Halcyons

by K.A. Vasquez

Content Warnings: Suicide, Infertility

Between the endless rows of fruit-bearing apple trees her husband had planted for her, Alcyone prayed to her goddess.

“Goddess Hera,” she murmured, her head bent in supplication, knees muddied by the soft soil surrounding the apple trees. It was springtime in Trachis, Persephone having returned from the Underworld at last, and the earth was upturned in preparation for the growth of new life. “Queen of the Heavens, beautiful goddess, protector of marriage and the joining of hands, would you hear my prayer?”

Wind sent from the god Aeolus whispered in between the branches of the apple trees, stirring Alcyone's hair around her face. Gentle was her father's touch. From above, apple blossoms velvety soft and pink as the sunrise over the Aegean sea fluttered down to find places of rest around the Queen of Trachis. Alcyone took that as her sign to continue.

With a quiet, shuddering breath, Alcyone began the same prayer she had begged every day since her wedding to the King of Trachis nearly four years prior.

“Hera, goddess of fertility, I ask that you might let me bear a child.” The wind whistled in her ear again. She dug her fingers into the loamy soil, feeling the moist earth beneath her fingertips. “Please, goddess. I will do anything, sacrifice anything at your altar, if I could only be blessed with a child. Please, please…”

“Alcyone.” 

A hand touched her shoulder. Warm. Familiar. Alcyone sucked in air and hurriedly wiped the tears she hadn't realized were beginning to stain her cheeks, then rose to greet her husband.

“Ceyx, my love,” she said. Her lips curved upwards with a smile, but it was weak. The ache of her prayer continued to echo through her veins—louder than her voice in the halls of their empty palace when Ceyx was away at sea.

“Beloved,” he greeted, dipping his head to place a kiss atop her forehead. Gently, he swiped a finger on her cheek, but he did not ask her what had caused her to quietly weep. They both knew. Like a shard of broken ceramic wedging a hole in their hearts, the empty loneliness of missing the child they had never met could not be taken away, nor could it be filled. Instead, day by day, the hole only grew. And day by day, they buried the unsaid pain deeper within themselves. Alcyone feared it would eventually swallow them whole and that no god or kingdom would be able to save them then. She had never voiced this to Ceyx, though.

“Must you be alone in the orchard so early?” Ceyx asked. His voice was fond, loving, still lazy with the last dregs of sleep. “I find myself missing you every morning when I awake alone.”

As he spoke, he wound a lock of her hair around his finger. It was a mindlessly comforting gesture, and she knew he didn't realize he was doing it, but it sent a pang of guilt through her nonetheless.

“I'm sorry,” Alcyone said sincerely. He had only been on land a week since his last venture on the Aegean, which had lasted a month's time, yet Alcyone already found herself worrying about the next time he would leave her. The loneliness was suffocating when he wasn't in Trachis. “It's a habit I developed in your absence.”

Ceyx smiled. It was the smile he saved especially for her, not belonging to the council or the people of their kingdom, and selfishly, she cherished it. In a world that demanded from her relentlessly because she could not give her people the heir they wanted, it felt good to call one small thing her own. “Do not apologize,” he said. “I will try to wake earlier so that I may join you, beloved.”

He loosened the strand of hair he had wound and it fell against her face, featherlight. Ceyx turned to the apple tree they stood under and began to pluck pink blossoms from the branches. She allowed herself to admire him as he did. It felt like the taste of sweet honey on her tongue, indulging in the sight of him after so long being apart; his skin was darker, rougher from being at sea, and the strong muscles along his back and shoulders stretched as he reached to pull the delicate blossoms from the tree. His hair, which she loved to run her hands through, was lighter than she remembered and gave him the look of one of Apollo's lovers. When he turned back to her, his calloused hands holding a bundle of apple blossoms, she drank in the expression of love coloring his eyes—melted amber flushed with a gold as bright as the wedding band on his finger.

If there was one thing Alcyone yearned for their child to inherit, it was not the kingdom they ruled over. Not the loneliness of the palace’s empty halls. Not the frowns of the royal council, as the line of inheritance remained unsettled. 

Rather, Alcyone hoped that their child would inherit Ceyx’s eyes. And more desperately than that, Alcyone wished to hold a child and be able to marvel at a life she and Ceyx had created.

But when Alcyone pressed a hand to her stomach and felt her body, unlike Ceyx’s, unchanged by the passing of a month, the ceramic shard in her heart only dug deeper still.

✿

Two weeks came and went. Spring took over Trachis, coming in bursts of flowers that painted the land with their many shades and hues, and in onslaughts of rain that mellowed the air with the smell of petrichor. The days slipped in between her fingers like the apple blossoms from their orchard, ephemeral.

Duties stole them away from each other. Ceyx took breakfast with the council while Alcyone attended her morning prayer; he heard the bereavements of their people while she planned the festival they would hold on the day of the spring equinox; he met with the militia while she visited the less fortunate women and children.

It was only when the sun had dipped below the horizon that they were fully able to bask in the company of each other.

