I’m fine.”

Is she?

she feels something for the first time in awhile: fear.

***

it was all very simple, she should’ve added it up the first time she threw up, so long ago. but it isn’t until she looks in a long mirror for the first time, wearing only her underclothes that she notices something.

no.

gods, no.

she doesn’t make an appointment with Hades, like he says you’re supposed to when you need to speak with him. this is too important, this is too much of his own fault that she has to speak him right then. she wants to cry, she needs to cry but she can’t. so she runs, so she runs as fast as she can until she’s at the doorsteps of the dark building where she knows he resides almost all of the hours of the day.

the door is unlocked, surprisingly, and she just walks in. down dark halls, ignoring the shadows that paint fear across her body. that’s the one thing she can feel nowadays, fear for herself, fear for Orpheus, fear for everything, for their unborn child. no child has been born in Hadestown to her knowledge, a desolate place like this cannot sustain a new life like that. it sucks life away, it tears families apart.

it’s relatively easy to find his office, it’s the only room that’s doorknob isn’t coated with dust and the door is slightly ajar, letting stark light stream into the dark hall.

she bursts inside before she even has time for a second thought.

he’s at his desk, pen in hand, paper in the other. his eyes raise to hers the moment he notices her presence.

“miss Eurydice-”

“cut the bullshit, Hades, why am I still here?”

“I-” she holds up her hand, cutting him off somehow. such an impressive, looming presence usually, but when a women on a mission is in front of him, he never knows what to do. she starts pacing back and forth, in front of his desk. clenching and unclenching her fists. should she punch him? no, no, nothing like that. she didn’t come here for violence... why did she come here? what was her mission when she set out to come here? she doesn’t know, she just knew that she had to get here.

“I thought I’d just be able to live my life in peace. In complete solidarity. That’s what you promised me. you told me I’d get- you said I’d be good here.”

“and didn’t I deliver?” he said, his rumbling voice carrying through the office. across the desk that was separating them. “aren’t you at peace?

she felt something lodged in her throat, she tries to swallow it but the effort makes her voice come out choked. “not anymore.”

suddenly, she feels everywhere. suddenly, she’s so full of feeling her knees nearly crumple to the ground. leaning against the desk. she still doesn’t cry. no, there’s almost too much feeling for that. her whole body is overwhelmed, for so long she felt nothing that this sudden feeling is almost causing her to double over in the pain. it’s fiercely coursing through her veins, her shaking knees could be from the fear or the feeling, she can’t tell.

Hades is up and holding onto one of her arms, his touch surprisingly gentle and uninvasive. he keeps her steady, while guiding her to come sit on a couch on the side of the wall.

“sit here.” he says, his voice shockingly calm and... kind. “I’ll get a glass of water.”

he busies himself with a pitcher of water that sits on his desk, and an empty glass beside it. Eurydice fiddles with the rings on her fingers, trying to sort her mind out, trying to figure out how to say it.

he’s pouring a glass of water. for her.

“I’m pregnant.”

he stops pouring.

he doesn’t turn around either. “your boy...”

“It’s Orpheus’, I’m positive.”

“how long?”

“I only just realized today. I didn’t know who to tell, Lady Persephone is gone and I just don’t know what I’m going to do.”

he’s being surprisingly calm, for a man with no children and no real relationship with Eurydice besides one layered with negative emotions.

“you don’t work for the time being.” he says after a moment of consideration. he turns around, holding a glass of water in one of his hands to face Eurydice’s gaping face. “I need to speak with my wife, but that can’t happen for another few months. So you don’t work and keep busy within what’s left of the walls.”

“what am I supposed to do? for those four months?” she has no idea when she’ll be due, the uncertainty of it is making her feel shaky. the fear strikes her again and she turns her to the side, not making eye contact with Hades again for fear of crumpling in on herself again. she purses her lips.

“I can tell you’re scared,” he begins.

“I’m not-” she starts.

“you younglings always try to convince everyone else that you aren’t terrified,” he thrusts the glass of water into her hand, giving her a pointed look.

“like you’re one to talk.”

he sighs. “only you could sass me when I’m trying to help you.” embarrassment faintly paints Eurydice’s cheeks a blush color, but it fades quickly. “let me continue.

“I can tell you’re scared,” he repeats. “but I’ll promise to protect you and your child, I may be a lot of terrible things but one thing I will never do is force a mother and her child apart. you’ll go back to your apartment and get some rest, tell your roommates that you don’t need to get up for work tomorrow, by special permission of Hades, and I’ll try to get in contact with my wife. But I have a feeling we won’t be able to have a full discussion until she gets back from summertime.”

Eurydice nods and takes a couple sips from that glass of water, her hand shakes so much, she knows that if there was ice in the glass they’d be able to hear the clinking of the two solids. but for now, she tries to act like she isn’t slowly crashing and burning.

Orpheus

Orpheus, you have a child

and he doesn’t know it. he may never know it.

“my child will be doomed to this life, won’t they?” she whispers, eyes downcast. “if-if I give them to Persephone before spring, will they be able to go Up Top? would it be possible?”

he sighs, the sound is burdened. “I don’t know. A child has never been born here before, so I don’t know.”

she stares at the surface of the water, rippling with little currents and waves from her trembling hand. “they will never know grass, or happiness, or love-”

“no.” Hades says firmly, he steps closer, he brushes her knuckles with his fingertips, unsure of what to do as a comfort. but his words are comfort enough. “your child will know love, you will love them and that is love enough.”

she purses her lips tight together, she still does not cry, she still has yet to cross that threshold of pure feeling.

“go home, get some sleep.” it’s a command, almost, like everything Hades says is. she could always refuse but instead of standing up to him like she usually prefers to, she nods, because she could use some sleep in times like now.

***

Eurydice had forgotten love until Calista.

she knew love well before Hadestown but in that span of few months, she forgot what it was like to love. to love something with this fierceness you can’t control, and to have that ability feels powerful. she felt like a monster before, but holding a child close to her chest is what makes her feel human again.

yes, they are still in Hadestown, but when life finds ways to spring up, it flourishes.

she’s moved apartments since finding out about the baby, to a smaller one, a studio with a bathroom and a tiny kitchen but it’s just for her and her daughter. people know that the only current mother in Hadestown lives there, her neighbors seem to brighten at the sight of her child. their darkness when they come back from work slides away for just a little bit of light when Callie smiles at them from afar.

her daughter brings hope, and Eurydice couldn’t be more proud. she doesn’t even know it yet, but Callie is really the carnation in the winter, she’s the light in the dark, the song in the silence.

And Persephone comes back and is immediately pointed in the direction of Eurydice’s apartment by Hades, with barely even a kiss on the cheek, she’s worried something bad has happened. It’s a combination of good and bad in her opinion.

she knocks on the door and a voice calls, “come in!”

Persephone, not knowing what she’ll find, steps inside tentatively. “Hades said to- oh my lords.”

Eurydice sits cross legged on her small bed, a baby sitting in her lap with the widest smile she’s ever seen on a child. she has her mothers eyes, even from here Persephone can see the dark color, the deepness of them.

“hi.” Eurydice begins. Persephone closes the door loudly, accidentally making Eurydice and the baby jump. she surges forward, first taking the young woman’s face in her hands, cupping her cheeks and brushing her cheeks with her thumbs.

“please tell me it’s Orpheus’.” Eurydice nods.

“It is” she assures, “look, she has his nose and you can just see, his hair, too.”

“she’s lovely.” Persephone sighs, sinking to sit beside Eurydice. Persephone brushes Eurydice’s bangs away from her eyes, she notices that they are freshly cut and a little jagged and uneven. she’ll ask about that later. “how old is she?”

“A month.” Eurydice answers immediately, her smile is genuine and Persephone can tell, there is love. a deep, motherly love that Persephone has only ever experienced when she looks at the young girl who turned into a young woman while she was away Up Top. “she came a little early, and I was worried, but she’s doing well now.”

“what’s her name?”

“Calista.” Eurydice says, gently tracing her daughter’s ears and tiny nose. “I started calling her Callie, though, and never stopped.”

“Callie.” Persephone repeats. “I love that.”

“me too.” Eurydice bites her bottom lip, before the real dawning of Persephone being here hits her. her expression barely changes and her tone of voice doesn’t at all but Persephone can feel the shift in the air.

“how is Orpheus doing?”

Persephone continues stroking through her black hair, untangling the knots like she imagines a mother would. “he just started singing again. only the past month or so. his voice sounds different after so long with so little use but it’s just as beautiful as it was when you knew him.”

Eurydice lifts Callie a little higher, adjusts her in her arms so that the child lies with her head in the crook of her elbow. “I’m sad that she’ll never get to meet him.”

she says it simply, she’s already accepted the fact, but underneath that is the lingering of sadness that lies there. an undercurrent of disappointment that Persephone came alone. she’d probably had the tiniest grain of hope and Persephone came empty handed.

“well!” she stands up, straightening out the creases in her dress. “I’d better get to the house, it’s been awhile since I’ve seen my husband up close.”

Eurydice smiles. “alright. see you again really soon?”

“of course.” Persephone plants a kiss on both girl’s heads and heads out the door, blinking away the sharp burn of tears.

***

she walks into Hades’ office and before she can even get the words out, he waves his hand at her without looking up from his ever important paperwork.

“I’m sending her up, don’t worry.”

she opens and closes her mouth. “I thought it might take some convincing.”

he scowls down at his desk. “I’m not heartless. I saw her when she first found out, the selflessness in that girl...” he shakes his head. “she was concerned about not being able to love her kid enough. not being able to provide that for her. she wanted to send Cal up there with you in the spring without her? you know that? the insanity in her, that I’d separate a mother and her child.”

Persephone steps around her and plants a firm, smiling kiss on his lips. Surprising him and pulling him away from his paperwork. “I love you.”

a smile twitches at his lips. “I love you too?”

“so,” Persephone says, promptly taking a small step back. “Eurydice and Callie will come up on the train with me in the spring?”

“as soon as I get all the paperwork in order. this is a... unique situation to say the least.” he turns back to his work, Persephone stands and watches for a moment, before planting one more soft kiss to the top of his head and heading out to get a drink. she can’t tell Eurydice yet, because if it doesn’t come true she’ll be heartbroken but knowing that she’ll be able to take the two of them up with her in the spring will be a joyous moment.

only six months until the couple that became a family gets reunited.

***

Children grow fast, this is something that Eurydice was never told. by the time Callie is seven months old, Eurydice has watched her learn to crawl, learn to reach and to touch and to smile. it still scares her sometimes, that maybe she isn’t meant for this? maybe she’s not cut out for this kind of thing. she’s already had to reason with herself over several things that just dig into her scalp, telling her Callie deserves a better mother. she had to bottle feed her, for god's sakes, her body seems to be malnourished enough and overworked enough that she can’t give that to her daughter. she has to take care of herself too, is what Persephone keeps telling her. she has to give herself a little attention too, give herself some love as well.

she faces Hades one last time in front of the train, he says he’s there to see Persephone off but Eurydice is glad that he’s there.

“thank you,” she says, lifting her chin to look him right in the eyes. “for all that you did for me and Callie, and for you are doing for Orpheus. he doesn’t know it yet, but he will be very thankful to you.”

“don’t say things like that,” he says, voice extra gravelly with the sadness of his wife leaving, but he tries to hide it. “I would never have hired you if I’d known...”

“neither of us knew, I would never have agreed to go if I’d known.”

a small silence stretches between them, she doesn’t know what to do with herself, a year ago she despised this man. everything about him made her heart shudder in her chest, but now... she’s seen his mercy and can’t help but feel that it was there all along.

she holds out her hand to shake his. “thank you, I will make sure to let Calista know as she grows older all that you have done for us.”

he lets out a chuckle as he takes her hand. “I’m sure she will also know all I have done against you.”

“in my opinion, it evens out. thank you.” she drops his hand and climbs onto the train, her stomach starting to swirl in her stomach.

She tries to remind herself of all that she’s been told by Persephone, love herself and that has to be enough, as she climbs the train, she’d handed Calista over to Persephone while Eurydice puts her things on the train. her heart beats so fast, this rhythm of readiness, of anticipation.

thump, thump, thump

Get Callie, she’s getting fussy in another woman’s arms.

thump, thump, thump

Sit down in a seat before the train starts moving.

thump, thump, thump

“if it isn’t my favorite songbird.” a withered voice comes from the front of the train car.

“Hermes.” Eurydice breaths, she speeds her steps up to meet him halfway and throws her arms around his neck. she buries her face in the man’s shoulder, letting him gently hold her like a father would hold a daughter, gently, calmly. he pulls back after barely five seconds.

“you takin’ the train?” she nods with something like tears stinging in the back of her eyes but they aren’t close to falling, yet. Hermes’ smile stretches almost all the way to his eyes, wrinkles creasing on his forehead. “he’ll be waiting for Seph, right by the station.’

Eurydice smiles but her heartbeat is still flurrying over her entire chest, heat spreading across her whole body like a licking fire. she needs a distraction from her shaking hands and churning stomach. Hermes pats her cheek affectionately, finally looking over her shoulder and squinting at Persephone holding the infant in her arms. he narrows his eyes, like he’s seeing a mirage and isn’t sure exactly what he’s seeing.

Eurydice breaks away from him, going to Persephone to take her daughter from the other woman’s arms. “this is your kind of granddaughter, Calista.”

“a lovely name for a lovely girl.” Hermes smiles in that way he always does when he knows something, when he looks at someone and can see their future. Eurydice always feels exposed whenever Hermes looks at her, like he knows what goes on in her head every day. like he knows all of her fears and hopes and emotions. the train starts moving in that moment and Eurydice has to sit down, holding Callie in her lap, pulling her tightly against her chest.

they move through tunnels, the dim lights of the mines flash through the windows every once in awhile, flushing the four of them in a golden glow, turning Persephone’s green dress into a brownish color, splashing across Hermes face briefly and throwing shadows like the darkness of the wall falling over her. she hasn’t worked on the wall in months, hasn’t gone into the mines in about as long, but it still haunts her. to forget how to feel, though since Orpheus came and left, the place improved it still left her feeling like there a life she was missing out on, the other half of her. or maybe it just was that her other half was Up Top. Callie taught her to remember feeling, taught to feel again altogether. and when she begins to whimper in the dark of the train, her heart stutters and all she wants is to make her smile again.

“shhh,” Eurydice murmurs, bounding the little girl on her knee briefly. “it’s alright, love, shh.”

even just her voice soothes the child and she quiets, she is normally not the most emotional infant, though they all cry, Eurydice knows that from her younger siblings. she takes after her mother in that, she only gets emotional really when Eurydice gets emotional. so now, when Eurydice is nervous and fidgety and on edge, the girl picks up on it and begins to cry. she calms herself, taking deep breath and pressing a kiss to her daughters soft bed of dark brown hair.

it’s a longer train ride than Eurydice would think, so they sit in silence, contemplative over what is to come, over what is going to happen when those doors open and sunshine floods the train car. when Orpheus is right before her what will she say? what will she do? he doesn’t even know she’s coming, he’ll be happy to see her, won’t he? yes, yes, he will. she knows this, she knows he loved her, and hopes for that present tense to re-enter the assuredness of her vocabulary. she loves him, simple as that, and he will love what she brings with her.

as light starts to flood the car, she closes her eyes, feeling the warmth flood through her body. the familiar scent of the dirt and the trees, the sound of chattering voices and birds beginning to chirp, everything so familiar yet so foreign. the last time she was this anxious to step outside was during The Walk and she never stepped foot outdoors during that. she’s both ready and most definitely not.

“here,” Persephone says. “I’ll take Cal, and you can step out by yourself. take a look about, greet old friends without this little one in your arms.”

reluctantly, Eurydice relinquishes Callie into Persephone’s arms. she stands, ready to face her fate, ready to smell the earth, bask in the sunlight. she is here, she is full of light, she is ready.

she’s ready.

the train car opens by itself and she steps out, shading her eyes with her hand to gaze over the crowd, which a hush falls over. she is known here, though she looks different. though having been pregnant and gave birth, she’s lost weight. the doctors she saw worried for Callie’s health, when Eurydice has spent her whole life only getting just enough to eat and too often in Hadestown she neglected to eat, after the pregnancy especially, it seemed. she just simply... forgot to take care of herself sometimes. those were the days where she got talks from Persephone, lectures from Hades, both about taking care of herself not just for herself, for Calista. she tried her best, but old habits die hard. she looks more tired now, her hair now just brushing the very tops of her shoulders but the bangs freshly cut. every few months, or when she was feeling especially restless, she would go to the bathroom with a pair of scissors and retrim her bangs. what a great influence she’ll be on her kid.

and in the crowd, in the very back of the crowd, is a boy just a little bit older and more tired looking. and his eyes are raised to hers. his mouth is forming the first syllable of her name, with a question in his eyes. is this real? are you real?

and she wants to run to him and say yes yes yes yes im real this is real this is true

but she can’t move until Hermes walks up beside her, loops his arm through hers and begins to walk her down the steps of the station. the crowd parts for them and Eurydice can’t help but see the imagery of it all. like a bride walking down the aisle, she is being given away for the second time in her life. the first, she gave away herself, in secret. not an elopement but a ritual in which they were “married”. this time, she is given away to this life that she once gave up. here, she is being given permission to step back into this life, she is being given permission to look him in the eyes, to speak to him. he gives her away and leaves her there at the altar- or rather, right in front of Orpheus- and leaves her there, blending back into the crowd.

“how- how... what are you- how are you-?” he runs a hand through his hair, just looking at her, just... looking. “Eurydice-”

when he says her name, her entire body feels like it will combust and she can’t just stay standing there. it feels like their first kiss: happening before she knows what’s happening and over before she wants it to. whistles break out through the crowd, a laughter spreading through the silence. the tension breaks and she’s left just feeling his hands at her waist, and his face close to hers, his breath against her cheeks, fluttering her eyelashes against the breeze.

“how-?” he asks again.

she licks her lips, unsure of how to say it. “I’ll show you.”

Persephone is already walking towards them, holding Callie to her chest. Orpheus, the ever confused, just stares. the two dots not yet connected yet, so he must say the first thing that comes to mind.

“congratulat-”

Persephone shakes her head and laughs. “no, poet.” and hands Callie to Eurydice.

he watches with wide eyes as Eurydice holds the child in one arm and with the other, adjusts Orpheus’ arms so that she can gently place the girl in his arms. she holds both his arms and the baby for a moment before removing her hands and stepping back. his eyes flick from Eurydice, down to the infant, and then back to Eurydice in a panicked state.

