It took a great deal of warm water and scrubbing to remove all of the ichor from Persephone’s face and hair. Afterward, she lay on her (admittedly comfortable) bed, staring at the painted swans on the ceiling.
This was not where she had expected to be.
Her morning had been so full of hope and anticipation. Now, there was only an eternity of the underworld before her; that and the memory of Pirithous’s sightless eyes boring into her soul.
Persephone curled up in her sheets and cried herself to sleep.
Xenia woke her some time later. “Begging your pardon, mistress, but Queen Hades desires your presence.”
Persephone was tempted to disappear under the covers, but she knew no good would come of it. Still, she protested. “Now?” The window was dark, so it had to be night.
“Yes, mistress.”
Persephone emerged from her nest of blankets and pulled a fresh chiton over her head. “Where is she?”
“In her rooms.”
Persephone’s pulse quickened. She turned her head to hide her blush. “Thank you.”
Xenia nodded and left her.
Persephone had slept in her wet braid; there was really nothing to be done about her hair. She caught sight of her own reflection and winced. Bruises blossomed on her arms and shoulders, with more on her legs and hips, courtesy of her misadventures in the storage chest. She tossed a himation over her shoulders, wrapping it closely around her neck.
She opened the door between their rooms. Hades was sitting at her writing desk, as usual, her reed pen scratching away. The desk faced away from Persephone, such that Hades’ back was slightly turned to her.
Persephone stood in the doorway for some time. Hades had also changed out of her bloodstained clothes and was wearing once more a chiton that seemed to be made of pure shadow.
After what felt like a candle mark had passed, Hades set down her pen, turned and looked at her. “That will not do. You must knock.” She gestured. “Try again.”
Persephone looked at the door, then back at Hades. “You asked for my presence.”
“I insist.”
Throwing her hands up, Persephone stepped back into her own room and closed the door. She hesitated, feeling foolish, then rapped upon the door with her fist.
“Enter.”
Persephone did so, closing the door behind her this time.
“Do you know why I asked you to do that?” Hades asked, still seated.
The only boundaries you care about are the ones you set. “Your rooms are your own, and I’m here upon your sufferance.”
“Yes, and?”
Persephone’s face grew hot. Were they really doing this? She was a goddess grown, not an errant child needing a lesson! “And you want to remind me that you feel the need to control everything.”
Hades paused for a moment. “Not everything.”
“Me, then. You feel the need to control me.”
“The gardener tends his plants to grow in a manner that is pleasing to the eye, does he not?”
“I can’t fit the shape you’re training me for.”
“We shall see.” Hades folded her hands in her lap. The index finger of her sword arm was black with carbon ink. “People look to you, Persephone. They notice how I treat you. You cannot be above the law.”
“Your law.”
“My laws, and the ancient laws inherited from those who came before us.”
“Before us? You mean Gaia?” Persephone asked.
“I mean the gods that humans worshiped before Gaia. Before Chaos, before Nyx.”
Persephone pressed her hand to her mouth. That was a form of blasphemy, to say that Chaos was not at the beginning of the universe. But she could not stop the question that slipped from her lips. “What gods?”
Hades shook her head. “Deities beyond counting, long forgotten. One day our time will come, and we too will be forgotten. No more worshipers; no more sacrifices.”
For once, Persephone was grateful they were in the underworld. If anyone else had heard such treacherous words pass Hades’ lips... she did not wish to think of what might have befallen her. “But... we are their gods.”
“For a time, yes. And for that time to continue, we must fulfill our sacred duties, lest we be forgotten.”
“What about my duty?” Persephone asked. “How can I usher in spring from beneath the earth?”
Hades smiled. “There was a time before you. Your mother will have to bear that burden once more.”
Her mother... She had scarcely thought of Demeter in the last few days. “She will be greatly displeased,” she whispered.
Hades sighed. “Enough. On your knees and tell me, from the beginning, what happened this morning.”
Persephone trembled, her hands forming fists by her sides.
Hades pursed her lips. “In the overworld, you had no issue with proskynesis.”
“That was before I knew what you were.”
“And what am I?”
Persephone looked away. She could not say it. She was too weak of will.
Hades pushed her chair back and stood, walking over to her. She took Persephone’s chin in her hand, redirecting her gaze. “Name me, Persephone.”
She made herself look into Hades’ eyes, which were as black as Erebus. “Hades, Queen of the Underworld, daughter of Kronos and Rhea.”
“And?”
“And my wife,” Persephone said in a whisper.
“And?”
“My abductor, and my defiler!”
Hades released her.
Persephone fell to her knees, her arms outstretched before her. “Please, my queen, I beg of you, don’t keep me here. Don’t confine me in this sunless land, this starless night. I will be your wife in name—your courtesan—your slave—but please, please! I can’t bear it here. I can’t,” she sobbed, her voice choking up with tears.
Hades was silent for some time. When at last she spoke, her voice held all the sorrow of the Vale of Mourning. “Then you must learn to suffer well, my sweet Persephone.”
