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“You were gone barely ten years.” His words were muffled through his teeth, but she heard him.
“What?”
Hades breathed deep through his nose, scratching at his forehead. “You asked how long you had been gone. It was ten years.” He watched her warily as his words sunk in.
Her face fell and hardened, and she stared at him hard enough that he took a step back, putting more space between them. He opened his mouth, probably to apologize, but thought better of it and snapped it shut.
Her head was a scalding mess of anger and plots for revenge. She imagined slamming him into the palace’s rough stone exterior again and again, punching his head into the floor, into the grass. She wanted to throw him into the water, shove his head under the surface with her own phantom wind and heat the tub to boiling.
After all that she would curl up in her bed, her own bed at her mother’s house, and wrap herself in layers of patched up blankets.
While she stared at him, stared through him, his words echoed in her mind.
Ten years…
Ten years…
Ten years…
So much can happen in ten years, so much does happen in ten years, and Persephone missed it all. She missed ten years with her mother, and Melia and Elektra, who she was mad at right now, but loved so terribly her heart ached at missing ten years of their lives. How many hairstyles had Elektra gone through? Had her mother taught her how to braid? Did Melia have that daughter she acts like she doesn’t need, but clearly craves?
“Did you tell my mother what was happening? What you did to me? Where I was?” Persephone knew he had not told her, because if Demeter had known, Hades would not be standing there. She would have done something to harm the god standing before her, still clutching his neck and pulling at the skin. “Stop doing that,” she yelled. “What do you have to be anxious about? I have been wandering Tartaros for ten years!”
“Technically,” Hades said, holding his hands in front of him as he approached her, “you weren’t in Tartaros.”
“Gods, I knew you were horrible. I knew you had the potential to do these things, but I am your wife! Does that not mean anything to you?”
“Of course, it does,” he said defensively, “but not in the way you may believe it should.”
“In what way then? Please,” she faked a half bow, “enlighten me, King.” His title was like a brand in her mouth, melting the sensitive skin from the bone.
Lifting an eyebrow and working his jaw, Hades said, “It means you are my Queen, Persephone. Queen of the Underworld, Queen to all of the souls that reside in this realm. Our realm.”
“I know my duties.” She rolled her eyes, and Hades fingers clenched around her chin, digging into her cheeks.
“Never roll your eyes at me.” Droplets of spit flew onto her face, but she forced herself not to cringe, to keep her eyes trained on his. “You will do well to remember that while you may be the Queen here, I am still the King. Your King.” He threw her back, watching her tumble to the ground with his head high. “Being my Queen is not for the weak. You will become as tortured and as vile as me. Your job is not to sit on your throne and look beautiful—though that is an added bonus for me.” His eyes gleamed as he looked her over, as if he could see beneath the towel she clutched to her body. “We sentence souls to eternal damnation. You being my wife means being partners in this game of torment together, Persephone.” His voice softened, just enough to still be menacing and cruel, as he said, “And you already sentenced yourself to an eternity of it, an eternity of me.”
Persephone stood frozen in the doorway as her husband reminded her of the position she married into. Nobody had forced her to marry, they had all tried to save her from this fate, actually, and she had no one to blame but her own foolish self. Even Hades was blameless for the circumstances, he was transparent about the entire exchange, and everything he had expected of her. She was the one who thought she could outwit a god of his stature—his power—with a measly amount of love.
It was pitiful—she was pitiful.
She had saved Pelops only to watch Hades take his life again in front of her eyes, barely weeks after the fact.
That was why Demeter had not come to save her from her decade long stint in Tartaros. She had tried to tell her, tried to warn her about how unpleasant her life would be with Hades as her husband, and Persephone had been blind to it. Blind to all their worries about his character and the corruption she was willingly walking into by marrying him.
All for a mortal who forgot her.
Hades was right. Pelops was going to hold her back forever, even after his death. It clouded her mind, the light that died from his eyes and the limpness of his limbs as he was suspended above her. The memory followed her everywhere she went.
All there was was Pelops’ lifeless eyes staring at her, green eyes blackened in death. His body stiff against the invisible bonds Hades had him restrained with. His feet were the deep purple-blue of the ocean, the discoloration traveling up his legs until his knees. Elsewhere the skin was a nauseous shade of green, decaying quickly in death, more like the colour of his eyes than the eyes staring out at her now. Teeth were missing, either from his gums rotting away or grave robbers, making room for his withered tongue to protrude out the side of his pale, swollen lips.
A rust coloured stain started beneath his nose and spread under his clothing down his chest, small bits flaking off in the breeze. The corners of his mouth were darker where the blood collected in the crevices.
Persephone watched his hair fall out in clumps as maggots trailed his skull and down his body. His skin changing from sickly pale green to bright red before her eyes, reddening like a bad sunburn until it slipped off the bones, cleanly drifting to the ground.
Her knees gave out and she fell to the ground with a dull crack, but felt nothing. There was no pain lacing up her thighs as she stared up at the body decomposing in front of her. Her chest felt hollow, empty.
Unable to look away from the swollen, unrecognizable body suspended above her, Persephone’s mouth fell open in silent sobs, tears spilling down her cheeks. She mouthed his name, trying to make a sound, but nothing came.