“her name is Calista, she’s seven months old... and she’s your daughter.”

Orpheus lets out a huge, deep, shuddering sigh that feels somehow close to tears. he finally looks down and admires the face of the girl in his arms, and as he does, Eurydice tells him about her.

“she has your nose, and your hair, but my eyes. she’s not very talkative but she likes to be read to before going to sleep, and she always, always prefers to sleep close to me, or close to a person. she’s like you, she loves to listen. and she loves people-”

she stops herself at the sight of his face, smiling but filled with this sorrowful inside. “I can’t believe- I missed a whole life starting... Eurydice, she’s so beautiful.”

“not your fault, Orpheus, neither of us knew.” she murmurs. “and now, we’re here.”

“you’re home.”

[whorphydice]

Forget Me Not

Ahh so here is one of my alternate directions I was going to take Ophelia’s story. Obviously, I chose otherwise, but this was an idea I had at the beginning too. It’s angsty, it’s 9 pages long, Enjoy. 

“You can go.”

The words ring through her head as the train lightly shakes her body back and forth. 

“The boss wants to see you.” A fellow worker had said, nudging her from their place beside her on the assembly line. They always had been a welcome smile. A kind affirmation. It’s a pity, she thinks, that she does not know their name. That they do not know their own name. They were here much longer than she had. “You can’t keep him waiting. Better go.”

She didn’t know she’d never see them again. 

“You can go.” He had said, not looking up at her from his paperwork, still absently signing paper after paper. 

“What? Why would I-“

“I said you can go. My wife is waiting on the train to take spring up. She’s waiting on you. Go, girl.”

Eurydice isn’t sure why, but the deep growl of his voice reverberates through her and sends her running. It’s almost a run- as close as her body can make it anymore. She can’t remember eating- why would she, can’t starve to death in Hadestown.  She can’t remember caring. Everyday it’s clocking in. Clocking in. Clocking in. What’s your name? Eurydice. Eurydice is soon replaced with a pause. Eurydice is replaced with I don’t know.

Vaguely, she can remember a face. A face with a smile that reaches his hazel eyes. She can remember a feeling that sits deep in her chest, she thinks that maybe it had been love. She can remember a name. She may forget her own, but she won’t ever forget this. Orpheus. She likes to think that’s the name of the man. He seems like an Orpheus.

“You can go.”

She climbs the steps of the train slowly, unsure what to make of the bright smile spread across Persephone’s face. 

Eurydice forced her lips to upturn into a smile as she sat on a bench on the opposite side of the car from Persephone, who raised an eyebrow at her before crossing over and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. She pretended not to notice the way Persephone loosened her grip when her gentle hands caught over the protruding bones of her spine, or the way her smile dropped when Eurydice didn’t show some excitement. 

“Aren’t you excited to see them? Your sweet lil family?” Persephone squeezes her, and Eurydice cocks her head, forcing a smile.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah..of course.” She manages through clenched teeth, before her attention is back on the ground. 

Didn’t seem like much of a family, the pretty boy in her dreams. He was a singer, a poet, she can remember that. Something about his voice sticking to some core part of her being that even years of hard work could not erase. 

Persephone was tempted to press on, to ask the young woman why she wasn’t overjoyed at the thought of going home and seeing the family she did everything for, yet she decided not to, afraid of the truth whatever it could be.

“You should rest. They’re going to be so excited to see you, Eurydice, you won’t be getting much sleep!” Persephone pats her knee gently, grimacing at the way the leather dwarfs Eurydice’s tiny frame. 

“Right..of course, thank you.” Eurydice is curled into herself before she realizes it, body leaning on the wall of the car entirely for support. What was he going to think of her? She wasn’t much more than bones- she counted her ribs in the mirror that morning. She wasn’t even sure what her own name was- Eurydice, she knew for sure now. What would he think. That poet in her heart, what would he think when he realized she gave up and succumbed to the ways of Hadestown, where her memories were nothing more than machinery operation. What would he think of a girl he used to love, nothing more than a fragile shell of bone. 

Eurydice caught her reflection in the mirror and tried to straighten up a little. SHe wiped at the dirt under her eyes until she realized it was deep circles resulting from lack of sleep. Her bangs were long grown out, hair now brushing the top of her collarbones. The patches of dirt on her arms, much like her eyes, proved to be deep, bruised discoloration likely resulting from the hard labor she performed day in and day out. This certainly wasn’t the woman the man in her memories would want. 

Eurydice could tell when they started to near the surface, with the way ache settled in her bones. She could not feel the wear and tear on her body in the underground. Could not feel the way her body screamed for rest after lifting things multiple times her size. Did not feel hunger- you cannot die again, starved or not. The way the bruises on her body ached in a dull, constant throb that reminded her of her mistreatment of her body. Why would anyone want to come back to this, after knowing numbness. 

The real sign that they reached the top was the way the train halted to a stop, slamming on breaks that sent Eurydice’s frail body into the seat infront of her. Persephone seemed ready for it, and the way she reached for Eurydice felt maternal in a way she couldn’t quite understand. Immediately Eurydice was hit with something for the woman, bordering admiration. Appropriate, she decides, that the first emotion she feels again is gratitude for this woman who no doubt pushed for her freedom. 

“Come on chickadee, we can’t keep everyone waiting for Spring too long!” Persephone threads her arm around Eurydice, and helps her slowly descend the staircase.

The crowd awaiting Persephone is wild and deafening in a way that makes Eurydice want to retreat to the train and hide. It is overwhelming and frightening in the way people oogle at her like she is a prized dog out for show, the way they whisper as she passes at Persephone’s side, the woman the only thing grounding her to this moment. 

Eurydice can manage polite smiles, which become more genuine as they wade through the crowd. Her heart stops beating, if it is even beating to begin with, when she sees a familiar smile. 

He is real and better than she could even imagine. Just looking at him sends something through her, like electricity activating every nerve in her body at once. She isn’t aware that her breathing sped up until it becomes hard to continue, when something catches in her throat and she realizes she’s crying. 

“Orpheus.” The name falls from her lips before she can fully process that yes, this is the one thing she can remember from being alive. This tall, gangly man with a smile that reaches his hazel eyes and an aura about him that just exudes goodness.

She can’t hear him, but she can read the word that falls from his lips as her name. She can’t hear it but knows it sounds like a prayer, better than any song she’ll ever heat. Eurydice starts to pull Persephone, a magnet inside her wanting nothing more than to throw herself against the chest of the man in his well loved overalls. 

“That’s Orpheus.” She manages to Persephone through the tears streaming steadily down her face. “That’s my orpheus.”

“That’s your Orpheus.” Persephone squeezes her hand and is about to let go, to watch the young girl take off for the arms of her love, when the girl turns still as stone beside her. 

“...Persephone?” Eurydice asks, but her voice is cold, the affection there just moments prior long gone, replaced with ice in the way she speaks. Her gaze is no longer locked on Orpheus, but instead, the tiny child beside him. She doesn’t look much older than two, maybe not even that old, but Eurydice can’t remember any child in her past well enough to remember development. 

“...Persephone.” This time it’s a whisper, not ice but heartbreak. There is pain written on her face now, the tears that had previously been joyous now anything but. 

She sees the man mouth her name again, confusion spreading across the features of his face. The toddler beside him tugs at his hand, pointing at Eurydice with something she thinks may be excitement. He scoops her up to sit her on his hip, and his confusion is replaced with a smile as the little girl continues to point at her. 

“Eurydice, honeybee, what’s wrong?” Persephone stops with her, craning her head to look at her. 

“What’s going on?” Eurydice asks bluntly, still unmoving towards Orpheus. “Did he let me go just so I could see that Orpheus...so I could see that he moved on? Why did he let me go for this?” Of course she wanted him to be happy- she could feel how much she must have loved him just by the way her heart yearns for her to go closer. She can’t explain it either, in the way she feels about the little girl. It’s a different kind of yearning she doesn’t even know how to begin explaining. It’s like in some prior life her soul was so tightly connected to that of the child that there is some remnant there, drawing her closer and urging her to protect her.  “Persephone, where is her mother?” She was not naive enough to believe that the girl wasn’t Orpheus’s with the way she laid her head on his shoulder and cuddled into his shoulder. The way he rocked her just a little, lips moving at the pace that he was clearly singing something to her. That was his daughter, now where was the mother. 

“Who’s baby is that?”

It was Persephone’s turn to feel her heart fall from her chest, smile dropping from her face when it hit her. She tightened her grip on Eurydice’s elbow, pausing to turn them face to face. “Eurydice, what do you mean?”

“The one Orpheus is holding..” She nods her head towards them, at the same time Persephone makes eye contact with Orpheus, shaking her head at the young man. Eurydice couldn’t see the way Orpheus’ demeanor changed, the way it looked like someone took all the air out of him and deflated his joy. It was a short shake of the head from Persephone, to confirm a fear none of them knew they had. 

She doesn’t remember her. 

“Persephone..please...who’s baby is that?”

“Oh honey..” Persephone pauses to kiss her forehead, her hand coming to rest on her cheek. Orpheus approaches them in the middle of this gentle embrace, standing just behind Eurydice. 

Persephone leans in, making eye contact with Eurydice before whispering. “Oh sweetheart, that’s your baby.”

Eurydice felt her blood run thin, the world spinning rapidly around her. “What? No..no I don’t have a baby, Persephone.” Her voice barely reaches the volume of a whisper before she’s leaning on Persephone to steady herself. 

“Yes, baby, you do. Three years ago this fall...I remember stepping off the train to see you with this little baby against your chest. You didn’t put her down for six whole months.” Persephone is brushing hair behind her ear, holding her face gently in her hands.  “You gave her to me to bring to Orpheus two years ago today.” 

Eurydice wanted to deny it, wanted to not believe it was possible. 

Why would they lie, Eurydice? Why would they say this baby was yours if she wasn’t?

“I...I don’t remember a baby.” Eurydice whispers, and suddenly it feels like the soot that has long since settled in her lungs is now blocking her ability to breath, like she’s going to suffocate from panic. “What kind of mother doesn’t remember her own baby, Persephone?” 

She knew it could not be a lie, she knew from looking at the little girl that yes, she may look like her, but that her heart was inexplicably calling for her. Yes, she could believe this was her child if she could only have remembered her. 

It was like years of abuse on her body hit at once, physical and emotional trauma crashing into her and bringing her down. Down to her knees, down to the ground. The words around her sound like they are being spoken above water as she drowns. 

Catch her, Orpheus.  

She can hear, before she vaguely feels someone’s arms on her, and everything goes dark. 

------

Eurydice isn’t sure how long she was out, or even where she is, when she opens her eyes. The lumpy mattress beneath her feels like a cloud in comparison to the one she had spent the last years on. There’s a blanket on top of her- thin, with holes that had been artfully patched with rainbow pieces of cloth- and well used, soft sheets beneath her. It’s familiar, she’s entirely sure that this bed belongs to Orpheus and that she has spent many nights both awake and asleep wrapped in his arms here. 

She lets out a whimper as she turns on her side, the movement aching deep in her bones, muscles wary from years of unkind work to them. She absently realized she was not wearing the leather overalls any longer, but rather soft, loose pants and the cream wrap still tightly wrapped around her breasts. She runs a hand over her exposed abdomen, stopping to count her ribs again. Is this what being alive would be?

She expected to be cold, despite the summer air, from being so exposed. The blanket, that did enough, but what struck her most was the pure heat radiating from beside her.

Oh.

Eurydice turns on her side, to face the little girl that was solidly asleep next to her. She was pressed so close to her Eurydice isn’t sure how she didn’t notice her presence sooner. This toddler was so tightly pressed to her side, that if it weren’t for the thin clothes they wore, Eurydice wouldn’t be able to tell where one stopped and the other began. 

She didn’t know what to make of this. That this little human trusted her so completely without knowing her-

Of course she knows you, Eurydice, you gave birth to her. You made her. 

Experimentally, she raised a hand to touch her little face, thumb brushing hair from her eyes. She noted the way she sucked on her thumb in her sleep, and the way the other hand was gripping onto the cream cloth around Eurydice’s own chest, like she was anchoring them both. 

Eurydice surveyed her, this little sleeping girl. She had her nose, and dark hair that was undeniably hers. In her sleep she could tell the shape of her eyes were that of Orpheus, though the color was indeterminate as she slept.

Even her lips. Her lips were so much like Eurydice’s own, she was sure that if she had looked in the mirror twenty years ago she would have looked much like this. 

Yes. She could believe that somehow this was her daughter. That what Persephone said, must have been true- that somehow, yes, she had a baby she’s forgotten yet somehow didn’t forget her. 

“I’m sorry.” Eurydice whispers, running a hand over her little face, wrapping a frail arm around her body. “I’m sorry, I can’t even remember your name.” She kisses her on the cheek, and tries to pull her closer. It’s another moment of shame, when she tugs and the little body doesn’t budge. 

You aren’t strong enough to lift her, Eurydice.

She settles for moving closer to her, fingers lacing into her hair and gently threading her fingers through the dark curls, much like her own. Eurydice is crying before she realizes it, tears falling into the baby’s hair, lost in her own guilt of forgetting. 

The door peaks open, and Orpheus slips in, standing by the frame.  “...she wanted to stay with you. We told you to leave you to rest, but she insisted. Stubborn, she got that from you. She swears she was going to protect you when you slept.”

His hands wring together nervously, as he speaks to Eurydice. His Eurydice, now merely bones wrapped in skin, covered in bruises. His Eurydice, who didn’t remember the sacrifice after sacrifice she made for them, for the baby who wanted nothing more than to never leave her arms. 

“That’s okay.” Eurydice promised, turning to look at him. “I’m so sorry Orpheus. I’m sorry I let myself forget- I want to remember..I wish I remembered.”

“You will!” Orpheus promises, though he can’t be sure. This is unprecedented. Noone- save for himself- walks out of hell. “You’ll remember. And if you don’t, I promise, I’ll tell you everything you need to know. I’ll tell you everything.”

“You love me, I know that. I remember that. The details aren’t there but..you love me. And I love you.” Eurydice reaches a hand out to him, asking him to come closer. “I want to love her Orpheus.”

“I’d still walk to the end of time to be with you.”  He lays in bed beside her, wrapping a strong arm around her and the baby both. “I remember the day I saw you the first time. It felt just like that when Persephone gave me her.”

He kisses her cheek, burying her face in his neck. “I love you so much, Eurydice. So so much. Till the end of time.”

Eurydice twists in his arms, pulling his lips to hers firmly, in a moment of determination. Her hand cups his face, thumb trailing along his jaw. She’s about to bite his lip, when she pulls away with a gasp. “Orpheus.” She whispers, eyes looking over his face, over and over. “You..come home with me.”

“What? We are home!”

“Those were the first words you said to me.” She grasps at his face, desperate to pull him closer. 

“Eurydice- i’m so sorry.” If she remembered it all, she remembered that moment. That moment that arguably destroyed their future. “I am so sorry.”

“No..no. i’m here now. Don’t be sorry. I forgave you, I must have-” She searched her memories for that of the baby beside her, much to her own failure “Orpheus, i’m sorry.”

Sorry for abandoning him, sorry for leaving when things got rough. 

“You’re here now, ‘rydice. Thats what matters.” Orpheus kisses her again, their foreheads pressed closely together. “I’m going to get you something to eat.. I’ll be right back!”

He practically falls out of bed, as he runs out of the room, surely to tell Persephone that she is awake as well as bring food. Food. The thought of a meal makes her ache deep in her gut, and she is so far distracted by the thought of a meal that she doesn’t notice the stirring beside her. 

“...mama?” The voice is incredibly sweet, and Eurydice feels her heart fall when she hears the word. She is drawn to her voice, and something deep in her wants nothing more than to hold her in her arms forever. “You know me, mama?” Eurydice has to bite her lip, and faces forward so she does not have to look at her and admit that no, you know me but i dont know you.

“Mama..” The little girl tugs at her arm, drawing her attention. “I made this.”

Eurydice turns, willing the tears to stop as she looks at the baby beside her. In her tiny hand is a red flower, little, but fully bloomed. 

“I..” Eurydice feels like a boulder hit her chest, as the little girl crawls on her lap and offers her the flower. “You made this?”

The toddler smiles as she tucks the flower in Eurydice’s hair. “Daddy does it too!” 

Yes, Eurydice can recall that Orpheus does this, and feels an instinctive need to hold the baby tighter in her arms. 

“Daddy says i’m your springtime baby, mama, and thats why I make them! Because flowers come in the spring with Sephy!” 

Your springtime baby..

 “I love you more than spring, never forget that.”

Eurydice gasps, eyes locking on the brilliant hazel ones of her daughter. “Oh, sweetheart..” 

Yes. Her sweet, spring baby. She can feel it, love deep in her heart, the kind of love that brought forth  this baby in a world of dead, the same kind of love that got Eurydice to relinquish her to Orpheus.

It all hit like the train to Hadestown, like it plowed her right in the chest. 

Every little smile, every time she fell asleep in her arms, saying goodbye.

Yes. She can remember her now, part of her heart walking around out of her body. How could she forget, how could she forget her baby.

“Oh hello, Ophelia.”

[drcrushers]

happy secret songbird to my lovely giftee, @weraiseourcups! I hope you enjoy this very adorable ficlet! it’s not full fledged because i worried about getting it done in time, but i hope you enjoy it and it brings a smile!

dog days of summer ( in which orpheus and eurydice adopt a . . . . dog? )

Winter had come and gone, and as the snow and frosts began to thaw and signal the return of Lady Persephone, it meant more natural resources were available for food. Not much sprouted in the very earliest days of spring, but Eurydice had long since learned when things grew, when they could be picked, and what purpose they would do to solve the aching in her belly. And now with feeding both her and Orpheus, things had become very, very tight over the winter months. Even if they hadn’t been as harsh as they had once upon a time when the gods below were fighting, it was still never a good season.  But they had survived. And Orpheus was gonna make some sort of hearty stew to celebrate while they counted the days until they would go out to the train platform to greet their Lady. So Eurydice had charged herself to trod through the muddy fields after tubers that could almost be called potatoes (they weren’t, but if you closed your eyes they tasted the same). Roots were the only thing that often survived the deep frosts.  Carrying a basket of a few pickings, she ventures deeper into the fields while trying to avoid the mud because she isn’t sure her worn boots will handle it without it seeping in, then they’ll take days to dry out. The sun is high and it’s almost warm, but not quite; she still has her coat on. At least the wind doesn’t bite her face. The brushes shift somewhere to her left with the wind - except, no. Not with the wind. It sounds like something is lurking and for a brief, panic striken moment Eurydice worries some gnarl toothed creature has come out of hibernation and is seeking a meal. She moves swiftly in the opposite direction, but nothing chases her. The tall grasses just rustle a bit more and there’s a noise she can’t place; a snort, maybe. Or huff. Another rustle. A yelp, and something dark suddenly darts out of the brush being chases by something else darkly furred. 

