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daylighted · 4 months ago

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ━ㅤ ㅤ dean winchester.

the tale of the king of hell and the sweet angel with flowers in her hair.

a hades & persephone retelling through the veiled, handcrafted lens of demon!dean and angel!reader, addressed as persephone, fem pronouns.

content warnings. sexual implications and elusions. that's it lol it's relatively tame!

word count. 6.1k

the woods were always a safe space for him. they existed in every location on the mortal plane; some big, some small, some haunting, some inviting. it brought him great comfort that something could be so vast and sometimes vitriolic and still be loved and adorned by someone by the likes of her.

she was the manifestations of everything innocent. she was a daydream; wisps of wind carrying flower petals of creams and teals, of pinks and violets. all of which stemmed from the plucked flowers tangled and vined in her hair.

she was always alone, this girl of flowers. dropped down from heaven itself, he knew ━ in the same way that he knew her woods were the big, inviting kind. inviting to everyone but himself.

the underworld was dark and icy, so cold sometimes that blue flames licked upon skin and burned it raw, frostbite staining each orifice blue in its wake. but here, with her, it was always so warm. he did not understand the phrase burn in hell when all he wanted, really, was to burn with her.

he watched her for a long time. every day, the same spot, all by her lonesome. he could see her wings even as they were tucked beneath the skin of her shoulder blades, her entire being painted in an innocence that longed to be scorned.

in the end, it was not him that approached her, but rather her that approached him. cream colored fabric caught in the pollen-scented air that wafted through the branches and got caught in the leaves. strands of her hair tangled in front of her eyes, petals dancing behind her like a trail of pure magic.

"what is it that you long for?" she asked him, and it was such a strange question, such a strange scenario. a creature made of darkness and corruption and everything vile did not often get asked what it was that they longed for, and it was even less often that such things that they wanted were women with buried themselves in flower fields and made friends with the bees.

as such, he did not answer her. he chose to bypass her question entirely and take it upon himself to ask her something. his hand reaches out to grasp a stray petal from the silky hive that was her hair. "it is not smart to approach strangers in secluded places."

"it is hardly secluded," she said as fast, her lips forming a soft 'o' as she blew the delicate magenta petal from his two fingers. "no part of the woods is ever solitary."

she is naive, he thinks, and the naive ones are always the most fun. but there is a part of him that does not long to break her spirit, so long as he can instead nurture it and make it grow. if he was capable of such things. "i suppose you mean the creatures that lurk in the bushes?"

"the wind," she corrects, her head tilting up to absorb the impact of it. again, it tosses her hair, knocks the flower petals woven in the strands loose. her silken dress is one with the wind itself, the fabric catching the gusts and bottling them as it dances in its fingers. "it carries secrets, if you listen close enough to hear them."

and he could not help himself. "what does the wind tell you of me?"

her head tilts to the side. his world, spun on its axis, watching him right back. "that we are alike."

she could not be more wrong. she was made of clouds and goodness, constructed in the very nature of virtue. he was of sin and shadows, dark and broken, feasting off of the innocence that she radiated like a pheromone. he opens his mouth to say so, but she does not let him.

"i know you are not of this world," she continues, slowly, as if she's convinced that this is information that should frighten him that she knows; not something that intrigues him greatly. "like i imagine you know that of me, too."

he does not give a solid answer, but the slightest quirk of his lips is enough to bring a flicker of mischief into her eyes. "what is it like?"

what a peculiar question from a girl made of stardust and glitter, drawing every bit of light toward her like a beacon. he could not play naive to this, or act innocent in the terms of her question, because she had already taken those roles and embodied them perfectly.

"dark," he says, leaning ever-so-slightly closer with each word, "foreboding. lifeless."

he expects that word to drown her spirits. he expects to see the hope floating away in the river's stream, swallowed whole as it glittered beneath the water's surface. instead, she sparkles brighter, her smile wider. "do you believe in fate?"

he balks. "i believe in nothing at all."

"perhaps you should take me there," she says, tugging the loose petals from her hair and letting them rain on the grass. she still looks as wild and free as ever, perhaps even more so, without the reins of life and nature holding her back. "and i will give you something to believe in."

try as she might, it was all for naught. he believed in her so desperately already that he might as well be the drowning thing in the river. perhaps that was why it did not glitter at all.

she called herself persephone, and she called him dean, though that was not what the servants of the underworld and the demons beneath him called him. they called him hades ━ master of cruelty, harbinger of the dead.

it meant justice, where she was from, high above in the clouds with the other things crafted from perfection and innocence. it was not a name out of love, but one out of duty. he told himself this, because there was no chance that someone like her could ever reach into his heart and cradle it between her palms.

persephone had a room, closest to his, and he hated to admit that he considered locking it with a chain every night, lest she realize her mistake and want to go back to her life of oak trees and soft-petaled flowers.

but the heavy door never nudged in the days that she stayed alongside him, and the darkness seemed to hold its breath around her.

