Dancer
Title: Dancer
WC: 1087
Characters: Apollo and Persephone
Rating: PG
Notes: First time writing Greek Mythology. Also affected by my own life, but it shouldn't take a genius to see that.
He had courted her, but Demeter had refused to allow him to come further. Still, as he watched her coy smile from behind her mother, he knew in the end he could persevere. That was before Hades and the kidnapping, the eating of the fruit, the intervention of Zeus, and the lonely wails of Demeter. She was Demeter's child, taken to darkness, and while he wished he could feel her pain, there was nothing. There were other conquests to be had besides a girl dancing behind her mother. Or so he told himself.
It surprised him, then, when she came back and found her way to him, both of them sitting on an outcropping of rocks, her picking blades of grass and tearing them to shreds.
"Zeus said that was the way of men. Like he knew something about it." She was bitter, and he found it grating.
"Leda didn't take this long to get over it."
"Leda wanted what she got."
"You ate the fruit," Apollo shot back. "One could say you wanted what you got as well."
"I wanted you," she said, her voice breaking. "Please, Apollo, I don't want to go back."
"You're his husband now," Apollo said. "There isn't anything I can do."
She left then, giving him one parting look of sorrow.
*
They didn't speak again until the next year, when Demeter allowed the roses to bloom.
"It's not that bad, really," she says.
"I've heard he's ruthless."
"I think he can be nice to me, if he tries."
She is fragile as she says this. Desperate. Wanting. She is broken and he realises this, but he cannot fix her. She ruined his chance of having her with that bite. It would have been ok, if she hadn't. Zeus would have negotiated her release, something about how she was promised to Apollo. But it couldn't be that. He had pleaded with Zeus afterward, begged for a different solution. But Zeus, knowing things about it, had simply told him that was the way of men. There hadn't been an apology. There shouldn't have been one. There was just silence between the two of them.
Now, his heart feels as though it will shatter. He cannot be mean to her, she is broken, but clinging to her innocence. She is the child of Demeter and she still attempts to dance.
His words are soft and tender, and he lays a hand gently on her arm, "Is it bad?"
She laughs, "It's hell, Apollo. I don't think it's allowed to be good."
He refrains from 'I'm sorry', instead stares across the sky, his hand still on her arm.
*
"You know what happens when I leave?" her voice is tiny, as if she is afraid of what is happening under the earth this very second.
She won't talk to Demeter about this, but to him, on this outcropping of rocks he has come to call theirs, she will spill her soul.
"What happens when you go back?"
She ignores the question. "He goes into these fits of rage. He says he's forbid people from speaking my name. I think he misses me when I leave, really misses me. I don't think I'm just a … possession to him. I don't know." She is tearing up the grass again, spikes in Demeter's soul.
She is lost, painful, confused. What is love and what is possession? What is the difference to someone taken? He can't fathom the questions, can't stand them in his own head. He wants her to stay, knows she is bound. Thinks love cannot be bound. Not like that.
"But what happens when you go back?"
But her eyes fill with tears and she shakes her head, refusing to let him touch her.
*
She breaks the silence next time, where he is waiting. Where he has been waiting since the snows melted. She curls up to him, and he waits for as long as it takes. Hours, days, the entire spring, summer, fall. He will wait.
"It has to get better, right?"
He has no answer for that. She was a child of the earth, taken. How could it possibly get better?
He wraps his arms around her, pulls her tight. Wishes for one second that he could steal her back, and they could stay like this forever, safe in the glow of the setting sun. She pulls away, retreats back, and the snows cover the earth once more.
*
She is Demeter's child and she has stopped dancing behind her mother. She is tasting power and it is freeing her from her innocence. She has stopped coming to the outcropping of rock, though Apollo still waits, from time to time, hoping the woman he saw beauty in will manage to find a way home again.
*
They have one last conversation, when Apollo has all but given up on coming. She had waited for him, Demeter had passed along the message to go to the rocks he had once dared to call theirs. She is beautiful, in the light, though her face is cold.
"Apollo."
"Persephone."
She looks startled at the use of her name. "I have real power now."
"Of the underworld."
"You can't see how he loves me, Apollo, but he does. In his own way, he does."
"How can it be love?" He wants to fall to his knees, to beg her to stop, to come home, but her face is cold and begging will only get him tears.
"You think you could have loved me?"
"I think I could have tried."
"I was just a game, a conquest. You would have fallen for the next beautiful maiden to cross your path." Her voice is soft, smooth. He feels drawn to it, pulls back.
"That doesn't mean I wouldn't have loved you."
She looks startled at that, as well. He knows this isn't how she wanted the conversation to go.
"I suppose in the end, I got what I wanted."
*
They are twisted in him, deep and unforgiving. He had cut her with them, when she was broken and still had innocence to be saved. She had cut him with them, when there was still something broken but nothing innocent left. Sure, she danced with Demeter in the spring time, but she always returned, with a smile on her face, to Hades, her husband, her lover. He was left to miss her, to wish for something different. To hope, when he knew it futile, that she would one day dance for him.
