Chapter 9

Pan sought out Persephone again, and they continued drinking, drowning Pan’s sorrows in a never-ending amphora of wine. Pan appreciated many things about Persephone but her willingness to abandon the rest of her daily schedule for his pity party was one of his favorites.

By the time the soft, early rays of the sun were peeking through the high windows, Pan and Persephone were slumped over a pile of cushions, empty goblets scattered on the ground around them. Several nymphs had drifted in and out over the course of the night, which was typical to expect any time Pan was drinking, picking up their own goblets and delivering snacks to the now drunken duo.

Persephone slowly pushed herself up to a sitting position, pushing some of her mussed hair off her forehead. She narrowed her eyes as she blinked against the sunrise.

“Holy shit,” Persephone hissed, “why is it so bright? This is the fucking Underworld.”

“I don’t k-know.” Pan hiccuped, rolling over onto his back and kicking his legs out. “You’re the one who is in charge here.”

“I’m a figurehead.”

“Bullshit,” Pan scoffed, pressing his hands to his forehead and rubbing small circles around his temples. “I thought wine in the Underworld didn’t come with a hangover.” Pan looked at Persephone with an accusatory glance, but she rolled her eyes.

“That’s something Hecate does to the wine.”

“Remind me again why we didn’t invite her?”

“I think we did, a couple hours ago.” Persephone lay back down and snapped her fingers, turning the amphora of wine into water and downing several cups in rapid succession. Pan’s melancholy slowly trickled through his veins, mixing with the throbbing ache of the hangover dancing between his ears.

Persephone and Pan sat in silence, trying to finish off as much water as they could in a meager attempt to rid themselves of their headaches.

“Hecate,” Persephone shouted towards the ceiling. Pan immediately grimaced and covered his ears with his hands, groaning at the sudden noise.

“What the hell?” Pan snapped, and Persephone shrugged.

“Do you want help with your hangover or not?” Persephone raised an eyebrow, setting down her cup and crossing her arms over her chest. Pan opened his mouth to respond, but before he could get a word out, a dark red cloud appeared in the center of the great room. It started to swirl around in concentric circles, the crimson magic sparkling in the air, picking up speed until it became thick and opaque. There was a sudden burst, and Hecate stepped out of the pillar of smoke.

It was impossible to not look upon Hecate and be a little bit afraid. Pan had always assumed that was part of her charm. The goddess of witchcraft was a permanent resident of the Underworld, and while she often did her own thing, only Persephone was able to summon her just by yelling out Hecate’s name into the ether.

May the gods bless if a man ever tried to get Hecate’s attention that way. Pan shuddered at the thought.

Hecate started laughing as she took in the scene in front of her, grabbing the hem of her purple chiton as she stepped over several empty plates and cups.

“I do think this is the first time I’ve ever seen Pan, of all people, hungover.” Hecate conjured a mortar and pestle out of thin air and began pounding an unidentifiable mix of herbs while standing over the hungover deities.

“Excuse y-you,” Pan hiccuped, pushing himself up to a sitting position. “I’ve been hungover before. It simply doesn’t happen very often when you’re a god of the wild. Only Dionysus himself is supernaturally protected against hangovers.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Hecate grinned, leaning down and picking up two empty goblets off the floor. “Persephone, whatever did you do to this poor man?”

“Oh, don’t blame me,” Persephone scoffed, standing to her full height and wiping at a stain on her skirts. “And he only looks like a man right now.”

“I didn’t think you’d want hoof marks on your pretty floors,” Pan deadpanned.

“Hades is the neat freak, not me. It’s not like we can’t conjure it away.”

Hecate was shaking her head as she filled up two cups with the mystery mixture, looking around at the piles of cushions and dishes all over the great room.

“I’ve got something for that too if you need to clean up in here before Hades sees it.”

Persephone grabbed at one of the cups that Hecate was extending towards them. Persephone downed it in one go, coughing slightly and tossing the empty cup over her shoulder once she was done. “I said that Hades was the neat freak, not that I was afraid of him.”

“Leave me out of it,” Pan grunted, “and thank you, goddess.” He held up his cup in a salute before following Persephone in throwing it down in one sip, pleasantly surprised by the minty burn of whatever Hecate had concocted. It spread throughout his body and chased away the dull, pounding sensation of his hangover before he could get another word out.

“Goodness,” Pan looked at the empty cup in amazement before turning his gaze to Hecate. “You could bottle this and sell it to gods and man alike. You’d make a fortune.”

Hecate shook her head. “Witchcraft is never for sale, Pan. Be cautious of anyone pretending to tell you—or sell you—anything different.”

“Understood.” Pan dipped his head in reverence before sighing heavily and tying some of his hair back. He looked around the room and tried to piece together the events of the past night.

Persephone had stayed with him throughout the night. Pan couldn’t keep his mind off the fact that Orpheus and Eurydice were most likely spending their night…reuniting…and Persephone got him drunker and drunker until he very literally couldn’t keep his mind on anything. He was momentarily distracted from slipping down into an abyss of overthinking when the doors to the receiving hall were thrown open.