The first creature she recognises as a dog. A puppy, with how small it is, the fur matted in mud and little legs carrying it swiftly toward her. The second shape she recognises dimly as a badger, hissing and spitting like some creature from the underworld. Without thinking Eurydice launches a rock at the thing - not meaning to hit it, just to scare it off. It takes two more rock throws for the badger to be deterred from chasing the canine that had likely wandered too close to it’s nesting area. 

“Hey there, little guy.” Eurydice greets, stooping to ensure the dog is okay. She doesn’t see blood, and it approaches her with a cautious air - but the second it realises Eurydice isn’t gonna hurt it, it tries to climb clumsily into her embrace. She smiles softly, and scratches a patch of fur behind his ear that isn’t muddied. “Gotta be more careful. You lost all the way out here?”

The puppy does not reply, but as Eurydice tries to feel for a collar there is none. Those dark eyes flick up to her and a pink tongue lolls out of it’s mouth before it tries to lick her face. She laughs quietly for the first time in a while - and she knows immediately she cannot leave this poor creature to starve. If the winter was hard on them, she can’t imagine what it would be like for the puppy. Maybe someone in town will be missing him or if not, would at least take him in and keep him as their own. Eurydice has always loved dogs, always wanted one - but she isn’t sure she can afford to feed both she and Orpheus and a dog. Especially through winter. Food is already scarce and she can’t imagine finding things suitable for a dog is easy. 

But he’s clearly alone in the fields, and Eurydice doesn’t want him stumbling on anymore pissed off badgers, so she coos softly and somehow the poor thing seems to know to trust her, because when she takes a few steps it follows. A few more, and the puppy is still trailing after her. Clutching her gatherings of meager tubers, she sets off at a slower pace with her new charge hopping along after her. 

Orpheus isn’t home - he’s been helping Hermes clean up the bar a bit for it’s spring re-opening. So Eurydice drops the food off inside their small little place and leads the dog around to the side where there’s a spout for a hose for the garden they’ve never had. She hopes the water isn’t frozen still. The pipes groan a bit when she turns the valve, but water shoots out a moment later. She waits until it runs clear before she cups it and sets about a mission of trying to clear the mud from the puppy - who just wants to play. He twists and yips as her fingers dig into his fur, which is darkly colored without the mud coating it. She doesn’t have any clue to what breed he might be, but his eyes are soft and she’s in love all over again if she’s honest with herself.  She uses a spare towel from her bath last night to mostly attempt to dry the creature off (but the dog shakes vigourously inside the door and splatters water across the floor. She laughs.  “We’ll get you a good place. Shelter. Somewhere nice and warm, yeah?” She ruffles his fur atop his head. “I bet you’re hungry.” She doesn’t get a response, except a soft sneeze that just sends more water across the floorboards. She takes hat as a yes, and tries to find something in their bare cabinets that might suit a dog. She settles on a bit of bread for the time being, and sits in the kitchen floor to feed this little one. Her heart melts as he munches away at the bits of bread that might be a little stale, if she’s honest. He’s cute. More than. In a weird way, he reminds her of Orpheus.  Orpheus. Will he be mad to find she’s taken on a stowaway? Of course he isn’t, she realises when he returns home and is immediately as bright eyed as the damn dog is. And it’s just downright adorable when the dog nestles into Orpheus’ lap that evening near the fire - Eurydice should be mad because that’s her spot, but she’s not. A worthwhile sacrifice. She sits beside her husband and idly strokes the dog’s fur while they talk in quiet tones. “I’ll go into town tomorrow. See if anyone’s lost him.” She promises, and tries to ignore the sadness in her gut.  She keeps her promise though - and it isn’t worth much. No one in town has lost a pet. She switches tactics, tries to see if anyone would want a pet, but it’s futile then too. She ends up at Hermes’ bar, where Orpheus is wiping tables and to her surprise, the little thing is bouncing around underfoot with soft yaps. Is it bigger? She’s not sure, but she suddenly notices that it looks bigger than yesterday. She’s just tired, she decides, and sits at the end of the bar. Immediately the dog settles near her feet and doesn’t move the rest of the night until Orpheus’ shift is over and the three return home. She tries for two days to find him a home, but no one wants another mouth to feed. Meanwhile Eurydice is just trying not to fall more in love with him. He’s definitely a bit bigger and she chalks it up to decent food, which Hermes had offered. She doesn’t know why he has dog-acceptable food, and doesn’t ask. He just shoots her new friend an amused look as the dog chows down on a bowl in the corner.  “Special one, that one. Might be like fate he found you.” Hermes remarks almost mysteriously in that infuriating way that makes Eurydice want to punch that stupid grin off his face. She says such, he laughs, and she and her new friend are left alone once more. By the end of the week, Orpheus points out they should name him while they’re waiting for someone to adopt him. They can’t just keep calling him ‘the dog’. Eurydice hasn’t ever been good with that kind of thing, and they toss ideas back and forth, but none seem right. Meanwhile it’s getting warmer and warmer outside as more of the spring settles in.  Persephone arrives on the train two days later, dragging in warm winds and a bright smile. The dog (which is still unnamed) trails after Eurydice and Orpheus out to the platform to greet her, and the goddess gives a delightful look. “There you are!”

Eurydice thinks she might be talking to her and Orpheus but no, it’s the dog. It circles her legs, yips, before trotting happily back over to Eurydice’s feet and sitting down. A declaration if she’d ever heard one. Persephone laughs.  “Oh, it damned well figures --- he’s yours now, songbird. Now, let’s grab a drink and celebrate spring.” Turns out the dog is not just a dog - Cerberus has descendants (which is something so full of everything she doesn’t feel like unpacking it) and the little creature from the fields is one, who had somehow escaped the boundaries of the underworld. A bit like she and Orpheus, if she’s honest. She loves him more. She thinks it will want to go back to the underworld where it belongs, but the literal hell hound barely leaves her side. Sits with her at home, at the bar, goes out foraging in the woods and fields, and still continues to grow that spring. She loves him more and more, but she still hasn’t decided whether she and Orpheus can afford to keep him. Not with winter. Another mouth? Spring goes. Summer goes. Lady Persephone keeps her promises of better harvests and she thinks it won’t be too bad. Eurydice and Orpheus see her off into her husband’s arms. The dog sits on the platform with them and watches the train go. It’s nearly up to Eurydice’s hip in size and thankfully, has shown signs of slowing down in growth. She reaches out to scratch him behind the ears and smiles; the dog practically radiates warmth. A literal furnance. She thinks she and Orpheus might survive the winter if they just curl up to the thing. 

At home, they find Persephone has left them provisions. Gifts, with just a single carnation as her calling card. It thrives all winter. 

It’s Orpheus who suggests the name one late night when they’re both curled in bed and the dog has lain across their legs as if to pin them down. As if to keep them warm. As if to protect them. She wonders if Lady Persephone and her husband have sent the dog on purpose now; she reminds herself to ask. Either way, while a hell-hound is not what she had in mind as a girl, she’s grateful for it now.

Eurydice smiles and agrees at Orpheus’ suggestion of a name. Argos. 

And hopefully, Eurydice thinks, he will never grow two more heads like his father. Five mouths to feed is worse than three.

[kenzierose53]

Promises (iv)

PERSEPHONE

Hermes was successful in getting my message to Eurydice and my husband. Everything was starting to fall into place. I have been sending letters back in forth between my husband to keep up this front. I have been filling his head with ideas for dates when I get back to the underworld and he is eating it up. It has helped quell his jealously a slight bit and is making sure our deal of me staying here for six months works.

Originally these letters were meant to just be a cover for Hermes to get in and out of the Underworld but the more I write these letters the more I am excited about these dates. Even though I am beyond angry, I do want to give us another chance. He is the light of my life. My love. My everything. Part of me wants to go back now honestly but I know I can't. I need to do my duty of being the Goddess of the Seasons and I do enjoy my time up here.

I also know if I left we could have another accident. I still remember finding poor Orpheus lying still on the bed, the carnation resting on his chest. It broke my heart and terrified me at the same time.

There was a nagging feeling in my gut that something wasn't wrong. Something inside of me was telling me to go find Orpheus. Springing from where I was sitting, I rushed over to the bar where he lived. My knocks on the door were unanswered. It was quiet...too quiet. Normally he at least mumbles to go away.

I tried the door and found it unlocked. Maybe he isn't even here? I still went inside to see if he was here or not. His place was a mess. Poor thing. The shirt that he was wearing this afternoon was discarded on the floor. So, he has been here at least.

Turning I found him passed out in his bed the carnation resting on his chest. I could tell that he had been crying, the tears staining his innocent face. I went over to him to put the flower in water so it wouldn't wilt when he slept when I saw he was barely breathing.

I tripped over a bottle on my way over to him. It was medicine and it was empty. No! No! No! His pulse was very faint. He's not dead yet. Rolling him onto his side I popped open his mouth. Quickly I jammed a finger down my throat causing him to purge all of the contents of his stomach, including the medicine.

Orpheus was fully awake now and looked horrified. He was shaking badly, sobbing again. Poor boy. "Why did you do that?" He sounded angry. I didn't get the chance to respond before he pushed himself away from me. "I was so close to seeing her again!"

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. This boy who has so much life ahead of him wants to die so he can be with his love. "Orpheus." He finally looked up at me, I haven't seen someone look so lost before. "You will see her again, in time. You still have so much life ahead of you."

He just kept shaking his head in denial. I was trying to hold back tears of my own at the sight. He's just so lost without her. "I don't want to wait!" His voice broke along with my heart. "I can't. I need her now." I barely heard him his voice was so low.

I reached out to grab his hand to give as much comfort as I can. "NO!" I was shocked by his outburst. I jumped back slightly from him, he looked feral almost. "This is your fault!" I felt like the breath had been knocked from my chest. "You could have don't something to make Hades change his mind! You could have used your status of Queen to do something! Anything! Instead, you are living your life up top, thanks to me by the way."

"You don't think that I already know that?" I paused waiting for a reaction. He stayed the same: shaking, sobbing, angry, lost. "I thought you two were going to make it." The anger slowly faded from his face. "I was just so dumbfounded with what happened that I didn't know what to do." His head dropped and he gripped the flower to his chest. "I'm not living it up right now," this seemed to catch his attention.

"You look so happy thought. You finally get to make a spring again."

"I'm acting dear." He looked like he just heard the most shocking news in the world. "In all honesty, I'm miserable." He nodded his head at me as if telling me to continue. "I am drowning in guilt for what my husband stole from you. You reconnected us and that is how he repaid you."

Orpheus hung his head in defeat. He seemed guilty for yelling at me. Placing both of my hands on his cheeks I raised his head to look me in the eyes. "You stop that right now," my voice was stern. He nodded his head sadly. "Don't you feel guilty for yelling at me. What you have said all correct." He goes to respond but I just nodded my head and he stopped.

"And you know what?" I know I shouldn't be telling him but if I don't give him anything we will lose him for good. "I'm working on fixing it."

The sparkle in his eye just made my job harder. I could not fail him. "What do you mean?"

"What if I said that I am working on bringing her back?" I could tell that I knocked the breath out of his chest with that. His eyes were huge and his mouth dropped open. "It's my job to fix what happened. I promise you that I am gonna fix this."

He pulled me into the tightest hug. He was crying again, this time I can assume it is out of happiness. He pulled away and for the first time in a while I could see the spark of hope in his eyes. "If I fail," I let my voice trail off at the end, not wanting to say what's next. "I will personally bring you down to the Underworld so you can be together again." I reached my hand out for him to shake.

"Do you really think that you can bring her back to me?"

"Oh please, I'm Persephone. I can do anything." I attempted to add some humor to the situation. I was able to get Orpheus to crack a tiny smile. "I'm getting Hermes to send her a letter, do you want me to tell her anything specifically?" Finally, a large smile crossed his face as he looked at the flower and told me what he wanted to say.

Love like that is what I hope Hades and I can achieve again. I can't imagine losing my love forever like the poor boy is suffering through. After breaking my own rule of telling the boy what I was doing I know that I cannot fail.

Orpheus has been in a slight bit better sprits but he is still a shell of himself. I don't believe he will ever be the same until she returns. In just a few short months I will bring her back with me. For now, only one more month until I return to the Underworld and continue working on the plan.

[kcrabb88]

Note: This was floating around in my head and I needed to write it down, so TA-DA, have a sad drabble about Persephone talking to Orpheus a year after the events of Hadestown. 

Persephone steps off the train for the first time in six months, exactly.

It’s been a year since the last time she saw Orpheus, because when she returned with spring on her fingertips shortly after the events in Hadestown, Orpheus was nowhere to be found.

The sun itself brightens as she steps off the train and onto the ground, the grass turning green behind her as she walks forward, her suitcase in her hands.

She expects Hermes. She expects anyone other than who she finds.

Laying asleep on the ground near the railroad tracks, is Orpheus.

Or someone who looks like Orpheus, anyway. This young man is alarmingly frail, which is saying something given that Orpheus was probably too skinny before Hadestown, either because food and the money for it was scarce in the colder months, or because he got so caught up in his music—or in Eurydice’s smile—that he forgot to eat sometimes, even when it was warm. His clothes are full of holes and covered in dirt, his skin pale and his old red kerchief faded almost orange. His lyre lays next to him, one of the strings broken, each end curled away from the other.

Persephone’s heart shudders, and threatens to break. She picks up her skirts as the birds sing cheerfully for her arrival, signs of life coming back to the earth as winter melts away.

Things aren’t perfect between her and Hades, and the air still holds a bit of a chill even as she brings spring back with her, but Orpheus’ song really had set the world on the path to right again. He healed the rift between her and Hades and so healed the seasons, even if the wound still smarted.

But Orpheus himself is shattered.

Eurydice can’t remember everything from her life above, as is the fate of all who end up in Hadestown. She seems to remember enough, though. Enough to make her pause with a smile as if she might have heard a song in the air before her mind went cloudy again. Persephone had seen it for herself.

Maybe that is a kindness, in this case.

The workers are different since Orpheus’ arrival too, even if their memories are faded. Their song sounds less dark, and they make more demands of Hades, who makes compromises with them. It’s not always clear if they remember how they were inspired, but they remember the inspiration, anyway.

Orpheus’ curse is to remember it all, and blame himself.

Persephone squats down on the grass next to the sleeping Orpheus, running the back of her hand across his dirt-smudged cheek.

“Orpheus?” she whispers, as gentle as if he might be a piece of china. “Can you wake up, sweetheart?”

Orpheus’ eyes open slowly, and for a moment, for a blessed, golden moment, there’s a bright light within them.

“Lady Persephone?”

There’s a smile in his voice, even, a liquid joy, and Persephone’s heart contracts with pain, because this cannot last.

“I’m back.” She tries to smile too, but it doesn’t quite work. “It’s spring again.”

Any color left in Orpheus’ face recedes, replaced with shadow. And then, with desperation.

“Is she with you?”

“No, honey.” Persephone reaches for Orpheus’ hand as he sits up, but he pulls away before she can grasp it. “But she’s all right. I look out for her.”

Orpheus scowls, and Persephone isn’t honestly sure she’s ever seen him do that before. Stare off into the distance in thought, perhaps. Maybe a rare flash of anger. Not like this, though. Not like this.

“No one is all right in that hell.” He turns away from her, but she sees the tears streaming down his face, making tracks through the dirt. A sob breaks through, and the uncharacteristic bitterness in his voice fades away, replaced with grief. “It’s all my fault. It’s all my fault.”

Persephone takes his hand, and though he won’t look at her, he doesn’t tug it away this time. “No, Orpheus. You…I saw you do something so brave. You saved Hades. You saved the seasons.” She pauses, feeling tears well in her own eyes. “You saved me.”

Orpheus jolts, and he looks so young that it hurts. “I couldn’t save her,” he whispers, his voice broken in half. I couldn’t save myself is what he doesn’t voice aloud. “It was so dark and it was so lonely and all I could hear were the voices in my head asking me who I was to lead Eurydice or anyone else out of there. And I couldn’t hear my melody, I couldn’t hear her, all I could hear were those voices, I…I still hear them. All the time I hear them. I went traveling, after, hoping I could make them go away and I can’t.”

Persephone doesn’t speak at first, pulling Orpheus to her chest and wrapping her arms tight around him. He stiffens for a good thirty seconds before he returns the embrace, his fingers digging into the fabric of her green dress.

“I know,” Persephone says, running her hand up and down Orpheus’ back. “I know what that’s like.” She pulls away, taking both of his hands in hers. “Have you been working on your music?”

Orpheus turns away again, glancing at his partly broken lyre as his voice goes dead. “No.”

“Orpheus.”

“I can’t.” he fiddles around in his pocket, pulling out a notebook full of nothing but empty pages. “I don’t know who I am. I don’t know what to do. I failed. I failed, Lady Persephone, and that’s all anyone will ever know about me or her. They’ll know me as the one who turned around at the very end, and condemned his love to hell. Eurydice deserves a story told by someone who didn’t fail her.”

Persephone takes Orpheus’ face in her hands, making him look at her. “You are a musician. You are a songwriter. You are the boy who healed the seasons and softened the king of the underworld and brought back the spring. You are the man who was willing to walk to Hadestown and face the ultimate unknown to save the woman he loved. That’s who you are, Orpheus.”

Orpheus shakes his head, even with his face still in Persephone’s grasp. “No.”

“Do you know what people say about you?” Persephone asks, determined to make him hear her. “Do you know?”

Orpheus doesn’t answer.

“They still say that you could make people see how the world could be,” Persephone presses forward. “They still say that. They remember you for that. They remember you for singing in the dead of night, and not just for your moment of doubt. That’s the truth, darling. That’s what you missed when you were gone.”

Orpheus’ eyes glimmer just a touch, even as more tears spill out. “I miss her,” he replies, his voice hoarse with grief. “I miss her so much. I love her.”

“And she loves you. Even if she can’t always remember your face, I know she hears your voice. I know it, Orpheus. And I think she would want you to write music again. Write a song about her, if you can. A song for the world to remember her by. She deserves to have her story told by someone who loved her with all their heart. And that’s you.”

Orpheus starts as if struck by lightning, and Persephone smiles as he takes one glance back at his lyre, and then back at her.

