Chapter Four
Persephone
Gossamer curtains breathed in the window, expanding and contracting in time with the breeze from the ajar window. I timed my breathing to it in an attempt to quell my fidgeting, though my leg still bounced in place on the ball of my foot.
“You look perfect, Persephone,” Mother crooned as she placed the final bloom in my laurel, the white daisies contrasting my dark hair.
I beamed, her words making my chest swell with pride, though it felt hollow in the wake of today.
Hades take me. Today, I met my father officially.
Not hidden away, not behind closed doors or hushed whispers.
Today I met the entire Pantheon. Of course, Mother had prepared me for months, quizzing me endlessly about the gods and goddesses—albeit against her will, but even she couldn’t go against the King of the Gods—on names and faces and abilities and the wealth of lore surrounding them, but I still felt woefully out of my depth.
It had been a battle, even when Zeus had demanded my attendance to his latest revel.
The first goddess born after the Titanomachy, he’d said.
I’d need to debut. I’d need to experience Olympus as a goddess.
I couldn’t contain my excitement when he’d shown up out of the blue any more than Mother had contained her fury, citing my desire for the maidenhood would stop my needing to debut in Olympus.
I’d never left the mortal realm. But now that spring had leeched into summer, my magic wasn’t needed so much, and Zeus insisted that time in Olympus was necessary, and while my mother didn’t agree, even the mighty Demeter could not argue with the King of the Gods, not without severe consequences.
“What if I forget their names?” The words fell out before I could stop them.
My feet moved of their own volition, carrying me over the already worn wood floors with trepidation challenging my excitement.
“What if I just embarrass myself?” Mother glided over to me, her arms outstretched to straighten the floral vines entwined in my hair.
Each bloom perked up at her proximity, like a sunflower reaching for the sun.
“You are a daughter of a king,” she said, her warm hands dropping to my shoulders to give a firm squeeze. “And you are my daughter. You have much strength in you. Besides, we’re going to a party to welcome you to Olympus, not war.”
“I’ve never been to a big party,” I mused, returning my attention to the mirror, studying my reflection, wondering if the fashions were very different in Olympus.
If I would stick out horrendously. I’d never even really been to a party here in the mortal realm, mortals and nymphs alike too afraid of my mother to risk socializing with me too much.
Long I had watched from my gardens as they mingled, clamping down on the ache in my chest.
But tonight, I’d be with other gods and goddesses.
Maybe tonight, I wouldn’t feel so alone.
Maybe just for tonight, I wouldn’t be just Demeter’s timid daughter—I’d be Persephone. I could step out of Mother’s shadow, even if only for tonight.
My mother finished perfecting my hair until not even a single strand dared to be out of place. Perfect, pristine white daisies wreathing my dark curls were beautiful, but so predictably manicured.
“It’s time.” Mother’s smile was glued in place, but the tension between her brows was telltale.
She wanted no part of this. No part of me in Olympus.
If she had her way, I'd join the Maidenhood, forgoing men, the way Artemis and Athena did before me.
It sounded even more lonely, like the click of a lock, sealing my fate.
I turned away, refusing to allow my guilt to be a factor.
Just for tonight. If I could just have tonight, I could go back to being the dutiful daughter. I just want to live tonight.
Mother tossed the invitation Zeus sent, which resembled lightning caught beneath pristine, ever-clear glass.
It sparked and spun within, as if searching for a way out, doomed never to succeed.
Fractals of light bounced, preceding the shattering of the glass.
I closed my eyes, waiting for the lightning to overpower the space, but instead of a violent crash of light, a gentle hum and warm glow juxtaposed the strange scent of singed timber and an oncoming thunderstorm coaxed me to open my eyes.
A portal. The shattering glass opened a portal.
That same hand that had conjured it came up to grasp mine with a gentle squeeze when I found myself staring into the golden with hesitation. Was I ready for this?
“Together, daughter.”
A crescent moon wreathed in pink-tinged clouds looked over a vast city of white and gold.
A breath here felt lighter than the mortal realm, cleaner, and more refreshing.
The last streaks of coral sunset stained the light stone in watercolor hues of pink and purple, with the first dusting of stars wheeling overhead in the thrall of dusk.
Ahead, up a mountain of narrow, unforgiving stairs, was Mount Olympus.
Even from here, I could see it was massive, floating gently in the air, connected to this place only by those stairs.
What caught my eye and made my heart beat a shade faster were the gardens that flowed over the edge, colors bursting forth amidst the green and stone.
“It’s incredible,” I breathed, my words otherwise failing me. Olympus had a vibration to it that refused to be ignored, drawing you in with every step closer. I couldn’t look away even if I’d wanted to.
“I knew you’d like it.” Mother failed to hide her dismay, taking my hand and beginning up the rows of steps. Dismay I intentionally ignored.
