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They all stared at her, silent and still as marble.
She broke under their gaze, and said, “I saw him,” quickly under her breath.
“Who?” Demeter asked, her brows knitting together. Her friends were uncharacteristically quiet.
“Pelops.”
Elektra swore, apologized to Demeter for her language, and then swore again; Melia’s mouth dropped open, but she didn’t say anything, and her mother picked up her wine again, throwing her head back and draining it in one deep gulp. She slammed thekylixback onto the table and wipe the corners of her mouth with the back of her wrist before pinching the bridge of her nose.
“He didn’t remember me, and the girl he was with so rude. She threatened to imprison me and then told me I shouldn’t waste my beauty on such a life when I should be married,” she sobbed the last word, cringing at the sound. “And when I told her I am married, Pelops just walked away. He walked away. There wasn’t even a little bit of sadness in his eyes. It was as if I was a perfect stranger. Nobody at all.”
“Did you think he would?” Melia asked, Elektra elbowing her to shut up.
“Of course, she did, Melia. Why else would she be so upset?”
“I did,” she breathed, “and I did not. Hades told me he wouldn’t. He made it very clear that if Pelops were to remember me,” Persephone paused to drag the back of her hand under nose, “there was a chance he would try to keep me from Hades, and he doesn’t like when others want what’s his, or something ridiculous like that.” She rolled her eyes, annoyed with her husband’s jealousy. “Shouldn’t an immortal god be able to get past something as trivial as jealousy? As if I would ever be that kind of wife.”
“Jealousy is natural—” Demeter started.
“He is a god!” Persephone smacked the table between them, cutting her mother off.
“That doesn’t change the fact that jealousy is a gift from Aphrodite, a way to show us what we truly care about losing.”
Persephone narrowed her eyes at that. Hades wasn’t jealous because he feared losing her, it was because he was possessive and believed she belonged to him.
Taking a deep breath, Persephone let go of her anger and annoyance like she did by the stream, letting the rushing water wash it all away. “It is fine,” she said through her teeth, the image of rushing water doing nothing to calm her nerves. “He is my husband,” another deep, slow breath, “and I have to let these things go.”
“No!” Melia raised her voice, “No! He is an ass. You married him in order to give Pelops his life back, after it was cut too short by some wild boar, and he can’t handle a little jealousy?” Her eyes shook with anger as she spoke. “You have to spend half of your life in the dark, dingy, honestly very moist-looking,” Melia cringed, “Underworld! That is a huge sacrifice and he knew what it would do to you.”
The room was quiet as they all stared at Melia. She never raised her voice. If even she was upset by this new development, then Persephone decided she should be too. Rather than sit around, moping and feeling sorry for herself, she would take action against Hades. She would make sure he knew how she felt, felt her anger shake the ground he walked on.
“You’re right, Melia.” Persephone stood up, knocking her empty cup to the ground. A hollow sound echoed through the room as the brim hit the stone floor, and rolled onto the rug. “I can’t just sit here, moping and whining over this, feeling sorry for myself. I have to take action against him,” she clenched her hands at her sides, her fingernails biting into her palms, “I don’t want him to merely know that I am angry, I want him to feel it.”
“What, exactly, are you going to do?” Elektra asked, smiling eagerly at her.
Persephone met her eyes and smirked, her eyes brightening as she looked out over the garden and said, “I am going to curse him.”
§
After gathering the materials she needed to make akolossosof Hades, Persephone packed them into a small, lightweight bag and departed the cottage alone. Her mother had wanted to join her, with the hope that she could stop Persephone from making any more of a fuss over a measly mortal man. The only thing stopping Demeter from accompanying Persephone was her confidence that the plan would fail.
“Cursing someone requires aid from the chthonic gods, Persephone. Your husband is the King of Chthonic gods. This is going to fail and disappoint you,” her mother had said over and over that morning before she left for Mycenae, where they were reopening the palace center now that the fortification wall was finished. If the rumors were to be believed, it was monolithic and built by giants with an entrance that had massive lions above the open doorway; Demeter had never been more excited.
Persephone ignored her. She was a chthonic god herself now, being Hades’ wife and Queen, so she would simply pray to herself to curse her husband.
Searching for the right spot, checking every crossroad she passed through, to bury Hades’ shaped humanoid turned out to be quite difficult. Partly due to the fact the moon was too low in the sky to see by, but mostly because each time she found a spot that looked perfect for her needs, she ended up digging up another buriedkolossos, or a curse tablet. Even coming across a small bronze coffin stabbed through with several nails that she did not dare open it to see if it was another buried doll.
She continued searching and digging, until her fingernails and knees were caked in a thick layer of dirt, quickly becoming mud as it mixed with her blood. Despite her cracked and bleeding nails, and her equally bleeding sliced up knees, Persephone reburied any curses she stumbled upon, praying to herself that their curses remained intact.
It felt ridiculous, and she cringed each time she spoke her own name.
Finally, as Selene dragged her luminous white chariot high above the tree tops, she found a stream. Just the thought of dipping into the cold water made her knees weak. The day had been hot and though the air cooled once night fell, Persephone had sweat through her clothes while digging and reburying, and hiking for hours.
Carefully dropping the bag down on the water’s edge, she undressed and tied her hair back into a thick, tangled braid. She sat down in the cool water, thanking the gods the rocks at the bottom were smoothed by the rushing current, and then laid down, submerging herself completely.
She washed the dirt and blood from her hands and knees, dragging a sharp, thin stone underneath the crescent of her nails to remove the sand and grime. The water stung as it cleaned the cuts under them and on her knees, making her skin itch and burn.
Then she dug.