“I want to write about her.” Orpheus grasps the front of his shirt, one hand over his heart. “Do you think I can? I don’t know if I can. Before I always knew I could write music. That I could sing. But I never knew if someone I loved might love me in return. Not until…Eurydice.” He stumbles over the name as if he can’t quite bear to say it. “Now…now I don’t know…what I know.”

“I know you can.” Persephone stands, offering Orpheus her hand and helping him up from the ground. “Let’s see if we can get your lyre fixed, first, all right? I think Hermes might be able to help, and he’ll be glad to see you.”

Finally, blessedly, Orpheus gives her the tiniest ghost of a smile.

[sandersgrey]

Snow and Cold

AU in which Persephone is Patton, Hades is Logan, Orpheus is Roman and Virgil is Eurydice. In which they start to fall apart.

Part one. Part two. Part three. Part four. Part five. Part six. Part seven. Part eight is here. Part nine. Bonus. Part ten. Part eleven.

Word Count: 1,546

Ao3 link: here.

@ab-artist @astral-eclipse

Patton really, really loved his husband.

There was a reason why he came back every winter. He didn't need to. Patton knew very well that Logan wouldn't go after him if he stayed in the surface. He knew Logan would see that as a message by itself, would understand it, would step back. His husband loved him, too. And that's why he came back every six months: Because if he didn't, his husband wouldn't try to change his mind, and there was nowhere in the world like Logan's arms, no sight more beautiful than his true smile.

And yet there was a reason why he always left.

Yes, Patton missed the surface. He missed the sunlight, the texture of dead leaves and soil under his feet, the beautiful, infinite shades of green and brown. He missed flowers that weren't black. (He missed a singer's voice and smile. He wouldn't say that outloud. Not after his husband was so understanding). And he probably would have visited the surface anyway, but he probably wouldn't spend as much time there if it wasn't for the Underworld.

Here's the deal: It is a city. It is an industry. You can't see the sky (or what would be the sky) because of the smoke and fog of pollution. People with empty eyed dig deeper in the ground so that the city's beasts of steel and concrete can keep breathing. Patton could tolerate the lack of a true sky, could resign himself to missing the trees, but he would never stand for the pollution and how not natural the city was. Logan knew.

Logan also didn't seem to care.

"Tell me this city doesn't have more mines now than when I left", Patton said, glaring at the new additions in the edge of the town.

They were still in their room, the god of spring looking through a wall of glass and his husband still sitting on their bed with an unreadable expression. Patton didn't need to ask. He knew the answer. But he always tried to give Logan an out, a way to explain himself, despite knowing the man would never apologize.

"It has", Logan said calmly, just as Patton knew he would.

"Why?"

And the deity asked, just like Logan knew he would.

"I don't know how to explain to you that a city needs energy, love."

"Yes, but you- you know how I feel about all of it!", Patton gestured to the city under them. "It feels wrong. I love you, Logan, but it's just- you know!"

"I do know how you feel about it", Logan scowled. "And you know how I feel about many things, and yet here we are."

Virgil had been hungry many times in his life.

Most of it, to be honest. It was a painful emptiness that stole the strenght from his limbs, made him weak and shaking, unable to work or protect himself. It was terrifying. The coldness spread through his blood and bones until he almost forgot what it felt to be warm again. (He had known the warmth wouldn't last. He hadn't guessed it would be like this.)

Roman was out, probably perfoming for yet another ungrateful crown with no money. Virgil doubted he would bring home food when he came back. (If he came back.). (No, he had to. He promised). (He promised many things, though, and look at them now).

Virgil was used to hunger. He wasn't used to feel hungry when he was supposed to be safe.

He stood up so quickly from the bed when he heard the door opening that his knees almost buckled. He had to put his hand on the wall to regain his balance before slowly making his way to the kitchen. Roman was there. (So he did come back). He didn't seem to have anything with him but his instrument. (Just as he thought).

"Roman?", Virgil said.

"My darling", the singer smiled at him. He looked tired, hungry, but satisfied, as a creature of the forest that was happy just by existing. Well, he wouldn't keep existing for much longer if he kept that up.

The thought made Virgil's heart hurt in a way that had nothing to do with hunger.

(His blood boiled in something that felt like rage. But that couldn't be, could it? Even when he thought Roman would leave him, he had never been angry.)

(But he hadn't been starving then).

"What are you even doing?"

"What do you mean?", Patton stopped. He looked like an ancient, beautiful statue there, only iluminated by the pale light of the city in the dark room, not less because of the immobility that no mortal could ever try to achieve.

"I mean that you stay out of my city for half of the year. You have no right to ask me to stop."

"I'm your husband. I still live here for the other half of the year."

"I try not to say anything about your trips to the surface, couldn't you try not to say anything about my town?", Logan said, tired. Patton didn't notice the bags under the king's eyes. He didn't think he would. He never did.

"I don't bring you to the surface."

"And why would you do that?"

"Because I miss you?"

"That's new to me", Logan mumbled. Talking louder, he looked at his husband. "I'm the king. I couldn't leave."

"I know", Patton said. He tapped his fingers on the glass, frustrated. It annoyed Logan. He didn't say anything. (It was the melody of one of Roman's songs.)

"Love, I don't complain about your trips because I know how important they are for you. I don't blame you for- for falling in love with someone else", Logan's voice breaks. "I love you. I'm trying to make an effort. Couldn't you try, too?"

"This is different!"

"Different why, exactly? Because you, personally, don't like this? Guess what, Patton, it isn't all about you."

(The king tried to ignore the part of his heart that screamed that yes, it is.)

(His heart had always been meant to break anyway.)

"What do you mean?", Roman frowned.

"Did you even try to get some money so we could have food?", Virgil snapped. "Or did you just sing and dance and forgot you have someone waiting at home for you?"

Roman stepped back in shock. His expression changed as quickly as the wind, going from surprised to furious, a force of nature in himself. (Except that he wasn't, not really. The force of nature they had both known was far, far away now, and had taken part of their hearts with him.)

"That's really bold from someone who doesn't even go out of the house!"

"Because someone has to keep it clean and warm, you moron!", Virgil snarled. "Someone has to stay while you go god knows where- and does he know?"

Roman paled. "What do you mean?"

"Nevermind. You wouldn't hide it if he did. You're not subtle, you know?", Virgil smirked. It was as cold and sharp as a knife. "Your songs aren't going to feed us."

(Oh, wouldn't Roman love it, to not need to have his heart in two people's hands when one of them was as useless as dead leaves in the ground?)

"I never said that!", Virgil growled, because he was young and stupid and completely, hopelessly in love. "But we're starving, Roman, and it'll continue until you figure out that stupid songs won't help anyone!"

The singer's answer was a door slamming behind him.

"What do you even mean?", Patton said. His voice was cold as the snow that he knew kept falling somewhere in the surface. He always knew.

"I mean that I'm not the only one in this relationship", Logan didn't back down. He couldn't. This was worse than any fight they had ever had, he could feel the words he knew he would regret climbing his throat, ready to fall off his lips, and still he couldn't step down. Not again.

"I didn't say you are."

"You act like it", Logan snapped. "This is my kingdom, my city. You're my husband, yes, but you're not as attached to this place as I am. You have a say. You don't get the last word, not in this. It's not even as if I'm hurting people- they're all dead, anyway, and only the ones that commited serious crimes in life are sent to the mines. The ones that were good, or at least not bad, are comfortable. I made sure of that. I have a million souls to take care of, Patton, I cannot stop doing that just because you don't like it."

"This is the exact opposite of what I am!"

"Just like the roses in your garden are the exact opposite of what I am and I still let them there? Just like I, myself, am I the exact opposite of what you are? Do you want me to disappear?", he growled. "If you don't want this, if you don't want me, maybe I should find someone who does, just like you did!"

"Then go!"

And there it was. The words neither of them could take back.

(Keep your head low while the gods are fighting.)

(Or else you'll lose it.)

[orpheus-type-beat]

Hadestown Fanmix

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/16lTzi7BM8g2v5w7BliBpa

falling through the sky

Fanmix inspired by Hadestown

overview

I tried to learn from Hadestown’s approach to adapting the ancient Greek myths of Orpheus and Eurydice, as well as Hades and Persephone, in the same story. I took aspects of the particular characterization choices from Hadestown, and the basic idea of having an anachronistic setting. However, the “setting” and “plot” for this fanmix are different than in Hadestown, and are based on other adaptations of the Greek myths we read and saw in class.

The setting is vaguely modern, modern enough to have airplanes and touring professional musicians in the modern sense. In this version of the story, both Orpheus and Eurydice are recast as singer-songwriter musicians. They get engaged at the start of the story, but Eurydice is killed while on tour due to a plane crash before the couple can get married. Orpheus is stricken with grief and becomes cynical and self-destructive, until he decides to travel to the Underworld in an attempt to win Eurydice back.

After arriving in the Underworld, Orpheus performs/plays a set of five songs for Hades in an attempt to win him over. These five songs adapt a version of the story of Hades and Persephone, where the relationship is consensual. Demeter is a character in my version of the story, but one that Persephone wants to get away from (at least, at first). However, these songs don’t comprise a totally neutral re-telling of the myth of Hades & Persephone. It’s from Orpheus’ perspective, and his idea of Hades & Persephone’s relationship is informed by his own relationship with Eurydice. And, because Orpheus is trying to please Hades, the songs were picked by Orpheus for an audience of one.

After the set of five songs, Hades is moved enough to let Orpheus try and take Eurydice back — of course, on one condition. Orpheus looks back, failing, and Eurydice is set back to the Underworld. There are several songs that explore the feelings of this moment, and then the fanmix ends with a live version of a song from early. The sound of the crowd implies that this is a snapshot of Orpheus, removed from the events of the story by some time, turning his story into art that he performs over and over again (related to the cyclic themes of Hadestown and the original stories)

“I Will Follow You Into The Dark,” by Death Cab for Cutie

This is the sort of cheesy, melodramatic song Orpheus would like and use as part of an overly elaborate, soppy proposal. It ironically foreshadows what’s to come, and sets up Orpheus’ character. He’s talented, and makes beautiful music, but is kind of simple. He’s romantic and cheesy and has big emotions, but maybe isn’t always well grounded.

“Leaving on a Jet Plane” by John Denver

Eurydice is leaving to go on tour for the first time after they got engage, and Orpheus is worried. Eurydice plays him this song to cheer him up and poke fun at him, since it’s his sort of song (old fashioned, melodramatic, beautiful but a little cheesy) and, in her opinion, a little hyperbolic for what she expects to be an uneventful tour.

“Fake Empire” by the National

At some point on tour, there is an explosion on her plane, and she dies along with her band. (This plot point is inspired by/a tribute to John Denver, and how he died in a plane crash.) This song takes place in her last moments, thinking about Orpheus and her relationship with him as she’s dying. The song’s lyrics speak to the unreality and transience of their brief, beautiful, whirlwind romance. The line, “it’s hard to keep track of you / falling through the sky,” here is sort of her last words — she’s finding it hard to keep track of “you” while she’s “falling through the sky.”

“Grief” by Earl Sweatshirt

This song represents Orpheus, distraught after Eurydice’s death, at a deep emotional low point. The angry, paranoid, cynical lyrics reflect his bitterness and self-destructive behavior. At the end, the beat changes dramatically — still sad but somewhat more hopefully sounding —reflecting Orpheus’ decision to try and get Eurydice back from the Underworld.

“Highway to Hell” by AC/DC

Orpheus goes to the Underworld. He takes a car because, you know, he’s not in the mood for flying. This is just a joke; it’s funny to follow up Grief with Highway to Hell, and it’s kind of a pallet cleanser after the ‘first act’.

When he gets to the Underworld, Orpheus meets Hades. Hades agrees to entertain Orpheus’ request, in musical form of course. The next few songs are essentially a fan mix of Hades & Persephone’s story, made by Orpheus for Hades. Therefore, it’s from Hades’ perspective influenced by Orpheus’ tastes. Also, it’s sort of implied (like in Hadestown and the original myth) that Orpheus and Eurydice’s relationship is similar to Hades & Persephone’s relationship, so that when Orpheus is singing about Hades & Persephone’s relationship he’s also, simultaneously, singing about his own marriage.

“Plastic Taste” by Joji

In this version of Hades & Persephone, I’m obviously modernizing their relationship and making it consensual. I’m taking some cues from the cartoon we watched in class, where Hades can see Persephone from the underworld, with this song choice. It represents Hades in his sad boi “I don’t know what smiling is” phase, right before he and Persephone really meet and get together. Here, he’s longing/pining after her, but is dragging his feet on introducing himself: “I’ll admit that I’m afraid / let this moment go to waste.” The line “excuse me for my plastic taste” refers to Hades’ kingdom of artificial things below the ground, which he has grown comfortable with even though they aren’t real and don’t truly make him happy.

“Tomboy” by Princess Nokia

This song represents Persephone’s personality (and, subtextually, Eurydice’s personality). She’s an outsider because she’s a bit of a Tomboy, but she’s been able to accept herself even if the world hasn’t accepted her. The chorus section represents the community that says “that girl is a tomboy,” and more specifically her mother Demeter, who expects her daughter to be more traditionally feminine. Thus, when Persephone takes pride in her “little titties and … phat belly,” it’s a rejection of her mother’s expectations of femininity and a celebration of her version of femininity and her sexuality.

The song describes an aspect of the relationship dynamic between Hades & Persephone (which mirrors Orpheus and Eurydice), and depicting a blissful honeymoon period in a new relationship (at this point, while not married, Hades and Persephone are “dating,” though discreetly so as to avoid Demeter’s wrath). This song also implies something about what Persephone sees in Hades, at least in this initial stage of their relationship. Hades is “so in love / He think it's a spell / This love is too magic and he cannot tell;” their relationship, in defiance of her mother’s wishes, is a testament to her agency and charisma (“I could take your man if you finna let me / It's a guarantee that he won't forget me”).

“Love Story” by Taylor Swift

This is a song that Orpheus un-ironically loves, and a song that Hades secretly has on his iPod and doesn’t want anyone to know about. It represents the conflict surrounding Hades & Persephone’s wedding, and the conflict between their relationship and Demeter’s reluctance to let her daughter go. Keeping Demeter and imaging Hades & Persephone’s relationship as consensual makes this part reminiscent of Romeo and Juliet — or at least, Swift’s version of Romeo and Juliet.

Also “I talked to your dad / go put on a white dress” is basically what happened in the original Hades & Persephone myth, if you think about it (just that, because they’re Greek gods Persephone’s dad was also Hades’ brother).

“ATTENTION” by Joji

This song represents Demeter’s perspective on Hades and Persephone’s marriage. Demeter asks if “it would kill [Persephone] to throw a little bit of attention,” and remarks, cruelly, that “when [she] cries [she] waste[s] her time / over boys [she] never liked” — implying that Demeter doesn’t believe Persephone really loves Hades. This song also reflects the pain of a mother who’s no longer as central of a figure in her daughter’s life: “I thought I’d vocalize my troubles but nobody would listen.” It also has some fun mythological tie-ins, when the line “if I hurt you I’m afraid God’s gonna teach me a lesson” implies that Demeter is afraid of disobeying Zeus’s order to let Hades marry her daughter.

The line “would you hate me if I said good-bye / so quick you could eat my dust” is Demeter’s hyperbolic, distorted representations of Persephone’s voice — she sees her daughter as being callous and disloyal.

“About Today” by the National

This song represents both the cycle of seasons, and the cycle in Persephone’s relationship with her mother and her husband. It most directly represents Hades and Persephone’s relationship growing cold, probably as Spring approaches and she prepares to leave. It also implies that, like in Hadestown, Hades and Persephone’s relationship isn’t perfectly happy. In this instance, however, it seems like it’s primarily due to Hades having a hard time letting Persephone go for half the year.

The song can also represent the emotions of Demeter, again as a mother losing her (young adult) daughter to marriage. Demeter wants to ask her daughter “about today” — almost like asking “how was school?” — but that line of communicate isn’t open anymore as Persephone is growing up and beginning to “slip away.”

Also, since these are song Orpheus chose (in a sense), this also reflects a sense of guilt he has about losing Eurydice. Maybe their relationship wasn’t perfect when she died, which is why he’s so desperate to get her back? (Also, the repeated use of the phrase “slip away” fits with the song “Slip Away” used later.)

This concludes the fanmix/ballad Orpheus performs for Hades. Hades is moved enough to let him try and take Eurydice back, on the one condition. In this adaptation, you could see this condition as something Hades is imposing on Orpheus for Orpheus’ own good. Hades’ relationship with Persephone is rocky because he can’t let her go and really trust her when she spends six months above ground with Demeter. Either out of anger, or a well-meaning desire to make sure that Orpheus doesn’t share his flaws, Hades implements the condition that Orpheus can’t look back as a test based on his flaws and his marriage to Persephone.

Orpheus and Eurydice begin to ascend.

“Slip Away” by Perfume Genius

This song represents Orpheus and Eurydice’s hope, as they start their journey out of the Underworld. They really believe that they’ll “never break the shape [they] take,” and they try to let voices of doubt (or maybe the undead, since they are in the Underworld) “slip away.” Of course, this is a slightly cheeky song choice, since we all know that Eurydice will, in fact, slip away from Orpheus.

Despite Eurydice saying “Don’t look back / I wanna break free,” Orpheus looks back, and Eurydice is sent back to the underworld.

“Love Love Love” by the Mountain Goats

This song takes place in the moment after Eurydice is taken back to the Underworld. The lyrics summarize the theme — “some moments last forever, and some flare out in love” — of both the myth of Hades and Persephone, and the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice. Like the first song, “I Will Follow You Into the Dark,” it’s an acoustic guitar ballad performed by a solo male vocalist; but now, after the events of the story, the type of acoustic guitar ballad Orpheus is drawn to has changed. This song is more complex, mature, and sad. It reflects how Orpheus’ tendency towards simplistic melodrama and uncomplicated romance have been complicated by tragedy, and how despite that tragedy his impulse towards beauty and music as emotional self-expression still remains.

“Fake Empire (Live in Brussels)” by the National

This song represents how Orpheus has processed the tragedy months, years, or even decades later. This was originally Eurydice’s song (it’s from her POV earlier), and by playing it live he’s remembering her and keeping her art alive. It’s also a summary of Orpheus and Eurydice’s relationship, now from Orpheus’ point of view after the tragic ending. “We’re half awake / in a fake empire” describes how Orpheus feels about his relationship with Eurydice now. It was unreal, an illusion or a dream that was fragile and bound to crumble. The line “it’s hard to keep track of you / falling through the sky,” is now from Orpheus’ perspective — “you” now refers to Eurydice, and “you” not the speaker is the one falling.

