Chapter 22 Persephone
Persephone
“Stop this now!” The voice that rises from my throat is one of spite and detest. This fight does not have to do with me.
Rid my name from it. It is the anger of their chains and their discontent with fate that causes them to rage against one another.
My chest rises with a hollowness that’s undeniable.
I cannot stop this war if they continue to believe it steeps from my taking my new place as queen of the dead.
No, that is not what this war is about.
The chaos of the gods and goddesses of Olympus is like nothing I’ve ever seen.
The gods, in my father’s great hall, attacking one another—
It fills my lungs with the need to scream. Viciously and violently. The vibrations and power in the courts could call a thousand years’ worth of life. It could build and rebuild Olympus, even if Olympus itself were thrown to the ground in the mortal realm and left to crumble into ash.
Olympus does not fall underneath this power. It shudders and shakes. Holes appear in the walls and the ceiling, letting the thunderous rain through, soaking all who stand here. Beatrice holds tight to my hand.
“My lady,” she says into my ear. “I told you it was not safe. My queen. We must go. We must leave this place. This is a matter of the gods—”
“I am the goddess of life and the queen of the dead,” I argue back, not looking at her.
I search for any glimpse I can get of Hades.
There he is, throwing shadow-demons out ahead of him.
They fight off the gods who join my father’s army and attack Hades.
My heart tumbles with fear. There is my mother, her hand on Aphrodite’s wrist, the two of them facing out into the fray.
There is another one of my father’s lightning bolts.
It’s maddening. All of this pain, for what?
It all happens in slow motion.
I attempt to step forward, but Beatrice pulls me back. “My lady, please—it is too dangerous. Let us retreat to somewhere safe, and then we can pray—”
“To whom?” I ask, searching her gaze for an answer. “All the gods are here. They are fighting. It is not the time for prayers, Beatrice.”
“You cannot fight!”
“I will not.”
“But my queen—”
A bolt of power—a lightning bolt, perhaps, though I cannot see exactly what it is—slams into the corner behind Beatrice. It cracks and shatters the stone that’s been there for centuries.
“Enough!” I pull her with me into the hall, step up onto a fallen fragment of the ceiling. I draw my power from every being. Their life is my source.
With my eyes pitch black, my robes a haunted ash, and no crown atop my head, I raise my hands, my fingers bent and twisted as vines creep from the ground, winding around limbs and holding those who fight in place. Screeches cry out as the vines twist and slowly silence the slaughter.
I’ve never felt so powerful and I command once again, “Enough!”
My voice carries out over all the gods of Olympus who have gathered here to argue and attack. Over the bloodied attacks and screams of rage.
It takes a moment for the movement to stop, the screams to be silenced by the vines, but it does. Those not contained by my hold slow as the realization of what I’ve done dawns.
“There will be no war in my name!” I shout and know it to be true. There is no doubt that I will put an end to this madness. As my power moves away from me, along with my words, I see it reach each god. One by one. Stilling them just as the binds grip them.
Thorns grow at the throats of those who struggle. “Be still!” I command as the magic flows through me more easily than it ever has.
My father stops. He’s visible in the center of the crowd, large and brooding, his staff in his right hand and his gold crown ever shining.
He watches me with wariness in his eyes.
Bolts of lightning strike down at the vines that grow near him and yet, only more grow in the injured plants’ place.
The more he fights, the more power he gives me.
I watch the flash in his eyes as the realization dawns on him.
It is then and only then that his staff is held close to his chest and his attacks are halted.
“Stop at once!” he booms. “It has ended!”
My mother, a short distance away, clutches Aphrodite’s hand.
Regret pure in her gaze. Hecate, on the other side of the hall, has her hands folded in front of her, head bowed and her hood covering her face as if she has not been in the middle of a battle.
She stands as a statue murmuring incantations.
The only person who moves, then, is Hades.
He steps out from behind a small gathering of other gods trapped within the binding vines and into the light.
His broad shoulders rise as he breathes heavily, and then I watch as he flexes his fingers and pulls the shadows of demons within him back from whence they came.
His gaze is narrowed and pained. A single slash across his face, no doubt caused by my father.
I turn my attention to each of them. My mother, my lover, and my father before slowly releasing the vines.
“Persephone,” Hades whispers and I’m drawn to him. The tension crackles when I meet his darkened eyes.
Within the depths of his gaze lies pride and loyalty. But mostly love and admiration. He is looking upon someone that is his and only his. Someone whom he will gladly defend for as long as he’s capable of living. He bows his head as he whispers, “My dark queen.”
I find him fair and just and certain—though not perfect. But even his imperfections are known and accepted in the Underworld. His wrongs can be made up for and forgiven.
Beatrice squeezes my hand, pulling me from my thoughts of my lover.
“No more,” I say clearly as the ash and dust settle. I do not have to speak loudly for my voice to be heard at the other end of the hall. “There will be no more fighting.”
There is shuffling as the gods and goddesses of Olympus tuck away their arms. Metal slides on sheaths. Bows land on backs, held there by the finest leather straps. More than a few knives, glimmering with layers of added power, flash in the air as they are put away.
“There will be no more fighting on my behalf in Olympus,” I proclaim, as if it is a prophecy I have heard.
Let it be so. I know I am stronger in will and love than my father, but whether I am truly more powerful does not matter.
All that matters is if my father thinks I am.
And more than that—if he thinks I am like him.
