Persephone walked with her mother Demeter through the fields, their towering divine forms shading the toiling farmers as they passed. Persephone, as much as she dwarfed the mortals, was herself still a child in the eyes of the Olympians, and so her head bobbed next to her mother’s curving hip. They wore their ethereal robes, and their sandaled feet barely left prints. Demeter’s hair was the color of harvest wheat, and her daughter’s the color of the fertile soil. Most men working the fields kept dutifully to their work even as the immortals strode by, but one man in twenty might look up. He might catch Persephone’s eye, and mirror her guileless grin. He might do this, and if he did he would inevitably meet the eye of Demeter. Her stern gaze would surely cow him, and he would bend back to his plow or his sickle. Persephone, young and not yet having cause to question, took their smiles in with joy, and did not feel sorrow when they turned away.

Demeter spoke to her daughter on their walk. She taught her child the way of the world and the land, bequeathing unto her the knowledge of the fields and the plants. They saw every stage of farming being performed all around, and Demeter drilled Persephone on the details of agriculture, their domain.

In these days, spring and summer were eternal. It was warm year-round, and the plants grew violently fast, without ceasing. This was the way of the world then, and Persephone learned this from her mother’s lips. Because she was young and did not yet have cause to question, she knew her mother was wise, and that the way of the world that Demeter described was good. After all, at that time, there was nothing else.

Demeter, guiding her daughter through the warm sunlit fields, spoke of their duty to these people who depended on the land to survive.

“Cora,” she said, using her daughter’s epithet of ‘Maiden,’ for that was what Persephone was. “Cora, look at all these mortals. They are so delicate. If they cannot eat, they die. They need us and the bountiful harvest we provide. They’re fragile creatures, so we must do all we can to preserve them. You, my daughter, will give these plants your divine fertility. I, as your mother, will help them to bear the seeds, and the fruit, and the grain that these people will eat. They need us both you see. Without you my little Maiden, the crops will not grow. Without me, they will not swell with sustaining life. Do you understand, my Cora? Tell me, what is it you must do?”

Persephone spoke in her clear and youthful voice. Because she was a child in the eyes of the Olympians, and she had no cause to question, she told her mother what she knew she must do.

“Mother, I will make these plants grow as you have taught me. Just as I am pure, these crops will grow sweet and strong. Just as I will ever be a virgin, the crops will be fertile and fecund forever. Just as I am young, the seeds of the world will shoot forth with the quickness of my dancing steps.”

“My sweet Cora, you speak so well. My daughter, child of Olympus, do your duty as well as you have said, and all will be right with the world. Help me to preserve the mortals for whom we care.”

Later, when their walk came to a close, Mother Demeter and Maiden Persephone returned to their home in a temple in the midst of many farming fields. Persephone spoke as she looked back at the mortal world spread before her.

“Mother,” she said.

“Yes, Cora?”

“Mother, the men work so hard in the fields.”

“Yes, my child, they must do so, to feed the people of the world.”

“Do they ever stop?”

“No, Cora. There are always things growing, and men to tend them.”

“Why?”

“This is the way the world is.”

The woman and the maiden stood in silence for a time.

“It must be terrible,” Persephone said softly, some of the naive light fading from her eye. “To work so hard, every day, the same way, with no end.”

“My dear child! It is not terrible. It is the way the world is. It is the way we make it. That is good.”

For the first time since she was brought into the world Persephone’s brow furrowed with concern, and confusion, and doubt. For the first time, she had cause to question her mother.

At the festival, Persephone sat with her mother as the mortals made their offerings to the goddesses.

“Mother,” Persephone said. “They’re wasting food.”

“No, daughter,” Demeter replied, suppressing her annoyance at the breach of decorum. “They are making sacrifices to show their devotion.”

“They show their devotion everyday in the fields.”

“This is a rite in our honor. Accept it.”

“You do know that they honor us every day, Mother?” Persephone said sarcastically.

“You will not speak to me this way, Cora. Remain silent for the rest of the festival.”

Her mother could silence Persephone’s words, but not her thoughts. The people destroyed grain, burnt meat, and left food untouched on altars.

At the festival’s end, the little humans rested. This day was a break in their routine the likes of which they didn’t receive the rest of the year. Persephone walked among them, wishing them sweet dreams. When mortals slept, they looked dead. This had scared Persephone long ago, but now she saw this rest as vital. In a way, the unresting immortals were at odds with nature, she thought, because they didn’t take this time to renew. Did her mother think that the rest of the world ought to be as she was, eternal and unchanging?

