The veil is heavy with the weight of the flowers but I feel swathed in the love that threaded them. Cyane is here with me and I know somewhere by her river she is thinking of me. The nymphs are probably discussing me right now, speculating and giggling at my happiness.
It’s almost enough to make me step forward but I can sense the gods on the other side of the doors, and a tingle on my neck tells me to run.
Then something cuts through, like a sense of calm.
I am fine. I am safe.
But Hades isn’t. He’s in that room and so is my father.
And, if I don’t marry Hades, Father will do unspeakable things to him. Father’s threats to tear him limb from limb are not exaggeration. He has done far worse before. I would not be surprised to learn of pits in the four corners of the world prepared for Father to scatter Hades in.
My nails tighten on the bouquet in my hand and with fury in my veins I step forward.
This should be about desire. It should be about love. It should be about choice.
But weddings are sales transactions. They are about control. I cannot be the only one for whom the thought has always been a nightmare.
So I’m going to marry this man.
I desire him. I love him. I choose him.
I love this realm. And I choose these people.
But it doesn’t matter.
Because what I desire most is power.
So I step forward.
I’m going to marry Hades and claim what is mine. I am going to reward and punish the dead, but, more than that, I will inspire and I will strike fear until the mortals above pay attention. It might take generations, but the humans will no longer love or fear my father – they will laugh at him, scorn him for his lack of self-control. They will turn from the gods and they will forge their own paths.
And it will be because ofme.
I step forward.
In time my name will be more revered than my father’s, and the mortals shall value freedom above all else.
And maybe there will always be people who make life worse for others.
But I will always be here to give those others sanctuary and apologize that I could not do it sooner.
I step forward.
I snap my fingers and the doors fling open.
The courtyard has been transformed into a paradise. I feel like I should take notes for the human afterlife I’m creating. My flowers glow like torches, their power pulsing, swarminground the guests to remind them just who I am. And soon they will discover that I am so much more.
I can see perfectly, despite the flowers in my veil. But the crowd can’t see me.
So I stare unapologetically as I walk down the aisle, surrounded by gods I have not seen in years. The members of my court are so easy to spot among the gods of Olympus. They smile proudly, basking in having the upper hand and glancing at the Olympians, who stand uncertainly with wry smiles.
I pass Aphrodite, who runs her eyes up and down my dress with fury. She whispers to Hephaestus, no doubt demanding he find the source.
Ares glowers sullenly – exactly the kind of husband I was trying to avoid. If I needed one more sign I am making the right choice, the god of war is providing it.
Hestia and Hermes grin beside each other, Hestia warmly and Hermes with the impish delight of being in on a joke.
Dionysus holds his spectacles to his eyes like he is at the theatre. I wonder if the god of drama senses all the performances I have given so far – and whether he is judging the greatest one of my life.