I like to imagine Orpheus playing this song in concert, touring, over and over again. It gives the story the kind of cyclic element that draws parallels to the story of Hades & Persephone, while also paralleling the way that the Orphean myth is about finding meaning in the endless cycle of love and loss through art.

(Also, this is probably my favorite song, so I wanted to include both versions).

image credit

I got them from google images, but here are some links

tornado background

girl falling (weirdly hard to find any picture that had a reasonable pose)

bonus

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uDAicYWcy6k

This has nothing to do with this fanmix, and I unfortunately couldn’t shoehorn it in, but this is probably runner up to my favorite song. It’s a narrative rap song that can be read as either about a kid growing up in Chicago public housing or the origin of a superhero (more specifically, Juggernaut, an X-Men character I’m not super familiar with).

[shawol9196]

Song of Life ((Oneshot; het!jongho; ~1.5K))

The man on the throne scoffs, but the woman next to him perks up with interest. “This is a far place to go for love.” “There’s no place my love will go that I will not follow.”

Based on the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice

((Warning, rated D for death of character))

“What brings you here?” the man on the throne says.

Jonghyun thinks about his journey to this place. To the underworld. He takes a breath.

“Love.”

The man on the throne scoffs, but the woman next to him perks up with interest.

“This is a far place to go for love.”

“There’s no place my love will go that I will not follow.”

The man and woman share a look.

“Tell me the story of your love and how you came to this place before you make your request.” she says, twinkle in her eye.

Jonghyun puts his harp down at his feet, centering himself before beginning.

“We were children together. Neighbors. I am -- was -- a year older. My mother always said that I had a certain penchant for my love from first cries she made. We’ve always watched out for each other. Fondness just came naturally to us. There’s never been another, for either of us. From childhood to adolescence to now, it’s always been the two of us together. We were married last spring. We built our home together. We were hoping to start having children soon...”

He trails off, overcome by grief. The man and the woman stay as they are, though there’s a certain softness in the woman’s face. After a moment, he regains himself.

“At the end of the summer, she was out walking near some fruit trees that grow near our home. There was a snake laying in the grass and it bit her. I heard her screams and ran as quickly as I could. I managed to reach her before her last breath, but it was too late to save her. I am a musician by trade, and she was...is my only muse. I had acquired some degree of fame for my love songs during our adolescence. That’s how I got the money to build our home. After she died I lost them all. I cannot sing or play a single happy note, even if my own life depended on it. I’ve wandered around for so long. I cannot find peace without her. One night, I met a man who told me that I might be able to see her if I was willing to journey. So I took his instructions and followed them to a tee. Across a desert, through a valley, into the door in the mountain. Now I stand before you.”

The woman looks almost moved to tears while the man has finally shown interest.

“You say you are a musician. Play your mourning song for me.” the man says, leaning forward.

Hesitantly, Jonghyun leans forward and picks up his harp. The notes come easy to him now, the melody familiar enough that he felt like he’d heard it his entire life. As he starts to add a vocal harmony, the woman sheds a tear. There are no words to his song, just her name over and over again, and yet the man looks as if he’s moved by something said. There’s a silence when he finishes the song. He sets his harp down once more, waiting for a response.

“What was her name, pray tell?” the woman says softly, unable to hide the tears from her voice.

“Minjung. My love’s name is Minjung.”

The woman whispers to the man, and he stands suddenly.

“Mortal, I have been moved by your song. It is not often that I am moved and not often that my wife makes requests of me. Minjung shall return with you, but only there are conditions. The tunnel that brought you here, that is how you will exit this place. She will follow behind you. If you manage to make your way out of the tunnel and fully into the light without looking back, she will return to you just as she was before. As healthy and lively as the day you were married. If you look but do not see her, she will return with you, but her body will not last. She will rot before two summers pass. If you look back before you reach the light and you see your love’s face, she will return here and you will have to find a way to live without her. Do you accept my terms?”

Jonghyun looks down at his harp and then back at the man.

“May I see her before we leave?”

“No.”

He looks towards the tunnel. When he looks back, the woman has a pleading face.

“I accept the terms.”

The man smiles and snaps his fingers. The fog in the chamber begins to swirl, a haunting melody echoing through the air.

“I am calling her up from below now. When you go, she will follow. Remember my terms.”

Jonghyun nods and starts walking towards the tunnel, harp in hand.

“Good luck!” the woman calls from behind.

Not eager to end his challenge before it begins, he does not turn back, merely waving in what he thinks is the right direction. By his own estimate, it had taken him three hours to go down the tunnel. He hopes it’s a shorter trip back up. He starts climbing and before long he begins to sense the distinct feeling of being followed.

“My love? Is that you?” he whispers, trying to resist the urge to turn and see.

No response.

“He probably won’t let you speak, will he? That’d make it too easy if I could hear you. We’ll make it out of here, I promise. It’s just like that time when you fell into the well and I pulled you out. We just have to have faith.”

He falls silent to focus on climbing. As time goes on, the urge to look only gets stronger. At the halfway point, the rocks below him give out. He closes his eyes as quickly as he can as he feels himself turning round onto his back.

“Don’t worry, my love. I can’t see, my love. It’s just a trick, my love.” he repeats, trying to sound as soothing as he can.

Because of how the rocks fell, the ground has become much flatter than before, and it’s difficult to tell which way is up and which way is down.

“Oh, I wish I had your height, my love. Then I could reach the ceiling of this tunnel and feel out which way is up.”

Keeping his eyes shut, he starts making his way towards what he thinks is up.

“I think I’m going the right way, but I’m not sure. But I’m not confident enough. I’m going to just keep my eyes closed until I reach the door. Wish my luck, my love.”

By the two-thirds mark, he gets anxious.

“If I could have just seen you...if I could just know it’s properly you...”

He begins to hum to himself, then stops in his tracks. His harp. He must’ve dropped it when he fell. He goes to turn back but stops.

“You’re more important to me than any possession could ever be.”

He continues on.

Eventually, he makes it to the door. He opens it and takes four steps out, making sure that he’s completely out of the tunnel before opening his eyes. To his dismay, the sky is dark.

“My love, there’s no light with which to see. We’ve reached the surface, but I’m still afraid to lose you. I’m going to start walking, until it becomes light. If you’re here and I’ve already finished the task, then tell me. If not, I’ll just keep walking. I’ll leave the door open for you.”

He pauses, waiting for a response. When there is none, he starts walking again, as slow as he can. Eventually the sun begins to rise. Once he realizes he has a shadow, he turns around. To his relief and delight, Minjung’s standing in the doorway to the tunnel. He runs back towards her despite his exhaustion. When he reaches her and helps her out of the tunnel he’s thrilled to feel a warm pulse. He places a kiss on each ruddy cheek holding her as close to him as he can manage. It takes a minute for them both to realize they’re crying.

“Oh, I missed you, my love.” he whispers.

“How did you ever know where to come for me?” Minjung asks.

The sound of her voice sends a bolt of joy through him and he can’t help but kiss her instead of answering. In one smooth move he sweeps her off her feet and begins walking in the direction of the desert.  

“I’ll explain when we get home.”

[a-sweet-pea]

Orpheus stands before the lord of death with his harp held high, the last plaintive notes still ringing in the cavernous throne room. He fights to stay on his feet. The God’s gaze is a weight upon him he can hardly bear. Hades’ face is hard as carved stone; his expression unchanged.The same cannot be said for his wife.

* * *

Persephone's heart is ever full of spring, even in the dark of Tartarus. She has seen this mortal, Eurydice, walking the edges of the grey, shrouded in scarves, face blank as a river stone. Persephone wishes to see her in bloom, what beauty she must have had in life, in love. 

She asks a favor of her lord, to let the lovers return together to light and air and life. ‘After all, you shall have them again after a time. And think how great a young man’s passion must be, that he would travel to the under-world to snatch his beloved away; or even the upper-one.’ And she’s sees a change in his face visible only to one has been wed to him for a long time, and she smiles because she has won.

* * *

She is veiled when they bring her up. Orpheus reaches out to move the veil aside, but unseen shadow-hands turn his body away. He is not to touch, not even to look. Only to walk. Up, out, away, never looking back.

He feels fingers interlock with his, cold as bones. He trusts they are hers, he has no choice.

Somehow, the way up is worse than the way down. The silence, save for his footsteps on wet stone. Where is the other pair?

He tries to banish these thoughts, these doubts weaving webs in his mind. The promise of a God is not a thing to be taken lightly.

But the silence is pitiless and cavernous and unrelenting. He wishes he could pluck up some courage, or his harp, but dares not loose his grip on the cold hand.

If I could only be certain, he thinks. If I could only see her eyes, it would give me strength. But he cannot. He must not. Yet what are the laws of Death to the commands of love?

He turns. For a moment she is behind him, then there is only mist. The grey air of something lost.

You have disobeyed. The voice of Hades in his fury if the loudest sound there has ever been; it drives him to his knees. Leave, and do not return but by the grave. For a long time, he does not leave, he does not move at all. Then, as if pushed by the heel of a massive hand, he is forced up, out, into the brightness.

* * *

A silhouette appears in the meadow; one that Persephone had hoped not to see again. The frail figure of a woman bewildered and upset, searching for her lover. And then, the life that was returned leaves her like a sigh. Her arms fall limply to her sides and she looks up toward a sky she cannot see. Her eyes are empty.

That will not do. The Goddess rises from her throne and walks toward the meadow. The ground turns green and growing beneath her steps, leaving flowered footprints that slowly fade. Men are fools, men in love doubly so. The denizens of the underworld cannot see her, but they rush to the places she has trod, crowding the little plots of green while they remain. It is not his fault, his heart is frail, sensitive.

So Persephone, queen of budding flowers, bends to pluck the lifeless figure from the dirt. He will leave without his beloved, she thinks, closing her hand around the girl without protest. That much shall be as my lord wills it. She lifts her hand high, closed in a fist, and kisses it. But I too am a god.  When she uncurls her fingers, there is no girl, but a seed, small and smooth as a river stone.

And soon it will be Spring.

* * *

Eurydice awakens, which is strange. Stranger still, it is to light and color such as is not seen in the Meadows of Asphodel; the sullen wasteland of her endless wandering. But if not there, then where? And how? She remembers the sound of a harp, the breath of life on her cheek. She remembers holding a warm hand and walking upward, up, and…then nothing.

Now, there is lush green and sparkling blue, rustling and rushing water. Life in all its sights and sounds, greater and grander than she has ever known.

This must be Elysium. 

But if this is the field of paradise, why is there an ache in her chest? Why does she yearn? And what for?

She sits at the edge of a crystal sea and watches the earth renew from the ground up. Grasses grow tall as olive trees, the trees blossom so high above that they are as great pink clouds. Fragrant bergamot wafts from the orange groves in the valley beyond her view. The world stretches out further than can be imagined, but she stays where she is.

She waits, for days, for weeks, for something, not knowing what it is until it comes.

A sound, a voice, heavy with melancholy. It is deep and distant as thunder but sweeter than the songs of birds. 

It cries out, ‘Fool' and 'Wretched creature, to lose the only treasure in this world worth having.' She responds in a small, but persistent voice, calling out a name she knows and does not know.

And she can see him now, stepping out from between the towering trees. A God. For a moment, she is afraid. To be carried away from this brightness and back to that gray place is a thing she could not bear. But what can she do against such a mighty thing?

He is young and strong, draped in a tunic of rich crimson. It must be Eros whose beauty is beyond measure, because heavy laden with sorrow as it it, his face is more beautiful than the flowers or the clear lake or the sun itself. She knows that face, knows the thoughtful brow and curving lips as though she has kissed them.

Not Eros. Orpheus.

And all of a sudden her heart strains against her chest as if to leap out entirely, because she remembers. 

 * * *

The forest and field where once Orpheus roamed are dead now, just as Orpheus is dead.  The trees, the flowers, the babbling brook, the man; their beauty is unchanged, but it is as though their spirits have left them. 

Gone the nymphs and satyrs who would delight in his harp, frolicking on other hills now, to other music. Their sympathy was short-lived, they could not understand why he ceased to play. And indeed, Orpheus plays no more. The song has left his heart.

He walks slowly now over the hills to the wilderness. He thinks more than he speaks, and when he speaks it is in lamentation. Echo alone attends him, as she does all those who cry aloud into the wilderness. Her responses are distant and soft at first but grow as he treads the old paths through the forest.

The better he hears it, the more it becomes clear; the voice of Echo is not returning his laments word for word, as she is accustomed. Rather, she calls his name with a tender voice. Orpheus.

At the edge of a clear lake, a Narcissus flower grows alone among the weeds and brambles. It shines among it’s neighboring flowers as his Eurydice did among all women, and it calls to him with her voice.

He approaches. The pale gold and white petals are not petals at all, but gathered fabric of a gown that is as known to him as his own hand. The dress Eurydice wore when when they were wed. Such beauty, made profane in death. It had shone bright as Apollo’s Chariot as the flames engulfed her pyre, stinging his eyes. 

But here it is now, unburnt, and in it’s delicate folds a flower more beautiful by far than the Narcissus.

She startles like a bird at the reach of his hand, but it is not in his power to restrain himself. He gathers her up in his hands and brings her to his face. Like the figure of a goddess carved of marble and yet more sacred than any idol of any temple; his Eurydice, alive again.

She stretches her arms out to him, and he brings her to his breast, trembling though it is, on the edge of weeping. He can feel delicate hands run over the folds of his tunic, gripping tight. She buries her face in it, dampening it with her tears. Even muffled by the fabric he can hear her voice, her wonderful voice, laughing and crying, his name on her lips repeating, ‘Orpheus, my life, my love. Orpheus.’

* * *

And high above the lovers, moving over the fields like a warm breeze, Persephone smiles, content that Spring is returned in full, at last.

Author’s Note:

Do not ask me how many times I have listened to Monteverdi’s Orfeo, the opera that was the inspiration for this piece, because I have not been keeping track. Three full times today, if that gives you an idea.

I wrote this during the small spaces between tasks at work, so if it feels a bit disjointed thats because it is. I hope it comes across well enough anyway.

90% of my writing is dialogue-heavy, so this was quite a departure for me, but I felt like writing something with this weird sort of style, so here it is. Also I don’t think I’ve ever written anyGreek Mythology fan fiction, so thats a new one too.

I’ve been writing G/T fluffiness since around the age of 15, but I rarely if ever post them out in the world. This is my first Tumblr, and my first social media anything focusing on G/T. I’m a long-time lurker in the shadows of greater artists than I, particularly on deviantart, and I would shout out the names of all my favorites if could remember all of them but I can’t and I don’t want to leave anyone out so I wont.

If you like this and your want more, tell me! I am fueled almost entirely by positive feedback and dark roast espresso.

This author’s note is long enough to be its own piece of flash fiction called ‘I’m Nervous About Posting G/T Fiction On the Internet” so I’m gonna go ahead and wrap it up. Hopefully this isn’t the last you’ll hear from me,

-Sweet Pea

[littlewritingrabbit]

lams, 8/9

8. Things you said when you were crying.9. Things you said when I was crying.

There’s just… generally a lot of crying.

Holy mackerel Anon, I overthought this to the extent that I may or may not have created an au, congratulations…

Also I hope you’ve heard the story of Orpheus and Eurydice….

The Quest - Part 1

Up ahead, Azor was barking. Alexander Hamilton dashed through the woods after him, jumping over logs and feeling his heels sink into the soft carpeting of needles. Eliza Hamilton followed just behind, her skirts bundled up in one hand and baby Philip in the other. Bringing up the rear was Pierre du Ponceau, who was attempting to read as he ran, his nose so close to the words it was a miracle he managed to avoid the trees.

“We’re losing him!” Alexander gasped, his face almost drained of colour except for its customary freckles and a mad flush across his cheeks. He vaulted another log and followed the sound of the barking as if it were a lifeline.

“You follow him and we’ll catch up,” Eliza called after him. She swung her legs over the log and hitched Philip a little higher in her arms.

“It should be right up ahead,” Pierre yelled, “Like a rock, or… or a cliff?” Both his shins collided with the log, but he made it over in one piece.

Alexander burst out of the trees, gasping raggedly, and paused to run a hand through his hair and take in his surroundings. There was indeed a cliff, rising up before him like a jagged castle wall. The early-morning mist blew across its surface, obscuring its height so that he might have been standing at the bottom of a very deep pit, or even on the ocean floor.

Plant life didn’t touch the dark stone of this cliff, as if it knew better. Even Azor seemed afraid of it, whining and pawing at the ground in an unsettled sort of way. Alexander felt a chill deep in his bones, a warning as old as there had been Heroes to challenge the natural order of the world.

Eliza and Pierre crashed out of the woods behind him, and then stood in stunned silence beside Alexander. Eliza laid a hand on his shoulder.

Dear, dear Eliza. She had been so kind these last few months. After the war had finished, there had been days when Alexander had simply felt too terrible to do more than sit in the shade under the trees in the backyard, or by the fire, and attempt to make it through a letter or two to whoever needed him. There had been nights when he’d awoken in terror, wrapped up in the blankets and his nightshirt like they were funeral shrouds, reliving yet another nightmare of what he had done and seen.

Most days however, he couldn’t seem to slow down. There were essays to be written, bills to be drafted, an entire government to re-invent. And when he wasn’t occupied with this, Alexander was dashing all over the countryside with Pierre on his newest quest.

The quest had started the previous year, when the letter had arrived. It hardly needed a description, one could simply say ‘the letter’ and it would be obvious that it was the particular letter from Henry Laurens on the subject of his son’s death in the service of his country. The letter had quite possibly broken Alexander, or at least wounded him so deeply that he might never recover, as from that night onwards, he had been dedicated to discovering a way to save the friend he loved.

At first no one had known – it was a quest for scribbled maps in the dead of night and staying out crashing through various forests every spare moment of the weekends until Eliza finally confronted him about what on God’s green Earth he was up to.

He had broken into an exhausted fit of sobs upon telling her. His eyes had burned with a broken desperation, “I don’t know how to describe it my dear,” he had whispered, “But he was a part of my heart, and I cannot rest until I see him once more.”

At this point, there had been many things Eliza could have said. These included but weren’t limited to the usual inability of man to bring back his dead friends, how Alexander’s energies might be better spent proceeding with his own life rather than chasing after one that was already gone, and the fact that he might very well be going mad, but he had been so tearful. So instead she had asked him one question. “Would it make you happy?”

