Chapter Five
Persephone
My mother, to her credit, gave me the space I had asked for now that we were in Olympus, though I still felt her ever-watchful eyes on me, like a shadow that persisted even in the brightest of lights.
Demeter hung back, always in my sight, but giving me the gift of space to enjoy the splendor of Olympus on my own terms, something I knew was difficult for her.
I didn’t know what I had expected. The nymphs and mortals back home often sought my presence as a goddess, but the gods and goddesses here beheld me as though I were a conundrum.
A strange surprise, completely unanticipated, and as such their curiosity flared strong and vivid before falling off altogether.
I couldn’t tell if I felt dismayed or relieved.
There was something other about each one of them.
It wasn’t just the subtle glow of their skin, the radiance of their eyes that marked them—or maybe showcased was a better term—their deity status, leaving doubt or disbelief of where I was in its wake.
It wasn’t the ethereally fine clothing, soft, yet cloyingly clinging.
The strangest thing was the grace and fluidity with which they moved, the end of one movement began the next seamlessly.
No mortal, no nymph moved that way. While I was used to it from Mother and myself, being surrounded by others was a riveting experience.
For the first time in my life, I was among the gods and goddesses like me.
For the first time, I felt like I could finally put the lifelong yearning behind me.
I felt as though I could be home.
I already wondered if I could talk Zeus into ordering mother to extend my stay here.
I took the moment to refill my drink, politely thanking Dionysus for the wine before searching for my father in his throng of gods and goddesses eager to win his favor.
I spotted Hera through the shifting bodies, her warm gaze turning from Hestia at her side to a freezing glare when it landed on me, resulting in a chill that was a surprise to nobody.
Yikes.
Maybe not right now. I’d wait until closer to the end of the revel, when the crowd was thinner, and perhaps Hera less... violence prone towards me. Her gaze flared into that of warning when my eyes slid to my father, his booming laughter thundering over the crowd. I cast a pleading look to Hera.
I just want to know my father.
Hera’s face flushed red, as though she were holding herself back from propelling towards me armed with spite and rage, and I had a feeling that was more than enough.
Feeling stifled, as if the air were too close.
The bodies swaying around me began to close in, bringing the first spark of unease blooming ugly thorns in my chest.
Apollo’s music swelled and calmed incrementally, all of it so beautiful, so moving, it was hard to keep my feet from moving or my hips from swaying of their own accord.
Sipping the wine was to sip excellence in all its exquisiteness, sweet and refreshing and with almost no burn.
Looking around, I saw others dancing to the music with reckless abandon, cavorting in such a way, either by themselves or with each other.
Their dance was hypnotic to me, their commitment to every beautiful movement made it difficult to look away.
“Your father spoke of your beauty, Persephone.” A sinfully smooth voice from behind me abruptly shattered my reverie.
“But even speaking in such grandeur, it seems he failed to do you justice.” I spun in time to witness the new god mother had told me about as he bowed at the waist to me.
He was incredibly striking. I remembered him from mother's tutelage. New to the pantheon, though how a god can be new without being born was beyond me. I glanced at him as I struggled to recall anything I had been taught about him, refusing to accept coming up blank. The black of his attire offset the lightness of his moonlight-colored hair and full, red lips twisting upwards to high cheekbones. I waved his kindness off with a flattered smile. “My apologies, I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“Surely, you exaggerate, Morningstar, though I appreciate your kindness,” I said, my entire being perking up, coming alive at his proximity.
The Morningstar had a certain magnetism about him, something akin to the moment a spark turns to flame, the moment lightning strikes.
It was electric and left your body vibrating with its desire for more.
For all mother’s quizzing, this was the god I understood the least. The mortals who revered him had a strange way of living and dying.
They lived to please him, to serve him, and when their lives were finished, they rested not in a necropolis, not in ashes, but interred in the ground. To rest, they say.
How can anyone rest like that? I found myself growing flowers in their gloomy resting places, hoping it would cheer those left behind.
Now I stand before him, overwhelmed with the burning desire to ask my questions, but biting them all back.
Of all the gods I wished to not offend, the one I was least educated on would be the one.