“Come, Cora,” her mother called impatiently. Instead of immediately jumping at her mother’s words as she used to do, Persephone took her time and finished wishing the mortals well. When she rejoined Demeter, the Great Goddess had a look of displeasure on her face. Persephone was not subdued as she once might have been.

“Mother, I don’t think you see the world as it is or should be, but how you insist it is. You want everything to be like you, don’t you?”

“No, child,” Demeter replied coldly. “Everything has its place, including you.”

“There we agree. I think I need to find my place. Maybe I can fix some of what I see as wrong.”

“Cora! You have your place by my side. I don’t know why you have started acting this way, but it will cease. You will see that I’m right.”

“Or, you will see that I am.”

With this, Persephone left her mother. In her anger, Demeter didn’t think to call Persephone back. Persephone wandered. In the beginning she was only angry, but as she left the lands to which her mother jealously confined her, she was overcome with wonder. The world was already so much larger than she’d imagined.

Persephone passed out of the fields over which her mother presided, and into untamed wilderness. Without men to work the land, the trees and other vegetation choked the land with their knotted tendrils. Even towering above them as she’d come to do, they were hard to pass through.

Ahead she saw a mountain. Olympus! She quickened her pace to reach it, but when she crested it she saw it was only a small hill. Ahead, however–the Earth began a slowly steepening curve upward. The soil turned to jagged stone and the trees spread further and further from one another until a bare icy peak pierced the cloudy blanket far above.

Between Persephone and the great mountain it seemed the whole of Greece stretched wide. At the bottom of the valley to her left, much closer than the home of the Gods, a crevasse opened in the earth. It seemed to split the Earth in half. The midnight sky did nothing to illuminate it. For all Persephone could see, it might extend down forever. Out of this hole in the world, as Persephone watched in awe, stepped a man. He had black hair and a close-cropped beard. He carried a brilliantly polished helm under his arm which seemed to shimmer like gossamer in the starlight. She couldn’t make out his face at this distance, though he was huge. Persephone saw that he towered over the hill she had climbed, above her atop the hill even, to the point at which he filled almost as much of her vision as distant Olympus. Her mother, she knew, was a first generation Olympian. Her mother was the largest piece of the world Persephone had seen until tonight. The God before her seemed as large as the Earth itself.

“Hades,” she whispered.

As she spoke, despite her voice that was hushed by the oppressive night, he turned his head to look at her. His eyebrows rose. Haltingly, he started to walk toward her. She felt frozen in place. He was awful, and awesome. She felt a little fear of course, her mother had spoken of him and his reputation, but she also felt a thrill. He drew close, and knelt to look her in the eye. Having been around mortals most of her life, even with her mother present, Persephone had never felt so small. He smiled. His body and face looked cold, but his smile was warm.

“Hello, little goddess,” Hades said. “Who are you?”

“Persephone, daughter of Demeter.”

Her voice sounded so strange. Clear, despite her nerves, and younger than it had ever sounded. At her utterance, his face lit up with an even larger grin.

“Persephone,” he said. “It is an honor, young one.”

She felt herself blush.

“What brings you here? I heard that your mother kept you in Eleusis. I think even I have visited Olympus more than you, little one.”

“I,” she began uncertainly. “I am angry with my mother.”

“Oh?”

She felt embarrassed now, as if she’d had a tantrum. His voice, however, didn’t seem to hold any scorn.

“She will not tell me why things are... Things that don’t seem right. I know I am but young, and don’t understand the world. I thought it was her that didn’t understand, but I see I should return and apologize.”

“Indulge my curiosity,” the ancient lord of the dead, ruler of one third of the world, said, and he lowered himself to lounge beside the hill where she stood. “Tell me your thoughts before you leave.”

Persephone felt so awkward being above him that she sat on the hill.

“She tells me that the way the men work everyday without end is necessary and good. I see them looking so exhausted, and I want them to have rest. Tonight, after the festival, they sleep the sleep of the dead. Oh!”

She looked at him, embarrassment making her scalp feel hot. He laughed.

“I’m sorry, that’s not right of me to say.”

“No, little one,” he countered. “You ought to speak your mind–like you, it is beautiful. And you are right, death and sleep are alike. Morpheus spends as much time in my realm as he does above, in fact.”

“Really?” She asked, eyes wide.

“Indeed. I have even had Souls come to me and thank me for their end, though I don’t understand it.”