"does it not get dreary?" persephone asks upon waking up, her eyes glittering so brightly in the bleak underworld that she stood out like the beacon he believed her to be. always calling him to her.

dean's eyebrows raise a fraction. her mind formulates thoughts that she does not share, until her mouth splits open to speak questions he does not know the context of. "is death not supposed to be dreary?"

he is very good at giving her the answers she does not want. her lips contort into a blatant frown, puffed in a pout of rose petals, and her eyebrows furrow like aggravated caterpillars on her face. "it is a necessity in the life cycle. all things necessary are beautiful."

"you are a dreamer, persephone," he says dismissively, because there's an odd feeling warming his cheeks and the back of his neck. warmth. how odd it was to feel warmth that didn't scald or burn, but soothed. "i await the day that your dreams shatter to pieces."

the pout deepens. angry pink petals curled downward enough to wrinkle her smooth skin. "that is an awful thing to say."

"i would pick up every shard," dean interrupts, their eyes finally locking, "and i would put them back together, no matter how long it takes."

"i have many dreams, dean."

dean does not back down, still. "and i have many centuries."

their stares do not falter. they hold and they hold, like hands tightly woven together in secret, clutching like they might be ripped apart at any point. dean was certain nothing could take persephone from him now, what with how desperate he was for the life she brought.

"your world is cold," she says simply after what feels like eternities in of itself, "and incapable of fostering life."

an astute observation. the words fell from her lips with icy breaths punctuating between them. "i did warn you," he speaks slowly, like this time it is she that needs to have it explained to her, "that this was not a place for angels like you."

he did not warn her of such directly, no. but is scaring off someone and warning someone not the same?

"i am not the life that needs fostered," she waves her hand, her eyes dancing around her surroundings mindlessly. the blackstone countertops of his housing chambers, the metal chairs that did nothing but breed discomfort. all of it was dysfunctional ━ display pieces, in a way, so that he may feel an ounce of humanity again in his dead soul.

her finger reaches out to poke his chest. firm in her movements and her judgements. "it is you." persephone's chin tilts up in her defiant arrogance. "and how lucky you are to have me to guide you."

dean forgot, in his haste to keep persephone, that other people were capable of loving her just as vehemently as he did. it was only a matter of time before something went awry in your absence, and people began to wonder where the angel dusted in pollen and petals had floated away to.

he just did not expect it to be so soon.

a month passes, and suddenly his home is littered in gold. she is a radiant light, everything she touches bursts into life ━ and so the dark home that he'd come to know, with its dim sconces and brooding towers, has become one with light through the gaps of the windows. fresh candles that smell like daisies and lavender are placed in the caged sconces.

maybe he should be angry that she is turning his kingdom of darkness into something so alive. but all dean has ever wanted was a touch of life, and not so much death. it was something that he only began to crave when he spotted her in the woods, surrounded by living things that responded to her touch.

there is an angel at his door, and it is not the one he wishes for.

he senses it like a sixth sense; something amiss in his territory. the wind before a storm, twisting and twisting and setting everything off balance. and the silence is unlike anything he's heard before, in a place as damnable as his home.

dean exits his room with his spine rigid, booted steps heavy on the hollow stone. acts like this are not taken lightly. acts so disrespectful are met with wings hung over his throne, bloodied muscle still attached to their delicate bones.

"persephone," the angel says from the center of his throne room, without turning over their shoulder to look at him. another act of disrespect. "is... where?"

dean's steps echo in the empty room as he circles the angel. predator and prey. neither of which give any indication on who they believe the other to be, in that manner. "is none of your concern."

"you have taken an angel from a place of life and virtue and thrown her into a dungeon of death and decay," the angel snaps back at him, their teeth bared in a harsh snarl. their true form threatens beneath the surface of the vessel they wear. down here, it is much harder to keep up appearances. "it is obvious that it is our concern."

the idea of persephone being locked away sent his stomach churning. how dare anyone think that he would ever try and stifle her light? not when she is cultivating her craft and turning his home into something that is alive.

dean drops into the throne in the center of the room. flames lick to life at the first contact between him and the granite. the angel does not falter at the sight, and dean's jaw ticks because of it. "if you think she is unsafe, find her."

the angel's eyes narrow. "is this a game to you?"

