Lament of the Asphodels - Chapter 35: The Eleusinian Mysteries
Title: The Eleusinian Mysteries, Chapter 35 of Lament of the Asphodels
Author dracox-serdriel
Artist: LiamJcnes
Word count: 2,100
Rating/Warnings: For rating and full warning, please see the primary post.
Note: Written as part of Captain Swan Big Bang 2016.
[see Chapter Notes]
The gateway to the Underworld towered above them, a looming aperture hewn from stone and molten ore with bars as thick as trees. For all its many monstrous guardians and denizens, not one prevented Emma Swan and Killian Jones from emerging: not the three-headed hellhound Cerberus, nor the great sea beast Cetus, nor Hades, the Lord of the Underworld himself.
Any other couple would have stood outside the gates victorious, but Killian and Emma possessed an overwhelming clarity of the dangers they'd survived. One sentry could've ensnared them and mired them in everlasting limbo, yet here they were, free and clear. Whatever the reason, Emma was fairly certain that nothing they had done inspired Sisyphus to rest. For all their suffering, she feared that their feat came too easily, that Hades had some other horror prepared for them.
"We should go," she said quietly.
"Aye," he replied. "Best to avoid that tree while we're at it."
She nodded her head, yes, before carefully turning so as not to fall under the thrall of the elm again. This area appeared to be a great underground cavern with but one tunnel that led away from the entrance. They departed without a backwards glance, and soon it opened to a river.
"Swan," Killian said as he came to a halt. "Perhaps we should discuss this before going any farther."
"Discuss what?" she asked.
"I can't return to the land of the living, not without a price," he reminded her. "And you can't split your heart. Not here. Wouldn't it be wiser for you to go ahead and petition the ferryman to return you home - "
"And risk Hades detaining you forever?" she asked. "No."
"It's a risk either way," he pointed out. "If you split your heart here - "
"I'm not leaving without you," Emma said stubbornly. "If we have to, then we'll get that guy to stop so I'm on one side, and you're on the other. But I'm not getting in that boat without you."
Killian knew there was no arguing with her, and while he wanted her to reconsider, she had already made up her mind. So he proffered his arm.
"Very well," he replied.
She wrapped her hands around the crook of his arm, and they began to walk along the winding river. It became cold and foggy, and then they saw the ferryman on the horizon, a vague shadow in the mists.
They approached with caution, for though tales always claimed that he provided no such courtesy to mortals, Charon awaited.
The events that next transpired will remain a secret to Emma and Killian until they pass together into the ever after, for some secrets must be kept from all souls while they live, even those who lived the secrets in question, unless the Author so inscribes the tale.
When they reached the boat that touched the bank of the River Styx, the ferryman waved them aboard. They thanked him, but he neither spoke nor looked upon them. Not wishing to provoke him, they held their peace as he gradually paddled them from shore.
The trip was far shorter than they had imagined. Instead of bringing them to the lake, Charon carried them to the other side of the river and docked. He neither spoke nor signaled, yet his message was plain: disembark immediately.
Killian stepped out first and offered his hand, though he knew she required no assistance. Nevertheless, she accepted, and as soon as both her feet were on dry land, everything changed.
Instead of a dark, damp cavern, they stood in an immaculate pasture with grass so green it was blue. Purple mountains and red forests flanked either side, and the horizon hinted at a world of endless color and impossible splendor.
"No, no, no..." Emma said. "Charon didn't bring us home. He brought us to Morpheus's Realm."
"Only at our behest."
Three women stood before them, somehow withered and old yet simultaneously young and beautiful. They were the women who had impersonated Belle, Ruby, and Granny in their shared dream.
"I don't believe we've formally met," Killian said.
"They're the Fates," said Emma.
"The Moirai?" he asked.
The three sisters of Fate nodded their heads in unison, and though they made no formal introductions, Killian knew enough from the myth to identify each by name: Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos.
"You cannot pass into the realms of the living without sacrifice," Clotho said. "Or, as it was agreed, a shared heart."
"We were told Emma should not split her heart in the Underworld," Killian replied.
"Emma cannot," Lachesis spoke. "She was born with great power, but even the Savior cannot work the magic required to split her own heart in twain."
"But you said I could save him," Emma said, fear evident in her voice. "I did all this to save him. Are you telling me now that was all a lie?"
"Hardly," Clotho replied.
"You cannot split your own heart," Atropos explained. "That is why we have met again, Emma Swan."
"Your love has been tested and proven true," said Lachesis. "There is but one more thing required of you."
