Persephone: Chapter 6

My kids have been such good sports giving me feedback as I write. I was reading this chapter aloud to my daughter while my son played video games in the same room. I didn’t think he was listening until he started asking questions about parts he’d missed! 

Read the first chapter of Persephone here. 

Chapter 6
Hades

Cerberus’ growls resonated in three different tones—one from each head. I closed my eyes, and my shoulders dropped. 

Couldn’t people just leave me alone?

My feet dragged as I entered the throne room and sat heavily on the overly large ebony throne. 

Why did I even bother with that thing? It was cold and uncomfortable. Oh yeah, I kept it so people would be intimidated and leave me in peace. 

It didn’t seem to be working. 

The echoing flutter of wings announced Hermes before he entered with a very slight bow. Serpents slithered around the winged staff he held—his caduceus.

I almost smiled, despite myself. The bow was much too indifferent for a god of my rank. I hoped it was the same bow he used for my overinflated brothers. 

“Lord Hades,” he announced in a voice much too loud for just two of us.
“Nephew,” I dipped my head. “What misfortune brings you to my realm?”

The flickering candlelight reflected in his eyes. His fingers ran down the polished silver of ornately gilded, man-sized candelabra, one of many in two rows that lined the cold marble path in the center of the room. 

“Lord Zeus demands to know why his daughter, the goddess Persephone Kore, remains…” His eyes darted to me curiously. “Unattached.”

I sighed. I knew this was coming. At least he’d sent a message instead of summoning me again to Olympus. I’d been lucky that last trip—seeing no one but my brother. They’d probably all taken off when they saw his bad mood. When he summoned me next time, it would no doubt be for punishment for not fulling his command. There would definitely be a large audience to witness that. In fact, I knew from experience that if the gods didn’t show up on their own, Zeus would demand their presence. He never missed a chance to display his power and authority.

How insecure can you get?

“What does he expect me to do, abduct his daughter,” I said flatly. 

With a casual air, he plopped down in the never-used throne next to mine. It had been ridiculous of Aeacus, my attendant, to install that chair. It only encouraged informality and sometimes pity.

“Probably,” he said.

I shook my head. “I can’t believe him.”

“Really?” he replied. “Of all the things you’ve seen him do, this is what surprises you?”

“It’s his own daughter,” I said.

“Yeah, still not the worst thing Dear Old Dad’s ever done to one of us.”

“He can’t just leave her alone to live her life?” I asked but already knew what the answer would be.

“Not when she could threaten his power,” he said and turned sideways in the chair, his feet dangling over the arm. 

I straightened. 

“Threaten his… How is that girl a threat to his power? She has no ambitions. Surely he can see that.” I said.

“He told you leaving her unmarried would start a war, and she has refused all the gods who have sought her hand.” 

Slight irritation bit through his tone, and I smiled slightly. 

“She isn’t exactly eager to marry,” I said. 

“Not that Demeter would let her,” he grumbled and rubbed his ear.

“I heard she’s given some of you a little trouble,” I laughed.

“Trouble? She flung me so hard, if it hadn’t been for my winged shoes, I still wouldn’t have landed yet. And I’m not sure what she did to Ares, but the poor guy didn’t kill anyone for days!”

That did give me pause. 

“And Zeus expects me to jump in and…” 

He slapped my shoulder. “It’s all you, uncle. Let me offer my early congratulations on your betrothal.”

I closed my eyes and spoke through gritted teeth. “I am not betrothed.” 

“No, but you will be. Daddy likes getting his way, and he’s not letting this one go.”

“Is war really such a bad option?”

He chuckled. “Zeus thinks so. No matter the cause, he sees any war as a plot to undermine his power. Guess that’s what happens when you overthrow you own dad—paranoia.”

I shuttered.

That wasn’t my favorite memory. Cronus, our father, had been so afraid his children would dethrone him, he’d swallowed each of us at birth. After the fifth time, our mother, Rhea, wised up and tricked him into eating a rock wrapped in swaddling clothes instead of her newborn. Zeus had been raised by nymphs (which explained his preference in girlfriends) until he was strong enough to get Dad to throw us up. Naturally, we all took up arms and locked our father in Tartarus. The battle had been horrific. Of course, even though Zeus was the youngest (guess who was the first son born, by the way. Yep, me.) he insisted that we owed him our allegiance for his little jailbreak, and took the throne. 