The one mother said was capacious and shrewd.
Even from here I watched mother’s gaze sharpen, but blessedly made no move closer to me.
“Would you hold it against me if I asked you to return that kindness with a dance?” Through waggling eyebrows, a roguish grin, and the mischief that lay within those onyx eyes, visible in brief flickers from the party lights, his charm had allowed me to relax truly at last. With a giddy grin and a sip of wine to embolden me, I took his outstretched hand as he led me to the dance floor.
Was mother wrong about the Morningstar? He seemed charming enough.
Spinning me into a circle before pulling me close, closer than I’d ever been to a male before, it was hard to tell if I were dizzy from the twirl or from his proximity.
His lips twitched into a haughty grin just shy of my ear, as if he somehow knew, but I couldn’t find it in me to care.
I was doing it. I was dancing in Olympus.
I was part of the revels I’d dreamed about.
Joy radiated warmth through my body, my extremities, making my feet light and my smile wide.
“Your joy is a sight to behold, little goddess,” the Morningstar crooned into my ear, centering me once again in the moment. We moved together, our feet forever finding new ground as we spun together, somehow in sync with other couples around us.
“I was nervous to see Olympus for the first time,” I admitted, trying not to sound as bashful as I felt.
For once, I didn’t want to be seen as the little girl my mother often saw me as, I wanted to be calm, certain.
Self-assured. Someone who wasn’t fazed by the party, the lights, the music, tables draped with more food than could possibly be consumed, the revelry.
Squaring my shoulders, I added quickly, “Thank you for the dance. It’s made tonight all the more magical.
I never imagined I’d get to dance in Olympus. ”
“And here you are.” His breath along my nape sent a shiver down my spine as the music swelled once again to its climax.
His lips grazed my shoulders, making me shiver.
“Grab my shoulders.” I was only given a brief moment to comply before his hands dipped to my hips and he hoisted me into the air as we spun, spilling laughter from my lips I couldn’t stop even if I tried.
I tipped my head back, letting the joy of the moment fill me to the brim. “You are radiance itself, Persephone.”
A blush warmed my cheeks as he set me down after the notes of the melody dwindled to a final, haunting note that seemed to momentarily splice the frivolity with an unexpected somberness.
Cheers erupted, sending that somberness back to whence it came.
With a cheer of my own I stepped out of the arms that enveloped me.
“Thank you again for the dance, Morningstar.” Turning to the table of flowing drinks, I grabbed two and offered one to him with a polite smile.
“I hope this is the start of us being friends.”
His eyes darkened over his chalice, the gold glinting of something deep in his shadowed gaze. “Just friends, little goddess?” I sputtered and choked on my drink as my mind raced for anything to say. “Is it really this easy to redden those cheeks?”
I sipped my drink, forcing space between his face and my own while I struggled to come up with any kind of a response. “Usually mentions of my dance moves will do that particular trick.”
“She does tricks too?” He mused, “A goddess of surprises, indeed.”
“Morningstar!” A voice called over the din, making us both turn.
I didn’t miss the dark look that dawned on the god’s face.
It was just for a moment, a mask slipping and being readjusted, so brief I didn’t quite trust my perception, but the flash of anger made me jump.
If he noticed, he didn’t betray it as we turned to Artemis and Apollo approaching with another goddess I didn’t recognize.
I racked my brain, trying hard to remember all the faces and names, but they stubbornly blended together in my mind, and with all the gods and goddesses here, and drunk, who was I to pray to? “Zeus is looking for you!”
I caught my frown before my smile fell into it. Looking for him? I glanced over. Zeus had yet to find me. Did he know I was here?
I was almost nervous to glance up, lest the new god still looked angry, but peeking up from beneath my lashes showed a calm, casual demeanor. He smoothed his hair back with no more hurry than someone on an afternoon stroll. My nerves were clearly getting the better of me.
“Then best not keep him waiting.” His tone was every bit as pleasant as a spring breeze chasing away the lingering chill of winter, driving away my concern from before. Warmth spread through me feeling his hand tenderly hold mine, bringing it to his lips. “Until next time, little goddess.”