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As soon as she was settled into the water, the water finally not scalding her cold skin as she adjusted to the water, her mother walked in. Stormed in would be more accurate – yelling and pacing, throwing Persephone her wedding dress, splashing water onto her face and drenching half of the dress.
“Persephone!” She scolded, rushing forward to grab it before it was submerged completely. “How could you,” she said, moaning loudly as Persephone rubbed her temples, already exhausted from this day.
Not bothering to defend herself, and badly wanting to escape her mother, Persephone dipped her head under the water. She knew her mother was going to be worst part of the day. Hades could trap every single one of her loved ones in the Underworld and sentence them to drink hemlock twice a day every day for the rest of their immortal lives; Demeter would still be the worst thing to happen on her wedding day.
Demeter’s freezing hands shot into the water and grasped Persephone under her arms, wrenching her from the water in one strong pull. “Out,” she said, the look in her eye pushing Persephone from the tub and scurrying to the opposite end of the room.
As far from her mother as she could get.
But also where the jug of olive oil was. She lathered herself in it, watching as her mother poured the last drips of water inside theloutrophorosinto her bath water. The wedding jug had stood in that corner since Persephone announced her impending doom of a marriage. It freaked her out, so every time she walked past it she threw achitonover it, only for her mother to sneak in and uncover it later.
The tall jug depicted typical wedding images and nuptial agreements and had little winged babyerotesflying around the neck, chasing each other. The middle – and largest – register had a bride and groom facing each other, looking deeply into each other’s eyes while he held her wrist. The bride was not smiling; her happiness was not an important aspect of the pairing.
It was supposed to evoke the consummation of their marriage, the water aiding the couple in fertility. Looking at it only made her head spin and her breath lodge in her throat, angry tears burning her eyes.
She almost smashed it once. She had dangled it over the hearth, fully intending to drop it into the flames, when her mother came home and she chickened out.
“Could I hold theloutrophoros?” Persephone said, cooling her voice into casual nonchalance as Demeter gently placed it on her hip, wrapping her around the neck so that her hand fit snug under one of the handles.
“Why?” Demeter didn’t miss a beat. She narrowed her eyes at Persephone, as if she watched the thought develop in her mind.
“It’s my wedding,” she said, glancing at the open window.
Demeter grunted, ignoring her daughter, and carried the jug out of the room, resting it on her hip as she walked.
14
GAMOS
Persephone was sure the back of her wedding dress was soaked by now, the purple much darker where it stuck to her skin with sweat. She was sweating so much that her mother had had to alter her hair, dropping the bottom half to cover her slick neck and braiding the rest into a large pile atop her head.
The intricate style was heavy, making her neck ache. She had to be careful to turn her entire body, rather than her neck, to avoid the sharp pains that would stab up and down her neck and upper back.
“I can’t breath,” she whispered to Aphrodite. The goddess was standing with her just outside the entrance to the full chamber she’d be married in shortly, holding her veil until Persephone was ready to walk into the room. Probably more to protect it from her sweat than to keep her friendly company.
The thin, golden cloth looked beautiful in Aphrodite’s hands, the purple streams throughout dancing with every twist of her fingers.
It hadn’t looked like that moments before in her own hands. All Persephone could see while she held was theichorrushing through her body, the golden blood staining her knees and mixing with the red of Pelops’ on her palms. The purple lines a reminder of the darkness she was handing herself over to.
“You’re breathing right now, Kore,” Aphrodite cooed, her childhood name had a calming effect when Aphrodite used it. A slight feeling of elation filled her chest, the dread slowly melting away in her aunt’s presence.
“I am?” Persephone’s voice was calmer than before, her heart no longer racing. Air easily traveling down her throat to fill her chest, she said confidently, calmly, “I am.”
“Are you excited to be married?” Aphrodite took a step toward her, a comforting hand rubbing her back despite the sweat pooling there.
Persephone started to say no, the word already formed on her lips, but “Yes. Very.” rushed out instead. She sighed as she said, “Hades is so handsome, Aphrodite. Those soft curls that bounce whenever he moves his head and his black, chaotic eyes. I think those eyes can see everything,” she said dreamily. “Even feelings.” Persephone clutched Aphrodite’s arm. “I think he knows exactly what he does to me and plays this game with my emotions where he acts like he has no idea how sexually tense he makes me,” she said through her teeth, her voice low. “Which just makes me more tense and more aroused, which allows him to keep playing this childish game of his.”
Aphrodite raised her eyebrows and gently pried Persephone off her arm. “Why not just tell him?”
“He already knows. That’s the game.”
“What if he doesn’t?” Aphrodite shrugged and looked away, but Persephone caught the small smile she tried to conceal.
“What do you know?”
Aphrodite feigned surprise, her eyes betrayed her though – a dark wine-spilled sea that told Persephone she knew precisely what she was doing. “What could I possibly know?” Aphrodite touched a hand gently to her chest, but when Persephone crossed her arms and stared the goddess down, she quickly dropped the act. “Your soon-to-be-husband has no idea you have any feeling but disdain for him. Don’t mistake this marriage as a sign that he loves you, or that he thinks you feel anything positive toward him—it is a plot. It is always a plot for power with these people, Persephone. Myself, included. Your mother, included,” she added, almost as an afterthought. She nodded, seeming to agree with her own points.
Persephone nodded along as well, thankful for the warning, but it was unnecessary. There was never a moment that she truly thought Hades was marrying her for love. She had grown up running around the halls of Olympus, listening with eager ears while the Olympians conversed, hearing enough plots and politics to know when she was being used a pawn.