Everyone in the room jumped at the intrusion, freezing in place and looking around at the mess that they’d yet to tidy up as Hades stepped into the room.

“Shit.” Pan blushed crimson and ducked behind Persephone, which he always considered the safest place when confronted with an angry Hades. Hades didn’t take a single step into the room, merely raising an eyebrow and looking around at the chaos with a completely stoic expression.

“Well,” Hecate smiled and clapped her hands together, “that seems like it’s my cue to leave. Ae?tes is due back any minute now from a visit to his parents’. Pan, Persephone,” she turned to them with a wink, “you know where to find me if you get in any more trouble.”

Before Pan could even beg Hecate to stay and help keep him from Hades’s wrath for trashing the throne room, she disappeared on a cloud of red smoke.

“Hades.” Persephone was grinning as if nothing was amiss. “Lover. How are you this fine morning?” She crossed the room with the grace of someone who had not been singing inappropriate sailor’s rhymes at four in the morning while rose vines appeared in her hair and braided it for her as she walked.

Hades was dressed in formal attire—an elaborate, gold-trimmed himation pinned over his usual black chlamys. His brooch that morning was a large diamond, matching the circlet that sat on his brow, pinning some of his long, curly hair out of his face.

“We have an audience this morning, beloved,” Hades grunted, looking past his wife and pinning his gaze on Pan. “It’s probably good that you’re here, Pan.”

Pan paled and tried to stand up even straighter, nodding his head in what he hoped was a very polite, normal manner and not the demented, erratic way he felt.

There’s no way that means anything good.

Hades took one step into the throne room, revealing the backlit silhouette of a man behind him. Pan’s entire body tensed as the man walked forward, stepping into the light of the rising sun. He picked up his head, revealing his face to the small audience, and Pan’s heavy heart was lit on fire with rage.

Orpheus stood at the entrance to the throne room, a smug, contrite expression on his face. Pan could hardly hear Persephone as she started yelling at both Hades and Orpheus. Memories started playing out in his head like a wicked tide he couldn’t stop from crashing over him—memories of the last time he saw Orpheus in this hall, begging Hades for an opportunity to bring Eurydice back from the dead with him. The sick feeling in Pan’s stomach, momentarily abated thanks to Hecate’s magic, surged within him until Pan was dizzy on his feet.

He blinked rapidly and forced himself to turn away, walking back towards the windows. He reached out and gripped the wall in support, trying to calm his racing heart as he looked out to the now empty banks of the Styx. Pan focused on his breathing, reminding himself that there was nothing he could do to Orpheus.

Think of how it would affect Eurydice… It would break her heart if anything happened to the poet. That’s what you need to remember… Only a horrible friend would wish ill on their best friend’s lover.

With Eurydice’s heart at the forefront of his mind, only then was Pan able to push back the crippling ache in his bones. He turned around and faced the great room, turning where Hades and Persephone were now seated on their thrones. Persephone looked furious, unable or unwilling to keep the ire off her face as she squared off with Orpheus. Hades was as stoic as ever, the world’s undeniable champion at keeping his cards close to his chest.

“Pan,” Hades nodded once in acknowledgement. “Orpheus has requested a meeting with me here today to discuss his return to the Underworld.”

Pan crossed his arms over his chest and refused to look at Orpheus.

“Hasn’t he already come to this room and sought out a bargain with you once?” Pan quipped.

“I come seeking no bargains!” Orpheus hissed, pointing his finger at Pan.

“You haven’t even been in the Underworld a full day yet,” Pan growled, his voice dropping lower while his horns flickered and reappeared on his head, his fingers elongating into claws, “and you’ve already abandoned Eurydice. People can say whatever they want about you, but at least you’re consistent.”

“How dare you, beast,” Orpheus cried, “and gods forbid I leave a grown woman alone for a few hours.”

“She’s a nymph, not a woman,” Pan shouted. “Eurydice was always too much for you.” Pan spun on his heel and turned towards Orpheus, and for a brief moment, it looked like the two of them were prepared to charge one another.

“Enough!” Hades boomed, clapping his hands while thunder rang out among the rafters of the great hall. “I will have order, or there will be no audience. Orpheus, make your statement.”

Pan couldn’t help but feel a little bit more warmth towards Hades at the fact that he did not reprimand him for nearly going after Orpheus. He waited with bated breath to see what it was that Orpheus could possibly want now from the gods of the Underworld.

Orpheus crossed his arms over his chest, puffing himself up to look taller with a pompous air about him. When he spoke, his voice was as clear and melodic as a bell. It made Pan want to crack Orpheus’s skull open to see if it made half as pretty a sound.

“I want to make sure that with my return to the Underworld, the rules of the kingdom will be upheld.”

“Excuse me?” Hades’s lip curled, and dark storm clouds began gathering around his feet. Persephone made no move to stop her husband or rein in his anger. Instead, she also looked down at Orpheus with increased irritation. The trim of her chiton began souring, turning from its rich red color to a darker one, the color of black blood.