“Yes, a hundred times yes.” Thus Eliza joined Pierre as a member of the quest.

It had been relatively easy to convince Pierre in the first place. Simply a chance to have an adventure that went against the fabric of reality and translate some old legends would have been enough to convince him to sign away almost anything. He also sympathized with Alexander, knowing from their time in the war (and possibly from experience) the extent to which he cared about Laurens.

Several legends, translations thereof, and one singing lesson later, there they stood, facing the cliff in the hour before dawn one cold spring morning. “Is this the place?” asked Eliza quietly.

Pierre turned a few pages and pressed his face into the book again in his peculiar way of reading. “It certainly fits all the descriptions,” he said.

“This is it,” said Alexander.

A gust of wind made the mist swirl around the cliff and the pages flutter. Eliza pulled Philip’s blankets closer around him. She slipped her hand into Alexander’s. “Are you sure about this? We can always go home if you want to.”

“I know,” he replied, “But I have to at least try.”

“You know, I suppose, that you may never return?” Pierre added helpfully.

Alexander squeezed Eliza’s hand gently, “And you know that I would never let a little thing like death stop me.” They stood, shoulder to shoulder, in the shadow of the cliff, and began to sing.

“Oh why soldiers why? Should we be melancholy, boys, Oh why soldiers why? Whose business ‘tis to die. What, sighing, fie! The colours they are flying, boys, ‘Tis he, you, or I, We’re always bound to follow, boys, And scorned to fly.”

In three part harmony, their voices echoed off the cliff face, disturbing the mist and echoing off into the forest as if there were many people singing all together. Then suddenly, a crack like a gunshot sounded, and a split appeared in the cliff face. As they sang, it grew larger and larger, until it was large enough to climb through, and Azor was howling at the top of his lungs.

They stopped after the second chorus, though the echoes of their voices carried on for several moments afterwards, like the forest and the cliff were singing in reply. “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” said Alexander. He turned to Eliza and kissed her gently, “I love you,” he said.

“I love you too,” she replied with a sad smile.

“Aahh goooo,” said Philip, reaching a pudgy hand out to grab onto Alexander’s nose.

“Bonne chance, Alexander,” Pierre shook his hand, “Or should I say, Orpheus,” he smiled. Philip started to cry as Alexander adjusted his sword, picked up his lantern and rope, and slipped into the crack in the cliff, leaving the mortal world behind him.

It was so dark he could hardly see his hand in front of his face, so he pulled the cover from the lantern and lit the candle inside. All around him there were black rocks, almost like obsidian, rising up in jagged points of stalactites and stalagmites, and the same mist as outside seemed to linger over everything, whispering away into far shadowy corners.

Alexander chose the nearest stalactite as his landmark, looping the rope around it once, twice, three times, until it felt secure enough to never come undone. Then he set off into the dark, weaving between the rocks on a downward slope, his rope snaking behind him. One step at a time, his footprints marched their way down where the living were never meant to go, his heart thumping away in his chest in a reminder of how much he should not be here.

But when it concerned John Laurens, Alexander would brave Hell, Tartarus, or any other grim fate.

The ground sloped steeper and steeper as he marched on, first like a staircase, then like the sides of a mountain, until he was climbing more than walking, relying more and more on the rope. All at once, the path seemed to stop, pitching off into a dark abyss. One wrong step now, and he would plunge down and be dashed against the bottom of that great darkness.

Alexander tentatively approached the edge of the path. He tied the remaining end of his rope around the lantern, and slowly lowered it into the abyss. The lantern’s glow shrunk away from him until it was a little point like the flame of a candle amid the dark, and the rope fully unravelled, but he still couldn’t see an end to the fall.

Forward or back? There were only two ways he could go, and back would mean admitting defeat, so Alexander wrapped his leg around the rope, pinned his other leg against it, and lowered himself into the pit.

It was pitch dark except for the lantern’s faint glow some few storeys beneath him. His arms shook with the effort of holding his weight up, and his breath came out short and sharp in the echoing silence. This rope wasn’t just tethering him to the world of the living, it was holding him fast to life itself, because if he fell now, who knew how far he would fall?

John is down there. The thought kept him moving stubbornly downwards. His dear boy was somewhere in the dark below, and no matter how the rope burned his hands and the muscles in his legs trembled with the force of holding him up, he had to keep going. His Laurens, he thought, his love and his best friend and his brother-at-arms. He had warned him against the dagger, the rope, and the poisoned bowl, but how was he to know that one premature charge would have the same effect?

Alexander neared the end of the rope, until the lantern was only three, two, one feet below him. There still appeared to be no floor in sight, but his arms were burning and his hands were rubbed raw, and he wasn’t sure he would be able to hold on any longer. Alexander clung to the rope, swaying a little in the subterranean wind, and utterly devoid of options. Then his arms and legs gave out, and he slipped with a scream into the land of the dead.

As it turned out, the fall wasn’t very far, it was just so dark that he hadn’t been able to see where the ground was. He found it promptly, by hitting it, and surmised that he had broken nothing, but probably bruised his legs.

He stood on the shore of a river. Alexander could only tell there was a river at all by the sloshing noise it was making, as there was so much mist everywhere, but there was what looked like a small raft on its shore, so he stepped onboard and forded the river. It was when he reached the other shore that everything around him changed.

Suddenly his senses felt dull, his ears ringing and his eyes unfocussed. The mist around him seemed to be whispering, but in whose voice he could not be sure. “I pray you bear me witness…” “Alexander!”“No…” “I meet my fate like a brave man…”“HELP!”

He stumbled forwards, shaking his head. Figures moved through the mist, but Alexander could pay them no attention. He needed to find his friend. He yelled John’s name at the top of his lungs, but it seemed swallowed by the cavern air around him.

It might have been a minute, or an hour, or some measure of time in between, before he found himself in a ring of stalagmites, or perhaps they were columns.

“Now this is something I haven’t seen in an Age,” said a voice. Alexander whipped around, but found nothing. When he turned back, the mist had solidified itself into a figure. Facing away from him, the figure had thin shoulders, unpowdered hair, and a coat as red as blood.

“Who are you?” Alexander asked.

“I am Death,” said the figure simply. Alexander took a step back in surprise, unsure as to why Death was a redcoat.

“Where is John Laurens?!” his voice icy, Alexander glared at the redcoat who would not show his face. “Tell me you coward!”

“Coward?” asked the redcoat, slightly offended.

“Yes,” Alexander yelled, furious that Death could be so unmoved, “You’re a bloody coward! You stole the life of my mother! You stole the lives of my fellow soldiers! You stole the life of the man I loved, and yet you sit here, cowering in your darkness, and you won’t even show me your bloody face!!”

“You would not like my face if you saw it,” said Death, “Faces are a human invention after all. I have a fair few.”

“Turn and fight me, Death,” said Alexander, drawing his sword. He was no longer afraid. Anger had made him rash. It was the sort of anger that boils up from your heart and constricts your throat and makes your eyes fill with tears, the sort of anger that is so hot it hurts deep in your core.

“I do not think you would like that either,” said Death, turning.

Alexander stifled a gasp. Death looked surprisingly familiar. His face was almost fair, or would have been, had it not been tinged blue and his eyes a hollow sort of dark. Just above his cravat an ugly bruise ringed his neck, and he carried his head at an odd angle. All in all, Death looked suspiciously like John Andre.

“It’s not me you want to fight, Alexander Hamilton,” he said. “I simply take those whose time has come. It’s not anything personal. It’s just that every man has his day, and their days were over.” He appeared so unconcerned that it was frightening. Death doesn’t discriminate, he simply takes regardless of who and where and when. He doesn’t care who is left behind.

“John Laurens’s life was not over,” Hamilton shot back, “He had so much left to do! He was going to speak out against slavery, he had a wife, and a daughter, and… he had me! He had a chance to be happy after the war was over. I don’t know if you know much about life, Death, but John Laurens’s life was not a particularly happy one, and it could have been so if you hadn’t bloody taken him away!”

Death didn’t have an answer, he simply stepped back. Now he appeared less like John Andre, and more like a little girl Alexander had known back in St Croix. She had died of a fever. Her cheeks were still flaming red, as if in proof. Her wide eyes stared at Alexander from her thin face, and she simply waved a small hand.

Out of the shadows behind a stalactite stepped John Laurens.

All the tears that had been boiling within Alexander all those nights filled with nightmares and all those long, unseeing days came streaming down his cheeks. His shoulders shook with sobs and he couldn’t help but dash over and throw his arms around his Laurens. It had been so long.

John was paler than Alexander had ever seen him, wearing a blouse that was stained crimson with blood. Someone had evidently taken his coat, boots, sword and waistcoat. Tears silently ran down his cheeks, but he said not a word as Alexander threw his arms around him and held him as if just by virtue of their embrace they might never be parted.

“John, John, I’m so sorry, I love you, and… and I miss you, I-” John leaned down and quieted him with a kiss. His mouth tasted metallic.

Alexander pulled back and placed a hand over John’s blood-soaked chest. “Are you hurting? Is there anything I can do? Is… why…” he rounded on Death, “Why can’t he speak?”

“He’s dead,” said Death, as if it should be obvious. She wrapped a little finger around one of her curls and gave it a thoughtful tug. “The dead cannot speak to the living… but no, he’s not hurting. He just looks like that.”

John ran his fingers all over Alexander’s face, as if mapping him out. He brushed the tears from his cheeks with a sad smile.

“You give him BACK!” Alexander screamed, “You let him GO! You have no right, no right at all to keep him here!”

“I’m the only one with that right,” Death was back to his red-coated self now. Alexander made a small noise like his heart was breaking. He had come down here for nothing. “But I can make you a deal.”

“A deal?” Alexander could not recall a deal with Death which had ever gone well, but he was determined to be the first example of such.

“Precisely. You may have heard of such a deal,” said Death, “I will give you leave to go, and if John Laurens wishes to follow you, he may. But you must never look back at him until you have reached the world of the living, or else he will be lost to you forever.”

“I accept your deal,” said Alexander, looking not at Death, but at John, with determination blazing in his eyes. “Will you follow me?”

John formed the words with his mouth, but he could make no sound, so it took a few trials for Alexander to be able to read his lips. He said: as well as I am able.

“Then fare you well, Death,” said Alexander, a roguish smile on his face.

“Oh Alexander Hamilton,” said Death, his appearance changing once more to that of a middle-aged woman with freckles, thin and pale as if on her deathbed. He shuddered at the familiarity. It was his mother. “I’m certain I shall see you again soon.”

Alexander turned on his heel and marched away from Death.

He soon found it was a lot harder not to look back than he thought. When he reached the river, he couldn’t be certain John was on the raft behind him. He called out for him, but, of course, received no reply. So he sailed across the river in the desperate hope that John was still with him.

When he reached the place where the lantern swayed above the ground, he found he couldn’t jump to reach the bottom of the rope, so he had to climb several feet up the sheer cliff-face to be level with it. Don’t look down, he thought, not necessarily because it was steep, but because if he looked down now, he might see John, and then the quest would be all for naught. So he climbed with his head bent upwards until he was parallel to the bottom of the rope, took a deep breath, and leapt for it.

If Alexander had thought that climbing down the rope was difficult, he had not considered how it would be to climb up it. All his muscles trembled and complained that gravity was not helping them, and a few times he scrambled down a few feet by accident before resuming his climb. Don’t look down. Don’t you dare look down. The rope swung back and forth behind him, but whether this was because John was scaling it, or simply because the lantern was swinging back and forth at the bottom, it was impossible to tell.

When he finally reached the top, he realized that there was no way to pull up the lantern without discovering whether or not John was behind him, so he placed his hand on the rope and followed it blindly, stumbling over and around rocks until the cavern echoed with his footsteps and he could not tell if there was anyone behind him at all.

And oh, how badly he wanted to look. What if John was not there? What if he had gotten stuck on the rope, or fallen to his death, again? What if he had simply not come in the first place? The world had not been particularly kind to John Laurens in life, so what if he was unwilling to risk it a second time?

Or what if something else had followed Alexander in his stead? What if there was some pale creature bristling with teeth, or a small clawed thing, or any other number of monsters that one’s mind concocts when it is dark? What if something impersonated his friend, only to be set loose in the outside world?

Alexander shivered, and told himself that he was frightening himself over nothing. John was behind him. He had to be. But shouldn’t he just take a quick look, just to be sure? He called once more, and no one responded. Just one look, he thought. Surely Death wouldn’t be able to know from all the way down there?

The dark crowded close around him, but he clutched the rope like a lifeline, his heart hammering somewhere near his esophagus.

Ahead of him, a light opened in the darkness, and he could hear a dog’s barking.

To Be Continued…

[therainbowwillow]

https://therainbowwillow.tumblr.com/post/640094221880197120/therainbowwillow -Part 2

Well! Part 3/??? Here’s the premise: Hades’ terms for Orpheus leaving Hadestown are extremely harsh. Persephone threatens to leave him, and he’s forced to back down, leaving Orpheus with a single rule: he can’t sing until he’s out. He orders the residents of Hade to kill Orpheus, the only living mortal in the underworld. Eurydice, Persephone, and other mythological heroes join him on the journey to escape. Hermes gets word of his son’s trial and decides he’ll assist Orpheus. Dionysus joins him to visit Persephone (his mother, I’m using his Orphic parentage: Hades and Persephone) and Apollo comes, inspired by Orpheus’s attempt at freeing Eurydice, to find his lover, Hyacinthus.

TLDR Hadestown, but a different terms for our favorite singer and WAY more characters because why not.

Unrelated but my phone really wants to autocorrect “Orpheus” to “Orange,” which makes for a whole different story, honestly.

Anyway, here we go:

Eurydice lays beside her sleeping lover, staring up at the cracked ceiling of Persephone’s greenhouse. Burnt vines wrap the walls and climb towards the artificial lights of Hadestown. “Plants don’t grow towards neon the way they do the sun,” Persephone had said. “Not even when coerced by a goddess.” Still, the abandoned building provides decent shelter, which is far better than the rest of the underworld. Instead of trapping the heat, it seems to keep in the cold.

Eurydice glances at Orpheus. Even in the cool of the greenhouse, he sweats in his sleep. He’s exhausted and hungry, she knows, but they have no outside food. If he eats the food of Hadestown, she fears it’ll bind him to the damned place, just as the pomegranate seeds had bound Persephone.

Orpheus rolls over. He mumbles something incomprehensible. Eurydice keeps a closer eye on him. “Persephone?” she asks.

“Hm?” The goddess responds.

“What will Hades do if he catches us? I know the stories... Sisyphus, pushing his stone uphill forever. Tantalus, starved, with food just out of reach. Eternal torture. Is that what lays ahead?” Her voice doesn’t quiver. She finds she isn’t afraid of the answer, not after the mines. Hours and hours of her pickaxe against stone. And once she’d finished, she’d be building Hades’ wall or laying wires or partaking in some other pointless feat. Everyone in Hadestown feels like Sisyphus now.

“It’s best... it’s best if you don’t think about it.” Persephone sips from her canteen. Alcohol, certainly. Her voice has a drunken lisp to it.

“I want to know what’s at stake,” Eurydice says. Orpheus again tosses in his sleep.

“Eternal torture sums it up fine.”

“He’ll separate us, won’t he?”

Persephone shrugs. “Your contract will change. All of ours’ will. Probably a ban from speaking to each other.”

“What can he do to stop us?” Achilles mutters. “We’re dead already and he took our paridise. I can bear his whip, his mines. This whole place is torture.”

“Tell me about it.” Persephone rolls her eyes. “A goddess of spring, confined to... this.” She gestures around her.

“They say you loved him,” Eurydice says.

“Loved him. An emphasis on loved.” She takes another sip of her alcohol and slips off her wedding band. She flips it in the air and catches it. “I chose this. I chose Hades over light. Over life and clean air and springtime. I preferred Hades’ tyranny over Demeter’s. That dance... it almost felt like a fresh start. But what did I expect?” She takes a withered vine between her fingers. “This is futile. We should be planning. This place sucks the life out of everything it touches. Our poet included.”

Orpheus gasps. “Speaking of our poet, he’s awake!” She tilts her head. “You alright?” Eurydice asks.

Orpheus swallows. His eyes are wide and his breaths quick. He shakes his head. “No... no. You need to go. All of you.”

“Hey,” she rests her palm over his hands. “I’m not going anywhere. You need rest.”

He wipes his eyes. “You don’t understand. You don’t understand! Go. Please Eurydice. Please.”

“Shh... shh. You’re alright.”

He snatches his hand away. “No. I’m not. It’s... it’s too far. I’ll be... I’ll be dead by the time we reach the Styx.”

“Orpheus! Don’t talk like that. We’re gonna make it.”

“No, we aren’t. Hades is going to find me and he’ll kill me because I... I can’t do this. I can’t walk alone and I’m not allowed to sing and whatever he did to me...”

“Orpheus, look at me. You’re gonna be fine.”

“It’s not over, okay? I... I should’ve told you but...”

“What are you talking about, Orpheus? What is this?”

He sobs and sinks into her arms. “I feel worse. Eurydice, I’m getting worse,” he whispers.

“Once we’re out-“

“Once you’re out. Leave me here.”

“How can you say that? I’m not letting Hades have you!” Eurydice raises her voice.

“I came for you. And now... you’re dragging me out. I’m useless and I’m holding you back. Eurydice, I’d never forgive myself if you didn’t... if...”

“We’re going to get out of here.”

“Would you listen to me?” He yells. “We are not going to get out of here. Not so long as you’re carrying dead weight! I...” he tries to push himself upright but sinks back into Eurydice’s embrace. “I can’t sing. I can’t walk. I can’t even stand.”

She doesn’t respond. She just holds him, tight in her arms. “I don’t care,” she whispers. “I’ll carry you out of here if I have to. I love you and I’m never letting you go again. I promise.”

Orpheus says nothing. “Orpheus?”

She lifts him up and his chin falls against his chest. “Orpheus... no. No, you can’t do this to me.” She places a finger under his nose and feels his shallow breaths. She breathes a sigh of relief. “You’re alright. You’re alright.” She isn’t sure if she’s trying to convince herself or Orpheus, who cannot hear her. She lays his head back down on his coat, a makeshift pillow.

Patroclus kneels at her side. “Orpheus is right. He is getting worse.”

“What’s wrong with him?” She begs.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “He could be ill with some plague, but that’s Apollo’s domain, not Hades’s. Maybe he is only hungry or dehydrated. Regardless, he’s right that he won’t last forever down here. We should get moving.” Eurydice nods. “I wish I could be more help.”