"i guarantee it is not." how could he ever imagine this situation as a game, when the very root of his life is being threatened to be stolen back from him? "find her."

dean knows where she is. in her room, across the narrow hallway from his. her door is shut, but he could smell the flickering flames smelting in her fireplace, warming her from the underworld's pitch black coldness. dean knows she is safe, writing on the parchment he'd gotten for her, detailing her days and thoughts into permanence.

the angel flickers away, out of his sight. dean is left alone with his own thoughts. his, he does not want to memorialize. his stay in the creeping corners of his mind, tucked away to keep his persephone safe. not that he did not believe she could handle a little darkness; she was the one that asked him to come here, after all.

it feels like an eternity that the angel is gone. dean fears, in the very depths of his soul, that they have taken her without a warning or a trace. he'd burn them. all of them. he'd take their wings and decorate the halls of his kingdom with their feathers. he'd . . .

flickering into view is the angel, with persephone clutched between their grip. her face is contorted into that fiery expression he'd come to expect from her, defiance born in her very blood.

it was no wonder that the angels wanted to leash her. she was not like them. she was composed of flame and fury, and radiated it like she was the sun itself. dean was always so captivated by her, but it was times like this when he could not look away.

"what have you done to her?" the angel tosses the accusation dean's way like the words sicken them. again, their true form flickers just behind their eyes. at least dean was a beast that wore his skin without the skin of a lamb atop of it.

dean's fingers steeple beneath his chin. "explain."

"she does not want to come back." the angel's eyes narrow onto him, unspoken allegations swimming in their expression. "there is no reason that someone so full of life would want to bury their feet into the death and darkness of your home."

it is selfish that his heart swells at those words. does not want to leave his home. his initial worries that he would have to say goodbye to her melt away like the ice frosting over his stone walls.

"that is not true," persephone interjects, and dean stills. waits for the clarification on what wasn't true. "i do want to go home."

they say that if you love something, you must let it go. dean did not understand it. never before had he loved anything, and the prospect of releasing this precious jewel to the real world has him feeling like he's about to burst from his skin. how was he supposed to let her go? how was he supposed to . . .

panic flares the fire surrounding his throne, his fists curled into tight balls against his palms. "then you may leave."

persephone's expression shifts, her eyes flicking over to dean. hurt mares that beautiful face, her eyebrows furrow deeply, valleys between them, lines burnt into the stone. "you do not listen."

"you have made it clear," dean cannot keep the hurt from his own voice, either, "that is what you want."

it was foolish for someone like him to be irate that someone like her did not want to be around him. persephone were gold and he was ash; she were fire and he was stone.

but perhaps he'd grown used to having someone lively around amongst all of this death. perhaps the prospect of her being in his space had begun to feel less like an invasion and more like laws of nature.

death could not exist without life. life could not continue without death. it was as natural for him to crave persephone like the moon longed for the sun.

"i want choice," persephone says loudly, her voice carrying throughout the hollow throne room. "i want to not be contained."

dean straightens in his seat. "and have you felt that i've been containing you, persephone?"

she holds his gaze for a long while. so long that he sees the fire in her eyes, watches it dwindle to ash in the shore of her irises. "you have never done anything awful to me."

"i do not believe such words," the angel interrupts, their lips curled into a sneer. "manipulation is part of who he is, persephone, and you are caught right in his snare."

dean is about to lunge. his nails bite into his skin, blood pools in four glossy red crescents on his palms, with the effort it takes to not bury his fists into the cheekbones of the angel's face.

it is her eyes that keep him steady. persephone's eyes, always so open and honest. he'd mistaken her for naive when what he really saw, initially, strength. warm, like a hug. burning, like passion.

he slumps back into the throne again, his curled fists breaking open and shattering like they'd never been built for violence at all.

"he has no snare," persephone's voice is soft. flower petals brushing across his calloused knuckles, a lover's caress. "he is a product of the underworld, an image crafted to maintain his reputation. you do not know him like i have come to."

dean did not believe a lot of what she said, himself. he was not just an image of violence and cruelty; it was who he was, still, with everyone but her. his persephone.

"your mistake is that you think i am vulnerable enough to get caught in any trap," she continues, and those eyes reignite and burn as they land on the angel that clasps her wrist. "i am not a damsel, or a lamb. i am a fire burning, and you are in my way."

persephone was a fire burning. those were the two words that she'd picked for herself, when she began to acclimate to the life below the surface. she burnt trees and flowers, singed them to ash and blew them away like the seeds of a dandelion.

she had it all, up above. life burst from her fingers, the sun beat down on her and made her burst. flowers wove themselves into her hair, stems tangled in the strands, her fingertips always smelled of pollen, and she could taste the season changes on her tongue with how familiar their flavors were.

but someone that was made of life was never truly alive. she only saw things grow, cultivated them, and where was the satisfaction in it, if she never got to see them die? what was the point of life if it never ended?

the god of death had been watching her for a long while. she felt the decay long before she ever saw him, her flowers wilting and the grass turning wheat brown and crunchy beneath her green-stained knees.

life was always intrigued by death. death always craved life. she found herself drifting up to him without an ounce of fear, even as his eyes swirled with a darkness beyond her knowledge. angels were naturally contemptuous of demons like he was, but she was no typical angel, and he was no typical demon.

