dreaming comes so easily (heavensgardener) wrote in 78_tarot, @ 2008-06-06 16:51:00 |
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Entry tags: | heavensgardener: original |
[FIC] orpheus before the king of hell/NWoD/the Fool
Title: orpheus before the king of hell;
Author(s)/Artist(s): Lynne
Prompt: 00. The Fool
Rating: PG-13 to be safe.
Warnings: vaguely implied not-so-good things.
Everything in him aches, has ached since he pushed his way through the thorns, ached like something was missing, but he pressed on, stumbling blindly through the darkness, fingers convulsively tightening on the harp in his hands, like his life depended on it.
(and he was coming to realize, that his life did depend on it)
Stephen has never been a forceful man, or a violent one, but he stands at the gate, with the ache tearing through him, as the three-headed dog who is the guard snarls and bares his teeth at him, refusing to let him through no matter how he pled. Those eyes are human, no matter that the shape he wears is a three-headed dog, and Stephen swallows, "I'm sorry," he whispers, as he brings the harp down, wincing at the discordant echo of strings, and again at the thump, as the dog-who-was-once-a-man crumples unconscious, and he slips by.
His feet take him, quickly, down dark paths, by a dark river, and this feels like a myth, like it couldn't possibly be real, and it is, and despite the whispers he heard on his travels, of Arcadia, and Faerie, he knows with the depth of his heart's eyes that this is not the Arcadia he saw in his Awakening, when he signed his name to the Watchtower, everything is all reflected and fallen somehow.
And there, he stands, fragile and slender, harp cradled in his hands, before a dark god on a dark throne, a grim pale bearded man who stares down at him with piercing eyes (and the myth echoes again, and he is Orpheus before the king of hell).
"Why have you come, mortal?" the man, the god, who all Stephen's mythology places a name to (Hades, or a reflection of him). "Foolish."
"You took my wife." Stephen says, his voice clear and echoing, without needing to raise it. Julliard trained him for the opera, and he knows how to project, and uses every ounce of his knowledge.
"You have come a long way for nothing, harpist." Hades says, his voice calm and cold, his eyes seeming to pierce right through Stephen, "and you shall not return."
The dark-haired boy (fourteen, he could only be fourteen, Stephen realizes with horror) who sits glassy-eyed, chained and sorrowful in Hades's shadow, once-human (like almost every other being here, save Hades) says nothing, only sits with his eyes lowered.
"No," Stephen corrects, softly, fingers on the strings. "I will not return without my wife."
Hades's expression darkens, just as Stephen plucks the first chord, and begins to sing. He has known songs, and songs of power, but he knows now, knows with every fiber of his being, that he will never again be able to match the magic, the sheer beauty of this song, pouring everything he has into it.
The last note dies away, and Stephen sees, for the first time, that ghostly people have gathered to listen, and he takes a hesitant peek upward. Hades's face is like a stone, and fear fills him, for one long moment, until he sees tears on the silent boy's face.
Hades glances at the boy, and his expression doesn't change. Instead, he turns back to Stephen.
"Very well, singer." he says, and there is anger tightly restrained. "You may take back your wife to your world. There is, however, a condition."
Stephen swallows, nervously.
"Look back when you are leaving, and both she and you will be mine. Forever."