“Why did you never let me come before now?” I asked the question almost absently, my mind slow to take in every stunning detail, watching from the corner of my eye as my mother’s jaw clenched tight on her answer.
The first slash of darkness in what was otherwise paradise.
She never had a straight answer. She claimed the gods were evil.
That this place, as beautiful as it was, was full of monsters.
Zeus. Hera. Hades—especially Hades. She never deigned to give me specifics with her warnings, but hatred that saturates the being so completely must have a reason.
I swallowed thickly, excitement warring dangerously with my chaotically nervous energy.
Was anyone truly evil?
Hades
I glared at the King of the Gods as he leered at yet another nymph at the revels.
Hera stood in the backdrop, teetering between bursting into tears and bursting him into pieces.
It was amazing to see him do the same thing over and over again.
How Hera hadn’t murdered him was beyond every single deity here, the goddesses especially.
Each sympathetic glance to Hera, each supportive touch was enough to convey that message.
I supposed being the King of the Gods had its advantages.
Like a child with no attention span, Zeus’s attention was taken when a familiar scowling face drifted toward him.
Demeter. Surprise flared through me, raising my eyebrows.
I hadn’t seen her at a revel in centuries.
And at her side, a petite form cast in the god’s subtle golden glow, was a girl.
A wide-eyed goddess vibrating with a nervous excitement I could feel from here.
If Demeter were a hurricane in progress, this creature next to her was sunshine incarnate, the warm smile she wore full of hope and wonder.
“She’s lovely, isn’t she?” Of course, Apollo would notice any new and remotely pretty thing. A god with almost no standards. “Looking like a stumbling, lost doe.”
Said the predator of the prey.
“You think anything is pretty so long as it’s capable of servicing your needs.” My tone was blander than the concoction he shoved into my hand with a cheerful expression. I eyed the chalice's contents dubiously before taking a resigned sip.
Apollo wasn’t wrong about her loveliness. Dark hair wreathed with flower petals, the scent of amber and gardenia hit me from even here, and big green eyes that matched her dress taking everything in. Maybe it was my proximity to the dead, but she just looked so—alive.
She didn’t look lost, like Apollo said. She looked overwhelmed.
How could she not be? Demeter kept her in the mortal world for so long, and Olympus was an entirely different beast. Her head spun on a swivel in a vain attempt to take in the surrounding splendor that could never be matched in the mortal realm.
“Her eyes are like the springtime.” Apollo sounded so smitten I couldn’t help the cringe that took over my body.
But he was also wrong. They weren’t spring green.
There was a touch of grey there. They were storm-meadow green, bringing to mind a forested glen in the wake of a treacherous oncoming storm.
“She’s probably terrified, poor thing.” He mused without the smallest bit of sincerity, narrowed eyes focused on her. “Maybe she could use a rescue.”
“From you? Definitely.” I pulled his ear to stop his gawking just as her head turned in our direction.
The wonder on her face morphed into something I recognized all too well.
Hesitation. Not fear, but a definite wariness lay there plain as day.
Demeter caught my eye with a warning glare before leaning down to whisper something into her daughter’s ear.
The young goddess nodded to her mother, her gaze still guarded.
Though if her attention was lukewarm, her mother’s was glacial as she pushed her daughter past us towards the spot where Zeus waited with open arms.
Apollo blinked, looking between them and me. “The fuck did you do?”
I sighed as a shrugged. “Demeter doesn’t like me much.”
“To be fair,” Apollo said between sips of his drink, “Demeter hates everyone. Though admittedly that seemed cold even for her.”
It was true Demeter hated most of us and thus kept her daughter away from Olympus and tucked safely away in the mortal realm.
It was only by Zeus’s command and threat of severe punishment that Demeter had brought her daughter, though by the look on her daughter’s face and the vibrations of excitement I could feel from her, only one party was disappointed with the arrangement.
“What did you say her name was?” I asked. Apollos lopsided grin answered, and I regretted my question immediately.
“Does Hades have a little crush?” His knuckles grazed my shoulder in jest. “She’s your exact opposite, Hades. I can’t even try to picture that working.”
“Good thing I don’t care. About her, or what you have to say. I just wanted to know her name.”
Apollo sipped his drink again, maintaining eye contact with me, his large, loud gulps dragging at my patience. Apollo’s sigh of contentment, loud for dramatic effect, grated on my nerves. “Persephone,” he finally said. “I think her name is Persephone.”
“Persephone,” I mulled over the word. Death Bringer.
The complete opposite of the picture of innocence I was just given.
The opposition intrigued me, more than I cared to admit.
The other gods and goddesses’ eyes are always narrowed, assessing, looking for the next thing to wield against the other.
A simple slip of the tongue could result in a loss of standing, or signal a rise of your own if your play the game right. But her?
Her eyes were wide like saucers, taking in every detail. Little doe-eyed Persephone was in over her head being here.
What’s your story, little Persephone?