it'd been her plan, really, from the moment that she first sensed the burn of his gaze upon her, threatening to drain her life source from its very core, to get him to steal her away. she was exhausted with giving life to everything around her, and not ever getting to feel that thrill of something new and exciting herself.

the god did not put up much of a fight to her troublesome idea, and that was the moment that persephone realized that she had chosen right. it took nothing for him to be convinced of her purpose and her potential, whereas there was not a soul that paid her any mind unless her efforts began to slip.

she'd never felt as alive as she did walking amongst the dead, and not only because of the obvious, but because it was new. a purpose. the souls that were trapped beneath the mortal grounds did not need to live like they were entombed in eternal winter.

persephone was a fire burning in the icy pits of hell, daring to melt away its harsh exterior and warm it, starting with the man that believed her capable of such.

"what is this?" she asks upon entering into his throne room, her eyes bursting open like blooming flowers at the sight. his throne, a towering mass of obsidian once in the center of the room, was now shifted. and next to it was... "for me?"

a granite throne of smaller stature, engraved with vines and thorned flowers. lesser demons worked on it without stirring at her arrival, though their rigid backs gave way that they sensed her. she was the sole thing with a heartbeat in this kingdom, it was impossible not to.

her beloved dean sat on the big arm of his own throne, eyes narrowed and scrutinizing on the working demons, lips curled in utter focus. but the moment her voice rang out, the black depths of his eyes melted into the green she'd gotten to familiarize herself with. the green just for her. "if you wish it to be," he says nonchalantly, as if having a throne built just for her was some idle task.

"you do not have to go to such lengths for me," persephone insists, "i am merely a guest in your home."

his eyes narrow. not long ago had that angel invaded the underworld and tried to drag her away. spouting nonsense about the god's manipulation of her, turning her vision rose-tinted and blind. the angels did not know that she had manipulated the god into bending to her will. "you are not merely a guest if you wish to be more."

"that is a bold offer," and she almost calls him dean, but she refrains in front of his subjects. that name is reserved for them and them only. his vulnerability is hers to cherish.

dean's head nods once. "and you are a bold girl."

her heart swells. the hollow thud of tools on stone echoes throughout the room for endless moments while she watches him, stares into those eyes that only deepen for her.

"leave at once," he commands, his voice cold and crafted of ice. dean's eyes, though, do not freeze over into black as they stay locked with hers.

the subjects scramble to their feet and disappear into the open archway of the throne room, out of sight. in a blink, it is just persephone and the devil, his gaze crafted of marble and as warm as a hearth.

no, he is not capable of manipulating her or breaking her. but she is capable of shattering him. he is lucky she would never want to hurt him. she is lucky that his heart thaws just for her.

"i will tell them to dispose of it if you do not want it," dean says, his voice like warm honey compared to the frosty interior. "i only thought that it would be nice. to have you around when i am not available to keep you company."

persephone shakes her head. "i love it," she answers, her eyes falling back onto it. it is everything she loves at once. the harshest flowers, the cruelest thorns ━ blackstone carvings of the balance between life and death.

dean can read her like a book. his eyes stay locked onto hers for any flicker of change in them. "there is something else." his jaw ticks. "say it."

"i am afraid."

the words come so easily that she does not feel the need to sugarcoat them, or to bury the truth beneath flowery words. though his reaction is unexpected. a flinch mars his expression.

she feels guilty at once.

"oh," is all he says, and the soft utter of the one syllable alone has her reeling to make this right.

"not of you," she says quickly, desperate to get the hurt out of his beautiful eyes. "never of you." dean stays looking unconvinced. "i am afraid," she starts again, backtracking on her words so that they might sound better this time, "of how a throne for me will be perceived."

dean's expression hardens and tightens. it takes seconds for him to become a man of marble ━ harsh lines deepen the contours of his face, expression unyielding and unmoving. he is the god hades, then, and not her dean.

instead of responding, his head jerks in gesture to the throne. not hers, but his. the one that he sits on the arm of, and not in. the one that does not belong to her, and that has probably never felt the presence besides its god's.

persephone's feet carry her to it, anyways, as if her body has not realized, yet, the implications of it all. her fingers dance along the glossy stone of the empty arm, expecting it to be icy and finding it warm.

she sits upon it, and it bursts into flame.

dean does not flinch away from the wisps of fire, though. they do not touch him. as she thought, the fire adheres to him, the throne answers to him ━ and it appears to answer to her, too.