“Someone’s here!” Achilles shouts. Patroclus leaps to his feet.

“Protect Orpheus,” he commands Eurydice and Persephone.

“If it’s my husband,” Persephone growls, “I’ll deal with him.”

Patroclus nods and returns to Achilles.

—————————————

Hades sits beside his office window. He’d given the orders in the morning: kill Orpheus. If the boy dies, his killer will not be asked to work for the rest of their time in the underworld. His plan would soon succeed. His shades would end the fool’s life and finally, finally, Hades would have his kingdom back. It had only been 48 hours or so since Orpheus’s failed serenade, but it had felt like an eternity.

Hades reaches for his wine glass. The portrait he’d torn from the wall catches his eye. Persephone, smiling, a babe at her knee. It had been a long while since he’d seen that child. Dionysus, god of wine and madness. He visited the underworld plenty, once or more every winter. Never the tower, though. He only knew the boy had come by because his wife would return, drunk out of her mind. He’d drag her to bed and every time, he’d bribe Hypnos to keep his dear Persephone asleep an extra few hours, to let her sleep off the hangover. Dionysus could wash away her intoxication with a wave of his hand. He used to. But for a long while now, she’d return drunk. Upon her request, Hades knew. He tried now not to feel the sting of this fact. His own wife would rather be blackout drunk than speak to him.

Still, he loves her. He’d laid a thousand miles of wires to brighten his kingdom, to mimic the sun she so loved. And she’d complained it was too bright. He’d let her have a wide stretch of land to attempt to grow a garden. He’d tended it with her, but still, the plants wilted. And now he had let Orpheus tear out his heart for Persephone. He’d done everything for her, nearly lost everything for her, and still, she hates him.

Hades lifts the painting from the ground and lays it across his desk. He sees his labors. To keep his hold on the underworld and his wife’s affection, if she has any left. He must prioritize his realm. He loves her, more than any kingdom, but the binds of death must not be unwound, Hades knows. The mortal realm his wife so loves would wither without death. It cannot be overrun by fleeing shades. His kingdom is his responsibility, and he must keep it in check. And so he tucks the painting into a drawer, gone from sight, gone from mind.

————————————

Hermes was beginning to wonder if Zeus could think up a worse punishment than his current circumstances. Dionysus tips his head back and chugs another flask of wine. “Want some?” he offers, for what must be the thousandth time.

Hermes sighs. “Yes.”

“Aha! Finally! The best of the best for you, my friend.” He holds out the flask and curtseys, sloshing wine over his tunic.

Hermes pinches the bridge of his nose. “Read the room,” he mutters.

“What?”

“I said thanks,” he lies. He takes a sip. The wine is incredible, better than any mortal’s best vintage.

“My dear flower, light in my eye, the sun to my sky...” Apollo recites.

Hermes wants to scream. His son is probably miserable, cast into Tartarus or locked in a cell somewhere, and here he is, listening to Apollo memorizing lines for Hyacinthus, who’s probably so deep under the Lethe’s amnesia that he won’t remember who the god is. He takes another sip of wine. “Dionysus!”

“Yes?” Dionysus laughs.

Hermes grits his teeth. Intoxication is no help to Dionysus’s ability to understand the severity of the situation. “Promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“You’ll undo the effects of your alcohol on me before we get to Hadestown.”

“Sure.”

“Excellent. Now, do you have something stronger?”

“‘Course! Here.”

Hermes drinks. The alcohol burns his throat. He forces himself not to cough.

“Too strong?”

“Mm.” Hermes clears his thoat. “Not at all.” He finishes the flask.

—————————————

“Show yourself!” Achilles shouts. Patroclus stands back to back with him, armed with a pickaxe from the mines.

“I don’t think you’re in much of a place to be making demands.” The voice echoes from every corner of the greenhouse.

“Funny, I disagree.” Achilles whirls and throws his pick axe through the man’s chest. His body dissolves as if it’s made of smoke.

“Could’ve questioned him,” Patroclus says.

“What would we ask? ‘Who sent you?’ Take a wild guess.”

Patroclus shrugs. “There’ll be more of them.”

“So we don’t let our guard down. Let’s get going, Pa-“

“Argh!” He yelps.

“Patroclus!” Achilles whirls. A bowman from the roof. “To cover!” He grabs his lover’s hands and drags him to the nearest wall, out of the range of the archer’s arrows.

Patroclus clutches his shoulder. “If I hadn’t moved, that would’ve gone through my chest,” he states. “Warn Persephone. I’m alright.”

Achilles nods. “Keep your eyes open. There’s no way he’s alone. I won’t be long.”

He runs along the wall. He glances up at the ceiling. The archer is gone. He runs for the exit, then the entrance to Persephone’s greenhouse. An arrow strikes the ground at his feet. He dives in the door and slams it behind him. “We were followed,” he announces.

“So we discovered.” Persephone’s vines wrap the ground and up the wall, where a man dangles by his wrists. “Orpheus is-“

The door opens, Patroclus stands in its frame. Achilles runs to his side. “I told you to stay behind.”

“There’s more of them. They were going for a better shot on me, so I ran.”

“Your arm...”

“Is fine.” Patroclus answers. “Where’s Orpheus?”

“Here! A hand, one of you?” Eurydice calls from the opposite wall. “He’s hit.” They both run for Orpheus.

Persephone’s captive screams. “I’ll ask again. Who sent you?”

“Hades!” The man yelps. “Please!”

“I knew it,” she snarls. “His orders. What were they? Be exact.”

“Any man who kills Orpheus won’t have to work for the rest of eternity.”

“How many are after him?”

“I don’t know!” He cries. “Please!”

She tightens the vines around his throat and the man vanishes into ashes.

“Is he breathing?” She calls to Orpheus’s aids.

“Yes,” Patroclus replies. “He’s only been hit in the leg.”

Persephone nods. “I’ll hold the doors.”

Orpheus groans. “I know, I know,” Eurydice murmurs. “You’ll be okay.”

“I need to get the arrow out. Give him something to bite down on,” Patroclus tells her.

She stuffs a piece of cloth into his mouth. “Bite.” He does.

“Hold him down.” Orpheus screams. “Almost there. And it’s out. Hold pressure. Right here.” He guides Eurydice’s hands over the wound. “Press hard, don’t let up,” he tells her. “I know it hurts, Orpheus. Focus on Eurydice.”

“O-okay.” Orpheus chokes out.

“Achilles, we’ll need strips of fabric. One of the blankets should be fine. Tie a tourniquet above his wound. Apply pressure. The bleeding will stop.”

Achilles begins to tear a blanket. “Your shoulder, Pat.”

“I’m alright.” He presses a hand against it.

“No, there’s an arrow through your arm. And love, that’s what Hades has on us. If you die, you’re stuck on the banks of the Styx forever. I’m afraid... we’d never see each other again. An eternity without you... I don’t want to imagine it.”

“Okay, okay. Give me a piece of that blanket.” Achilles does. “When I take the arrow out, it’ll bleed. If anything happens, I’d recommend you leave me behind. Hades might let me live, if I say I’ll give him information and you won’t be burdened to carry me.”

“You know I won’t leave you here.”

“Yeah, I thought that might be fruitless.”

“You’re gonna want to see this,” Persephone calls. Achilles stands.

“I’ll be right back,” he tells Patroclus.

“Look.” Persephone points at the roof. An arrow whizzes and the bowman standing on it falls. “Someone wants us to make it out.”

“Or someone wants to take us alive,” he says, grimly.

Something drifts down from overhead. A scrap of fabric, maybe. It lands at Persephone’s feet. A cloth carnation. Beneath it, a note: “Hermes is coming.”

[therainbowwillow]

When Hell Freezes Over AU: Part 4! 

The whistle hasn’t blown for over a week now; Eurydice hasn’t worked. The temperatures have only dropped lower. Colder and colder until the rivers of the underworld had frozen over, all except the Phlegethon, where the shades spend all of their days conserving what little heat can be found at its banks.

Eurydice had joined the huddle as quickly as she could, staking down a spot as close to the river as possible. She’d brought with her everything she owned: the bottle given to her by the bartender, her thin bed sheets, and the scrap of paper with her name written on it.

She sits beside the fiery river, clutching her slip of paper. She knows its information is true now. The Lethe has frozen over, they say. It must have. Every day, she remembers a little more. First, her name, without her paper. His name. And losing him.

She wants to throw her shred of memory into the fire. Watch it burn. The paper’s edges are charred from past attempts, but she can’t bring herself to watch it turn to ash.

Of course he’d turned. She wishes she could blame him. Watch his name go up in flames. She wants to hate him. But would she have done anything differently? She had abandoned him, lost faith in his music. She’d broken her promises, he’d broken his. How could she accuse him of betrayal when she had left him first?

Why had she come here? Hadn’t she known the weather would never spare her, no matter where she ran? Her broken promises hadn’t brought her peace. The winds had caught up to her, even in death. For this, she has only herself to blame. He turned, but she gave him reason to distrust her.

A murmur goes up through the crowd: Persephone’s home. Early. Eurydice hears it. She does not remember how long it had been since the Queen of the Underworld had gone to the surface. It holds no meaning to Eurydice. Spring won’t be found down here, no matter how early Persephone arrives.

It’s the next rumor that catches her. “Hades is coming,” they say. She tightens her blankets around her shoulders, trains her eyes on the river. “He’s looking for someone.” She crumples her paper and tucks it into her pockets. “A girl. Eurydice.” Her hair stands on end. Her feet beg her to run. Flee, hide, pray she can stay out of sight. But there’s no dodging Hades’s watchful eye. 

Eurydice hears footsteps, slowly approaching her claim on the riverbank. She keeps her head down. If he spots her... “You.” She recognizes Hades’s gravelly voice. She feels a hand on her shoulder and doesn’t look up, forcing herself instead to hide her fear. 

“Get up.” She rises to her feet. “Let’s go,” he growls.

Eurydice follows Hades as he leads her away from the river bank, finally gathering the courage to speak up as they enter the heart of Hadestown. “Where are you sending me?” she asks, keeping her voice non-confrontational to mask her fright. There are worse places in Hadestown than the factories, if rumors are to be trusted. 

“Home,” he responds, bitterly.

“Lord Hades, I reside in the east district,” she reminds him. “This is the wrong direction.”

He makes a sound of acknowledgement but does not change his course. Anxiously, Eurydice continues to let him guide her. For all of her months in Hadestown, the city may as well be new to her. Its perfect grid of streets is a labyrinth, impossible to navigate. Every building looks the same as the last, every street is a copy of the next. If she loses him, she may as well give up any hope of getting back to anywhere recognizable. 

Finally, the path ahead begins to look familiar. The railroad. A woman beckons to them to hurry. Hades hastens his pace. They arrive at the train station, where Eurydice had arrived so long ago. Persephone stands waiting. “Eurydice.” The Queen of the Underworld pulls her into a tight embrace. “It’s been too long.”

“How long?” Eurydice asks, monotone. It’s colder here on the railroad track. Much colder. 

Persephone frees Eurydice from her hug and looks the young woman up and down. “What’d he tell you, hon?” she asks, noticing Eurydice’s anxiety.

Eurydice shrugs. “”Home. That’s all he said.” She doesn’t trust herself to say more, the lump in her throat only growing.

“Home,” Persephone repeats. “That’s it? Hades, don’t you think you could’ve been a little clearer?” She glares at her husband. “Home on the surface, Eurydice.”

She draws in a little breath. “Orpheus?”

Persephone sighs and chews at her lip. “Mm hm.”

“What is it?” she asks, alarmed. “Is he alright?”

“I’ll explain on the way. Hades, you’ll handle things down here?” He nods. Persephone steps onto the train, offering Eurydice a hand. “I’ll be back before you know it, lover,” she reminds her husband.

Eurydice takes a seat in the nearest booth, her legs trembling. “Persephone?”

“I’m sorry, hon. I would’ve explained more if I’d had the chance. I expected my husband to...” She snorts. “Okay, no, I didn’t.” Eurydice’s expression doesn’t change. Persephone gives something of a half laugh, to fill the silence. She goes on: “He loves you, that Orpheus. More than anything. I want you to know that. No matter what happens up there, he loves you.”

Eurydice swallows, forcing back her terror. “Why are you telling me this?”

“He misses you.”

Unable to contain herself any longer, she raises her voice. “Take me back. I don’t want to see him.” She carries on, unsure what spurs her outburst. “Winter is here. His song’s a failure.”

Persephone looks at her with an unreadable expression. 

“That song... it’s no failure.” It’s Hermes who speaks up from the far corner of the train car. 

“Not a failure?” Eurydice snaps, forgetting herself as a mortal, disposable to these eternal beings. One word to Hades and she’d face a punishment far worse than the factories. Still, she goes on, the slip of paper she’d long held on to quivering in her hand. “It’s colder than ever. Even Hadestown feels this winter. I don’t want to go back only to lose everything! He’s... he’s gone.” She crumples the paper in her hand and throws it to the ground.

Hermes retrieves it. “Do you know where you got this?” he inquires, gently. 

“I don’t care,” she snarls.

“Orpheus folded it up like a flower. Just some old newspaper. You threw the rest to the fire, a last bit of kindling for warmth. But you didn’t dare to burn it all.”

She wipes her eyes, under the guise of brushing away loose hairs. “I should have,” she mutters.

He shakes his head. “You wouldn’t. You won’t.” She knows it’s true, but she can’t bring herself to admit it. “He needs you, Eurydice.”

“What do you want?” she inquires, sharply.

“He laments losing you,” Hermes informs her. “You’ll see him again.”

“Under what terms?” Her voice blunt and devoid of emotion, expecting some new impossible fight. A goal she’ll never reach.

Hermes sighs. “That you end this winter.”

“Then we may as well turn around,” she says, the defeat apparent in her tone.

“No. Eurydice,” he tells her, “Orpheus is the cause of this winter.” 

She almost laughs. “How? He’s a miserable poet, missing his lover. Nothing more. Orpheus is no god.”

“When he sings, the world sings with him. The world feels with him. Listen.”

She falls silent. Over the sound of the wheels on their icy tracks, she hears a melody on the wind, sorrowful and heart-wrenching. It catches her breath in her chest. She turns away, hiding her tears. 

“The world sees no light as long as he sings. Will you try to reach him?” He presses the slip of paper into her hands.

“Teach me the song,” she requests. “The old song.”

...

Orpheus has long since lost track of time. He cannot remember her name, the name of the one he sings this elegy for. She is faceless as she is torn from his arms again and again and again. 

The world, he finds, tires of his mourning. They had found him, women, worshipers of Dionysus. First, they had asked him to stop, drunken pleads. Whether or not he had heard them, no one could say. Finally, they had brought their blades upon him, maddened and miserable by his endless lament. 

He had hardly felt the sting of their knives at his flesh. And who were they to stop him? Orpheus had sung twice as loud. The winds heard him and, driven by the power of his melody, his attackers had been frozen solid.

Others had approached him, their faces blank before his unseeing eyes, blinded by the snow. They too had met cruel fates, fallen like flies, effortless. He had taken no pleasure in their deaths, nor despair in the harm he’d brought.  

Only once had he felt anything at all. Not remorse, not joy. Recognition, perhaps. In some far-off world, he’d known this man, divinity flowing in his blood. Orpheus had seen ichor stain the snow gold when he had thrown the man backwards, preventing his approach. Unlike the mortals he had warded off, this man had woken from his daze and he had fled. Once, Orpheus had wished he hadn’t gone. By now, he’s nearly forgotten the encounter. 

His song simply washes away all concept of memory or hunger or cold. All he knows is his faceless lover, torn away from him. He holds her now, pleading to keep her. With each failed attempt, she seems more featureless. She stays in his arms for shorter and shorter seconds before she fades to dust once more. 

He has no name to call to her before she’s gone. It is a nightmare and just as he wakes, he’s thrown back to relive it all over again. Yet he longs for her. He longs to see her again, just for a second. So he sings. As long as his melody rings in the air, he hopes she will be there. Another second. Another minute. Another day. He sees her. Again and again and again.

(Wow, I actually really like how this turned out! Usually I’m kinda meh about the writing of these fic parts, it’s more about the plot than the shiny words, but I quite like how this reads!)

[therainbowwillow]

Almost forgot: part 6 https://therainbowwillow.tumblr.com/post/640534863652552704/therainbowwillow

Okay I’m going to start writing part 7 NOW because I can’t handle this Orpheus-torture for longer than two seconds.

Tw: attempted murder (okay didn’t think I’d be using that one when I started this), blood

Premise/last time on the is increasingly depressing Hadestown fanfiction: Hades learns Thanatos has not killed Orpheus as promised. A king, he realizes, must do everything himself. But Hades (like the author) can’t stand to watch Orpheus suffer for more than two seconds, so he stabs the poor kid and skeddadles. Orpheus got stabbed. He realizes now that he is not dead and tries his best to hold on to his last shred of life. Hermes drags Apollo into the center of Hadestown. Dionysus and Persephone argue about the fact that Dionysus cannot follow simple rules. Eurydice does not know her boyfriend is dying (yet). Achilles and Patroclus are just trying to get the hell out of dodge before Hades finds out they’re escaping.

————————————

As the heart of Hadestown draws closer, the air grows thicker with smog and the world brighter with the neon lights of the city.

“A city that outshines the sun,” Apollo mutters.

Hermes whirls around to face Apollo. “Would you shut up? I don’t like this place anymore than you, but it’s a lot better without your whining. My son is dying and you’re complaining that it’s too bright down here?”

“Look, I’m sorry. I’m just... I’m not used to this, alright? I’ve never been here before. No place I’ve ever seen casts such dark shadows...” he shudders.

“We should be planning anyway.” Apollo nods, glad for a distaction from his unease.

“We’ve got to find them first,” he says.

“I think I know where Orpheus is,” Hermes says. “Hades will keep him locked up in the dark. Nothing could break my son’s will as well as a dim, lonely cell.”

“If you’d forgotten, I’m the kid’s father,” Apollo replies.

“Are you kidding me? We’re doing this? Right n-” a flash of silver catches Hermes’s eye from the top of a factory roof. “Get down!” He shouts, throwing Apollo to the ground. The arrow whizzes over their heads.

“What was tha-”

“We need to get to cover. Come on!” Hermes glances at the archer, notching a second arrow. He grabs Apollo’s hand and runs in erratic zig zags towards the bowman.

The archer releases his arrow. It flies past them. He draws another. Hermes hears it fly past him. Apollo yelps. He doesn’t look back. “Almost there!” They dive to the factory wall, out of range.