“It’s bold of you to imply that there is even the implication that the rules of this realm are not adhered to with the strictest of policies.” Persephone’s voice was sickly sweet. “This is not Olympus. You may have been a plaything of Apollo, but do not treat us like the gods of above.”

Orpheus cleared his throat. “I want a promise that the rules of the Underworld will be upheld…especially the rules regarding drinking from the rivers of Lethe.”

“The rivers of Lethe?” Hades leaned forward slightly. “I see no reason why you would lecture us on those waters.”

Orpheus shuffled his feet, clearly feeling more self-conscious under the direct scrutiny and increasing ire of Hades and Persephone. The sight of it warmed Pan’s heart in a sick and gleeful way that he didn’t feel remotely bad about.

“I am not worried about you, my lord, my lady.” Orpheus dipped his head in a short bow before turning towards Pan. “It is the satyr that I’m worried about.”

Pan saw red, letting out a strangled sound that was half-growl and half-shout. His voice echoed off the rafters as he held himself back from charging towards Orpheus. “This satyr, you foolish mortal, is a god. You would do well to remember that.”

“Pan speaks correctly,” Persephone chimed in, her gaze turning to ice as she eyed Orpheus. “You will show Pan the same respect that you show my husband and I.”

Orpheus held up his hands towards Hades and Persephone in a show of submission. “I mean no disrespect, but I have my concerns. It’s no secret that Pan has pined for Eurydice for centuries. It was Eurydice’s decision to drink from the waters of Lethe…and I want his word that he will not break the rules of the Underworld by telling her what she has chosen to forget.”

“Ah,” Hades looked between Orpheus and Pan. “I see now. Eurydice does not remember your failed bargain. She does not remember your betrayal.”

Orpheus flinched at the word ‘betrayal’ but nodded his head in agreement. “She has been slow to warm up to me since my arrival, but yes, she does not seem to remember how I failed to rescue her from the Underworld.”

“Be careful how you refer to this kingdom,” Persephone hissed. Her eyes flickered with a black flame as her appearance momentarily ebbed away to reveal the dread queen, a skull with long, blonde hair staring back at Orpheus.

“Your relationship is built on lies!” Pan pointed an accusatory finger in Orpheus’s direction. “You only want to make sure she doesn’t remember your betrayal so she won’t leave you.”

“It doesn’t matter!” Orpheus roared. “All that matters is you are not allowed to tell her.”

Pan looked towards Hades and Persephone, who both looked at Orpheus with distaste and anger written all over their faces. After a few tense moments, Hades stood, dark smoke curling around his body as his bident manifested in his grip.

“The laws of the Underworld are as solid as the stone this kingdom has been built upon,” Hades sighed heavily, his voice resounding off the obsidian walls. “If Eurydice chose to drink the waters from Lethe, my hands are tied. No one is allowed to remind someone of what they have chosen to forget.”

“Thank you.” Orpheus gave a grandiose bow. “You are the wisest of the gods, Hades.”

Pan opened his mouth to protest, but Hades sneered at Orpheus and stepped off the dais.

“Do not thank me, Apollo’s favored one. You would do well to remember that your immortal patron was vanquished. There is no support for you among the gods. The rules of Lethe were put in place to protect those who wished to forget horrors done to them, to protect victims and the innocent. They were not written into stone in order to protect perpetrators.”

Hades’s voice was gravel as he advanced upon Orpheus, forcing him to step backwards until his back was against the wall. Hades growled angrily and pinned Orpheus to the wall with a quick movement, his bident making a cracking sound as he shoved it past Orpheus’s head.

“Listen to me,” Hades snarled, his power crackling tangibly in the air. “I am bound by the laws of Lethe as much as anyone else in the Underworld. By law, no one will tell Eurydice what she has forgotten, including Pan.” Hades spared a quick glance at Pan, whose hands tensed into fists at his side. “But know this, Orpheus. You have no sway with me. You will find no sympathy for you here. Consider me very personally invested in Eurydice’s happiness, as a resident of my realm. Is that clear?”

Orpheus’s eyes were wide as he nodded his head rapidly, terror etched into his features. “Y-yes, great Hades. I u-understand.”

Hades dropped his bident and freed Orpheus, jerking his head in the direction towards the door. “Get out of my house. That’s twice you’ve come to make requests of me, poet, and I won’t take kindly to a third.”

Orpheus sprinted out of the receiving room as quickly as his two legs could carry him, not bothering to say another word to Hades, Persephone, or Pan. Hades turned towards Pan, a rare display of sympathy etched across his features.

“I’m bound by my own laws, Pan.” Hades walked back towards his own throne. “No one can tell Eurydice what she has chosen to forget.”

Pan was lightheaded, staring down the empty hallway where Orpheus had disappeared to, suddenly desperate to get out of the Underworld. Persephone stood and held her hands out towards Pan, as if to comfort him, but he shook his head.

“I need to get out of here for a while,” Pan muttered by way of goodbye, slipping out of the great doors and making his way to Greece as quickly as he could.