"you are as much of a queen," he mutters as his head dips down, lips brushing on the curve of her ear, "as i am a king."

persephone cannot move, stuck in the trance that was the burning in his eyes. dean leans closer, and she does not move. his breath is warm and full of life on her skin. "it is yours if you want it to be. all of this is yours."

she has never wanted something more than to mean something. to have a place amongst death as life always should. her lips part to say so, but three words interrupt her, stopping her heart in between her ribs. "i am yours."

it is incredible, persephone thinks, to be loved. to not feel too inadequate to deserve it. to be herself, and to be enough.

his hand falls on her cheek, and hers lifts to trap it there, caging his love before it can run out of her like sand in an hourglass. and before she knows it, she's leaned up enough to kiss him.

his mouth tastes like frosted pomegranate and sin. his tongue breaks through the barrier of her lips like he's craved her for so long that he knows exactly what to do now that she is here.

life unto death. life undoes death.

he keeps her face between his palms like she is something precious as he makes the moves to stand. he is between her legs, then, his fingers trailing up the dress she wears, tucking beneath its hem.

she does not stop him. his fingers land on her inner thighs. she does not stop him. he sinks to his knees in front of her, a king bowing at his own throne, surrendering.

persephone's mouth parts in blooming anticipation. his hands push her knees apart, the thin fabric of her dress's skirt pooling in between the open space. and there dean is, her dean, as warm as he is frozen, thawing at the touch of her.

"i know you do not fear fire, my beauty," he whispers, his voice as rough as gravel as he looks up at her through his eyelashes, "so burn for me."

and then he buries his face between her legs, and she bursts into flames.

"i had this made for you," dean says upon entering their shared space. she is sprawled underneath silken burgundy sheets, completely bare, still, from the previous night. and the one before that. she has not left his bed or made any attempt to.

all he wears is a wrap of black cloth around his waist, hair damp from a shower, the smell of soap billowing around the room like smoke. and in his hands is a crown.

ruby red roses wrap around the base. the sharp points are thorns. deep green vines wrap around it in its entirety. it is sharp, deadly, and it is beautiful.

the sheets pool at her lap as she sits up, her lips parted in her awe. it is beautiful. it is everything he views her as, she knows, because he does not let her forget that she is as fierce as she is soft. she is thorns and she is roses.

dean crosses the space to nestle the crown into her hair. his knuckles trail down her cheek, a soft caress, softness that stays reserved for them.

"you look beautiful wearing your power atop your head," he mumbles mindlessly, his eyes searching her expression for any sort of reaction. but she is struck wordless. there is no magic in a crown made of thorns and bloody petals, but there is magic within her now that she wears it. an irrevocable strength that does not waver.

she reaches up to touch it, fingertips dancing along the jagged points of the thorns. her finger pricks, the sting making her blink in her surprise. how long had it been since she'd dealt with pain? since she'd seen it in her very eyes?

"when you are presented tonight, to my court," dean continues, his knuckle locking beneath her chin and tilting it up higher so she may meet his eyes, "you will wear it."

the fear of being rejected by his people and his subjects is now nothing but a wobbly line pretending to be a towering wall. she had broken past those worries, shattered them into rubble and dust, the moment that he'd kissed her.

like he knows that such an act will solidify her and her feelings, he presses his mouth to hers. warm, as always. everything in the underworld, now, is becoming warm and hearty.

persephone grabs at the cloth wrapped around his waist to drag him in closer. her hands slide around the expanse of his thighs and pull, pull until his knees meet the feathery soft mattress and he is atop her.

"i will never take it off," she vows on his lips, letting him swallow their truth.

dean's lips quirk into the kiss. "already fitting perfectly into your role."

━

persephone's throne is collecting dust, now, from the disuse. dean has insisted that she sit in his lap on his throne from the very moment that they'd first gotten together, and persephone was never one to argue with what he wanted when it was what she, too, did.

his people do not like her. it is evident in their sneers and their irritation. but it is not her job to make them accept her. it is theirs to come to terms with, when she stays.

dean's hand trails up her thigh, his palm leaving shivers with each pass, raising higher beneath the hem of her black satin dress. thorned vines wrap around her legs, thorns blossoming down the center path of the room from each step she took.

she is life and she is death. and most importantly, to her, she has found a purpose within his courts.

"you must not falter if they speak ill to you," he whispers into her ear, peppering the words along her skin in between kisses, "you must show them the queen that i know you to be."

it was reassurances that persephone did not need. she was not afraid of the dead. she craved death like it starved for her.

every harsh stare toward her was met with her own sneer. it was hard to fear her above, when flowers bloomed beneath her feet and branches curled toward her, wishing to listen in on what she had to say, and the wind whispered its secrets into her ears.

here, she was fire. here, she'd never felt so alive.

persephone could feel dean's eyes on her. when she turns to meet his gaze, there is pride in his green eyes. green, just for her. green, like the leaves and the grass. she lifts her hand to smudge the wrinkles in the corners of them, the gesture a silent question and an act of affection.

