The week until the wedding passed in a blur of activity and panic as seamstresses sewed the wedding gown, and the cook prepared for a stunning feast, yet Pandora took no part in the proceedings.
As was customary, she and Epimetheus would now next see each other on the morning of the wedding itself, so she had ample time to consider the solemn vows she would undertake, without distraction.
Yet Pandora thought little of those vows, but remained in her rooms, staring at the box and occasionally pulling at the chains forbidding her entrance. Her head vibrated as the whispering voices calling her name.
“Pandora, will you dare to enter me?”
“Pandora, open me and your wishes will be answered.”
“Pandora, I am yours. Will you claim your right?”
All week, Pandora gazed at the box and ran her hands over the jewelled surface. Thoughts of her impending wedding seemed but a far-off dream, as if it were a fairy tale she had once heard.
Even as Pandora headed for the door in her wedding gown on the morning of the wedding, her eyes remained glued to the box.
Aurora straightened the silk and lace, sighing with awe at the beautiful picture her queen, and half-sister, made.
Epimetheus called impatiently from the great hall. “Pandora, where are you? We must go now.”
Pandora shivered, her grey eyes suddenly gazing into Aurora’s. “Must I do this? I barely know this man. What am I doing?” she whispered.
For once, Aurora did not drop her eyes, but smiled. “You are marrying the best and most handsome man in the world, Ma’am, and I know you will live happily ever after.”
She pulled the veil over Pandora’s face, hiding the panicked expression not fit for a queen’s visage, and led her to the door.
“Are you ready to meet Epimetheus, Ma’am?”
Pandora glanced back at the box once more, cocking her head on one side, as if hearing a message. At last, she nodded and glided from the room, set on her course. Time would tell if this was to be a course to triumph or disaster.
The box whispered, the chains rattling with disquiet.
***
“Get me a locksmith.”
Laying in their marriage bed, Pandora turned to look at Epimetheus, naked and triumphant at her side. There was no doubt he was a handsome groom, yet the pull of desire lessened each moment she spent in his company. Indeed, no sooner had the marriage been consummated, than her thoughts turned once more to the box and its contents calling her name with increasing intensity.
“That is no ordinary box and no ordinary keyhole,” Epimetheus noted. “You’ll need an extraordinary locksmith to open such a box as this. I doubt there is one such in the whole of your land.”
“Then you must search in the lands outside of this one, Epimetheus,” Pandora ordered, her tone flat and harsh.
“Me?” Epimetheus attempted to squash the sudden thrill quickening his heartbeat as he contemplated further adventures, away from this airless palace. He knew he was not designed to be some queen’s pet for ever, however much it suited him to siphon off possible riches. “You would entrust me with this important task?”
Pandora’s grey eyes filled with the sting of hot tears. “Are you so eager to leave me already, Epimetheus?” she asked, instantly regretting her display of neediness, as an impatient frown flashed across his handsome face.
His smooth words sought to reassure her. “Of course not, Pandora, my dear bride. I merely wish to please you in all things.”
Staring at his smooth, bronzed torso, Pandora wished the words were true, yet she heard the falseness lurking beneath his pretty words. Pain burnt through her chest as she realised that she actually cared for his good opinion.
“If you really wish to please me, find me a locksmith and get me a key to fit my box,” Pandora ordered.
Pandora moved away from him, trying to reinstate a dignified distance, more befitting of a queen. Sitting at her dressing table, she stared into her mirror, mortified to see that tears had smudged the black coal around her tired, bloodshot eyes. An ugly red mark flushed across her neck as heat blazed through her. Her physicians, those that dared to speak out, had assured her that this heat was a natural phenomenon, one common amongst women her age, those well beyond child-bearing years. It was a cruel reminder that she was long past her youth, nearer the grave than cradle.
Her eyes caught sight of the box, yet again and her heart pounded with desire. What if that casket held the elixir of life and youth, the answer to her prayers? If so, she would be able to bond Epimetheus to her side forever, and a child would be hers at last.
***
A soft knock announced the arrival of her maid, who crept in to the room with her eyes cast downwards.
Staring into her mirror, Pandora saw Epimetheus gaze on the young girl with an expression he had never used when looking at her. It spoke of pity, of fondness, of something more perhaps.
An echo of Aurora’s words before the marriage snaked through her mind: “…the best and most handsome man in the world.”
Pandora gazed at the reflected image of this waif of a maid, with her softly curving breasts and slim waist, and hate surged through her whole body.
“What do you want, girl?” she snapped.
“Begging your pardon Ma’am,” Aurora murmured, gazing at Epimetheus’s bare, bronzed foot poking out from underneath the blankets. “The soothsayer you sent for has arrived.”
“Tell her I will descend shortly,” Pandora said, waving the girl away. She turned, not too late to see the long glance shared between Epimetheus and the illegitimate brat. Bile rose in her throat, sharp as a serpent’s sting.
6/30/2026
And so the tale continues to unfold. It's mesmerising, keep up the good work, my friend.