“I think I do,” she said, growing confident at his confirmation. “They work so hard all their lives, with only a little sleep. They deserve their rest. My mother wants them to live and work forever, but... She’s wrong.”

“Hm,” he said, and didn’t continue.

He seemed to recede into his thoughts.

“What brings you here, my Lord, if I may ask?

“Oh,” he said, focusing on her once more. Of course, dear Persephone. And no need to call me such things. You are like me, after all–an immortal. I have an errand, to confront a wayward mortal.

“Can I come along?” She blurted out before she could stop her words.

“I wouldn’t want to anger your mother…”

“She’s already angry, I’m sure, and right now I don’t care. I deserve to go where I want, to see the world, and to follow you.”

She crossed her arms in what she hoped was a firm posture, but she didn’t expect anything from it. Who was she to tell a son of Cronus what to do? Hades looked away from her for a time. He spoke, but it seemed to her that he didn’t believe she could hear him.

“Demeter will certainly cut you down with a rusty scythe if you consider it. Surely? But the girl is right. And she needn’t know? Do you dare?”

Persephone descended the hill to stand by his head, and tapped him on the shoulder

“I think you should.”

He started. Then he looked her in the eye.

“It doesn’t seem I can refuse you, Persephone,” he said with a smile.

He stood, and began to walk.

“Hades!”

He looked back and down.

“Oh! My apologies.”

She stood with her hands on her hips until he strolled back to her. He reached down, and she discarded her dignity and clambered onto his arm. She pointed to his helm, and he brought her over.

And so, Hades resumed his journey with Persephone seated atop his helm, held in the crook of his arm.

They covered ground so fast. Hades walked around Olympus in a matter of minutes. Persephone had never seen so far, not even when her mother picked her up when she was small.

“So where are we going?” Persephone said.

“There is a mortal king I plan to visit. He chooses to defy me.”

“How?”

“Magic. He extends his life artificially.”

“My mother would praise him, I think.”

Hades turned his head to look at her. He said nothing.

They soon came to a body of water, and instead of walking around, Hades chose to cross. The water came up to his chest at its deepest, and it tickled Persephone’s knees, seated as she was on the helmet in the crook of his arm. They were soon across, and Hades stepped up onto land through a thicket of docks, passing between great ships whose masts were as tall as Persephone. Before them lay a city, quiet in the evening. Persephone had never been to a city but she knew it was a place where many mortals lived and where very few of them were farmers. According to her mother, she should never have cause to visit a city, but she was overjoyed that Hades had brought her. She found herself ravenous, now that she’d had a taste of the world.

Hades approached a massive palace in the center of the city. It was built to look almost like a temple, but not enough to be sacrilegious. From what Hades had said, it seemed its occupant didn’t have as much restraint as its architect.

Hades set her down, and she walked with him the last distance to the palace. There, Hades diminished himself until he was around her size, then gestured to her, and together they became just under twice the size of mortals. More appropriately statured, they entered the palace.

When Hades had matched height with her, Persephone felt odd. As they walked together, she tried to understand it. She stared at him, unconscious of the fact he might think her rude. He caught her looking, and gave her a little wink. She blushed. Something about his appearance had certainly changed.

This building, constructed for someone with such a high opinion of himself, fit the immortals perfectly. In fact whenever they passed mortals on their way, it was the humans who seemed out of place in the grand architecture. At first Persephone was confused as to why no one acknowledged her, until she remembered why Hades carried his helm. They wouldn’t be visible to anyone he didn’t wish to see them.

They finally entered a chamber, deep within the palace, that looked like living quarters. In a massive bed lay an old man, asleep. Hades looked at her.

“I won’t be long.”

Persephone lingered near the door, not wanting to interfere, as Hades stepped near the bed. He drew himself up a little, filling the room.

“Sisyphus,” he boomed.

His voice was no longer smooth and friendly. Persephone felt a stirring of fear, even though he wasn’t speaking to her.

The old man in the bed tossed, then opened his eyes. His body looked old, but his eyes looked ancient. Despite the immediately obvious fire behind them, those eyes held much fatigue as well. He didn’t even look surprised to see Hades, and he appeared unafraid of having an Olympian towering over him.

“Hades.”

“Sisyphus, it is long past time. You must come with me.”

Sisyphus, unconcerned and defiant, didn’t respond right away. Instead, he sighed and started to sit up. As he was rearranging the pillows on his bed, he caught sight of Persephone. Hades mustn’t have kept her hidden.

