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Elektra just wiggled her eyebrows at her, tossing a berry into her open mouth.
“Is Pelops really worth being married to the King of the Dead?” Melia interrupted, shuddering dramatically.
Persephone’s head snapped up at her, seething. “Of course he is. He’s worth everything.”
“Your life?” Melia countered.
“She isn’t a child anymore, Melia. She can make her own decisions without our input. It is her life, we just get to tag along for the ride,” she said firmly. “Now, most importantly,” she faced Persephone, “do you think your mom will do that braid for me at the ceremony?”
Persephone shoved her away by the shoulder, but laughed. “Not a chance. She could never risk you upstaging her with her own style.”
Elektra snorted, choking the small sip of wine she’d just drained from her glass. Red sprayed from her nose, misting Persephone’s view of her.
As they circled the courtyard, Persephone couldn’t help taking it all in as if she may never see it again. It was silly since she would only be gone for six months at a time, but she had lived here all her life.
The red roses lined the edges of the interior garden, their thorns snagging gently on thechitonaround her legs. Orange and yellow lilies, pale purple crocuses, and white narcissus were littered throughout the garden, interspersed between trees of all heights and painted rocks for decoration. Her mother had even added a tiny bronze chair and a tree stump she’d cut and shaped herself. Not that she allowed anyone to actually sit on them.
Committing the crunch of rocks against stone under her feet to memory, Persephone walked to the center of the courtyard, staring through the long corridor that led to the back of the house. The wheat field beyond the stone fence swayed in the wind, like an ocean of liquid gold.
The scent of the flowers behind her was nothing compared to the smell of freshly turned soil and the fresh breeze rolling up to the cottage from the trees that surrounded the hill.
She walked down the corridor, the wind at her back pushing her forward, toward the vine covered arch at the end. Her mother had left a small bundle of flowers near the base of the arch, beside a basket of fruit she must have picked this morning, the sun warming them enough to add a faint fruity perfume as she walked through.
Tears had wet her cheeks and dripped onto her chest by the time she was at the short wall, leaning her elbows on the hot stones. She dropped her head into her hands, silently weeping into them, letting the world slip away.
Her nose was filled with a pleasant, honey-sweet smell as a hand dropped gently onto her back, rubbing comforting circles around and around as she cried. Melia wrapped her arms around Persephone and rested her cheek against her shaking shoulder. Elektra must have moved closer as well, not touching Persephone, but a soft, airy feeling of contentment settled over her, and she knew Elektra was close by too.
“Thanks,” she said, her voice a whispered croak. She stood up straight, breathing out through pursing lips and wiped her face and neck, destroying the evidence of her feelings. She forced a smile that most definitely didn’t reach her eyes and choked out a final, sad sob. “Thanks,” she said again, more clear and convincing this time. “Do you think I can be happy with him?” She sniffled.
“Who doesn’t love a bad boy?” Elektra offered, leaning on the wall beside her now.
Persephone nodded once, not entirely convinced that was enough.
“I bet he’s actually a good person underneath his hard, cocky exterior he shows everyone. I bet he doesn’t even actually torture the souls and only says he does to keep the Olympians out of his business. I know how much I hate when my siblings stick their noses where they don’t belong.”
That could be true. If Persephone had any siblings she would probably feel the same way, and with how often both Elektra and Melia had something negative to say about the other, she wouldn’t be too surprised if it was true. Especially since they exiled him from the Olympian Family to the Land of the Dead.
He’d probably acclimated to the Underworld in all these centuries and has gotten used to his particular, isolated way of living. Persephone didn’t think she would ever get used to the Underworld, but it was possible he had. It was his home, after all.
“I doubt that. He’s lives with and tortures the dead, and there are horrible humans among them, if anything living down there would have made him worse.” Melia interrupted Persephone’s thoughts. “And why should he care if his siblings come snooping around his business? It isn’t like he couldn’t banish them from his realm. He’s obviously incredibly powerful—”
“The most powerful of all the gods, really,” Elektra said. “Mortals won’t dare speak his name, we won’t even speak his name. None of the gods do. And half the time the Underworld is referred to as his name. Show me another god with that influence.”
“Yes, he’s powerful. Which is just another reason that Persephone shouldn’t go through with this! He’s cocky and selfish and spoiled. He gets what he wants, when he wants all because he has this immense, unimaginable power that he’s had decades – no, centuries to control and manipulate and understand,” Melia yelled at her sister. “And he’s King of the Dead!” She smacked the top of the wall in emphasis. “That cannot be a good sign.”
Elektra ignored her and turned to Persephone, flicking her hair over her shoulder, and studied her. “You two would make beautiful babies.”
Melia groaned with disgust and walked back to the arch, grabbing a fig from the basket and biting into it with enough force that Persephone heard her teeth clang together as she bit through it. She chewed angrily and held up a finger signaling them to wait before speaking again. When she finally swallowed she said, “Can he even have children?”
“Of course, he can. He’s the god of fertility.”
“Of the land. That doesn’t necessarily correspond to being able to bare offspring.” She popped the rest of the fruit into her mouth, speaking around it, she finished, “He has no children.”
They fell silent, thinking about Melia’s point.
“And,” she continued, “he’s the god of death. That doesn’t exactly scream ‘I can have children’ to me.”
“Technically, he’s just the god of the Underworld and it’s occupants, Death is Thanatos’ area of expertise,” Elektra said pointedly. When Persephone still hadn’t said anything, she said, “Who cares about kids? Have you seen his hair?”
