Chapter 5

Pan paced back and forth through the receiving room in Hades’s hall. It was one of the finer rooms that he’d ever been in—and he’d partied in the most illustrious of places that both the mortal and immortal world had to offer—but that was what being a god of gemstones got you. It didn’t matter the floors were practically glowing with dark obsidian tiles. Pan was always anxious whenever he was indoors.

Hades’s sprawling estate was carved out of hell itself, cropping out from the stone walls and spreading over several different levels. It overlooked the banks of Styx, with a prime view of Charon and his infamous docks. From one of the thousands of windows carved into the impenetrable walls, Pan stared, walking back and forth and unable to take his eyes off the shores of the river.

The great hall was made of black stone and covered with inlaid jewels, with rich woven fabrics, the colors of gemstones, hanging from the rafters. There were tall basins in each corner, full of oil and burning with a dark flame, casting rainbows and flickers of color off the stones embedded in the walls. At one far end of the room there was a small dais with two obsidian thrones that looked as though they had sprouted up from the stone floor like trees.

Pan didn’t think anything in the room counted as wealth—he measured wealth in entirely different terms than Hades. Pan’s definition hinged more on how many different types of trees you could plant in one clearing or how long you could run in the soft grass without running into another soul. Pan was big, even by a god’s standards, and appreciated wide open spaces where he could stretch out. He had thick, curling black hair, wide shoulders, and dark skin from his days in the sun. On more than one occasion, he’d been mistaken from behind for Hephaestus.

None of that was on his mind, however, as he ricocheted back and forth, passing in front of the tall, arched windows, still unable to tear his gaze off the Styx.

The air was filled with the sounds of excitement, people murmuring and shades gossiping with one another. It had been a long time since the atmosphere in the Underworld had been this electric. Pan knew why.

Orpheus is on his way to the Underworld.

Pan let out a long string of ancient curses under his breath, wringing his hands repeatedly as the sounds of his footsteps echoing off the walls started to drive him insane. In moments like this, his control started to crack, and his magic was unpredictable. Pan was switching back and forth between his satyr and fully human form, flickering like a flame, changing so rapidly that it was impossible to tell what he looked like.

If he was being honest with himself, Pan always preferred his fully human form, but it was possible to contain his magic at the best of times—and he was feeling particularly beastly on what was surely going to be a glorious day in the Underworld.

“Fucking Orpheus,” Pan spat. “What a no-good, good-for-nothing poet…” Pan uttered the word ‘poet’ like it was a swear word, but a soft, feminine presence cleared her throat behind him.

“Are you cursing the poets now, Pan?”

Pan whipped around and let out a sharp cry that was half-scream and half-bleat. He hadn’t heard anyone enter the room, and he assumed that most of the Underworld’s inhabitants would be down on the banks of the Styx to watch the fateful reunion.

“Persephone!” Pan blushed crimson, offering her a short bow at the waist. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Persephone smiled, a knowing look crossing her face that Pan rightfully identified as being mixed with a fair amount of pity. Her long blonde hair was undone, with only a few small braids pulling it away from her face, and a red chiton trailed on the ground behind her. She looked radiant as both dark and brightly colored petals decorated the ground behind her. It was a notable trait that she shared with some of the nymphs. It was part of Persephone’s role as the goddess of spring, but also as a fertility goddess, which was one aspect she shared with Pan.

That shared synchronicity between them had created somewhat of an unlikely but steadfast friendship between Pan and Persephone, especially if they were helping the other one cause a little bit of chaos. Pan was worried once Persephone’s evolution into the Dread Queen was complete that part of their alliance would end, but he was happily proven wrong when Persephone showed that she was more likely to cause a stir than ever.

When Pan was looking for a way into the Underworld to visit Eurydice after her death, Hermes may have pointed out the loophole, but it had been Persephone who convinced Hades that it was to be allowed to happen. For that, Pan would forever consider himself in Persephone’s debt—even if his serenity in the forests of Asphodel was inevitably set to be corrupted.

“I should have known I would find you here,” Persephone sighed gently. “Although, I’m fairly certain that your treaty with Hades allows you access to the forests of the Underworld, not our throne room.” Her tone was playful enough that Pan could tell Persephone was far from upset, but he cringed slightly nonetheless.

“I won’t tell him if you don’t?” Pan offered up, tapping some of his fingers together. Persephone burst into a fit of laughter, sounding as airy and unbothered as possible.

“Oh, sweet Pan, you should know by now that I could fill the caverns of the Underworld ten times over with the things I don’t tell Hades.”

“Is that right?”

Pan jumped in alarm for the second time that afternoon as Hades slipped through the heavy oak doors into the throne room. Persephone only raised an eyebrow in response, clearly challenging him to push her on the fact and seemingly not at all surprised to see him. A soft, knowing look passed between Hades and Persephone, and Pan’s chest tightened at the sight. Sometimes it was additionally challenging to be in the presence of two people so irrevocably in love, and today was definitely one of those days for Pan.

Hades was wearing the same thing he always wore, an ankle-length black chiton and black leather sandals. He had a heavy brooch at his shoulder sculpted entirely from silver and rubies. He approached Persephone and extended his arm towards her, and she moved into his side, pushing back some of Hades’s curly hair away from his face to kiss his cheek sweetly. Hades made a pleased grunt sound in acknowledgement, which Pan took to be an endearing sound. You could never be too positive with the god of the dead.

“What were you both talking about hiding from me?” Hades turned to Pan.