“Who is that, Hades, your daughter?”

Hades made a small choking sound.

“Do not concern yourself with her, mortal. It is I you must confront. Your life is against the natural order…”

He regained his composure as he spoke, but Persephone found herself still flustered. Persephone wondered why he should be disturbed by Sisyphus’ mistake, and why she suddenly felt the same displeasure. It wasn’t that she disliked him, quite the opposite. The immortals were all related, though not at all in the same way that mortals were. After all, wheat and barley were not siblings and neither were granite and marble. After all, Zeus and Demeter had joined to create her, and they would be considered much closer by mortal standards than Persephone and Hades. Persephone suddenly felt hot all over. She hoped Hades didn’t notice, and thankfully he was preoccupied with Sisyphus.

“... You will not be persuaded. Very well.”

Hades drew closer to Sisyphus, extending a hand. Sisyphus reached under his pillows and brought out a cracked red gem. He clutched tightly, grimacing at Hades. The stone cracked further, crumbling in the mortal’s hand, and his face grew pale. Hades’ hand reached him, gently closing over the hand holding the red dust. Sisyphus’ body went limp, and in the next moment he was standing beside the bed. He was in two places at once? No, the standing form was just a shade. Persephone’s breath caught. She had never before witnessed death.

Hades waved a hand, and Sisyphus’ shade dissipated like smoke in the wind.

“I thought,” Persephone said. “That mortal shades had to travel to your realm.”

“Not him, Hades said. When a mortal forces me to come to them, they lose their right to a gentle and gradual passage. I’ve sent him straight to Tartarus.”

He spat the last word, and Persephone saw that terrible place in his eyes.

They walked back in complete silence. When they arrived at the chasm out of which Hades had come, the sun was rising. Hades didn’t remember to let her down, but Persephone was unconcerned. She found herself resentful that he would soon leave.

“You said that Sisyphus’ life was against the natural order, but my mother seems to think life is more important than anything. How is it that Olympians can disagree like this?”

Hades barked a laugh.

“I am no Olympian.”

“I don’t understand.”

“When I drew lots with the other sons of Cronus to divide all the world between us... Zeus drew the expansive and majestic sky, Poseidon drew the wild and bountiful ocean, and I drew the cold dark land of the dead. From that moment all Olympians shunned me. So thoroughly you would think I was a Titan. Ha! They sent me down to keep those ancient ones company regardless.”

“So,” Persephone said. “You are not respected?”

“Oh, of course they respect me. Although I can’t say how much of that is actually fear.”

“Do you hate your lot?”

“I’ve come to accept it. I suppose in a way I’m relieved. Those impulsive fools should never have this much responsibility. After all I must keep the world in check. It is hard, and lonely, and at times I wish someone else would take up the burden. But no, I’ve grown to mistrust the Olympians.”

He paused.

“But to answer your first question, I disagree with Demeter because our domains are so different. She is a goddess of prosperity, and of sustenance. That’s just it, she sustains. I expect she hates me, for I do the opposite. I bring everything to its end.”

“What’s the purpose of death?”

Hades raised his eyebrows.

“That is a hard question to answer, even for me. Have you ever seen a field that was not tended, or a garden that wasn’t cared for?”

“Yes, sometimes.”

“How did it look to you?”

“The plants were all overgrown. They were ugly, and unhealthy, even though they were alive. My mother said that was why the men were needed to work constantly to keep them in check.”

“Well in a way she proves my usefulness. I, like a man with a sickle, must reap the overgrown lives of mortals, less they overrun the world.”

“What does death feel like?”

Hades laughed.

“I can’t possibly know that, little one.”

“Have you asked one of the shades in your realm?”

“... I had not thought to.”

“I’d like to do that.”

“I…” Hades began, but stopped for a breath before continuing. “I ought not take you there. Your place is up here, is it not? With the plants, and the living, and your mother–”

“No!” Persephone said, surprising herself her own passion. “My mother doesn’t need me. She says she does, but the world was just fine without me, before.”

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Hades made a non-committal sound.

“It was, wasn’t it? The plants, and the living, and my mother–don’t need me at all! I want to see other places, experience new feelings, learn. Please, take me.”

Hades turned his head to look at her, eyes wide. In the growing sunlight, she could see his eyes were a deep wine color.

“You don’t understand what you’re asking me to do.”

“Explain it then.”

Color bloomed on Hades pale cheeks.