"And what's that?" Killian queried warily.
"Not you," Clotho stated. "The Savior's heart is protected by True Love. There is no sorcerer, no magician, no deity powerful enough to take it from her."
"It must be freely given," Atropos added.
He watched as, without hesitation, Emma's hand disappeared inside her own chest, producing a bejeweled heart that was as radiant as a ruby but infinitely more beautiful and precious.
Emma had felt someone's hand close around her heart when she battled Cora in the Enchanted Forest, but never before had she experienced the chilling effects of removing it from her body. Once extracted, her emotions became muffled and stagnant, like the numbness of depression but a thousand times over. Her mind reeled in response, and she felt a hungry desperation creep up on her, demanding that she replace the pilfered organ.
But she wouldn't. She couldn't. Not yet.
Despite the fear, she turned to Killian and held out her heart. He looked at her with an adoration she had seen many times before, but this time there was a reverence that he reserved for moments of unsuspected revelations. Did he still not know that her heart belonged to him?
He carefully cradled her gift in his good hand, but he was speechless in the literal sense, unable to utter a word in thanks or admiration, though his thoughts were filled with nothing but. She had marched into the Underworld and made a deal with a deity for his sake, so there was never any doubt in his mind of her love. Yet her willingness to hand him such a priceless treasure remained a humbling surprise. Her trust in him truly knew no bounds.
Atropos held out both her hands, revealing a golden thread in each. The one in her left hand was long and worn at odd points, as if it had been stretched and re-spun over and over again, leaving it more silver and brown than golden; whereas, the one in her right hand seemed a near-perfect specimen, frayed a little at the beginning but otherwise unmarred.
"Not long ago, I finally cut your thread," Atropos said to Killian. She turned to Emma, "And for all the time you've been here, I have held yours, ready to cut it. I've never stayed my sheers, not for anyone."
"She is aptly named," Lachesis added. "But I have already measured your years, Emma Swan, and her blade shall not cut them down."
Clotho waved her hand, and the two threads whirled out of her sister's palms and hovered before her. All Killian and Emma could do was watched as the Fate began an intricate ritual, undulating her hands and pinching her fingers together, as if she worked with some invisible instrument floating before her.
As the two threads unraveled and the raw elements of their being showed through, Emma and Killian felt their very fiber shake, as if they were suddenly subject to the natural world's dangers more acutely. They both struggled for air as the beginning of their threads spread wide, and he tucked his good hand closer to his chest, lest he drop the heart so freely given to him. He was a brave man, but even he trembled before the Moirai as not only his life but also the life of the person he loved most stood at the mercy of Fates.
Seeking strength, he turned to Emma. Her eyes were already upon him, and there he saw such ferocity of determination that all fear vanished from his mind. They may live at the will of Fate itself, but his Swan's love existed at the mercy of nothing and no one.
And so he smiled. It was the kind of smile reserved for the birth of a child, newly born though not newly met by those who labored to bring that life into the world. It was a smile of joyous elation and pride with the smallest hint of exhaustion; just enough to prove that true bliss does not come from any kind of ignorance.
Then the two unraveled threads touched, the materials entangling like frayed lines snagging against edges. Clotho twisted her fingers, and the spinning began in earnest, each entwining roll returning a little air to their lungs.
Killian did not know when Emma's heart split in two, for he had brought it so close to his own chest to protect it that he couldn't see it properly. She, on the other hand, watched as the enchanted organ cleaved in two of its own accord. The sensation in her chest matched it unerringly, yet it was an oddly painless experience, like popping stiff knuckles on a cold day.
Then the two threads were no longer two, but one, and Lachesis flourished both her hands and sent Emma's now two-fold heart back where it belonged. Killian had expected a surge or rush of power, but all he felt was a subtle kind of relief.
Atropos casually approached Clotho and plucked the gold thread from her hands, examining it closely, as if to discover some imperfection or impurity that might doom it.
"One day, my sheers will cut even this thread," Atropos said.
"But not today," Lachesis added.
"But not today," Clotho echoed.
The three women came together and smiled, their terrifying countenances and beautiful visages amplified tenfold for the expression.
"Till we meet again," all three said in unison.
And the world went dark, and the memories from the moment they approached the ferryman to this vanished with it.
The next thing Killian Jones remembered was waking up as if from a bad dream.
He was on his back inside a small, dimly lit room. His body ached as if he had been still for too long, and when he shifted to remedy the stiffness, he discovered that he wore neither his hook nor his brace. In fact, he was dressed in attire he had never before seen. He wore simple finery, the kind of clothing him might've pilfered as a pirate and sold for coin. It wasn't tough enough to stand up to a hard life at sea. He also discovered that all his adornments were missing, not just his hook. Every ring, necklace, and bauble he normally donned was gone.
