Persephone

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"I suggest you wait here, my lady," the horse said, slightly desperately, as Persephone laid down her Spring coronet and peered out the window, smiling.

The room was beautiful. But she had no time for dark silk, ornate carpets or marble baths - she had to explore, to use her freedom to its fullest extent. To find out if the Underworld was just as beautiful as she'd first thought.

Nycteus, the messenger who had brought her to her chambers, had spoken little more than a word to the goddess as he trotted down thin, long corridors of black limestone, his hooves the only sound as the realm of death slept. Only when she had dismounted, clumsily, did she find herself face to face with the stallion's chest, shifting slightly with deep breaths, velvet coat catching the light of souls drifting by like a solar eclipse.

It was then that she stated her intention of going out and exploring the Underworld. After her meeting with Hades, who was so different from the stories circling the Olympians' minds, she was filled with a raw, spirited yearning to know what else her father had hidden from her. Nycteus, still stoic and quiet, but now with a glint of worry in his eyes, had tried to dissuade her. It hadn't worked. It rarely ever did.

"I don't want to impose on Hades," she replied, twisting round to face the guard. "I simply wish to ... walk, and garner all the beauty I can from my visit, while it lasts."

Nycteus hesitated, but glanced at her pleading face, eyes bright and a knowing smile brightening her features, before chuffing.

"I suppose it would be - acceptable, if I accompanied you," he said gingerly, running his tongue over the dull white teeth she had glimpsed while studying the stallion's features in wonder as he spoke. She had never seen a creature such as him talk before.

Persephone grinned, flung her arms around the horse's neck and sighed into his mane.

"You have no idea how good it feels to finally be free of nursemaids," she laughed, not noticing how Nycteus stiffened, pectorals tensing as the human contact jolted him. No one in the Underworld embraced with such reckless abandon as the daughter of Spring did.

She pulled away, smoothing out her wild hair, pulling strands away from her eyes as she beamed, before chirping, "Well, let's be off," and skipping down the hallway, waiting for her loyal steed to catch up.

She rounded the corner, bare feet slipping slightly on the porous rock, but continued to run through the palace of the dead, laughing gaily as if nothing in the world ailed her, with her protector scrambling slightly to keep up with her. In an open field, he would have overtaken her, certainly, but in this cramped narrow hall, he was at the whim of his goddess.

Finally, she slowed, wandering outside the throne room, allowing time for Nycteus to skid to a halt as she looked around her. Iridescent moss embellished the misty rock above, and her face lit up as she watched, wide-eyed, as souls of heroes from her childhood bobbed past. She reached her hand up to grasp Achilles' foot as he sailed peacefully overhead, Patroclus holding his hand, a tender look of passion and content between the two lovers. Nycteus' worried brow softened as he watched the girl dancing along in amazement at the beauty of death.

Then she screamed.

Cerberus barked, his right head slobbering at this uninvited guest. Nycteus whirled around to protect the girl, to stand between her and the beast, before she put up her hand, and the dog stopped. Slowly, hesitantly, the goddess extended her fingers to the monster.

Cerberus looked at her, three sets of eyes peering cautiously at this new, possibly untrustworthy person, who looked so out of place on the shores of the dead. There was motionless silence as the canine cocked his heads, eyeing her off.