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Twenty-one years locked in a cage. What kind of god am I to not see the truth sooner?
To let three witches play such wicked games on my mountain?
"Don't kill them," Persephone says in a whisper. Her daughters surround her, so much strength, so much glory. We've missed so much. "Gaia is already gone. That is enough death for one day."
"So, we let them go? Ares asks. "After all they did to us? After all they took from us?"
Persephone shakes her head. "No. They should pay."
The Fates are hysterical in the corner, but none of us pay them any mind.
"I have an idea," she says. "Hades, could we make a deal?"
20
Hades
The chill that has covered me for twenty-one years begins to thaw. For the first time in two decades, the frost around my heart begins to melt.
After everything, Persephone still reaches for me.
She chooses me after we cast her away.
The Fates took so much from us. Yet, she chooses to withhold the ultimate punishment, one they surely deserve. One, in truth, we all deserve.
We tried to kill our own daughters because of their wicked spell.
Shame rushes over me at how twisted I allowed my heart to become. How fooled. After spending eternity in the Underworld, I have learned a few things about black magic. Specifically, only those with jealousy already brewing in their hearts are susceptible to such dark magic.
In some ways, the four of us must have harbored some fear in order to let ourselves succumb to such ruin.
"Anything, Persephone. But I won't make a deal with you." I fall to my knees, desperate for her to believe how sorry I am. "Anything you want, I will give."
Tennyson looks down at me, shock written in her eyes. But then tears begin to fall down her cheeks as she watches Persephone reach down, cupping my cheek with her hand. "Maybe it is too cruel, but it's the only way I can see how to save my oldest friend. Send the Fates to River Styx and allow Gaia to stay in their place."
"Your will is done," I say without hesitation. I know time is of the essence, and not just for Harlow, who is close to delivering her babies, but also for Gaia, who has been straddling life and death for longer than is safe.
But there is still time to bring her back from Styx, to deliver her heart, mind, and soul here to Olympus.
The Fates scream, begging me to reconsider, but I reach for them, my arms wrapping around their frail frames, but I can't take them to Styx. It isn't my place to go there, it's why Tennyson was safe there for so long.
"I'll take them for you," she offers, her face bright. "It's my pleasure, really." She gives me a look that could kill.
Persephone squeezes her daughter’s hand. "Hurry back. You're about to become an auntie."
Then Tennyson asks Remedy for a surge of wind to draw the Fates to her, she then asks Harlow to make a fishing net -- which she manages to conjure between her contractions -- and she wraps the Fates in it, then she requests Lark to fly her to the River's edge.
The girls work in harmony and then Lark and Tennyson are gone. Persephone sends Remedy to get their harems, knowing Harlow’s partners need to get here before she delivers her babies. And Gaia won't return to the land of living until Tennyson and Lark have deposited the Fates.
"Is there anything you goddesses can't do?" Ares asks, clearly stunned by our daughters' prowess.
Persephone steps toward us. "I think we've got it pretty well covered," she says. And for a moment I think that means she has no need for us. "But there is one more thing you can do for me."
"What is it?" Zeus asks.
She crosses her arms. "You can say you're sorry."
21
Persephone
"Of course, I am sorry," Hades says, sincerity filling his eyes. "More than anything in the world, I'm sorry."
His words hit home. It feels so good to hear him say them. But I don't need any of them to grovel.
Still, the idea of all of them on their knees, begging for my forgiveness, isn't exactly unappealing either.
Twenty-one years is a long time to pay for a crime you never committed.
Before they are able to properly apologize, though, Harlow begins to progress in her labor. She needs me.
"It's okay, Harlow," I tell her. I rush to her side and drop to my knees. I run a hand over her brow, then yell for a glass of ice water and some ice chips. Poseidon snaps his fingers, and immediately he procures what our daughter needs.
He is the God of water, after all. He brings me the ice chips and the cool glass of water. I offer the soothing drink to our daughter, who sips it readily.