“Anyhooo,” he said and stood. “When can I tell him the job will be done?”
“The job? Wow. You put things so delicately,” I said.
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“Sorry, in a bit of a hurry. You know, things to do, people to see. Lightning to avoid.”

I let in a slow breath. There really wasn’t a way out of this, was there?

“Just remind my younger brother that I don’t have a deadline on this. I’ll get to it when I can.”

Hermes’ eyebrow raised. “He’s not gonna like that one.”

“No, but I trust you’ll dress up my answer enough to keep all your feathers.”

He huffed and flitted away like a lazy mosquito that finally had its fill. 

“That could have gone better,” a dark feminine voice said behind me. 

“Hecate,” I groaned. “Do you always have to hide in the shadows like that?”

The grey haired goddess made her way to the empty seat and made herself at home. 

I really needed to get rid of that dumb chair.

A pack of dogs followed after her. 

“At least clean up the dog hair when you leave,” I pointed.

“The child of Demeter fills your mind,” she said and turned a surprisingly gentle hand to the snout that nudged her. 

“You don’t say. How could she not with Zeus breathing down my neck?”

“The goddess has a hold over our lord of the dead,” she replied.

I turned an accusing finger at the goddess of magic. 

“You did this, didn’t you?” I demanded. “You cast a spell on me or something.”

“This spell,” The night goddess smiled knowingly. “Is not of my doing.”

I didn’t like that answer. If Hecate didn’t do this to me… 
Nope. Nuh uh!

“You’re all delusional. Why can’t everyone just leave me in my cold, dark kingdom, all alone? Zeus got to you, didn’t he? Why do I even let you live here?” I asked.

Her eyes darkened. “No child of Cronus nor Olympian-born holds sway over a daughter of the Titans. I live where I will and, I too, have claim on this realm.”

Maybe I had gone a little too far. Hecate was far older and grumpier than I was. You could even go as far as to say that I’d taken over her home when Zeus sent me to rule the underworld. She hadn’t objected, but she hadn’t exactly left either. And she had powers over death and sinister things that I did not touch. (Necromancy is such a nasty business.) Honestly, she creeped me out a bit.

“You’re right, of course. I apologize.” I said. “It’s just this thing with Zeus has my mind all in a tangle.”

She patted the mutt’s head and smiled wickedly. “Yes, the young goddess is quite beautiful.”

How was I supposed to respond to that? 

“She’s a goddess. Of course she’s beautiful. Name one who isn’t. I dare you.”

Unbated, she stroked another dog who begged pitifully at her feet. 

I wouldn’t end up like one of them, would I? Blindly loyal and bound to some goddess…

But Persephone Kore wasn’t just some goddess. She was like no one I’d ever met. Innocent, yet brave. Despite my reputation, she’d faced me like I was just another annoying gnat. 

“Beware, Lord Hades,” she said the title mockingly. “Do not underestimate the power of this young goddess. Her magic is stronger than even Demeter knows. Zeus is wise to bind her to a god so might.”

My eyes widened at the rare compliment, though my stomach churned. 

“No matter how foolish you both are,” she finished.

That was more like the Hecate we all knew and somewhat feared.

“Well,” I said resigned. “I better not put it off too long if I’m supposed to keep war from breaking out and all. Guess I’ve got a goddess to go underestimate.”

Her scowl made me laugh as I left the throne room. 

The journey to the upper world was becoming much too familiar.

I loosened the reins as the horses climbed the slope.  

How long could I drag this out? What little of my freedom did I want to savor before it was gone? What could Zeus do to me that was worse than this? 

Breaching the surface was always jarring. Too bright. Too open.

I didn’t leave the chariot too far behind as I walked toward her grove. I didn’t want to startle her, but I also knew she’d be more likely to tolerate my horses’ presence than mine.

