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She did not.
Instead, she sat on her hands to warm them and looked down in the direction they had arrived, at the thousands of souls crowding around the human-bone mountain.
Hades’ gaze was searing into the side of her face, and she had to force herself to remain facing forward, and not give him any satisfaction. But her palms started to sweat beneath her and small beads collected at her hairline, daring to slide down the side of her face.
“Any day now,kale,” he said, his voice drawling and cocky. She shot him a seething look.
She took a long, deep breath, her heart beating fast enough that Hades must have felt it himself. When she opened her mouth, no sound left her lips except a small, slightly strangled sigh. Scrunching her brows together in concentration, she tried again, and said, “Come forward,” in a voice she had never heard before.
She hid her surprise, keeping her head straight and tall as she eyed the man who stepped forward. Hades’ surprise was clear, however, from the incredulous way he looked at her.
He did not look away right away, and Persephone had to ignore the feeling of triumph swelling in her chest. She had a lot more to do before Hades was remorseful and brimming with regret for his actions against her. A lot more. But at least she knew she was taking a step in the right direction.
“State your name.” Her voice rang throughout the space, silencing the chatter of the souls below.
She kept her face stone cold, but on the inside she was freaking out. The voice that had come out of her was commanding and harsh, nothing like her normally soft, easily ignored voice. She was giddy with excitement over how well she was already playing her part, even her voice understood the assignment.
A middle-aged dark-skinned man approached the foot of the skulls and stretched his neck up to see Persephone before bowing deep before her. “Your Majesty,” he said, his voice clear and assertive. She stared at him, expressionless, waiting. “I—” the man swallowed once, twice, four times before speaking again, his knees shaking under him. “I am Ixion.”
A murmur swept through the crowd. Clearly the man was not unknown.
Unfortunately, Persephone did not recognize him, nor his name, thanks to her extended stay in Tartaros. She almost turned to Hades, almost asked him what Ixion’s crime was, and what punishment was decided by the other two judges, when Ixion spoke again.
“Your Majesty, Lady Persephone, please have mercy.” Ixion dropped hard to his knees, wincing as they slammed into the stone. “I did not do anything,” he cried, voice breaking with tears now streaming down his face.
Persephone raised an eyebrow, but remained silent.
“I only—” he choked. “I only wished to give Hera a love she deserves. Zeus,” he spat the King of the Gods’ name, “cannot give her anything like I can.” He slapped himself in the chest with his flat palm and stood. “I would love her, and cherish her. If she would have had me…” he trailed off, shaking his head, lost in thought or memory.
“Does she love you?” Persephone knew Hera did not, whether she missed ten years or ten decades of life above, Hera was Zeus’ wife through and through.
Ixion sneered. “No. Not yet, but if I could one hour with her – just one hour in her bed and she would never care about her husband again.”
Persephone narrowed her eyes. “And how did you plan to get her to agree to share her bed with you?” She struggled to keep her voice steady, shoving memories of Pelops and the beach down hard as she fought to keep her eyes dry.
For a moment she wished Hades was a normal husband so she could look to him for guidance and hold his hand for strength. But he was not a normal husband, and she had no interest in being a normal wife anymore.
Ixion was silent.
“Or, did you not plan on her agreement?”
Still, he silently stared at his feet.
Then, “I could have seduced her.”
A shrill laugh burst from Persephone’s lips before she could stave it down. Cooling her expression, she brushed her hand against Hades’ thigh, her movement imperceptible to the souls below, silently asking him to force Ixion to face her again.
He complied immediately. Ixion struggled against the phantom grasp on his chin, his eyes wide in fear as they locked on Persephone’s face.
“You planned to seduce and take advantage of a deity. The goddess of marriage and Queen of the Gods. I have no doubt in my mind that had she rejected your advances, you would have forced yourself on her. And for that,” Persephone smiled wickedly, baring her teeth, “you will be sent to Tartaros.”
As Ixion cried out, begging in a garbled voice for a different judgment, Persephone raised her voice over his laments. “And chained to a wheel of fire. It will spin and burn for eternity, and you will be the ever-regenerating kindle to it’s flames.”
Ixion screamed at her, his face red and swollen as he struggled against the invisible chains Hades’ already wrapped around his limbs. He was yelling at her, calling her names and cursing where she sat. She knew he was, though she could not hear him because Hades had taken his voice.
“Let Hera’s children drag him down and chain him,” she said. “It is the least they deserve for what he planned to do to their mother.” She flicked her wrist and he was gone, thanks to Hades more than herself, but she appreciated his help in this situation.
Keeping her face clear of emotion and her head held high, Persephone stared straight ahead. An unfaltering Queen, subjecting souls to worthy torment. Battling with herself as inside she fumed and screamed and cried for Hera. She was thankful Ixion was caught before anything truly horrific happened, but her heart still ached for the mortal and immortal women alike who were not so fortunate. For herself.