“Your mother would destroy me. Please understand, you’re lovely, and I would be overjoyed to have your company…”

“Explain it to me!”

Hades closes eyes. He whispered to himself, apparently forgetting once again that she could hear him.

“What can you say? You must stop this somehow.”

“Why?”

He started.

“What?” He asked.

“Why can’t I come?”

Hades tried to speak and it first made only a strangle gurgle.

“Persephone.”

“Yes?” She said impatiently.

“I don’t think you know what you need to do to visit my realm... Yes. I’m sorry to inform you that it would definitely not be... I think–”

“Hades!” Persephone shouted, hands on hips. “Are you lying to me?”

“How–could you know that?”

She made a shocked exclamation.

“You were lying!”

“I–I had to protect you.”

“No! You made a big mistake. Now I know what you look like when you lie, you big liar. Tell me for real.”

She smacked him on the shoulder, and though it couldn’t possibly hurt with their size difference, he flinched.

“I was... Protecting myself,” he said, looking away. “The Olympians already despise me. I cannot imagine how they would treat me if they saw me as having corrupted you with my influence. Going to the underworld… they’ll see it as fundamentally changing you. I could not bear to have hurt your relationship with them, especially your mother.”

“You need to stop tiptoeing around the other immortals, Hades. If I can stand up to my mother, surely you can. Now I’m curious, though, what were you going to try to tell me?”

“I was going to warn you that going to my realm would mean accepting some of that place’s influence–my influence– into yourself. That is not a lie.”

Persephone squinted at him.

“I was going to put it in terms of what I thought you would reject outright. Such as, in order to visit the underworld, you have to marry me, or some nonsense.”

“That was the best you could come up with?” Persephone said with a grin.

“Well, I might have added something about you not being able to live on the surface.”

“Hm,” Persephone said.

Silence followed.

“I’m sorry for behaving that way,” Hades said. “I have been selfish. I have thought only of how this would affect me. Persephone, you must consider what this could mean for you. Make sure you truly wish to take this step.”

Persephone didn’t answer. She was lost in thought. What he’d said–he’d meant it to discourage her. What did it mean, then, that it hadn’t sounded so bad? Hades looked at her curiously but didn’t say anything. He walked, with her at his shoulder, down into the crevasse. Having watched the sun rise minutes ago, Persephone found it distinctly odd to see it disappear again. The light faded as they continued to descend, and Persephone was struck with the fear that she wouldn’t be able to see it all in Hades’ realm. When she finally saw the faint glow that appeared before them, she felt a swelling in her heart.

“We are about to cross over. Before we do, I have to share a little of my essence with you. This place follows its own rules, and not even I can break some of them.”

“Alright, I’m ready.”

“You’ve considered the consequences?”

“I have to know, Hades. Finding out what it’s like down there is completely worth someone else’s opinion. Their opinion isn’t me.”

“Very well. Give me your hand.”

Persephone leaned into him and rested one arm on his shoulder for balance as she extended her other in front of her. She could only dimly see its outline. Hades huge hand came up and grasped hers. It felt so strange, but not as much as what followed.

His energy begin to trickle gently into her through the contact. It was terrifying how different he felt from her, and she was scared she’d be overwhelmed, but he did it so smoothly and softly that she felt safe. When she was no longer afraid, she wanted him to go faster, but he wouldn’t. She grew impatient. She reached out with her own energy, invading him, mingling with him, pulling at his essence.

As roots take hold in the soil, and as those roots draw minerals inside themselves, Persephone and Hades joined together.

Persephone hadn’t noticed moving, but when the connection faded–not completely disappearing–she and Hades where across from one another, kneeling on the cavern floor, hands clasped. Hades gasped and Persephone sighed, almost as if one breath had passed through them together. They stared into each other’s eyes. Directly. Neither looking up nor down. Persephone beamed. Hades look poleaxed.

“That was amazing! Look, I grew! I feel fantastic! You’re not cold anymore! Or am I not warm? Doesn’t matter! Come on, get up! You have so much to show me! Let’s go! Get up, Hades!”

He stayed frozen on the ground.

“You’ve forced my hand! It’s time for revenge. I’m going to carry you!”

Hades stirred finally but it was too late. Persephone heaved him up over her shoulder and started staggering down the tunnel.

“You’re so heavy!” She cried, laughing.

She gained her footing and began jogging down. Hades grunted whenever he was jostled.

“You can put me down now.”

“I don’t think so. This is fun.”

