[Rewritten!] Chapter Twenty Nine: Elysian Fields

Media is by cassiopeiaart on deviantart! Inspiration for someone's power...

I'm ready for something to happen. There's little doubt in my mind that whatever I am-- whoever I am-- it's about to have massive implications. Maybe Hadrian will have a three-sixty-degree change of heart and decide, because I'm Persephone, that he actually does love me.

(In that case, I would have to tell him that that would be infatuation, not love. I'm a romantic spoilsport and realist.)

Or maybe he'll cry in despair that his long awaited dream is actually his nightmare, and the girl he hates is supposed to be the girl he loves.

Either solution makes me want to laugh out loud, a bubbling mirthless laugh to mask my own terror.

I'm not prepared for the Moirai to say, 'That's it for today.'

'Leave by the back door, over there.'

'And take off those ridiculous suits.'

But remarkably, that triggers Hadrian's silence to shatter. Not the Persephone revelation. Not the curious vine along his arm.

The biohazard suit.

'Now, one second!' he shouts, his cheeks turning pink. 'These are mandatory! I am following regulations!'

He's screaming at the third Moirai. His face purples progressively, and he stomps forward until he's towering over them, a trembling ball of a man ready for an argument.

Who in Hell would pick a fight with that one? Only an idiot. Which is Hadrian.

And he's having a fight over wearing yellow overalls, for Elysium's sake. I roll my eyes, seeing the humour even in this bleak scenario.

Oh Gods, he's unzipping his suit, I think. Right to the bottom. If he carries on, he's going to be naked. He's that shocked that he's completely lost it, and will be thrown into Elysian version of prison for indecent exposure to the three Fates of our existence.

Couldn't commit much worse of a petty offence, I muse.

Thankfully, Hadrian isn't naked, but wearing a loose white shirt and black trousers underneath. The shirt hangs open at the middle, showing off his chest in a way that makes my stomach do little rolls of pleasure like a dog finding a nice patch of grass.

Regardless, he discards the yellow suit, mask and gloves on the floor with a flourish, leaving only the thick hiking boots. His hands are shaking.

No one says a word. The third Moirai glances at me, and I swear I get given a wink.

Once Hadrian's done, he stares at me expectantly. Sighing, I unzip my suit also-- having already removed the mask-- and step out of the thick, plastic material, leaving behind only my skinny legs in a short black jumpsuit. I mindsweep the headlight on the top of the mask, still feeling as if it were my lifeline.

I'm also left in muck, blood and slime covered hiking boots. I look at them with distaste because they don't fit my feet, and squelching water is still soaking the innards. We have no other footwear, unless the Moirai keep a shoe closet.

I fold my arms. 'Are we going to talk about this?'

'Talk about what?'

I cross behind him, to where his yellow suit lies. Searching, I locate the arms and, finally, the lonely vine and tiny flower that had crept towards him. Something inside me feels pity for it, because if it is me-- if I did cause this flower to grow-- then I'd also inadvertently caused it to die when Hadrian ripped off the suit.

So I scoop the flower up in my palms and hold it out. 'This. Aren't we going to talk about this?'

The flower is a gentle, cone-shaped red flower with budding petals like a trumpet. Hadrian looks at it with such a strange, pained expression that I close my hands around it and pull it to my chest.

Could I be the Daughter of Spring? How? Reincarnation? Who is Persephone, other than Hadrian's lover? The book said she could return the spring from the coldest winter. If I could make things grow...it would not be such a terrible reason to live.

'Persephone was nothing like you,' is all Hadrian says, slicing through my fantasy.

Nothing rings in my ears. Tears prickle at the corners of my eyes, but I'm determined not to let Hadrian see. I gather myself together into the best cold stare I can muster, before turning to thank the Moirai.

'Thank you for your help,' I say, and I bow low to show respect.

'Through the door are the Elysian Fields.'

'Don't leave through those stairs-- that takes you down to the Inner Circle, where the Punished go.'

I nod, noting the dark steps that we shouldn't take, further across the room.

'See you at the wedding,' the third Moirai says, eyes glittering.

The words cause a flush around my ears. I can't tell if they're in jest, or whether it's the future and they will attend a wedding that I'm at. People who see the future are incredibly disconcerting.

I walk past them, and towards the little brown door that has now appeared on the farthest side of the room. My boots seem to scream fee-fie-fo-fum as I crunch towards it, the silence being chewed up by the stomping.

Finally, after an age, but before I reach the door, I hear Hadrian's reluctant footsteps begin to follow.

I grab the handle of the wooden door and open it, blasting cold air into my face, lifting up my messy brown locks. Startled, I gasp, forgetting how it feels to be alive.

At least, as alive as the depths of hell can make you feel.

And outside the door, it's night. Night, and the sky is filled with thousands of brightly glowing stars. Stars I never thought I'd see again once I became Hadrian's bride, but the Underworld has them too. I gaze in awe at the nearest cluster, twinkling brightly against a sky of navy, black and purple, and distant galaxies of hazy white.

I wonder if Nate can see them? Maybe one day we can stand under this sky together.

Someone crashes into me from behind, and grumbles, 'I thought you were going to keep moving.'

Warm breath licks along my neck, and I suppress the urge to wrap my arms around my body. Hadrian's tall frame stands behind me, and I can sense every particle of him on fire-- itching for a fight. The two of us survive on winding each other up, and this is one step farther than either of us expected. If I snap now, we'll both end up fighting.

So I'm delighted to walk through the real, tangible door in front of me and onto soft, green grass.

