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She was four long strides from Hades’ door when it whipped open, Hades illuminated from behind in the doorway. Not a hair out of place, or a wrinkle in his clothes.
Dangling from his fingers was her crown. It looked small and delicate in his hand, though it was the same as the one atop his head.
Without a word he gingerly placed it on her head, dragging the tips of his fingers down her hair to linger on her shoulders.
“Where do you judge the souls?” She blurted, stepping back out of his reach. Cooling her face into something like his own regal, could-not-care-less expression, she raised her chin just enough to hurt under the weight of the crown.
“Why?” He lowered his hands to his sides, and raised a brow.
“I want to see where they are judged.” She fidgeted with her skirts, swishing the fabric to create a small breeze up her legs. When he didn’t respond, she said, “I want to judge them.”
He smiled, his lips tight and flattened together, and something brightened in his eyes for a flash before the mask returned. “Why?”
“To torture them,” she said, her voice clipped.
“Why?”
“Why?” She echoed. He was being more difficult than she had expected, shouldn’t he be thrilled she was finally accepting her duty as Queen? Her hands began to shake under his inquisitive gaze and she clutched them together behind her back, holding them from his sight. “Because it is my job. You wanted a queen fit for your throne, I am trying to be that queen,” she said, her voice stronger than she felt. “I want to be that queen.”
He narrowed his eyes, and Persephone knew it was over before it started. How foolish she was to think she could trick him into letting her torture souls already when she had barely been in the Underworld. She had spent more time in Tartaros than her own realm.
Nodding once, he turned, walking away from her. He was down the corridor and around the corner before Persephone raced after him.
“Hades,” she called as she ran the short distance, but he did not turn back. She walked beside for a few minutes, her impatience growing. “Where are we going?”
Nothing.
Persephone kept following, humming to herself and trying to summon the warm breeze she now carried inside her. She almost wanted to thank Hades for forcing her hand in marriage and punishing her with a long stint in Tartaros, if only because it brought her power closer to the surface.
Before Hades she had never felt the warmth and fresh air of her own power. The strength and confidence it gave her was palpable, like she could feel it rushing through her body just beneath her skin.
As a child she used to beg her mother to help her feel her power, to find it. Begged until Demeter snapped at her, claiming she either had it or she did not, that it was either already inside her, or it never would be. Later, she would tell her a maiden’s power comes from her marriage, and her ability to build not only a healthy household, but a happy one. A household her husband could be proud of.
Maybe it came with her marriage to Hades, but Persephone was sure it came with her title. The moment she felt like a queen was the moment the warm breeze tickled her bones. Her power was entwined with being the Queen of the Underworld, not her being the wife of Hades.
“Why is it always so dark here?” She asked when the silence became unbearable.
“It is the Underworld.”
“Of course,” she said, rolling her eyes.
Hades glanced at her from the corner of his eye, but said nothing.
“Why not have fires burning around the realm?” She offered enthusiastically. “Not only would we be able to see—”
“I am able to see.”
“But the souls would fear the flames, as well.”
“Cerberos does not like fire.”
“And Cerberos makes the decisions? Here I was thinking I had married the King of the Underworld, but maybe that’s just a title to make you feel in control. Maybe I should have married Cerberos if I wanted any real control down here.”
Hades was no longer walking beside her, and when she turned back to him, his muscles tense and glaring at her, she faltered.
“Only I make the decisions here, Persephone. Not you, nor anyone else.” His voice was cold and the icy wind that blew from behind him was a gentle, freezing breeze even with her layered clothes. Colder than usual.
“What does a queen do other than make decisions?” She snapped back at him. “Am I supposed to provide heirs and make sure the palace remains in its best shape for you? I thought you wanted more than a submissive, traditional wife, Hades.”