“I need to be able to guide you around.”

“You can point with your feet!”

The brightness ahead of Persephone grew as she ran, until the tunnel opened out onto a ledge above a massive subterranean landscape. The first thing that struck her was how much color there was. She’d always imagined the land of the dead as being a gray wasteland, but this place had forests, fields, rivers, and fire spanning a rainbow of vibrant hues. Persephone was so stunned that she let Hades slip from her shoulder.

“Ouch,” he grunted.

“Hush, big tough god of death,” Persephone muttered.

“I will have you know I have never been lifted up before. Well, except when I got thrown by a Titan.”

Persephone wasn’t really listening, and instead was staring around the scene before her. Hades rose and began pointing out to her the major landmarks.

“Below you can see the Styx where it meets Acheron, and across it, the gate to the rest of my realm. On the other side you can see the roof of my palace, and beyond that–those hills there–is Elysium.

“What’s that?” Persephone said, pointing to a poorly lit area.

“Tartarus. And between there and my Palace, that field is Asphodel.”

“I want to see it all up close!”

“Alright, let’s go. Let’s go to my palace first.”

“Sure.”

They made their way down the cliff face on a winding path. Along the way they passed many shades of the recently deceased. Persephone stared as they passed. At the bottom of the cliff, there was a huge crowd waiting to cross the Styx. Looking around at their faces, Persephone saw some sadness, some resentment, some blank calm. One old man caught her eye, because he was beaming, with his eyes closed, and sitting on the ground in the most relaxed posture. Persephone knelt to get closer to him.

“Grandfather,” she said, not knowing how to address him.

He opened his eyes, and they were bright.

“Yes, Great Lady?

“Why are you smiling?”

“Because I’m happy, Great Lady.”

“Are you not upset that you died?”

“Of course not! Look at me, I am old. I was ready. I was tired. Now I can rest.”

“Then I am happy for you. Thank you.”

“Thank you, Great Lady.”

“Are there many mortals who feel as you do?”

“Perhaps. I don’t know, myself. These around me seem quite unhappy. But I? I feel as though I can finally rest. I feel the fatigue of life seeping away from me.”

Persephone stood again, leaving the old man to his rest. She returned to Hades’ side, and followed his gaze across the water.

Through the mists, a long boat appeared, headed by a robed figure with a large oar. The figure raised a hand toward Hades as the boat approached, and then ran aground beside a dock. When the keel scraped against the sand, all the shades around them turn to silently stare.

“My Lord,” said a dry voice from within the hood of the dark robe, where only two glowing coal-like eyes were visible. “Welcome home.”

“Thank you, Charon. This is Persephone. She’s visiting.”

“Visiting? Ha,” Charon laughed with a sound like raking leaves. “Not many have that privilege, my lady. Welcome.”

Charon gestured for them to board, and they stepped up behind him. Then, the shades began to board. The old man Persephone had spoken to was last. He didn’t seem reluctant, rather, he was last because of the leisurely way he sauntered toward the boat. He moved with a gate so unlike that of an old man. Instead of hobbling, hunched beneath a great invisible weight, he held his head high and his shoulders back.

Charon pushed off the bank with his oar, and began to paddle them to the other side. The prow of the boat cut through the thick fog, and the keel sliced through the water just as silently. When Persephone looked down, she saw colorful shimmerings glowing in the depths, like multi-colored shooting stars.

Soon they reach the other shore. The boat slid on into place next to its dock. It didn’t touch the ground on this side, but it stayed steady in place regardless. Persephone and Hades stepped off together and walked up the dock. When their feet touch the hard-packed earth beyond the ancient wooden boards, Hades raised his fingers to his lips, and let out a high clear whistle. The ground shook, and around one side of the huge gate before them came came barreling and slobbering the massive three-headed dog Cerberus. The monstrous hound bounded up to Hades and put his paws on his master’s shoulders to cover his face with canine kisses.

“Down, boy, down,” Hades said, laughing.

The huge dog sat, wagging his tail, three tongues lolling from three grinning mouths. Persephone put her hand out tentatively, and one head stretched out to sniff it, then the next, and then the third. All three heads barked once in a perfect major chord. Hades whistled again, and pointed to the gate. Cerberus trotted back and took up his post again. Hades and Persephone continued on and passed the guardian. Behind them trailed the dead souls. As they passed the hound, he would sniff them, and one of the three heads would bark its judgment. Persephone walked backwards, staring at a process. Once the judgment was cast, each shade regained some of the color they’d had in life, but only some of the hues. Each seem to be drawn away once this occurred, directed by three figures she hadn’t previously noticed, heading off toward Tartarus, Asphodel, or Elysium. Hades gently touched her arm.