That was also when he realized that he was not only in a small room, but inside a rather snug box that appeared to be made of glass. He threw his arms up only to discover that the lid was surprisingly heavy and solid. It took all his strength to push it up and shift it even slightly. It took him several more toilsome maneuvers to slant the lid enough for egress.
He climbed out of his coffin into what appeared to be a larger tomb. There were no doors, and the only windows were twenty feet above his head. Emma was nowhere to be seen.
"Swan?!" he yelled.
His voice echoed uselessly around the chamber. Only moments ago, she had been standing at his side by the River Styx. Had he gotten stuck in the Underworld? Or, worse, had Emma been mired there trying to save him?
"Emma!" he shouted. "Emma!"
<<< Previous:
Chapter 34: The Elm where Ivory Dreams Roost
Next: >>>
Chapter 36: That Final, Spitting Head
(coming soon...)
Artist: LiamJcnes
Primary Post: Lament of the Asphodels
Chapter Notes
In Greek Myth, Persephone was captured by Hades and taken to the Underworld. Her mother, Demeter, the goddess of the harvest, searched everywhere for her missing daughter, and she became desperate to find her. She was so devastated that she inflicted a horrible drought that caused starvation and suffering, and Zeus, upon seeing the destruction she wrought, reunited Persephone and her mother, which resulted in the restoration of the earth's bounty, the first spring.
Unfortunately, Hades tricked Persephone into consuming pomegranate seeds, and by the rule of the Moirai, whoever consumed sustenance in the Underworld became doomed to remain there ever after. To satisfy both the distressed goddess of the harvest and the laws of Fates, Persephone was forced to spend at least four months each year in the Underworld.
Thus, every year in the fall, Persephone would descend into the Underworld, and her mother Demeter would again become miserable in her absence and no longer cultivate the earth. When her daughter returned to her, in her joy she would return the plenty of the earth in the next spring.
The mythology of Persephone and Demeter informed the Eleusinian Mysteries, sacred rites performed under secrecy annual for those initiated. Scholars believe that the rites included inducing visions of the afterlife and that its goal was to elevate the participants into the sphere of the divine.
Author dracox-serdriel
Artist: LiamJcnes
Word count: 2,100
Rating/Warnings: For rating and full warning, please see the primary post.
Note: Written as part of Captain Swan Big Bang 2016.
[see Chapter Notes]
The gateway to the Underworld towered above them, a looming aperture hewn from stone and molten ore with bars as thick as trees. For all its many monstrous guardians and denizens, not one prevented Emma Swan and Killian Jones from emerging: not the three-headed hellhound Cerberus, nor the great sea beast Cetus, nor Hades, the Lord of the Underworld himself.
Any other couple would have stood outside the gates victorious, but Killian and Emma possessed an overwhelming clarity of the dangers they'd survived. One sentry could've ensnared them and mired them in everlasting limbo, yet here they were, free and clear. Whatever the reason, Emma was fairly certain that nothing they had done inspired Sisyphus to rest. For all their suffering, she feared that their feat came too easily, that Hades had some other horror prepared for them.
"We should go," she said quietly.
"Aye," he replied. "Best to avoid that tree while we're at it."
She nodded her head, yes, before carefully turning so as not to fall under the thrall of the elm again. This area appeared to be a great underground cavern with but one tunnel that led away from the entrance. They departed without a backwards glance, and soon it opened to a river.
"Swan," Killian said as he came to a halt. "Perhaps we should discuss this before going any farther."
"Discuss what?" she asked.
"I can't return to the land of the living, not without a price," he reminded her. "And you can't split your heart. Not here. Wouldn't it be wiser for you to go ahead and petition the ferryman to return you home - "
"And risk Hades detaining you forever?" she asked. "No."
"It's a risk either way," he pointed out. "If you split your heart here - "
"I'm not leaving without you," Emma said stubbornly. "If we have to, then we'll get that guy to stop so I'm on one side, and you're on the other. But I'm not getting in that boat without you."
Killian knew there was no arguing with her, and while he wanted her to reconsider, she had already made up her mind. So he proffered his arm.
"Very well," he replied.
She wrapped her hands around the crook of his arm, and they began to walk along the winding river. It became cold and foggy, and then they saw the ferryman on the horizon, a vague shadow in the mists.