Persephone pressed her forehead against the floor and cried, wondering if she would ever feel the earth beneath her feet once more. Her soul ached for the touch of overworld soil, for the heat of the sun across her back.
“I cannot say that I regret my actions,” Hades said, far above her. “But I have done you harm. I could not wait for you to love me. It is not the way of the gods.”
Persephone rocked back on her heels and wiped a hand across her face. “You’re not a god.”
“No,” Hades said bitterly. “I fall under greater scrutiny. People expect more and are less forgiving.” Her voice softened. “I cannot show mercy, not even to you. They would consume me if they knew.”
“Knew what?”
Hades knelt beside her and covered Persephone’s hand with her own. “How precious you are to me.”
Persephone drew her hand back and wrapped her arms around herself.
Hades stood, the dark folds of her chiton sighing around her. “I will not ask for your forgiveness, nor your understanding. Believe what you may, but I never wished for you to suffer.”
As an apology, it wasn’t much, but it was more than what another god might have offered her. She hadn’t been taught to expect any more.
“You hurt me,” Persephone whispered.
“I know.”
Was it always to be like this, her on her knees, Hades above her, somewhere in the periphery of her vision? Would she always feel this hollow inside?
Hades sat on the end of the bed, the frame creaking under her weight. She steepled her fingers, pressing her lips to them before glancing up. “I will grant you a favor, as my penance. I relinquish my marital rights; I will not force you into our marriage bed. If you wish to join with me, it will be of your own choosing.”
Persephone turned her head so that she could see Hades through her tears. “And if that time never comes?”
“Then we shall both be poorer for it.”
She didn’t believe her. It had to be some kind of trick.
Hades stood, walking toward her. Persephone stiffened, but Hades merely leaned over and unwrapped her himation, sliding it off her shoulders. She tossed it aside. “Tell me what happened today. You might as well start with how you acquired those bruises.”
Persephone glanced aside, shivering a little, the fine hairs on her arms standing up. Still on her knees, she told Hades it was merely the result of being trapped in the storage chest on the wagon. Then she backtracked and started with seeing Theseus near the library, working down all the way to when she climbed out of the box to find Pirithous’s head rolling at her feet.
One thing bothered her. “How did you find me so quickly?” Persephone asked.
Hades was facing away from her at this point, staring out of the window with her hands clasped behind her back. Brooding, Persephone supposed. The view certainly didn’t warrant such close inspection.
Hades turned and gestured toward her neck. “That chain. I had it enspelled by one of our sorceresses. All the best and brightest of humankind make their way to my domain, sooner or later.”
A charm? Persephone’s hand went to her necklace, the necklace for which there seemed to be no clasp. “It won’t come off.”
“As intended.”
Even if she reached the surface, she would never be free. Not until she could find someone talented enough to remove it.
“You poisoned my hound,” Hades said. “My houndmaster tells me it may take years to recover his training.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Are you?”
Perhaps Lethe’s water would make it easier for her to bypass Cerberus a third time, if she ever had the chance to try. She could not truly be sorry for that. “I had to,” Persephone said.
Hades nodded, apparently satisfied with her honesty. “Zeus and Poseidon will be unhappy to hear of their children’s misdeeds, but considering the circumstances I am well within my rights to punish them. However, these kinds of incidents must be handled delicately.” Hades leaned her back against the window frame, her arms crossed over her chest, one of them bandaged at the bicep. “As for your punishment—”
“My punishment?”
“Yes, your punishment. I haven’t decided—”
“But why?” Persephone asked, her eyes filling again with tears. Hadn’t she been punished enough?
Hades was clearly not accustomed to being interrupted, but after a moment’s pause she went on. “You are not above the law, my dear. No one is permitted to leave the underworld without permission.”
“Not even you?”
“I cannot move as freely as my brothers.” Hades stepped away from the window, pacing across the floor. “It was the only way they would allow a goddess to rule,” she said with venom in her voice. “Did you think I chose this fate? To be feared by gods and mortals alike, to be loathed for the judgments I am duty-bound to make?”
Persephone shrank back from Hades’ anger, even though she knew she was not its target.
Hades took a breath and continued, more quietly. “I expose myself beneath Zeus’s sky for only three reasons: when performing my duties, by invitation, or by negotiation.”
“But when you took me—the cave—”
“That place was liminal, in neutral territory. There are many such spaces, some beneath the depths of the ocean, others scattered high and low.” Hades looked at her sideways. “It was fate that brought you there to me.”
Fate? No, no; it was a coincidence. Wasn’t it? First Demeter’s fields rejecting her, then the narcissus. She should’ve known it wasn’t right; should’ve felt... something.
Hades glanced at the burning stumps of the candles. “The evening grows late, and you must rest.” She waved her hand in a clear dismissal.
She was leaving her alone? Truly? Persephone gaped, but it seemed Hades had no more use for her that night. Hades turned her back on her, sitting down at her writing desk and dipping her pen into ink.
Persephone rose from her knees and fled.