Chapter 7 Persephone
Persephone
With bated breath I watch the door as the black glass stares back at me. The footsteps I heard in the hall grow fainter. It’s not someone coming to speak to me, then.
I stand on shaky legs and sink into the chair, a cream woven blanket tight around me. The fire blazes hot. I’m faintly covered in a fine sheen of sweat, but it’s more from my orgasm than the heat of the fire. It’s more from seeing Hades than any fire.
I close my eyes for a few moments, thinking of him. The relief of seeing him and even pleasing him in that way is immense.
I drank in the sight of his face.
The difference in how I felt about the god prior to being with him and now is like night and day.
He didn’t look as he did when I met him in the Underworld.
He’d seemed cold, then. Cold and powerful and almost unfeeling.
It’s apparent Hades tried not to show his feelings as we were scrying, but I saw them on his face.
The smallest muscles betrayed that he’s unhappy about this arrangement.
His desire for me is evident. And I love it.
He misses me. I miss him as well.
My heart beat faster as I touched myself.
The act felt illicit, like I wasn’t supposed to enjoy my own body, and certainly not in front of the king of the Underworld during the act of scrying.
It was sexy and passionate. Forbidden and heated.
My heart sped up from the sensation, and of course from thinking about the way he touched me when we were in bed.
I needed every second of that moment with him.
I need it again as soon as it can be granted.
Now that I have had a few moments to collect myself, I know that my heart is not only racing from the pleasure. It is racing because…I’m concerned about Hades. As the high calms and my breathing levels, I know that to be fact.
There’s something in his expression that spoke of pain.
His dark gaze and low tone give him away.
As if it’s hurt him deeply to be apart from me.
As if it’s not a separation he can bear for very long.
We are gods. We are king and queen. Surely, we will sustain and continue to rule.
My choice was made for the greater good. War is not something I wish to come.
So much death. The gods have caused an imbalance.
He’s already told me what it would look like if my mother doesn’t stop, but now I fear that it may be closer to hand than anyone realizes.
Quickly, I rise from the chair, gather my gown, and take it into the changing room to prepare for the evening and prepare myself to face whatever may come when the sun rises.
What comes is a summons from my father.
He’s not come to my rooms to speak with me, and that does not surprise me.
With the thrashing of lightning and the darkness that hasn’t let up, my mother has not relented.
Without justice, she continues to rage. Zeus has unequaled power on Olympus.
If he wishes to speak with another god or goddess, they come to meet with him. Only when he chooses.
Beatrice is the one who relays his invitation.
We are to dine together in one of his audience rooms this evening.
Nerves rack through me. He is the king of the gods, and he has not made it right with my mother.
But what justice can be brought? What reason can she see?
She is blinded by the betrayal and kidnapping of her daughter and although I am well, I have empathy for her.
My thoughts haven’t settled and the anxiousness of what might be asked of me is overwhelming. Combined with Hades’s warning.
I spend the day with my mother, who has much to say about the plants in the garden.
My thoughts choke me. Balling up into a cowardice at the back of my throat.
She hasn’t brought harvest still. But perhaps the more time she spends with me, the more she will heal.
After we have tea and fruit for breakfast, she suggests we go out to her garden beds.
There are hours to go until dinner, so I accompany her to the gardens.
The beds are newly turned over, dark soil warming in the sun. Various pots are arranged on the edge of the bed.
Olympus is empty. Ever since the scry, there is nothing here that holds my attention. All the white walls are a constant reminder that there is a great distance between us, and one that Hades cannot cross.
Realizing my thoughts, it feels as if I’ve betrayed her myself.
My stomach sinks. I should not want the god who stole me.
I should side with my mother for how fate has brought me my lover.
Worst of all, I haven’t the words to confess to Demeter, my mother and savior in so many ways, that I love him and I wish her to stop.
I wish for her to accept that there is no justice to give her.
“Ah!” My mother says, a simper on her lips although her eyes are still clouded with pain. “Everything is prepared for planting. Would you like to join me?”
“Of course,” I answer, though we are past the usual time.