"you do not have to hide from me," she promises under her breath, the pad of her thumb massaging the age lines over his stubbled face. "show me how dark you can burn."

and when his eyes blacken, she is certain that love can conquer all. it certainly has brought a king to his knees.

the warm months were dawning. persephone knew, because her veins ached with the need to be above again. spring was upon them. it was time for her to return. just as dean had his duties, she had her own. it would not be fair to throw them to the wind just because she'd found a home, now, and was no longer wandering mindlessly through the woods.

dean stands before her, a grim expression on his face. in his hands is a pomegranate, torn in two. the juice runs down his hands like blood.

from his face, she knows that he must feel, too, like he is bleeding out.

persephone steps forward to press her forehead against his, on the tips of her toes to reach him. his arms wrap tightly around her, staining the white of her flowing gown pink with the blood on his hands.

she does not make any move to pull from him, though. she has waited as long as she possibly could already, but she does not want to abandon him again to his kingdom of cold isolation. does not want to see how much he falls apart without her; not when she will shatter just as violently.

"i will be back when the wind begins to chill," she promises, slipping from his arms just enough to steal a pomegranate half from his hands. she plucks a seed from its pieces, popping it between her lips. "i will be back at the very first reddening of the leaves, i swear it."

it does not loosen his clenched jaw. dean has never doubted any of her promises, but he does doubt himself, falling into a pit of his own destruction. she does not want to leave him and see how many shards she will have to pick up upon her return.

dean's fingers reach out to steal one of her seeds. "i would never take away your ability to choose," he says softly, placing the seed on his tongue as she had, like an unspoken vow between them in the shared gestures, "but i wish that you will continue to choose me."

"always."

her eyes close, and it's like she can already hear the crying of the birds in the sky, the nymphs in the trees crying for her to return, her mother wailing. it overwhelms her. she opens her eyes again to find solace in the black swirls of his.

"i will count the days until you come," he swears, his stained fingers brushing streaks of red along her cheekbone as he cups her face against his palm. "and i will burn the world if you are kept away from me."

persephone knew he would, too. just as she would tear through it all to get back to him.

it is with great effort that she crosses the gate between the underworld and the real world. her strength crumbles the moment her feet touch the grass, tears streaming down her face, the first signification of spring being the pouring rain that starts the moment her tears do.

but she was strong, and now much stronger, now that she holds place in someone's heart and she has found solace in a home that welcomes her just as she wants to be. as a queen, not just an angel, as a girl who wants to burn as much as she wants to light.

and true to his word, the depths of hell are aflame the moment the gate closes. the ice melted and thawed, in its place, flames and fire and heat, grieving the angel of death until she makes her way home to its king again.

tags. @sthefferrete @cevansbaby-dove @titsout4nicholas @cosmicanakin @bluestrd

@ultravi0lence14 @mccartneyqp @poughkeepsie99 @depressionbarbie2023 @im-bili

@ariasong11 @chevroletdean @angelblqde @ostaramoon @deansbite

@lyarr24 @jasvtsc @deanswidow @figthoughts

click here if u want added!

#dahlia's ☆ journal #★ life unto death #dean winchester #demon!dean x angel!reader #dean winchester au #demon!dean #supernatural #spn #demon!dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester one shot #demon!dean one shot #hades and persephone #supernatural one shot #spn one shot #jensen ackles #jensen fucking ackles #greek mythology #hades and persephone retelling

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queer-cartoons-quotes · 4 months ago

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I know that most of the reinterpretations of Hades and Persephone are quite bad, not to mention quite sexist, but sometimes... sometimes they get it right

#hades and persephone #reintepretation #greek mithology #hades #persephone #entrapta #hordak #entrapta x hordak #entrapdak #flutershy #discord #fluttershy x discord #fluttercord #strange magic #bog king #marianne #bog king x marianne #thinking about how a pegasus and a goat with wings can be a better retelling than many stories about persephone and hades...#there must be other good ones too if they want to contribute

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kexytimes · 24 days ago

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Excuse me while I go cry in the corner😭

Now I need to decide if I should change it

#I'm once again using ''the lunatic of Etretat'' as the pose reference #thats the painting of the woman holding the log dressed as a baby #like if that doesn't scream “there's no name for a mother losing her child” then I don't know what does #Except rather than a log I gave her the horn of plenty since that's one of her symbols #but its barren since her child is gone #tagamemnon #greek mythology #art #digital art #stories from styx #stories from styx meme #stories from styx prematurly made fan art #fan art #demeter #persephone myth #i also added the frostbrite? from when she tells zeus to fuck off #I once again also gave her gecko eyes because for some reason those little guys fall under her #and you know what? good for her #greek myth art #greek mythology art #greek gods #greek myths #casper fox #sfs #hades #persephone #greek goddess #demeter goddess #greek myth retellings #ancient greek mythology

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rafeandonlyrafe · 8 months ago

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kiss of death

words: 2.9k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, alternative universe, soulmates, grim reaper!rafe, talk of death, superstitions, reader kind of dies (its explained in the fic)

you swallow deeply as you step into the graveyard. the darkness is creeping into every corner, but you know it's not midnight, not yet.

you feel a pang of guilt as you walk through the rows of graves, briefly glancing at the names to distract your focus from the anxiety filling your chest.

it's an old superstition, but you're beyond desperate.

you stop at the hole in the ground and the temporary headstone, ready for burial tomorrow.