Immediately as I step out, the grass seems to shiver and lilt towards me, growing in long tendrils to stroke along my body. Instead of feeling shy, I enjoy it-- I reach to touch it, and laugh as it coils and flicks to reach me.

Ahead of me, there's fields for miles around, stretching from here until the ends of hell. I blink, because there's no palace in sight-- no Elysium at all-- but I find peace, not worry. My body relaxes as if I'd just stepped through the doorway and into home.

The door slams shut, and Hadrian's behind me once more. I glance back at him, and jump, because he's staring so thunderously down at me. The doorway we'd come from has vanished, and instead only a knarled tree stump remains.

I take a step back, trying to smile. 'We made it out, Hades! Against the odds!'

He doesn't smile back. His eyes move from my face, down my body, to where the grass is curling around my hands, weaving around my legs. 'That's...' he swallows. Starts again. 'Where are we?'

The grass has grown highest around me, and I can't help but run my fingers through it. To my amazement, buds begin to spring where the tips of my touch reaches, growing with speed and ease.

My hand pulls back. I look down at my handiwork-- a row of large, white daisies-- and glance up to see Hadrian's expression. He appears almost angry.

When he speaks, I understand why.

'How long?' he croaks. 'How long have you known?'

He gestures at the flowers, baying at my feet. It must look like I'm taunting him.

He thinks I've lied to him. I shake my head, waving my arms emphatically. 'I didn't know!'

The action makes things, if possible, even worse. At the movement of my hands, a torrent of heather spurts from the ground, unfurling in Hadrian's direction. In my eyes, I panic. I have no idea how to control growing things, and the less I understand, the quicker the fear rises. The grass shivers, roots burst from the ground and take hold.

And all the while, Hadrian thinks I'm showing off. His eyes flash, irritation flaring.

'How long have you been pretending?' he shouts. 'The...the bride, that day we met on the river...was that all just good fun to you?'

My chest tightens; there's such venom, such distaste, in his voice. 'No,' I protest, stepping forwards.

Blood roses quiver under my foot, red poppies surrounding them. Buzzing fills my ears, and cries of pain and desperation. Hadrian kicks away the flowers that try to lean to him, and the crying grows louder.

I open my mouth to reply, but I'm stopped short. More voices are distinguishable now; angry humming, the dismal crying, and the strange sensation of quiet shock.

I blink. There's nobody around as I check over both shoulders, circling again to check. The whispering grows louder, but there's nobody but Hadrian and me. Shaking, my hands reach to cover my ears, dulling the chattering that's becoming a low din in the background.

Hadrian looks at me suspiciously as I clutch my head. Can't he hear the voices? Why am I hearing voices?

As I focus on him, I see him push away the roses by his feet, and I realise where I'm hearing the crying.

The plants.

I can feel their voices, their character: they love Hadrian, and they want to show him. But as soon as they grow towards him, he bats them away, angered.The roses closest to him, but pushed away, droop. Mentally, I give them a brief cheering thought, and to my amazement, the row perks up.

The plants have voices. The roses are blissful in Hadrian's presence, desperately wanting to help and give him happiness.

The grass is the silent watcher, shocked and outraged at Hadrian's behaviour. The poppies are angered, hissing and swaying. But beyond all the hatred and upset, there's far much more to hear, if I take a moment to listen.

I can hear the daisies, too-- chiming in wonder at the beauty of the world around them, and the bluebells, buzzing energetically and knocking into one another.

Slowly, I lower my hands and let the rush of voices soar.

Joy, adventure, desire, frustration-- I can feel every emotion pouring from the plants as though they are different flavours of sweet. And instead of one body, I feel a part of something much greater, a being much larger, as if I am becoming a part of the earth beneath my feet...

My knees hit the earth, connecting closer to it.

Crackle. The ground around Hadrian hums, and I raise my hands delicately, a new emotion surging within my chest.

Bright, yellow flowers bloom around him, bobbing in a gentle wind. The daffodils are hope, and that's all that's coursing through my soul as I pray he can see the truth.

'I never knew,' I whisper, my eyes never leaving his. 'I promise.'

Our eyes don't leave each other; I see everything in his. His hopes, his shock, his own vulnerability-- I see it all through that pained expression he gives me, a dissolving frown of confused emotions. He falls next to me, staring aghast at the beautiful daffodils around us, and his face crumbles.

'It's true,' he gasps, and his face has turned white. 'You're the Daughter of Spring. I don't understand how, but the plants...'

His acceptance calms me; as if I, too, am now allowed to accept what was still churning my insides out. Soil against my fingers no longer feels like dirt, but a cacophony of life. How? When?

'I am human,' I whisper, watching the soil run through my trembling hands. 'My mother is a fool, and my father a drunkard. What is going on?'

Hadrian shakes his head silently, both of us watching as a small shoot appears where the soil I've touched drops. I'm filled with a sense of dread, seeing it unfurl-- like my own life had just erupted from the ground, and I'm blinking as a newborn in sunlight.

'One thing I'm certain about,' he murmurs, and his blue eyes fix on me. 'I don't think you're a human anymore.'

Dear readers...

Thank you for your continuing support for Little Saint Bride! I'm always amazed by the comments, so thank you dearly Ni1233, PennyZee, RachaelMole, shanaeh99 and crazybookobsession to name a few! I was feeling pretty poorly last week and your comments and votes really got me through it.Well I loved hearing your reactions to "Daughter of Spring". What do you think of Elysian Fields? In mythology, they truly were the fields were dead heroes went for their afterlife!

Larissa

xxx