Pan’s magic surged again, and his body came alive with electricity, rapidly shuffling between his two most prevalent forms. Hades said nothing as if he was entirely unaffected by such minor displays of power as he crossed the room to sit on his throne, eyeing Pan carefully.

“Should I be concerned? I would assume that you would be on the banks of the river, accompanying Eurydice for Orpheus’s arrival.” The god pressed again, and Pan started to feel sick. A wave of guilt washed over him as he turned towards the windows and tried to discern if Orpheus had arrived yet. Luckily, Persephone stepped in and saved Pan from having to respond.

“Husband.” Persephone said it like it was both a statement and an admonishment. “Be kind. If Pan wants to watch Orpheus’s arrival from here, it’s not bothering anyone to let him do so.”

“I don’t see why…” Hades started to argue.

Pan watched as Persephone leveled Hades with one look, her brow furrowing and her eyes lighting up momentarily with some of her own dark fire. Pan gave an involuntary shudder.

Remind me to never, ever get on Sephy’s bad side.

“...oh,” Hades finished lamely, nodding repeatedly and waving his hand in Pan’s direction as he stood up quickly. If Pan wasn’t mistaken, he could’ve sworn that Hades was almost blushing.

“Whatever you say, darling.” Hades nodded at his wife before turning his attention back to Pan. “Stay as long as you’d like, Pan.” As quickly as he had come, Hades crossed the great room, kissed Persephone on the forehead, and disappeared in a pillar of smoke.

Persephone smiled, looking pleased with herself as she joined Pan at the windows overlooking the river.

“One day, you’re going to have to teach me how you get people to do whatever you want.” Pan shook his head in astonishment. It was impossible to reconcile the Hades he once knew before Persephone arrived. He had no idea how the goddess was able to wrangle one of the world’s most powerful gods, but he wasn’t complaining.

“Sexual favors, my dear Pan, sexual favors,” Persephone laughed with a sly smirk.

She snapped her fingers, and two silk cushions appeared on the floor in front of one of the great windows with a fresh amphora of wine. She nodded for Pan to sit, and he fell onto the cushions with an exhausted sigh.

Persephone poured the wine, and Pan downed his entire glass in a single sip, holding his cup out for more before Persephone had even brought her own cup to her lips. She didn’t even blink or react, simply refilling his cup at least twice more before Pan hiccuped and leaned his head against the cool windowpane.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Persephone asked softly, refusing to look out the window at the growing scene before them. The river banks were now crowded with people, as though every soul and shade in the Underworld had turned up for the reunion.

Pan could see Eurydice making her way through the fringes of the crowd, flanked by Makaria and Telodice. There was a rumbling noise building in the air that could only be identified as Thanatos… Orpheus was close.

“That’s good that her friends are with her,” Pan sighed, his melancholy slowly giving way to some of the anger that he had attempted to keep a lid on.

“Did she want you to go with her?” Persephone asked, her voice stoic and without judgment. Pan nodded, his voice cracking as his eyes filled with tears.

“She asked me to go with her this morning. I couldn’t do it. I know that’s horrible of me but I… I can’t watch. I can’t watch knowing what I know. Do you get t-that?” Pan sniffled as the wine soured in his stomach. For the first time in his life, Pan wondered if the wine mixed with his mood was going to make him sick.

Persephone put her hand on top of Pan’s and squeezed it, her eyes sad. “I know it doesn’t seem fair, but you have to respect Eurydice’s choices.”

“It’s the wrong choice!” Pan cried in a sudden outburst, the tears breaking free. His shout echoed off the rafters and surrounded him in the manifestations of his own grief. Pan turned on his heel and slammed his hands against the window, watching with satisfaction as it cracked beneath his fists.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” Persephone chided, raising a hand as a lilac bush burst forth in between Pan and the glass to protect him. Pan sank back down to the cushions and buried his head in his hands, sobbing with a force that shook his shoulders.

“It’s not fair, Persephone. She should know. She should know what he d-did!”

Persephone sighed, shaking her head in slow agreement. She poured another cup for Pan, watching as the wine turned into water, rightfully assuming that more wine was not what the moment needed—a rare and concerning moment when dealing with Pan.

“It was her decision, Pan,” Persephone chided gently. “We don’t have to agree with it, but it’s what she wanted—”

Persephone was cut off as a roar of applause rose up from the banks of the Styx. Persephone and Pan turned to the window, watching as Hades appeared and said something to the crowds amassed near the river. Within a few moments, everyone started to disperse, and Pan was grateful that Hades had enforced a moment of semi-privacy for Eurydice.

They watched on in silence as Orpheus appeared on the far side of the river, practically leaping into Charon’s boat. Pan turned away, unable to watch the actual moment of the reunion as his heart shattered inside of his body.

I don’t know if it’s possible for a body to contain so much grief.Pan wondered for the first time what it was like to have hurts that wine couldn’t fix.

“It doesn’t matter.” Pan shook his head, staring blankly at the floor.

Persephone shook her head, “You know everyone has the choice to drink from Lethe, Pan. If you wanted to do it, too…”

“I could never forget her,” Pan snapped, turning to Persephone with a sudden righteous anger flooding his veins. “I would never choose to forget her.”

“Okay.” Persephone held up a gentle, placating hand. “That is your decision. Eurydice wanted to forget, and you need to respect that.”

“She doesn’t remember!” Pan cried out again, resting his head on his knees. Another wave of muted applause rang out through the skies, and Pan moaned pitifully, knowing the lovers had reunited. “Eurydice doesn’t remember that Orpheus betrayed her.”