I quietly pushed through the dense leaves. I stopped short. 

There she was. Her loose golden hair glistened in the sunlight and dripped with blossoms. A light breeze rippled her dress—white as a flag of surrender. The very air was thick with her floral scent. 

She held something red in her palm and examined it with narrowed eyes. Round and glossy, it looked similar to the apple she showed me before. But, where the blossom’s stamen cluster used to be, the flesh drew upwards, seeming to grow a small crown.

“What does it taste like?” I asked. 

She jumped to her feet and spun to face me. She wielded the fruit like a weapon, ready to hurl it.  

“My apologies,” I bowed. “I meant to greet you more formally, but… What is that? It’s intriguing.”

Persephone pushed the fruit behind her back.

“Nothing,” she said quickly. “Lord Hades.” She nodded. “I wasn’t sure you’d come back.”

Neither was I. 

We stood in silent awkwardness. I wasn’t about to admit to my orders.

“That ‘nothing’, as you call it, is intriguing. I’ve never seen its like,” I said. “Another of your experiments?”

Her hand slowly came from behind her back. 

“Yes,” she sighed. “I can’t seem to get it right.”

“May I?” I stepped closer.

She shrugged, and dropped it into my outstretched hand. 

“It’s heavier than it looks,” I said and turned the fruit over. “And the skin… Firm, almost like leather.”

“That’s the problem,” she said. “I cannot soften the skin. Every time I do, the fruit inside is crushed.”

“It’s that delicate?” I asked. 

“See for yourself.” 

She took it from my hand and halved it. The skin seemed light compared to the deep red fruit inside. 

Her hand brushed mine as she returned it to me, and suddenly, her cheeks were nearly as red. 

She cleared her throat. “The pith cushions the arils, but the skin needs to protect it.”

The spongy white pith was thicker than the soft part of an orange peel and encased the delicate red kernels. 

I loosened one and placed it in my mouth. 

“It’s nectar,” I exclaimed. 

“No,” she giggled. “Even mortals should be able to eat this. The problem is the skin… It’s so tough and bitter. Mother bit into one and nearly choked. It just won’t do. She says it’s all wrong.”

“If Demeter is above peeling her own fruit, she can get someone else to do it for her,” I said. “How does she eat oranges?”

She smiled. 

“She wasn’t fond of those at first either. She’s still not entirely happy with them.”

Half of the kernels was gone now. I couldn’t stop myself.

“This is absolute perfection, Persephone,” I said. 

Again, her cheeks turned crimson. 

“The name isn’t very creative,” she muttered. “Pomegranate. It just means ‘apple of many seeds’.”

“An appropriate name,” I said.

Her slight smile returned.

“I take it, your mother did not approve of that either?” I said.

She shook her head.

Is there anything she does approve of? I wanted to asked, but stopped myself. Zeus must be rubbing off on me. Next thing you know, I’d be calling Demeter a harpy too. 

“You are very talented,” I said instead.

“Flattery, Lord Hades?” she asked. “I thought we were past that.”

“No,” I said. “I avoid flattery whenever possible. Tends to make people stick around, then it gets terribly crowded. Not enough room for everyone in the underworld, you know. Even if there was… No. Still too crowded.”

“You’re not a people person, are you?” she asked.

“Nope. Why else do you think I live underground?”

She laughed.

“You’re not underground right now,” she said.

“Yes, a horrible mistake, I’m sure. But you see, we have no fruit in the underworld.”

“None at all?” she asked. “But surely, even the underworld requires food. Does nothing grow there?”

“Oh no, we do,” I said. “In fact, Askolophos is a very capable gardener. I guess I haven’t thought about it much until lately.”

An impatient whinny sounded, and Persephone clasped her hands. 
“You brought your horses again,” she exclaimed.

“Of course,” I said. “You wouldn’t expect the god of the dead to walk all the way to the surface, would you? Why, I’d be dead on my feet!”
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Her laugh rang out more animatedly than my pun deserved, and her smile grew as we reached my horses. 

Read the next chapter of Persephone here!