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“Okay, but don’t freak out.” Persephone avoided her mother’s eyes and looked to the friends beside her. “Any of you.”
They nodded, and Persephone could feel all three sets of eyes burning into her as she swallowed, trying to find the words to explain.
“I am to marry Hades in one week in exchange for Pelops to be brought back to life.” She paused, expecting the room to fill with their loud voices, yelling at her. When nobody interrupted her or said anything, she took it as an invitation to continue, “I will spend half of the year with him in the Underworld, and the other half up here with you all. I come back every spring, of course, and leave every autumn, just after harvest.” No point telling them that if harvest falls later than usual that she’ll be dragged back to the Underworld by her adoring future husband.
Silence.
Nobody moved. Demeter had thrown open the wooden shutters and was staring out the window, her hand covering her mouth. Persephone wanted to comfort her and tell her she would be okay, but seeing her mother’s eyes glisten with tears was enough to keep her planted in her seat.
“Gods,” Melia said with disgust, her face contorted with it, “this is—”
“Wonderful!”
All three pairs of eyes shot to Demeter, who was now bracing her hands on the window frame, smiling out at the ocean of grass and trees.
“What?”
Demeter turned toward her, the biggest smile Persephone had ever seen plastered on her face. She rushed to Persephone, pushing Melia out of the way so quickly her chair teetered on two legs. Grabbing her daughter’s hands in hers, she said, “Darling, this is great news! Well, it’s quite awful for you,” she said, frowning and patting her knee once and squeezing it in comfort. “To marry the King of the Dead? Of the Underworld? Awful,” she tutted, lightly squeezing her knee once more and tucking a loose curl behind Persephone’s ear, “but think of how much our worship could increase.”
Persephone stared at her mother, dumbfounded. “What?” She repeated.
Demeter sighed lovingly in thought, dropping Persephone’s hands to stand and pour four fresh glasses of wine. As she passed them around she explained, “We will have a new festival, and maybe even a cult for us both. Oh, Persephone I can see it already,” she said, giddy with excitement as she put her wine down and spread her hands in front of her face, staring at the invisible space she’d carved. “Every spring it will be as if you are reborn to the Earth, and mortals will worship us tenfold because they’ll associate us with rebirth and success in the afterlife.” She reached across the table and grabbed Persephone’s forearm. “Because you, my darling daughter, will demonstrate the grandeur a life can have in death!”
“Uh—yeah. I guess that makes sense,” Persephone said quietly, staring at her mother. Out of the corner of her eyes she could see her friends were just as surprised and confused, their mouths hanging open at Demeter.
“Of course it makes sense! It’s perfect! With our worship increased, so will our power. You especially as a queen!” Excitement clung to every word.
This was not the reaction Persephone was expecting. She had never seen her mother so happy, so thrilled, about anything. She herself wasn’t feeling nearly the same amount of joy at the prospect of living half of her life in the Underworld, surrounded by the souls of sad mortals who lives had ended.
Her mother must have been exaggerating her feelings in an attempt to make her feel better, to help her see the silver lining that could come from such a sore match in her husband. Surely her mother could see how much Persephone was dreading the life she had agreed to live.
“We better start planning then,” Persephone said, forcing her smile to reach her eyes.
§
“What do you think about this…situation?” Persephone asked her friends under her breath as they walked out of the kitchen and into the courtyard.
They had been side-eyeing her since Demeter slowly sunk into her wine and plotting. She had shooed them away to “Plan! Plan!” while she calculated their decisions to ensure an increase in their annual worship. Persephone was starting to think that Demeter was thinking narrowly about the entire thing, she didn’t even scold her for making such a rash decision for a mortal that she hated.
Persephone had been so sure that her mother was going to evaporate her on the spot for making a deal with Hades over a boy. She had told Persephone countless times how disappointed she was in her choice of a match, and how she would never approve, never allow the Olympians to grant immortality to Pelops if she dared ask.
It was clear she was only excited because of the benefits it would give her, but Persephone was relieved. On some level, she was sad that her mother didn’t want to help her plan anything and was focused on a new cult that had yet to even be established. But mostly she was glad to have her mind eased, to have this part over without a screaming match.
So the wedding planning was left to be dealt with by Persephone and her friends, alone.
“Are you sure you want to marry him?” Melia’s voice rose an octave.
“Are you looking forward to the sex?” Elektra asked at the same time.
“Yes,” she sighed, “and no.” She lied.
She couldn’t deny the feelings that arose when she was alone with Hades. The tingling of her skin when he had grazed her arm, and the heat that coloured her cheeks when their eyes met. It took all her willpower not to let herself imagine the things he could do to her on that table and against the marble columns.
How his strong arms would look framing her face on her pillow as he slowly—
“As if,” Elektra said, snorting. “You’re picturing it right now.”
Persephone’s eyes widened, “I am not!” But her face and chest had already betrayed her, burning with embarrassment.