One night when they lay entangled beneath the sheets of their bed, Ceyx said quietly, “The council advised me to seek another for… The purpose of bearing an heir to the throne.”

Alcyone curled her fingers into the sheets. The ceramic shard in her heart twisted. It was not the first time her husband's council of advisors had suggested Ceyx bed another, nor would it be the last. Despite this knowledge, Alycone was unable to keep the pain from festering deep within her.

“And what did you tell them?” Alcyone asked. It was the same question she asked every time.

“I told them I would not be unfaithful to you, beloved,” Ceyx said, his response as familiar to her as her own heartbeat. He reached in the darkness for her hand and tenderly uncurled her fingers from the sheets. He placed his hand in hers. For a beat, silence filled the room, only broken by the sound of their quiet breathing.

Alcyone waited a moment, then turned her head to look at her husband, thinking he had fallen asleep. Instead, she found him watching her in the gentle dark of their bed chamber.

“What is it?” she whispered.

Ceyx rubbed his thumb across her skin. He hesitated, then said, “They also urged me to consult the Oracle. This… I do wish to do.”

“You would leave so soon?”

He drew in a ragged breath, the ceramic shard in his heart evident. “I'm doing this for us, Alcyone.”

“I know,” she said quickly, “I know. And I love you for it.”

“Then do I have your blessing to sail for Delphi?”

She chewed her lip. “When would you leave?”

“In two days’ time. They have already begun preparations for the journey.”

“Let me at least pray to my father in the morning, and ask what weather you will bear,” Alcyone murmured. “For my peace of mind and for your safety.”

“Of course,” Ceyx agreed.

He brushed a kiss across her forehead, then turned on his side. Soon, the quiet sound of his snores filled the air. Alcyone watched the shift of his shoulders beneath the sheets, studying the rise and fall as he breathed slowly. She fell asleep watching him.

In the morning, when she arose to find his side of their bed already empty, she swallowed her disappointment and dressed to go down to their orchard. A chill nipped the air, and the sky was unusually gloomy, tired clouds creeping across and keeping the sun from breaking through. Alcyone knew it was leftover from the previous night's storms, but a knot formed in her stomach all the same.

“Father,” she prayed, addressing Aeolus, “god of the four winds, guide of ships, would you give me a sign? Ceyx wishes to sail, but I must know that he will be protected.”

The wind steadily blowing through the apple trees hesitated. Then, with grim force, a sudden gust swept through the orchard. It was harmful, knocking newly budding apples from their branches, tearing the blossoms, and throwing them to the ground. Alcyone shuddered.

“Is there nothing you can do to keep his ship safe, Father?” she asked. “Or are the other gods at play?”

The relentless gale slowed. The branches shook, knocking one final apple free. Alcyone caught it between her hands, remembering all of the times she had prayed to the gods beneath that very tree. Thumbing the tender flesh of the newly created fruit, now no longer able to grow, Alcyone could sense her father's answer in the small sign.

The apple fell from her hands as she broke into a run. She needed to find Ceyx. She needed to convince him not to journey. Yet when she stumbled through the palace, searching first their chambers, then the council room, then the throne room, she saw no sign of him.

Alcyone caught the hand of a passing maid. “Please,” she said, drawing in a sharp breath, “where is the king?”

The maid blinked, clearly alarmed by Alcyone's harried state. “My queen. I heard that he had gone down to the docks, but—”

Alcyone was gone before the maid finished her sentence.

When she arrived at the shoreline, Alcyone found the sails of the royal ship already drawn. The wind that her father sent billowed through them, and she felt a roil of sickness watching the sails waver. Sailors and soldiers alike bent when they caught sight of her, murmuring greetings of ‘my queen’ as she passed them to find Ceyx.

He stood at the mast of the ship, holding a map in one hand and using his other to point out the route to the captain of the ship. “If we sail through here—”

The captain noticed her first, dipping his head in respect.

Ceyx cut off. His amber eyes met hers.

“Alcyone,” he started, his tone placating.

But she stopped him before he could continue. “I thought you were leaving at high tide tomorrow.”

“We were,” Ceyx said. “But the winds are favorable today and the ship was still prepared from our last voyage. There was no point in delaying.”

“No point?” Alcyone's mouth dried. The wind whistled in her ear. “I prayed to my father this morning. He gave me a sign that this journey is not safe for you to make. Not yet, at least. Please, Ceyx, don't go. Please.”

She took his hand, squeezing it tightly.

His gaze softened. “Alcyone, I—”

“My king,” the captain spoke. Ceyx turned his gaze away from her, and she felt the ceramic shard dig deeper. The echo of the apple hitting the ground played in her ears. “The ship is ready. At your word, we sail.”

Ceyx hesitated. She watched two emotions war in his amber eyes, flickering between his desire to uphold his duties as king and his determination to be a faithful husband. But when he looked at her again, she knew with painful certainty which one had won.

“Tell the sailors to get in position. We sail for Delphi today.”

“No, no,” Alcyone breathed. She scrabbled for his hands. “Ceyx, please.”