WC: 1087
Characters: Apollo and Persephone
Rating: PG
Notes: First time writing Greek Mythology. Also affected by my own life, but it shouldn't take a genius to see that.
He had courted her, but Demeter had refused to allow him to come further. Still, as he watched her coy smile from behind her mother, he knew in the end he could persevere. That was before Hades and the kidnapping, the eating of the fruit, the intervention of Zeus, and the lonely wails of Demeter. She was Demeter's child, taken to darkness, and while he wished he could feel her pain, there was nothing. There were other conquests to be had besides a girl dancing behind her mother. Or so he told himself.
It surprised him, then, when she came back and found her way to him, both of them sitting on an outcropping of rocks, her picking blades of grass and tearing them to shreds.
"Zeus said that was the way of men. Like he knew something about it." She was bitter, and he found it grating.
"Leda didn't take this long to get over it."
"Leda wanted what she got."
"You ate the fruit," Apollo shot back. "One could say you wanted what you got as well."
"I wanted you," she said, her voice breaking. "Please, Apollo, I don't want to go back."
"You're his husband now," Apollo said. "There isn't anything I can do."
She left then, giving him one parting look of sorrow.
*
They didn't speak again until the next year, when Demeter allowed the roses to bloom.
"It's not that bad, really," she says.
"I've heard he's ruthless."
"I think he can be nice to me, if he tries."
She is fragile as she says this. Desperate. Wanting. She is broken and he realises this, but he cannot fix her. She ruined his chance of having her with that bite. It would have been ok, if she hadn't. Zeus would have negotiated her release, something about how she was promised to Apollo. But it couldn't be that. He had pleaded with Zeus afterward, begged for a different solution. But Zeus, knowing things about it, had simply told him that was the way of men. There hadn't been an apology. There shouldn't have been one. There was just silence between the two of them.
Now, his heart feels as though it will shatter. He cannot be mean to her, she is broken, but clinging to her innocence. She is the child of Demeter and she still attempts to dance.
His words are soft and tender, and he lays a hand gently on her arm, "Is it bad?"
She laughs, "It's hell, Apollo. I don't think it's allowed to be good."
He refrains from 'I'm sorry', instead stares across the sky, his hand still on her arm.
*
"You know what happens when I leave?" her voice is tiny, as if she is afraid of what is happening under the earth this very second.
She won't talk to Demeter about this, but to him, on this outcropping of rocks he has come to call theirs, she will spill her soul.
"What happens when you go back?"
She ignores the question. "He goes into these fits of rage. He says he's forbid people from speaking my name. I think he misses me when I leave, really misses me. I don't think I'm just a … possession to him. I don't know." She is tearing up the grass again, spikes in Demeter's soul.
She is lost, painful, confused. What is love and what is possession? What is the difference to someone taken? He can't fathom the questions, can't stand them in his own head. He wants her to stay, knows she is bound. Thinks love cannot be bound. Not like that.
"But what happens when you go back?"
But her eyes fill with tears and she shakes her head, refusing to let him touch her.
*
She breaks the silence next time, where he is waiting. Where he has been waiting since the snows melted. She curls up to him, and he waits for as long as it takes. Hours, days, the entire spring, summer, fall. He will wait.
"It has to get better, right?"
He has no answer for that. She was a child of the earth, taken. How could it possibly get better?
He wraps his arms around her, pulls her tight. Wishes for one second that he could steal her back, and they could stay like this forever, safe in the glow of the setting sun. She pulls away, retreats back, and the snows cover the earth once more.
*
She is Demeter's child and she has stopped dancing behind her mother. She is tasting power and it is freeing her from her innocence. She has stopped coming to the outcropping of rock, though Apollo still waits, from time to time, hoping the woman he saw beauty in will manage to find a way home again.
*
They have one last conversation, when Apollo has all but given up on coming. She had waited for him, Demeter had passed along the message to go to the rocks he had once dared to call theirs. She is beautiful, in the light, though her face is cold.
"Apollo."
"Persephone."
She looks startled at the use of her name. "I have real power now."
"Of the underworld."
"You can't see how he loves me, Apollo, but he does. In his own way, he does."
"How can it be love?" He wants to fall to his knees, to beg her to stop, to come home, but her face is cold and begging will only get him tears.
"You think you could have loved me?"
"I think I could have tried."
"I was just a game, a conquest. You would have fallen for the next beautiful maiden to cross your path." Her voice is soft, smooth. He feels drawn to it, pulls back.
"That doesn't mean I wouldn't have loved you."
She looks startled at that, as well. He knows this isn't how she wanted the conversation to go.
"I suppose in the end, I got what I wanted."
*
They are twisted in him, deep and unforgiving. He had cut her with them, when she was broken and still had innocence to be saved. She had cut him with them, when there was still something broken but nothing innocent left. Sure, she danced with Demeter in the spring time, but she always returned, with a smile on her face, to Hades, her husband, her lover. He was left to miss her, to wish for something different. To hope, when he knew it futile, that she would one day dance for him.