Page 14 of Song of Memories

“Yes, please do.” Eurydice nodded in agreement. If there was anything that Orpheus was good at, storytelling was up there with his musical abilities, although the two went hand in hand.

“You looked as gorgeous as you always do, which was to be expected, of course.” Orpheus started with a wink in Eurydice’s direction, and a gentle blush appeared on her cheeks, surprising her.

Perhaps there’s still something between us after all. He’s always been charming, that’s not new.

“I had never seen you so concerned with your appearance,” Orpheus pressed, his smile growing. “You were bent out of shape over it. You had at least three different nymphs attempt to do your hair, and you weren’t happy with any of the results.”

The fleeting pleasant feeling that Eurydice had disappeared as she picked through her brain for any memories of the wedding day. That doesn’t sound like me at all…

“I guess a woman’s wedding day is the one day she’s allowed to be that preoccupied with her appearance,” Eurydice acquiesced lamely.

Orpheus looked at the short tunic she was wearing and made a noncommittal sound. “I do hope that you’ll plan on dressing a little bit more appropriately now that I’m here.”

Eurydice stopped walking as they stepped into a small clearing, her humble home appearing through the trees. She turned to Orpheus with a confused expression on her face, the flush in her cheeks now deepening to one of embarrassment.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well,” Orpheus scoffed, his voice suddenly full of condescension, “you’re dressed like a child, Eurydice. It’s not fitting for either of us, especially considering how many eyes are going to be on us for a while. We’re the hottest thing to happen in the Underworld since… I don’t know. Regardless, it wouldn’t hurt for you to clean up a little.”

Eurydice took a physical step back at the nonchalant attitude Orpheus took when criticizing her appearance. Before she could even respond, he turned and got a look at the small stone home where she’d spent her long, happy years in Asphodel.

“Oh, gods,” Orpheus cringed, “is this trivial shed where you’ve been living? I’ve seen more impressive stables. No matter.” Orpheus waved his hand about as if he was shooing a fly and walked towards her house, Eurydice trailing behind him with a dumbstruck expression on her face. Orpheus walked right inside her front door as if he owned the house, the distaste on his face growing. “Grab what you need, Eurydice, and let’s get out of here. You can move in with me as we discussed. Even if I eventually fell out of Apollo’s favor, having a god’s attention does grant you some privileges in the afterlife.”

Orpheus took another long look around the tiny home, his dissatisfaction apparent. “I’ll wait outside.” He stepped out again without giving Eurydice the opportunity to say anything, and she slumped down into her favorite chair the moment she was alone.

She looked around the tiny space, filled with dried flowers and happy memories, and was stunned that Orpheus’s comments hadn’t even surprised her. A part of her knew the way he spoke to her and disregarded her home should infuriate her, but it didn’t. It bounced off a high wall surrounding her feelings which Eurydice had long forgotten was there.

I guess I was used to him behaving like this, once…

8

Pan waited as long as he could before he sought out Eurydice.

It wasn’t long.

It didn’t sit right with him that Orpheus had already uprooted Eurydice from her home and demanded she move in with him; he’d heard the trees whispering about it. Eurydice had suffered in the Underworld until Makaria had shown her the forests, and Pan had put up a mighty fight with Hades himself in order to get access.

After Pan departed Hades’s receiving hall in a fury, Pan sought refuge amongst the very same trees. He forced himself to take long, slow breaths as he settled underneath one of his favorite olive trees. It was a direct replica of his favorite olive tree outside of Athens—as above, so below. There was a particular spot on the tree trunk where some of the knots in the wood created the perfect alcove for Pan’s wide shoulders and a wonderful spot for taking a long nap in the shade. Pan had a sneaking suspicion that Eurydice had actually grown this tree for him. It had appeared in the Underworld mysteriously close to his festival days, but she’d denied it.

Pan rolled his shoulders and closed his eyes, remembering the telltale blush that colored Eurydice’s cheeks when she tried to deny any responsibility for replicating his favorite tree in the Underworld. It was a small gesture—growing a tree was as easy as breathing for a nymph—but it spoke to something much bigger. Eurydice wanted Pan to feel comfortable in the Underworld; she wanted his presence around. He tried to keep his thoughts on those happier memories.

“I’m sorry I don’t remember our wedding day.” Eurydice’s voice cut through the tree branches, and Pan was yanked from his stupor. Without thinking, he sat up straighter and angled his body towards the sound of Eurydice’s voice, every part of him always subconsciously searching for her.

Pan listened in, easily picking up the sounds of Orpheus and Eurydice conversing with one another as they weaved through the trees.

Undoubtedly on their way to pack up Eurydice’s things. The thought made Pan’s stomach drop. The last thing he wanted to do was witness Eurydice packing up her things and leaving their sacred grove, the little pocket of nature they’d curated here in the Underworld. His curiosity got the best of him, which he always blamed on his lineage from Hermes, and he inched quietly towards the path. He kept himself hidden among the branches, utterly undetectable amongst the flora and fauna. It was one of the benefits of being a god of the wild.

“I’ve never seen you so concerned with your appearance. You were bent out of shape over it. You had at least three different nymphs attempt to do your hair, and you weren’t happy with any of the results.”

Orpheus’s recollection of the wedding made Pan grow livid, the realization of what was happening slowly reigniting the rage he’d attempted to quiet.

He’s rewriting their story together. Pan thought he was going to be sick. This isn’t how it happened at all!

Pan nearly broke his cover, fighting off the temptation to leap out from his cover in the bushes and rip Orpheus limb from limb. His own power started rolling off him in waves, and Pan struggled to keep it contained in order to keep Eurydice from sensing him. The anger boiling under his skin erupted, and Pan’s horns burst forth from their glamour, his hooves and tail emerging alongside them. It took only a few mere seconds, and Pan had shifted into his full expression as a satyr, feeling too furious and livid to maintain his human appearance.

“I guess a woman’s wedding day is the one day she’s allowed to be that preoccupied with her appearance.” Eurydice’s demure response shot Pan through the heart. He was shaking with the effort it took to keep himself concealed.

No, no, Eurydice… Pan cried out to any of the gods that might be listening. That’s not right at all. You couldn’t have been less concerned with what you looked like. We got so drunk that morning, you were almost late for the ceremony. You were more worried about missing the start of the harvest.

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