“sorry mr. crawford.” you whisper. you barely knew him, the town psychologist currently kept in the morgue. you could probably use him right now as you move carefully to your knees.

you recite the words from the local town lure, the promise of your true love showing up to kiss you awake at sunrise if you laid in the grave at exactly midnight.

all your other friends have found love, love that is so pure and beautiful it makes your chest ache with jealousy and wanting.

you look at your watch and let out a sigh. five minutes of looking into the grave until the hands of the clock point straight up, five minutes to change and regret your decision.

the minutes tick by but your resolve only grows. you're beyond desperate and the worst thing that could come of it is you spend the night sleeping in a hole under the stars.

you climb down the second the minute hand crawls to the 12 and lay back in the grave, blinking upwards towards the starless night sky, the bright sunlight reflecting off the moon blocking out any other suns.

you close your eyes, trying to ignore the fact that you're exposed to worms and bugs and whatever else happens to be lurking in the graveyard at night. certainly nothing you want to come across.

soulmate. your soulmate. your one true love is worth one night in a grave as you fall into a deep slumber.

you can feel the light against your eyelids, but before you can open them, it's blocked out by a shadow.

you gasp as lips are pressed against yours, cold but soft lips. you want to open your eyes but they feel so heavy as you kiss back, hands reaching upwards but you feel nothing, just pressing into the freezing cold air despite it being the middle of summer.

you finally force your eyelids open and you realize who you have been kissing as he pulls away, more of a black figure then a true human form.

“no.” your voice quivers. “no!”

“did you not want your one true love to wake you with a kiss?” he smirks down at you, hovering directly over your body.

“my-my true love is not death.” you thought it was just another superstition, the grim reaper, the one to facilitate your crossing to the other side, but when looking up you know that the mans face that looks back down upon you is nothing but pure and utter death.

“then tell me why i was called to this spot only to find you laying here.” his voice is smooth but deep in tone, not what you expected from the grim reaper as you almost find comfort in his soft words.

“this can't be right.” you look around you, realizing that all light from the rising sun has disappeared, along with the walls of dirt around you, replaced with darkness so thick it's like you could reach out and touch it. “am i?”

you can't make the word out fully. “kind of.” the reaper shrugs.

reality shifts and despite you not changing positions, you can tell in the inky blackness that you're now on your feet.

“come with me.” the grim reapers legs push out from the black mass, appearing and disappearing as he begins to walk, somehow able to find his way, walking with the purpose of a destination that is unseen to you.

“what if i don't want to?” you question, even though your heart is pulling you towards him, telling you to follow and stay close.

“i will give you this option only once.” the reaper turns to you. “you can turn around and walk away, or you may follow me and be with your one true love and rule the underworld as my queen.”

you know your back should be towards the reaper as you begin to walk, but you can't go back to your earthly reality after discovering the grim reaper is just waiting for you to die, for you to take your place.

as you walk alongside the grim reaper, you begin to make out shapes moving through the darkness.

the first one scared you so bad as you whipped your head to the side, trying to make out what appeared to be someone walking the opposite direction.

“what is this place?” you ask, voice quiet, feeling as though you don't want to interrupt the figures pushing through the dark.

“the place between life and death. the farther we walk, the closer we are to death and my-our kingdom.”

“and the people walking the other way?” you turn to look over your shoulder as your feet continue forward.

“some have been revived. by doctors or desperate loved ones. but most made a choice. most got to the final step and realized it wasn't there time.”

“and is it my time?”

“you will not truly be dead.” he states, and you find yourself swaying to walk closer to him, his cold presence comforting as the only thing around you can truly make out. “i will keep you in the state that you are now for as long as you please. you will be in limbo, in status. your earthly body will still be yours.”

“so no one will know what happened to me?” you can tell that your body isn't left in the grave, that you're whole and complete right here, soul included.

“no.” he sounds almost regretful as the blackness ahead of you turns into a swirl of dark grey, making out the rolling hills as you get closer.

“your final choice.” the reaper says, and you don't mention that he already gave you what he claimed to be your final choice before you began walking.

it hits you then. the reaper is in just as new of a position as you are in, and your nerves don't outweigh him.

“what is your choice?” you parrot the question back. “do you want me… to rule with you?”