They approached with caution, for though tales always claimed that he provided no such courtesy to mortals, Charon awaited.
The events that next transpired will remain a secret to Emma and Killian until they pass together into the ever after, for some secrets must be kept from all souls while they live, even those who lived the secrets in question, unless the Author so inscribes the tale.
When they reached the boat that touched the bank of the River Styx, the ferryman waved them aboard. They thanked him, but he neither spoke nor looked upon them. Not wishing to provoke him, they held their peace as he gradually paddled them from shore.
The trip was far shorter than they had imagined. Instead of bringing them to the lake, Charon carried them to the other side of the river and docked. He neither spoke nor signaled, yet his message was plain: disembark immediately.
Killian stepped out first and offered his hand, though he knew she required no assistance. Nevertheless, she accepted, and as soon as both her feet were on dry land, everything changed.
Instead of a dark, damp cavern, they stood in an immaculate pasture with grass so green it was blue. Purple mountains and red forests flanked either side, and the horizon hinted at a world of endless color and impossible splendor.
"No, no, no..." Emma said. "Charon didn't bring us home. He brought us to Morpheus's Realm."
"Only at our behest."
Three women stood before them, somehow withered and old yet simultaneously young and beautiful. They were the women who had impersonated Belle, Ruby, and Granny in their shared dream.
"I don't believe we've formally met," Killian said.
"They're the Fates," said Emma.
"The Moirai?" he asked.
The three sisters of Fate nodded their heads in unison, and though they made no formal introductions, Killian knew enough from the myth to identify each by name: Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos.
"You cannot pass into the realms of the living without sacrifice," Clotho said. "Or, as it was agreed, a shared heart."
"We were told Emma should not split her heart in the Underworld," Killian replied.
"Emma cannot," Lachesis spoke. "She was born with great power, but even the Savior cannot work the magic required to split her own heart in twain."
"But you said I could save him," Emma said, fear evident in her voice. "I did all this to save him. Are you telling me now that was all a lie?"
"Hardly," Clotho replied.
"You cannot split your own heart," Atropos explained. "That is why we have met again, Emma Swan."
"Your love has been tested and proven true," said Lachesis. "There is but one more thing required of you."
"And what's that?" Killian queried warily.
"Not you," Clotho stated. "The Savior's heart is protected by True Love. There is no sorcerer, no magician, no deity powerful enough to take it from her."
"It must be freely given," Atropos added.
He watched as, without hesitation, Emma's hand disappeared inside her own chest, producing a bejeweled heart that was as radiant as a ruby but infinitely more beautiful and precious.
Emma had felt someone's hand close around her heart when she battled Cora in the Enchanted Forest, but never before had she experienced the chilling effects of removing it from her body. Once extracted, her emotions became muffled and stagnant, like the numbness of depression but a thousand times over. Her mind reeled in response, and she felt a hungry desperation creep up on her, demanding that she replace the pilfered organ.
But she wouldn't. She couldn't. Not yet.
Despite the fear, she turned to Killian and held out her heart. He looked at her with an adoration she had seen many times before, but this time there was a reverence that he reserved for moments of unsuspected revelations. Did he still not know that her heart belonged to him?
He carefully cradled her gift in his good hand, but he was speechless in the literal sense, unable to utter a word in thanks or admiration, though his thoughts were filled with nothing but. She had marched into the Underworld and made a deal with a deity for his sake, so there was never any doubt in his mind of her love. Yet her willingness to hand him such a priceless treasure remained a humbling surprise. Her trust in him truly knew no bounds.
Atropos held out both her hands, revealing a golden thread in each. The one in her left hand was long and worn at odd points, as if it had been stretched and re-spun over and over again, leaving it more silver and brown than golden; whereas, the one in her right hand seemed a near-perfect specimen, frayed a little at the beginning but otherwise unmarred.
"Not long ago, I finally cut your thread," Atropos said to Killian. She turned to Emma, "And for all the time you've been here, I have held yours, ready to cut it. I've never stayed my sheers, not for anyone."
"She is aptly named," Lachesis added. "But I have already measured your years, Emma Swan, and her blade shall not cut them down."
Clotho waved her hand, and the two threads whirled out of her sister's palms and hovered before her. All Killian and Emma could do was watched as the Fate began an intricate ritual, undulating her hands and pinching her fingers together, as if she worked with some invisible instrument floating before her.