“Plenty of time to see everything.”

She blushed, and turned to walk the right way around. They were approaching Hades’ palace. Close up, it was even more majestic than she thought. It was built from blocks of every sort of stone imaginable, arranged like a gargantuan mosaic. To her eye, the patterns were reminiscent of tree roots. Metal braces shone, and enormous gems sparkled from settings around the double front doors. Those doors opened to Hades of their own accord as he approached, and the two immortals stepped into the main hall. The interior here was all gold flecked marble. Persephone could see passages to the sides, extending outward, each made of a different material. She felt weak from the beauty of it.

“It’s magnificent,” she whispered.

“Thank you,” Hades said. “I built it myself.”

“Really?”

“Well there wasn’t much to do down here in the early days after the Titanomachy. I explored, I built, and–to be honest, I brooded. Zeus and Poseidon oversaw the wild expanses of sky and sea, but this was all I had. Once the mortals came along I was grateful to have a purpose.”

“I see.”

“I’m sorry, you seem a bit overwhelmed. Should we go somewhere a little smaller, and less grandiose, and just sit for a while before I show you more of my realm?”

“But I want to see everything! That’s the whole reason I insisted on coming here I can't just sit…” she took a deep breath. “No, you’re right. I should take my time, shouldn’t I? Somewhere to sit and take a moment sounds perfect.”

He led her through an onyx corridor lined with torches that shone through cut rubies. The hall opened out on their right into a little garden with some chairs and a tree in the center. The tree started very narrow at the base, but it spread gradually to cover the entire yard. Its branches were heavy with a red fruit that Persephone didn’t recognize, though it seemed somehow familiar.

They sat. The chairs were cushioned and comfortable. The air was pleasantly cool. Persephone scooted her chair closer to Hades.

“Is this place alright?” Hades said.

“Yes,” said Persephone. “It’s lovely. I never would have know on there was so much beauty down here.”

“But it’s so gloomy compared to the surface, isn’t it?”

“It’s very different, but I like it. And only someone with no sense would call it gloomy just because it’s different.”

They sat in silence for a time, Persephone staring at the branches above them.

“What are those? I’m supposed to know all the plants.”

“Pomegranates.”

“No it isn’t,” she said chidingly. “Don’t be foolish.”

“They are, though.”

“My mother showed me pomegranates. They’re useless things. Green with small bitter seeds.”

“I’ve never seen them above, but down here they’re red, with sweet seeds.”

Persephone frowned, and reached out to pluck one. When she had it in her hands, the similarity in shape was clearer. Still not convinced, she gripped it, ready tear it open. It came apart in her hand so easily she dropped one half. So unlike the pomegranates her mother had shown her. But the seeds were packed in that same formation, and despite them being red like the skin, she had to admit they looked like they could be the same plant. She picked a few out, and pinched them between her fingers. They burst with almost no pressure, surprising her with the spray of fragrant juice. She picked out more seeds eagerly.

Just then Persephone and Hades heard a shout, and suddenly they were not alone. A man hovered before them on winged sandals, his golden hair glowing.

“Persephone, your mother sent me to save you from abduction. Take my hand, and you will be free.”

“Hermes, she came here of her own free will,” Hades said, sounding perturbed and a little nervous.

“Demanded to, actually,” Persephone added.

“He’s tricked you! I see that even now he tries to make you eat the fruit of his realm to trap you here!”

Persephone looked at Hades and raised an eyebrow. His expression was a mix of apprehension and concern, as well as confusion. She looked back to Hermes, and stared him down confidently as she raised the seeds in her hand. Hermes reached out and tried to slap the little red seeds away from her. Before Hermes could reach her, she tossed the seeds up and caught them in her mouth. She stared him down defiantly, but she nearly forgot everything as her teeth punctured the seeds and the juice touched her tongue.! Tart, not bitter, and sweet as well!

“I failed! She’s lost! Oh, Demeter, forgive me!” Hermes wailed.

He stared mournfully as he slowly ascended through the branches. Persephone looked at Hades. His face was frozen and a stunned mask. She burst into laughter at the sight.

“Close your mouth, Hades, or I’ll toss a seed in there.”

He recovered, barely.

“Do you know what you’ve done?”