My heart beats quickly, remembering the last time she offered and how my magic and powers has dwindled to nearly nonexistent.
“I thought you had planted these beds already,” I mention as I pick up a pot and look inside at the seeds it holds.
“Did something go wrong?” I play naive, but I am no fool.
She’s brought death in as many ways as she can for all to see her fury.
My mother purses her lips, moving to the center of the bed. “I was in a state when it was discovered you were missing,” she says guiltily. “I raged throughout Olympus and could not stop. This garden bed was an unfortunate victim.”
I reach over and place my hand on hers in comfort. She takes it and squeezes before letting me go again.
“But,” she says confidently. “We can plant again.”
“Yes,” I agree. “That is true. A garden can always be planted again.” My throat is tight with any response that I could offer regarding her state and my disappearance. I walk on eggshells around her.
We’re quiet for a little while, rearranging the pots, choosing seeds, and dropping them in neat rows throughout the bed.
The act is soothing. Healing in so many ways.
My intention with every seed is to bring life, abundance, and prosperity to all who need it.
Warmth spreads through my chest as the garden grows.
I imagine the mortals who suffered for my king’s desperate actions to have me.
They are innocent and I wish for the growth here to show in their own gardens.
As above, so below. I wish to make them whole again, without parting from what I’ve gained.
“Are you thinking the same of the mortal realm?” I question, straightening my shoulders and shading my eyes.
My mother doesn’t look at me. She merely whispers, “The mortal realm can be replanted again. It is resilient.”
“Is it?”
“Oh, of course.” She’s still careful not to meet my eyes. Her pain is evident. The loss echoing in her gaze. As if I can feel what she suffered. The loss is immense. “Much of it is a garden, Persephone. It is only a matter of waiting for new growth.”
“When will that come?” I question.
“When my heart is healed,” she answers quickly.
It’s so very evident that she placed a spell.
The damage will only stop when she no longer feels the agony.
But every spell can be broken, though not every pain can be healed.
And my mother’s pain I fear will only worsen when I tell her the truth.
When I return to him, her bitterness may turn to death for the innocent.
“He will pay for what he did to you,” she murmurs.
“Mother,” I start, my eyes growing wide. “I don’t wish for—”
“It is not my wish, my sweet girl. It is what I need to heal.”
“What about the mortals themselves?” Quickly, to keep myself busy, I take up another pot and tip some seeds into my palm. They’re small, but will burst with life. They’ll become so much more than they appear to be right now. “Will they be able to start again?”
“In time.”
I stare at her for a moment, not recognizing her but acknowledging she now knows pain she’s never known before. She will see reason. My father will put an end to this soon. He must.
“In how much time?” Perhaps she will be more willing to speak when we are not looking at each other, so I keep my focus on the seeds. “I saw things in the Underworld that made me wonder about the mortal realm.”
With concern, she stills and asks me quietly, “What kinds of things, my daughter?” It’s then I know her fear of what I had to go through. Her hand trembles and I cannot offer her comfort entirely, but I offer her the truth.
“Souls,” I say simply. “There was worry over an imbalance between the realms. If there are too many souls entering the Underworld at once—”
“The Underworld is a vast realm,” my mother says, interrupting me gently. “If there is any kind of imbalance, it will certainly sort itself out within the Underworld.”
“What if it does not?”
She is silent.
“I wonder,” I press on, though my heart is beginning to beat hard, as if there is some danger approaching. “Because many mortals look to me as well, and if there was some comfort I could offer them, some reassurance…”
“You can offer them your presence,” my mother says, meeting my eyes at last. “Have you thought of that? It may be more useful than any words you may offer them.”
“My presence?” I question.
“Your gift. Your power,” she answers.
“Of course,” I answer in a whisper.
“We can speak more of it later, for now, please keep me company. I have missed you so,” she tells me with tears in her eyes as my own gaze blurs.
“I’ve missed you as well,” I answer.
She smiles at me, a quick, relieved expression, then turns back to the garden bed. “What do you think of this section here, Persephone? I would like something that will be bright when it blooms.”