As the two threads unraveled and the raw elements of their being showed through, Emma and Killian felt their very fiber shake, as if they were suddenly subject to the natural world's dangers more acutely. They both struggled for air as the beginning of their threads spread wide, and he tucked his good hand closer to his chest, lest he drop the heart so freely given to him. He was a brave man, but even he trembled before the Moirai as not only his life but also the life of the person he loved most stood at the mercy of Fates.
Seeking strength, he turned to Emma. Her eyes were already upon him, and there he saw such ferocity of determination that all fear vanished from his mind. They may live at the will of Fate itself, but his Swan's love existed at the mercy of nothing and no one.
And so he smiled. It was the kind of smile reserved for the birth of a child, newly born though not newly met by those who labored to bring that life into the world. It was a smile of joyous elation and pride with the smallest hint of exhaustion; just enough to prove that true bliss does not come from any kind of ignorance.
Then the two unraveled threads touched, the materials entangling like frayed lines snagging against edges. Clotho twisted her fingers, and the spinning began in earnest, each entwining roll returning a little air to their lungs.
Killian did not know when Emma's heart split in two, for he had brought it so close to his own chest to protect it that he couldn't see it properly. She, on the other hand, watched as the enchanted organ cleaved in two of its own accord. The sensation in her chest matched it unerringly, yet it was an oddly painless experience, like popping stiff knuckles on a cold day.
Then the two threads were no longer two, but one, and Lachesis flourished both her hands and sent Emma's now two-fold heart back where it belonged. Killian had expected a surge or rush of power, but all he felt was a subtle kind of relief.
Atropos casually approached Clotho and plucked the gold thread from her hands, examining it closely, as if to discover some imperfection or impurity that might doom it.
"One day, my sheers will cut even this thread," Atropos said.
"But not today," Lachesis added.
"But not today," Clotho echoed.
The three women came together and smiled, their terrifying countenances and beautiful visages amplified tenfold for the expression.
"Till we meet again," all three said in unison.
And the world went dark, and the memories from the moment they approached the ferryman to this vanished with it.
The next thing Killian Jones remembered was waking up as if from a bad dream.
He was on his back inside a small, dimly lit room. His body ached as if he had been still for too long, and when he shifted to remedy the stiffness, he discovered that he wore neither his hook nor his brace. In fact, he was dressed in attire he had never before seen. He wore simple finery, the kind of clothing him might've pilfered as a pirate and sold for coin. It wasn't tough enough to stand up to a hard life at sea. He also discovered that all his adornments were missing, not just his hook. Every ring, necklace, and bauble he normally donned was gone.
That was also when he realized that he was not only in a small room, but inside a rather snug box that appeared to be made of glass. He threw his arms up only to discover that the lid was surprisingly heavy and solid. It took all his strength to push it up and shift it even slightly. It took him several more toilsome maneuvers to slant the lid enough for egress.
He climbed out of his coffin into what appeared to be a larger tomb. There were no doors, and the only windows were twenty feet above his head. Emma was nowhere to be seen.
"Swan?!" he yelled.
His voice echoed uselessly around the chamber. Only moments ago, she had been standing at his side by the River Styx. Had he gotten stuck in the Underworld? Or, worse, had Emma been mired there trying to save him?
"Emma!" he shouted. "Emma!"
<<< Previous:
Chapter 34: The Elm where Ivory Dreams Roost
Next: >>>
Chapter 36: That Final, Spitting Head
(coming soon...)
Artist: LiamJcnes
Primary Post: Lament of the Asphodels
Chapter Notes
In Greek Myth, Persephone was captured by Hades and taken to the Underworld. Her mother, Demeter, the goddess of the harvest, searched everywhere for her missing daughter, and she became desperate to find her. She was so devastated that she inflicted a horrible drought that caused starvation and suffering, and Zeus, upon seeing the destruction she wrought, reunited Persephone and her mother, which resulted in the restoration of the earth's bounty, the first spring.
Unfortunately, Hades tricked Persephone into consuming pomegranate seeds, and by the rule of the Moirai, whoever consumed sustenance in the Underworld became doomed to remain there ever after. To satisfy both the distressed goddess of the harvest and the laws of Fates, Persephone was forced to spend at least four months each year in the Underworld.
Thus, every year in the fall, Persephone would descend into the Underworld, and her mother Demeter would again become miserable in her absence and no longer cultivate the earth. When her daughter returned to her, in her joy she would return the plenty of the earth in the next spring.
The mythology of Persephone and Demeter informed the Eleusinian Mysteries, sacred rites performed under secrecy annual for those initiated. Scholars believe that the rites included inducing visions of the afterlife and that its goal was to elevate the participants into the sphere of the divine.