A historical note: Around this time of the year, there has always been a celebration of some kind. Today it is called Halloween. A bastardization of All Hallow's Eve. People use it to celebrate the borderlands. The lands of death, of magic, of dreams. Essentially the same lands that were relegated to the Underworld in Greek mythology. However, the Christian holiday was not borne of the Greeks. Rather it was from the Celtic celebration Samhain, again a celebration of the dead and more importantly a celebration of the first day of winter. It is most curious that this should be so, that it should remind so many of Persephone and Hades. Curiouser still were the twin festivals of Stenia and Thesmophoria. These festivals held around what is known as late October/early November are held to share Demeter's grief as she hands over her daughter for her stay as Queen of the Underworld for the next 3-6 months.
And even the myth itself is surrounded by mystery. That Persephone was kidnapped by Hades and tricked into eating the food of the dead, many know and rightfully condemn. And yet, after the initial flaws, the couple showed remarkable resolve and even genuine love. They were the only union in the Pantheon besides Eros (the god of true love) and his wife Psyche to remain faithful to each other. Furthermore, myths of other gods and heroes pause to remark on how singularly the King and the Queen of the Underworld acted and how pure they seemed to be fixated on each other.
Given all that, it drives a person to wonder if perhaps the joyous annual reunion of these two figures is not in fact the reason that we celebrate in the quickly cooling air. That their entwined passions warm us up in our homes, and that their love affair has outlasted their followers. Is it not possible that they meet still today, the pair that seemed to pay little heed to "the goings of man"? Or that their dead actions reverberate to this day? Or that some things even though false, still yet hold some measure of truth?
This tale seeks to answer none of those questions, but the author admits they are simply fascinating.
#
"Arf," Cerberus barked in self-harmony as he leapt up on Hades's leg causing him to drop his spoon on the floor.
"Ah," Hades exclaimed. "Bad dog. I'll feed you in a second." He picked the spoon off the floor after Cerberus had licked it clean of content. "Curses, now I'm going to have to get another spoon. How did it taste boy? Was it perfect?"
Cerberus let off another happy tri-toned bark as two of his three tongues lolled out of their mouths.
"Damn, that's not good enough," Hades sighed unhappily as he wiped his hands on his "Kill the Cook" apron. "I'm never going to be ready in time."
"Charon," he called worriedly as he desperately added far too much spice to the steaming pot.
"Yes, my liege," a gravely voice intoned from behind him. The figure that muttered it was gaunt as a skeleton and held a long flowing white beard. Per his master's instructions, he was wearing his best black suit, which made him look frighteningly like a freshly dug-up zombie. Still, he was a competent and loyal servant of Hades and the only rowman able to cross the River Acheron to ferry the souls of the dead, various strong-armed heroes, visiting gods and goddesses and once a year...the Queen, the goddess Persephone.
"The tables are moodily lit with the sole candelabra in the Underworld, the finest china are out, the souls of the dead have been made aware, and the ferry is bedecked in the finest black lace, " Charon continued in the weary voice of one asked far too many times in one day. "Believe me sir, it's all perfect."
"What about flowers," Hades asked as he responded quickly to a roast left overlong in the oven and tried desperately to fix it with running water. "Did you get enough flowers?"
Charon sighed. He knew well that Hades's bride was the Goddess of spring and flowers and so every year demanded as many flowers as could be spared. He wished that his lord would remember that flowers neither grew in the sunless lands, nor long survived them. Still, not one low on ingenuity, he had found a solution. "Yes, my lord, we have a hundred score of Hecate's black flowers have been put discretely around the place."
"Oh yes, the magick goddess's little somber bouquets," Hades said stopping in his frantic duties. He turned, face contorted in worry. "You don't think they'll be too little?"
"Well considering that no other flower can be brought here, that even having the black flowers risks the ire of Demeter, if she should happen to come, and that for creating an immortal flower we are risking the collective ire of the other Gods for negligence, I'd say no."
"You don't have to get sarcastic, Charon."
"Yes, my lord. By the way, I received a call from Mr. Grim Reaper."
"Ah, good ol' Thanatos. How is he getting along?"
"Well, he wants to tell you that he and his brother Hypnos will be extending their trip to the surface world until, well...er...the uh...noise dies down."
Hades blushed.
"On other news," Charon continued quickly. Nothing was more unsettling than a bearded and ultra-pale God turn crimson. "The other chthonic deities plan to stay in their respective rooms for awhile in respect of the reunion. And er...Hecate gave me these strange capsules in case, you ever find yourself...erm...unable to fulfill your manly duties."
If the crimson was bad, the glare of injured pride was worse. "I will not be needing those."
"Very well, sir," Charon chirped while standing to attention.
"And would you taste this, please," Hades asked holding out a spoonful of something soup-like. Charon looked at it uncertainly. It looked ethnic to him and he was not good with new foods. Luckily for him, a faint toll echoed across the dusky chamber.
"My lord, if you will pardon me. She is approaching and I must tend to my ferry."
"Oh, by all means, Charon. Don't waste time with words, go," Hades said his hands flying at double speed. Once Charon was dispatched he moved from regular panic to utter breakdown. "Fuck, I'm not ready!"
"Arf?" Cerberus barked consolingly.
"What are you doing here? Quick, you need to be at the gate. Shit, I need to be at the gate. And there's still... Damnitt, music, I forgot music. Quickly he ran and fumbled with a disc of Wynton Marsalis and Barry Manilow, because even in the land of death, there are proper clichés.
With a flurry of movement, he tripped over the couch, knocking himself smartly over the head. Cerberus let out a whine and then cautiously licked his face with its center head.
"Engh," Hades groaned. "Really shouldn't have tried to jump that at my age."
As Hades pulled himself to his feet slowly, he heard the far off bell of Charon's ferry. It was a warning that Charon was about to dock. Hades and Cerberus were neck in neck as they sprinted out of the palace and down the hill to the gates.
#
"Well, well, what do we have here," Demeter said loudly as Hades ran up and struggled to catch his breath. "Is this how you treat my poor daughter? Leaving her standing outside in the fetid cold while you stumble in at your leisure out of breath and clad in a...an apron?!?"
Hades's heart stopped. In front of him was the imposing form of Demeter, the mother above all mothers. She was clad in funerary clothes of such hypocritical style that many would dislike her at a glance.
"M-Mother," he stammered while fumbling to remove the offending apron. It never did to anger her more than he had. Perhaps, if he was lucky he might even begin to finally lessen the hatred she felt for him.
"DON'T YOU DARE CALL ME MOTHER YOU...YOU KIDNAPPING NECROPHILE!"
Well, so much for reconciliation, Hades thought sorrowfully.