If he believes, with all the powers I have found within me, I will end him if he chooses this war…
then the war will never be. Whispers grow in the crowd, a few scuffles are heard behind me, but I do not turn.
I stay where I am. My mother to my left, father to my right, and Hades ahead of me. All others slowly back away.
“I will choose my own fate,” I state, before the murmurs become shouts. “I do not wish for this but—”
The court has fallen silent again. A prickling grows over my skin with every pair of eyes on me. They are all watching, and my heart thumps faster.
It’s then I realize, I’m not afraid. I’ve sat on a throne built only for me at Hades’s side and looked upon tortured souls in the Underworld.
I’ve passed judgment on them, granting them rest or punishment.
I’ve seen my word carried out without question, with those souls and everyone in attendance watching.
The difference this time is that I am not passing judgment on others.
I have looked into my own soul and made a judgment for myself.
In the silence, they wait for me. Wait for me to speak. Wait for me to tell them how this story will end.
My mother, even my father, hold still with bated breath.
“It is known that all the realms are connected. If one realm suffers an imbalance, the other realms will follow.” My father opens his mouth to argue. “This is true. We have seen it already, and none of us wish to see it again. We must follow the divine law.”
“Tell us, Persephone,” Aphrodite calls. She has both my mother’s hands in hers now and guides her toward me, her eyes flicking between my mother and my father.
Aphrodite keeps them moving until they are level with Hades.
I do not know if my mother knows this. She has not taken her eyes off me.
“What balance can there be when hearts are torn?” Her knowing eyes reach mine.
I reach into the pocket of my gown and take out the six seeds I have kept with me since Hades tipped them into my hand.
Six eaten and six remaining. Half and half.
I have moved them from gown to gown, counting and re-counting them, making sure they were with me always.
They have been my prized possessions, and now I know why they are so valuable.
“Hades.” I speak his name and a faint light comes to his eyes. “You gave me a dozen seeds, one for each cycle of the moon throughout the year. I have eaten six.”
The crowd murmurs among themselves once again—to demand to know more, I think—but I hold up my hand to silence them.
They fall silent.
My mother whimpers, a frown marring her face, and I can barely meet her gaze. Instead I focus on my lover. Who will bend the worlds’ wills for me. Who will rip the binds of the Underworld to be with me in council.
“My Lord, king of the dead and ruler of the Underworld .” I dip my chin but keep my eyes on Hades.
“Of the twelve moon cycles of the year, we shall have six together.” My voice nearly cracks at my decision.
I did not know it until I spoke. My mother’s gasp is chilling, but I continue. “For six cycles, I will stay with you.”
My mother lets out a cry that is not a word. It is only a sound of sorrow and betrayal.
“Mother.” I meet her eyes next although doing so forces tears to my eyes. “For the remaining six cycles, I will be here with you.”
“You do not understand daughter, I cannot contain my grief. For the time you are away, it will be felt by all. The spell cannot be undone. The plants will wither and a coldness will settle in all the lands. It is only when you return, that life will break through the cold hard ground and begin again. My suffering…perhaps my suffering… ” Her expression is pained.
She reaches into her pocket, and her eyes widen with shock.
Her hand reveals nothing and she pulls in the pocket before staring daggers at Hecate, whose cloak has turned to a vibrant red.
My mother’s dismay is evident, and I am left with more questions than answers.
I do not understand what the two share in this moment.
“What is wrong?” I beg of her. “Please see reason.”
“I cannot help what I feel. I love you too deeply. You are a part of my soul and it feels as if it’s perished when you are there, in the land of the dead.
” She heaves in a breath. “For every moment that I am without you, there will be death on Earth. The suffering I feel when we are apart will be felt by all.”
I allow her this moment but merely nod in understanding.
It is still what must be. Over the whispers of the crowd, I solidify my decision.
“Then when I am with you mother, the earth will celebrate and rejoice with life anew. And when I am with Hades, it will wither. That is the cycle of life is it not?” I turn to Hecate who merely watches.
“We will bring seasons to the mortal realm, ones they may survive as well as endure.”
I turn toward my father. “Is this just, god of gods?”
The crowd’s attention turns to him, and he only nods in agreement.
With a small cry, my mother leans against Aphrodite, who pats her shoulder and whispers something into her ear.
“There is no need to fight for me,” I continue, as my mother’s grief spreads throughout the room.
“No reason to keep the realms in a state of confusion and chaos. No reason for gods and goddess to turn on one another. This is my choice. This is my will. You have all witnessed it here with your own eyes. I have duties and responsibilities to the mortals on Earth, and I will see to them.” I meet Hades’s gaze as I speak that truth.
“I also have duties and responsibilities to the souls in the Underworld as their queen. This way, I will meet them all and will abandon no one. I will be with my king half the year. I will be with my mother the other half. The time will be equal, and so will the seasons be on Earth. A season of growth and a season of honoring the dead.”
“I will have access to scry with my love then,” Hades states and yet it is a question directed at my father.
“It will be arranged,” he answers easily. With that Hades relents.
“And so it will be,” I finish, and lower my hand.
All the realms seem to hold their breath.
There is not a sound in the room. I swallow my fear that all that I have said will not be enough. That the gods and goddesses will disagree, dooming the realms to centuries of pain and death.
But then my father lifts his chin. “And so it will be,” he says, sealing this promise. Making it a sealed law.
The rest of the gods and goddesses follow his word.
And so it will be. Although all three of them stare at me with unanswered questions.
“It is done.” My father’s statement ends the courts, but it does not at all feel like an ending.