“Are you hit?” Hermes pants.

“That bastard, using archery against the god of-”

“Would you give me a straight answer?” Hermes shouts.

“It only grazed my cheek.” He wipes the golden blood away. “But the bowman is dead.” Apollo stands.

“Would you think? For two seconds, Apollo?” There’s a flash of golden light and a bow appears in the god’s hands.

Hermes pinches the bridge of his nose. “I can’t die anyway.” Apollo winks and steps back into the line of fire. He pulls his bow taught and releases it with a twang. There’s a grunt from overhead.

“What can I say?” he shrugs. “I’m a good shot!”

“Apollo, we’re being hunted down. Can you take a second to consider the severity of our situation?”

Apollo rolls his eyes. “We should keep moving. Thanks to you, we’re almost there.”

Hermes sighs. “You’re right. But keep your eyes open.”

“Of course.” Apollo pulls Hermes to his feet. “So you know where Orpheus is. What about Hyacinthus?”

“There’s only two possibilities. He’s working in the mines or in one of those factories or Hades discovered he had a connection to you and locked him up.”

Apollo bites his lip. “It would take us an eternity to search every one of these damned mines. And if Hades finds him first...”

“So we check the prisons first. Here’s the deal. If I find Orpheus, you’ve gotta help me keep him alive. If he ends up back at the Styx, I’d never find him,” Hermes says. “If you find Hyacinthus, we’ll protect him, but I’ve still got to find my son.”

Apollo nods reluctantly.

“We’re close. That tower is where Hades spends most of his time. The prison is at its base.”

——————————————

Orpheus’s ears ring. He’s slumped against the back wall of his cell, the knife still in his stomach. He’d managed to tilt his head to the side to prevent himself from choking on his own blood. Still, his breaths are uneven and when he coughs, the pain racks his entire body.

It’s been an hour, he thinks, maybe more. Hyacinthus in the neighboring cell had spoken up a few times, but his words had spun together in Orpheus’s mind, incomprehensible. When the cell door opens, he hardly moves. If Hades is here to finish him off, it won’t take much.

“Orpheus!” A familiar voice exclaims. He lifts his head a little. The man runs to his side. Orpheus coughs.

“Baby, I’ve got you. I’ve got you. We’re gonna get you home. Eurydice’s waiting.”

“H-Hermes.” Orpheus gasps.

“Lay down. You’re alright.” Hermes rests his head on a folded up jacket. “Apollo, help me out!” Orpheus doesn’t have the energy to open his eyes.

“Stay with me, Orpheus. Hang on. Please,” Hermes begs. He places both hands over Orpheus’s stomach and presses hard. Orpheus gasps in pain.

“If we remove the knife,” Apollo says, “he’ll bleed faster. But it’ll be easier to stop the bleeding, so it’s our only choice. Hold him down.”

He grips the handle of the blade and pulls, slowly and methodically. Orpheus yelps in pain. Hermes holds him to the ground.

“Keep his head to the side. I’ll get the bleeding to stop.”

Hermes lays Orpheus’s head in his lap. “You’re okay. Look at me, Orpheus.”

He does. “Hermes...” he whispers.

Hermes nods. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

“H-Hades will find us... and...” Orpheus is cut off by his own coughing.

“Don’t waste your breath. Hades won’t lay a finger on you. You’re okay.”

“I... I can’t sing,” he studders.

“It doesn’t matter, Orpheus. Focus on me.”

“Hades... Hades said I’m alive.”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“But...” he coughs again.

“We’ll talk once we’re out of here. Apollo, any progress?”

“Yeah,” he responds, “it’s a deep cut, but survivable. Don’t let him pass out.”

Hermes nods. Orpheus is trembling against him. “I’m so tired...” he whispers.

“I know, Orpheus. But you can’t go to sleep.”

“W-why?” Orpheus asks.

“Because we’re not quite home yet. When we are, you can sleep in a nice, warm bed.” Orpheus smiles. “Eurydice will be there when you wake up. It’ll be springtime. You remember spring? We picked flowers together when you were little. We stayed up late and watched the stars.”

He nods slightly. “I love you, Orpheus. And I’ll always be here. So will Eurydice. You’re never gonna feel like this again.”

“Got it! The bleeding’s stopped.” Apollo exclaims. “He’ll heal quickly, but he needs better medicine than I can give him down here. I’m going to look for Hyacinthus. If you need me, I won’t go far.”

Hermes nods.

“H-Hyacinthus?” Orpheus mutters. “I know the name... the next cell to the right..”

Apollo beams. On Orpheus’s instructions, he finds the right door. Inside, a young man leans with his ear against the wall. “Hyacinthus!” Apollo cries.

The prisoner turns. He blinks. “You...”

Apollo kneels at his side and pulls him into his arms. “We’re not doing that again, okay? You’re never leaving again.”

“Apollo?”

“Yes! Yes, it’s me!”

Hyacinthus sinks into his embrace. “I missed you,” he whispers.

Apollo lets him go. “Are you hurt?”

“Not badly. But the cell over...”

“I know, he’ll be fine.”

“I think I broke my nose,” Hyacinthus says.

Apollo lifts his chin and examines him. “Yes, you did. Your breathing’s rough, love.”

“It’s the smog down here.”

“No, I think you’ve broken your ribs. Take a deep breath.”

Hyacinthus winces.

“Broken. You’ll be okay. We’ll get you out of here, but you’ve gotta be careful, promise?”

“Hades will never let us go.”

“He’s not going to find out we’ve left.” He helps Hyacinthus to his feet. “Lean against me. Walk carefully. With Hermes’s help, the walk isn’t all that far.”

Hermes craddles Orpheus in his arms. “I... I can’t walk,” Orpheus sobs.

“I’m going to carry you. We’ll be on the train out of here in less than day, kiddo.”

“What if... what if he catches us?”

“He isn’t going to catch us. You ready?”

Orpheus nods. He’s light as a feather when Hermes scoops him into his arms. “You tell me if you feel like you’re gonna fall asleep, okay?”

“Okay.” Orpheus promises.

[therainbowwillow]

https://therainbowwillow.tumblr.com/post/639917088173113344/alright-its-been-a-hot-second-since-ive-written -Part 1

Okay, Hadestown Fanfic With Crossovers Where Orpheus’s Terms are Different and Also ✨Olympus Drama✨Part 2/???

I think my greatest struggle in writing is... posting it. And deciding on a consistent plot. That too. Expect changes. Edit: Well, well, well, there’s a draft feature on this website? I might just migrate to Tumblr.

I may make an overview post at some point so you don’t actually have to read this. A long TL;DR probably, because it is written by Miss What-Is-Concise. My TL;DRs need TL;DRs of their own. Anyway, I’m rambling, so let me actually get started.

Preemptive:

-Orpheus is Apollo’s kid in this version, as he is in many retellings. He is raised by Hermes.

-Hermes works for Hades, bringing souls to the underworld. He resides away from Olympus to fulfill said duties.

-Dionysus’ parentage is by Persephone and Hades. (Because there’s no way Persephone’s screwing Zeus in the other room. Also this is his more underworld-connected family ties.)

-You drink from the River Lethe, according to some ancient authors, to forget your past life. And if Virgil can blatantly rip off Homer, I’m stealing ideas too.

-Would you look at that? This “short” AU fic is expanding by the minute. Hades and Persephone’s are true to the musical and that’s about it at this point.

Eurydice drags Orpheus to his feet. He leans against her. “Eurydice...” he mumbles. “I... I’m so sorry.”

“I signed my life away. That wasn’t up to you. We need to get going.”

Orpheus nods. “Why’s he letting us go? I don’t remember... anything really. I sang. Then I...” he turns away. “It felt like I was sitting in a fire. I couldn’t sing, I couldn’t think. It was unbearable.”

“I’ll never let them lay a finger on you again.”

“You didn’t answer me. Why’s he letting us go?” he asks, softly.

“He’s not,” Persephone mutters. “He wants you to fail. Then he’ll have a canary for his mines.”

Orpheus shudders at the thought. “My song... I thought... Persephone, I think I rewrote every note a hundred times. I lost the love of my life for that melody. And... it failed.”

“Just walk, okay? Please. Once we’re out of here, none of it matters,” Eurydice pleads.

“H-how far?” He’s almost afraid to ask. The original walk had been a grueling task. This one, he thinks, might be a hundred times harder. Whatever Hades had done to him... the effects hadn’t faded. Eurydice must already think he’s a selfish, naive, worthless idiot, he’s certain, so he plans to stay quiet. Unless it gets bad. Only if he needs to tell her, he decides.

“A mile, maybe a little more,” Persephone replies. “We’ll rest in my old greenhouse. It’ll be a roof over our heads at least. Don’t look back,” she warns. “Hades’ servants will follow us. Don’t give them a reason to think we’re afraid.”

Eurydice wraps and arm around Orpheus’s waist. “Tell me if you need a break.” He nods.

———————————

Hades sinks into his office chair. A painting of his wife hangs on the wall. He’s posing at her side. They’re smiling. She’s holding a bouquet of flowers. He rises and storms over to the portrait. He rips it of the wall and it crumples to the ground, torn in two.

He glances out the window. He’s viewing his realm from the highest point in Hadestown. The landscape is as flat as a sheet of paper. No hills, no mountains, only rivers, flowing by some force that is not the gravity of the overworld. His tower is the only peak. And the smokestacks of his factories.

This is his realm. All of it is his. Every inch of dirt, every scrap of metal and gemstone beneath the ground. Every sullen face of every tortured worker who’d sold his soul away. The wall is his too. And the Styx, which wraps it 7 times over. He’s a king and his castle is protected by the highest of palisades and yet... that boy... that son of Apollo had taken it all from him. What is a king without his iron fists? Now he had shown softness, now he’d shown weakness. A crack in the wall will bring the whole structure down, he thinks to himself. But what else can he do? Persephone is his wife. She is *his*. To imagine a thousand winters and springs and summers without her...

The underworld is lonely. He cannot lose her. But he cannot let the boy escape. Nor his lover, nor his traitorous workers. If he shows them an inch, they’ll take a mile. Worse, the traitors were right. Orpheus is alive. Orpheus is not his. That poet is all that stands in the way of his kingdom. And like any barrier, he will fall. How? Hades wonders. How can he kill the boy, break his spirit and punish him without losing Persephone? What blinds his wife? he asks himself. That silly little song had manipulated him, taken hold of his heart like alcohol. And Persephone loves it. She believes, truly believes, that Orpheus deserves to live for the very reason he must die.

Hades slams his fists against the window. Perhaps she was right. He ought to follow in his brothers’ footsteps. Forget his wife. That simple action would be enough to fix everything. If he let her go, she’d have nothing to hold over him. He wouldn’t be her puppet. He’d kill Orpheus, chain up the boy’s foolish lover and send Achilles and Patroclus to the darkest mines, and force them to work day and night apart from each other. Sure, the bunch of them would whine like kenneled puppies, but he could take their cries. They’d forget everything if he could get them to drink from the Lethe. Orpheus would be easy. Threaten his pretty little muse and he’d be scrambling to his knees. Eurydice would be nothing without her poet. Achilles would resist. He’d fight a millennia before he or his lover bowed before their king. But they too would fall.

Only Persephone stands in the way, he knows. He likes to imagine he has her under his control. But he knows it’s a lie. The food of the underworld she’d eaten, it didn’t confine her as well as he’d hoped. Sure, her time above ground would be made unbearable, but she would still be out of his grasp. She could leave. She would leave. He knows her threats aren’t empty. So he’ll find a way around her. He needs her to come back. Without Persephone’s warmth, he wouldn’t know what to do with himself.

He watches the crowd of shades begin to disperse and it dawns on him. Orpheus gives them hope, but he makes them afraid. How many deceased reside in Hadestown? It’d take a hundred thousand mortal lifetimes to count. And how many had stepped forward to help the poet boy? Two. Among that crowd, he knew, were great heroes. Heroes who once resided in Elysium. And still, only two shades had betrayed him. Two out of a trillion. Hades smiles. He won’t need to kill Orpheus. One of his workers can take the fall. Even Achilles won’t succeed in standing against an army the size of his. And Hades will win. His wife will see that some dead man has killed the singer to appease his king. She’ll suspect, but without proof, what does she have on him? Eurydice will see she has no choice. Once the boy belongs to him, Orpheus is his to manipulate. She’ll be trapped. Achilles, for all of his strength, is nothing alone. Without his dear Patroclus, he’ll give in. And so Hades plots.

————————————

Hermes, god of roads and messages, receives word of his adoptive son’s predicament with astounding speed. And he fears for Orpheus. But Hermes guides souls to the underworld, to Hades. To betray the king of Hadestown by helping the boy would be to lose his work and by extension, his freedom to live on the railroad. Without an excuse, he’d be back on Olympus, listening to Zeus and Hera’s endless bickering, watching Ares and Aphrodite humiliate themselves, and helping Dionysus comfort Apollo over the death of the mortal pretty boy of the week. And they wonder why Artemis avoids the damn place at all costs. In fact, he’s stuck on Olympus right now, called to the counsel by Zeus? Athena? He can’t remember. Some mortal breaking some rule.

Orpheus is more important than the meeting. His messenger had interrupted the counsel meeting to bring him word of the poor boy’s situation. He’s not sure how to cover this one up. No one was meant to interrupt important matters as this. Plus, he’d given the kid directions straight into Hadestown, which was the opposite of what his contract with Hades had said. He wasn’t allowed to barter for the return of mortal souls and he wasn’t allowed to assist mortals in doing the same.

“Hermes!” Zeus booms. “What is the meaning of this?”

He rolls his eyes. “Begone, messenger.” He slips a note into the man’s hands: ‘Tell Orpheus I’m coming.’ “Nothing, father. Just... matters of work. You know how Hades is. And don’t get me started on Thanatos! I’m late by half a second and-“

“Enough! I’ve half a mind to banish you from this counsel.” Hermes smiles. His excuses have succeeded.

Dionysus laughs, considerably beyond tipsy on his own wine. “You mind if I go too? I’m sick of this awful alcohol and I’ve got something far better back home.”

“Dionysus, wasn’t there an agreement we made?” Athena inquires, icily. “You cannot come to our meetings drunk.”

He smiles. “Well, you see,” he snaps his fingers and shakes his head, washing away his intoxication. “I didn’t come drunk. I *got* drunk while here.” He raises a flask and shakes it, refilling the canteen instantly. “There’s a difference.”

Athena grits her teeth. “Father, one more of these counsels and I swear...”

“And husband,” Hera pipes up, “We were going to address that nymph girl you’re always hanging around?”

Zeus flushes a deep shade of red. “Out. All of you. We’re done here.”

Hermes rises, forcing himself to keep his composure, at least until he’s out of sight. He steps into the sunlight that dazzles Olympus, treks the road to the edge of the mortal realm and... “Hermes?”

“Gods have mercy,” he mutters. He turns. “Apollo.” The god is puffy-eyed, probably from crying. Even Hermes had to agree, his latest lover had been gorgeous. Hyacinthus, was his name, if he remembered correctly. Apollo himself had called the counsel to beg for mortality when the boy had died and he hadn’t found another for what? Seventeen years? Spare for Orpheus’s muse mother, of course. Still, this was unusual, even for Apollo’s mellow dramatic self.

“You’re afraid.”

“Don’t... don’t do that, would you?” Hermes snaps, recoiling. “Yeah, yeah, medicine and all, but I don’t want you telling me what I’m thinking.”

Apollo dips his head in acknowledgment. “It’s my son, isn’t it?”

Hermes shakes his head. One word to Zeus and... all Prometheus did was hand over a spark. This was treason. “No, just work.”

Apollo tilts his head. “You’re lying.”

“What cause would I have for lies? I cannot keep Hades waiting, now.” He whirls away from Apollo’s gaze.

“Perhaps... treason?” Apollo inquires. Hermes’s eyes widen.

“Strong accusations.” He forces his voice not to shake.

“I won’t turn you in.” Liar, Hermes thinks. He wants to get on Zeus’s good side. A chance at getting his lover boy back.

“Correct. You wouldn’t have anything to turn me in for,” he tells the son of Leto.

“Orpheus’s wife... no, fiancée. No... I don’t know! The girl. She’s dead. Orpheus’s song is a failure. I heard it from Olympus. Lovely, really. But not nearly enough to convince Hades to let her go. Nothing is.”

Hermes turns again to face his half-brother. “Keep your voice down, would you? If Zeus hears a word of this-“

Apollo cuts him off. “And you helped him. You broke your contract and you know Hades better than anyone, other than Persephone, if they still talk these days. He’s crueler than he once was. They say Elysium itself is no more, that there’s only Tartarus now. You’re afraid of his wrath. And you’re afraid of Zeus. He’ll punish you too. You saw what he did to Asclepius. Struck by lightning for treason against Hades. And that was before this... winter,” he says, softer now.

“I don’t want a lecture, Apollo. What do you want?” Hermes glares at the god.

“I want a deal.”

Hermes narrows his eyes. “What kind of deal?”

“You break me in to the underworld-“

“No. I’m in enough danger as is.”

“Hear me out.”

“I said no!” Hermes steps back onto the road. Apollo grabs his wrist.

“I can get you out of trouble. Dionysus!” The wine god steps out of the woods.

“I’m due to visit my mother. Hades won’t prevent me from entering his realm, I’m his son,” Dionysus explains. “You and Apollo are there on Demeter’s ask to learn why Persephone is late. You, because you’re the god of messages and Apollo because he was available, on leave from his duties to mourn.”

Hermes groans. “The walk is far. Even if you’re me. Days on end of moping and drunken ramblings for a plan almost certain to backfire? I said no.”

Apollo smiles. “Then I’ll turn you in,” he says simply.

“You won’t. Orpheus is your blood. You’d put him in more danger. He knew of my contract and he let me break it. You’d add a charge against him. And it’s me. You cared once, didn’t you?”

“You know I would. You said so yourself. I visited the poet boy twice, maybe. And you? Ask yourself: when was the last time you optionally visited Olympus? But Hyacinthus, I loved for years. If I turn you in, I’m one step closer to him. On Zeus’s good side again.” Hermes shifts on his feet. “It’ll be good to have a doctor at the boy’s side too, seeing as your instructions just about starved him to death.”

Hermes glares at him. “Don’t.”

“You know it’s true. So? Let’s go or you trade places with Prometheus.”

“Fine,” he mutters, through a clenched jaw.

“Good. Now, this is on our terms, Hermes. I will aid your son because you’ve always been good to me and because he is my blood. If he gets in my way, he belongs to Hades.”