“Eaten a tasty fruit?”

“You’ve eaten fruit from the underworld. This place is a part of you now. You’ll be tied to it from now on.”

“Isn’t this place just an extension of you? I already took part of you into me. What’s different about this?”

“... Nothing,” he said in realization. “I’ve made a horrible mistake! Ah!”

“Hey!” Persephone said sharply.

“What?”

“You make it sound like I have no choice in the matter.”

“I didn’t make clear to you that dangerous–”

“Come off it. You told me plenty. I make my own decisions.”

“Yes. Sorry.”

“Do you actually regret joining with me?”

“No,” Hades said, quiet and serious.”

“Good.”

He sat, wide-eyed and still. She went about eating the rest of her fruit.

It took a long time for Hades to show Persephone all of the underworld. She wanted to see every corner. She spoke to many of the dead, and they came to look on her as reverently as they did on Hades. She seemed to take her time exploring. She frequently insisted on stopping to just sit somewhere with Hades. He was fascinated by her, and almost always did what she asked purely to see her smile. The guilt of bringing her to the underworld slowly faded from his mind. Finally, after having seen all she wanted to see, Persephone said she wanted to return to the surface for a while.

“I understand. I always thought you would eventually return there. Thank you for keeping me company for a while.”

Persephone shook her head.

“No, you don’t understand. I’m going there to visit. This is the place to which I’ll return. This is my home now. I’ll come back to you, don’t worry.”

Then, she kissed him.

Persephone stood at the peak of Olympus, confronting the gods. Demeter, her hair matted, her clothing disheveled, reached out a hand.

“My Cora! You’ve returned to me. I knew he couldn’t hold you captive forever.”

Persephone walked closer, and her mother’s expression turned from longing and relief to shock. Persephone stood tall–taller than her mother.

“I’m not a little girl anymore, Mother. You have to stop calling me Maiden.”

“Oh, my poor child,” Demeter wailed, reaching up to a hand to brush Persephone’s cheek. “He’s ruined you.”

Persephone slapped Demeter’s hand away.

“Hades did nothing of the kind, Mother. Don’t you dare say something like that to me. Calling me ruined... Do you have no respect for me? No, I suppose you never have. I was just an accessory to you. Not a partner. I’m glad to have found someone who will treat me like one.”

It’s just like Hades said. She sees me as tainted. Mother… I hope one day you see me for who I really am. Persephone pushed past her mother to approach Zeus on his throne. She spoke to him, and all the others gathered around.

“I am Persephone. You don’t know me, since my mother always jealously hid me away. I present myself before you now as my own self.”

“So,” Zeus said in a thunderous voice. “You wish to be accepted as an Olympian?”

“Olympian? No, Lord Zeus.”

“What? If not on this peak, with the other immortals, where would you reside?”

“With Hades, of course.”

Murmurs passed through the crowd. Her mother called out to her from behind.

“Daughter! When you were below, all the land changed!”

“Oh?” Persephone said, turning. “How?”

“All the plants seemed to die, as if they’d been taken into that dark realm with you.”

“Oh, really?” Persephone mused. “What happened to the pomegranates?”

“What?”

“Did the pomegranates seem to become like something of Hades as well?”

“I don’t see why it matters, but yes. They swelled and discolored, then rotted, as if taken by some disease.”

“Did they look like this?” Persephone said, taking one of her new favorite fruits from a pouch at her waist.

“Why yes,” Demeter said.

“Hm,” Persephone said. “Then this change in the world can’t be all that bad. Perhaps…”

Perhaps, one day, I will be thanked for this. It must have been hard for the mortals, with no warning. She felt a pang of guilt. But I can help them prepare. Then, maybe they will be grateful to spend some months without needing to work the fields to keep them from overgrowing. The plants themselves, and the fields… I think they will benefit from the rest as well. She didn’t let her inner struggle show on her face. She wouldn't give her mother the satisfaction. She turned back to Zeus and the others.

“I’m only up above to visit for a while. Then I’ll be going home. I hope to see some of you around.”

She smiled, and walked away, peeling the fruit as she went. Zeus’ booming voice followed her.

“Every immortal must have a title and a purpose. If you want me to respect your wishes, tell me who you plan to be.”

“I still plan to look after the plants, and the mortals," She said over her shoulder. “I’ll make sure both weather the changes that may come in life and death. I’m Persephone, Queen of the Underworld.”

She tossed a bright red seed into her mouth, and strode away.