“I know, beloved,” he said. His voice was almost drowned out by the onslaught of conversation from the sailors boarding the ship. Ceyx moved to cradle her head, their foreheads touching. “But it will only be to Delphi. I'll return to you soon. I promise.”

He brushed a featherlight kiss over her lips, and then he was pulling away. The swarm of sailors and soldiers separated them immediately. Alcyone was pushed away from her husband, powerless to stop the tide from taking him, and she blinked back tears as she descended the ship. Somewhere near the bottom, her stomach heaved, and she lost its contents over the side. The taste of sickness soured her mouth.

She didn't stay to watch the ship leave the dock. 

✿

It should have been a five day journey. Yet a week passed; seven mornings spent praying to the gods, seven nights falling asleep alone, and there was no word from Ceyx. Rain poured relentlessly over Trachis in that time, bending the spring flowers, and watering the fertile earth.

On the eighth morning Alcyone ventured to their orchard only to find the apple tree she prayed under every morning ripped forth from the ground by the storm. A mess of roots and branches and half-grown fruit reached out to her—desperate, even in death.

Alcyone pressed a hand to her mouth to swallow a wave of nausea. She had been feeling more sickly in the mornings, but she blamed it on the stress of waiting for Ceyx to return.

She knelt and pressed her hands on the bark of the tree. It was rough against her fingers and moist from the rain, yet Alcyone kept her hands placed against it as she began to pray.

“I ask only for a sign,” she begged whichever god would listen. “Let me know where my husband is. Let me know how he fares.”

Alcyone closed her eyes. And in the darkness behind her eyelids, a vision began to bloom.

She saw Ceyx on the royal ship, looking back at the dock and finding her missing. She saw the sails billowing furiously as a storm began to pick up the further they departed from Trachis; sailors tugged at the ropes, trying to control the sails, but the storm was relentless. A torrent of rain washed over the boards of the ship, the waves threatening to capsize it entirely. She heard the cries of the people aboard the ship—some cried out to Poseidon, others to Zeus.

One voice—his voice—rose above it all, pleading with Aeolus that he might calm Zeus’ storm and deliver them from Poseidon's waves.

She saw Ceyx standing at the wheel of the ship, looking out at his crew, at his people, when the sea overcame them at last. She watched as his amber eyes were swallowed by the waves. She watched as the glint of his wedding band was snuffed.

The ship was gone in an instant.

“I'll return to you soon. I promise.” Ceyx's final words to her were taken by the storm.

With a cry, Alcyone ripped her hands away from the fallen apple tree. She stumbled backwards, her feet not feeling like her own, her body moving on its own accord. The pain in her chest became guttural. The ceramic shard split her heart entirely. Sobs racked her as she ran away from their orchard, crushing apple blossoms beneath her feet. Desperation carried her towards the shoreline. 

There, Ceyx's body waited for her, washed ashore by the tide. Returned by the gods. Dead.

Alcyone collapsed beside him. She sobbed until it felt like her lungs would give out. Her fingers ran over his cool skin, searching, searching for the warmth and love he had always given her. She kissed his mouth again and again, trying to breathe life back into him, but it only left the taste of salt water on her lips. Never again would his mouth curve into the smile he saved for her. Never again would he present her with apple blossoms from their orchard, or wrap her in his arms, or dry the tears from her eyes when she cried for the child they could not have. Never again would he call her beloved.

And knowing those cruel things, knowing what had been stolen from her, was a fate somehow worse than death.

Alcyone wept until she could no longer. Then she placed her hands on Ceyx's shoulders and began to drag him back into the sea. Only this time, she went with him.

The water lapped first at her ankles, then her thighs, and finally her chest. She continued to hold Ceyx to her, unafraid, even when the waves began to beat at her face. Alcyone let the water pull her and Ceyx further from the shore. She let the gods have them. Both of them, together, even in death.

The last thing Alcyone saw before the sea took her into its watery depths was Trachis, shining in the resplendence of spring.

✿

From the bottom of the Aegean sea arose two birds, new life born from the recesses of death. Their feathers glinted as they shook off the water they had come from; their blue plumage shone in the sun as they took flight, their underbellies painted amber and gold by the gods.

Aeolus helped them to shore, letting the wings of these new birds drift with his currents of wind. In the wind, he made a quiet promise to his daughter. He would hold back the water and calm the waves for her so she could bring forth the life she had prayed for—the life that she had been growing unknowingly inside of her when she had stepped into the sea with her husband.

Kingfishers, Hera had called the birds, for the gods had pulled the king from the water. But as Aeolus watched the two birds begin to circle the land that had once been their kingdom, deciding where to settle and nest, Aeolus gave them a name of his own. Halcyons.

❀✿❀

K.A. Vasquez (she/her) is a young writer with a passion for literature, writing, and music. She hopes to query her long-form novel, and fills her days weaving short stories in her head. Her prose piece “A Composition of Love” was recently published in the Pink Ochre Literary Magazine. “Halycons” is her second published work. She is a founder of the Dualiterary Magazine, a literary magazine focusing on dualities and dichotomies.