Chapter Text
When William tragically died, his husband Steven, decided he would go to any lengths to be reunited with him.
There had only been one mortal whose skill at music compared with the skill of the god of such, the golden Apollo, and that mortal’s name was Steven. When he played, people came from miles around to hear, to marvel at his skill and dexterity.
When he first met and how he wooed the man he loved, William, no one knew, but it was clear that no person he wanted could have resisted his charm and power. There was a wedding, a magnificent wedding, attended by their friends and found family.
Their blood family was markedly not there, and throughout the ceremony the candles and the lamps in the temple gave off an oily black smoke so thick the guests coughed and choked. Even the priests had to wipe tears from their eyes. They looked at one another and shook their heads: “this is a bad omen. Such things should never happen at a wedding.”
The priests were right to be worried.
The morning after their wedding William woke up early. He climbed from the bed where Steven was still deep in sleep. In the dawn light he went out walking, and didn’t notice the snake coiled on a rock he passed. It slid through the grass after him as William walked barefoot through the grass.
Their paths crossed and it had sunk its fangs into his ankle before he noticed. Poison coursed through his veins unchecked and with a cry he fell to the ground.
When Steven found him he was lying dead and cold. He lifted William in his arms and carried him home, his face wet with tears.
After the funeral was finished, when the pyre had burned and the heat of the fire’s heart had consumed the house of bone, Steven set off on a great journey.
He travelled over land and sea until he came to a dark cave. He made his way through tunnels that wound to the left and right. He delved into darkness. At last he came to the edge of an oily, black river, the river of forgetfulness.
On the far side of it he could see the shadowy hills of the land he was seeking. Hades, the land of the dead. Steven stared over the water, with only the thought of William in his mind. How could his lovely husband be there, in that strange dark place?
Suddenly from the shadows there came the sound of growling, then harsh barking, and the great three-headed dog Cerberus, who guarded the entrance to the Underworld, leapt at Steven, lips curled back from his teeth. Steven lifted his lyre and began to play; such was the beauty of his music that the monstrous dog stopped in his tracks, wagged his tail, and closed his eyes.
The beauty of his music floated across the water and reached the ears of Charon, the ferryman. Charon punted his boat towards the sound, gliding to a stop in front of him.
Steven never stopped playing his lyre. He stepped from the bank into the boat and the ancient ferryman moved the boat back across the river, asking no payment from Steven when he jumped lithe from the boat upon its reaching the other side.
Steven kept playing as he walked into the shadows on the other side of the bank, treading his way into Hades. Soon there was a whispering around him, a rustling, a shuffling, like the sound of wind blowing through leaves; the dead were gathering. They were following him. They were enchanted by his music. It made them weep for sorrows they could not remember any more; it made them laugh for joys that were forgotten, for the dead have lost all memory of their lives.
On and on Steven walked, surrounded by the dead, desperately trying not to look too hard in case he recognised someone’s face, and then he saw a palace loom from the shadows. As he approached it, the dead fell back. He found he was walking alone. He was approaching the dwelling place of their King. He made his way between black gates; he climbed steps of black stone; a doorway of black ebony swung open before him.
At the far end of the hall he entered were two thrones. On one sat the king of terrors, Hades himself, his eyes as deep as open graves, his black beard spread across his belly.
Beside Hades sat his wife, beautiful Persephone. She was like a moon shining in a dark sky, like a mistletoe berry in the depths of winter. Steven, still playing his lyre, walked up to the two thrones. He stood before the god and goddess. He looked into their faces and then he began to sing.
At the end of his song, there was a silence.
Then Persephone turned to Hades, her face streaming with silver tears, and Hades turned to his wife. One oily black tear trickled down his cheek and splashed onto his beard.
He drew breath and spoke: “Fetch me the three Fates.”
The three ancient sisters were brought before him, Clotho; the first who spins out the thread of a life, Lachesis; the second who measures its length and Atropos; the third who cuts it. Hades looked into the wrinkled, leathery face of Atropos.
“Find the cut thread of William’s life and mend it,” the third sister bowed before the god. Hades turned to Steven. To be together again, Steven was told he could lead his husband out of the underworld, but could not look back at him; else, he would be lost forever.
Steven bowed. He turned on his heel and left the palace, making his way across the shadowy Kingdom until he came to the river’s edge. Charon, the ferryman, was waiting for him; he climbed into the boat. As he sat down he felt it tremble, as if someone had climbed in behind him. He kept his eyes fixed on the far shore, trying so hard not to look at William even though everything in him urged him to.
When they reached the riverbank, he stepped out of the boat and behind him he could hear footsteps, quiet footsteps following him. As he journeyed, he could sometimes hear the snap of a twig. Sometimes he thought he could feel William’s breath on the back of his neck. And still he looked ahead, ignoring him with everything in him. He made his way through the tunnel of stone.
Soon, he thought to himself, soon the dawn will break and the light of the sun will shine on my face. But as William was following him, he could not understand why Steven would not turn to look at him, and he began calling his name, pleading with him to look at him, just for a moment. Steven flinched, the accusations that he did not love William, and if he did he would turn to look at him, cut deep.
At last he was out of the cave and breathing the fresh air of the living world. Above him the sky was bright with shining stars. Steven’s heart leapt in his chest, and he was not strong enough to not look at what he wanted, and he turned to face William before he recalled the extent of Hades’ warning.
For though Steven was free of the Underworld, William was not yet.
For a single moment Steven saw his face, strangely pale beneath the silver stars, writ with anguish and fear. He rushed forward, arms outstretched, but they closed around empty air and William was gone.
In the land of many guests, Atropos cut the thread of William’s life for the second time.
This time there would be no mending it.
Steven turned and ran back into the cave. He journeyed down into the darkness until he came to the edge of the oily black water.
Steven shouted his name and there was no answer.
Then the three-headed dog Cerberus came, growling and snarling and snapping at his ankles; and Charon the ancient ferryman cursed him and spat at him. Steven knew there could be no return to the land of the dead. So he made his way back to the living world and he rarely played his music again, whenever he did it was woven through with a silver thread of sorrow.
Steven never saw William again. Never.
At least, not in this world.
But some people say that when he died, many years later, Charon the ferryman was waiting for him. He carried Steven over the oily black water and as he stepped onto the bank at the far side, like all the others, he forgot everything. He joined the drifting, oblivious hosts of the dead.
But Persephone had seen him, and she remembered him, and she felt pity stirring in her heart. She reached forwards and touched Steven’s forehead with the tip of her finger, returning his memories to him, and then Persephone touched William’s forehead and he too remembered everything.
And the two lovers found one another, in that shadowy kingdom, and they fell into one another’s arms. And even to this day, some say, they walk together, talking and laughing, sometimes arm in arm.
Sometimes William walks ahead and Steven follows, sometimes Steven walks ahead, knowing that he can look over his shoulder and his William will always be there.