“i have waited an eternity for you. so long that the memory of how i came to be the reaper is no longer available to me.” the grim reaper pauses for a moment before continuing. “yes. i want you alongside me always.”

you nod and then take a step past what you can tell is the final film, the one separating you from whatever rolling hills of gray grass await.

a weight you didn't realize you were carrying leaves you as the grim reaper steps out next to you, the black mass of his body gone as he appears as a fully realized man, legs and all.

you don't mean to, but you reach out and touch him, seeing if your arms would move through him as they did before during your kiss, but your fingers just press against the soft fabric of his black long sleeved shirt.

“welcome to the underworld.” he says, taking your hand in his and pulling you to continue walking.

you can make out a castle in the distance, and the closer you walk towards it, the warmer the hand in yours gets and the less gray seems to be blotting out the world as the grass turns green beneath your feet.

you gasp the first time you see one, stepping closer to the reaper.

“they won't hurt you.” he clarifies quickly as the large wolf runs past you in the distance, several hills away.

“you control them?” you question.

“yes.” he nods. “and all the wolves on earth as well. they are part of my domain.”

“i thought it was going to be a three headed dog.” you whisper slightly sheepishly as you realize your hand has been intertwined with the grim reaper the entire walk, feeling so natural that you don't question the fingers snug between yours.

“everyone got something partially right.” he says. “the egyptians, the greeks, the christians. they all had pieces.”

“oh.” you don't care to question more, not yet. you're already overloaded with all the information.

you pause as you get to the door of the castle. it's not dead quite like you expected, you can hear voices chattering inside and when you look up you can occasionally see people passing by windows.

“people do what suits them best after death. what would make them most happy. for most, that's reincarnation. for some, that's helping others cross or serving me in other ways. everyone inside this home is dead.”

you like that he calls it a home and a slight smile stretches across your cheeks.

“do not ask them how they died or their life on earth. if they wish to reveal it to you, it will be on their own time.”

“okay.” you nod, looking to the grim reaper, your soulmate. “what should i call you?”

you certainly can't continue to call him the grim reaper, it would just be an upsetting reminder.

“rafe.” he smiles down at you, not the terrifying soulless being you thought he would be. “you may call me rafe.”

the tour of the expansive home is long, but you find yourself only half listening as you look at rafe.

his appearance is so different from when you saw him first, he looks less harsh, kinder, more alive.

“are you tired?” he asks as he pushes the doors open to what you assume is the master bedroom. “i know you just awoke but if you need to rest-”

“how does time work here?”

“there's night and day just as there is on earth. it's still morning.” he places a gentle hand on your back, pushing gently to get you to enter the room.

“this is our chamber.” he explains. “you may rest, or bathe, or eat.”

“i…” you look down at your clothes, dirt still covering your pants. “id like to change.”

a maid ushers in, and you try to see if you can get any visual clue that she's passed, but theres nothing as she opens up a cabinet and begins to grab out various jewel toned options.

“i must attend to some business.” rafe says. “ill be back soon.”

you get changed and dismiss the maid, wondering what kind of person chooses to serve like this for all of eternity and actually enjoy it, but you're too distracted with exploring your surroundings to think too hard about it.

you find a sitting room with walls covered in bookshelves, the grand bathroom, and a door that leads to a balcony.

you step out and look over the rolling hills, seeing as they turn to gray the farther away it is from the castle, seemingly encircled completely by the void.

you occasionally see a wolf running, or a figure floating, but you can tell none of them are your reaper. that must be the other helpers he was talking about. despite not being able to see their faces, you know it's not him.

you take a seat on the lush couch on the balcony. they must not have true weather here or it would certainly be ruined by the rain.

before you notice it, now dressed in clean clothes similar to rafes, your eyes are closing and you're falling into a deep sleep.

you yawn as you wake up, stretching as you realize you'd been moved to the bed at some point.

you sit up suddenly only to come face to face with rafe who is sitting in an armchair moved from the sitting room to the foot of the bed.

“did you move me?”

“yes.” he nods as you blink, looking outside, unable to tell how long you've been asleep. like he's reading your mind, rafe speaks. “it's the next morning. you were exhausted from the journey.”

“did you sleep in the bed with me?”

“i do not need sleep.” rafe answers, jolting you slightly before you remember who you are here with.

“then why have this bed?”

rafe gives you a pointed look as you replay his words in your head. of course it's for you. he's been waiting.

“come.” rafe stands, imposing his tall height again.

you slide out of bed, only then realizing that your clothes have been changed.

“a maid changed you.” he says quickly. “i will escort you to breakfast and as you eat i will finish my work for the day. then we can…”

he trails off like he doesn't know what the options are. “get to know each other.” you offer. “since you're my one true love i suppose we should… go on a date?”

a smile stretches across the reapers face. “yes. a date.”

“what is it you'd like to know?” rafe asks as you're sat in the front of the boat, moving slowly down a river that winds through the hills.

it scared you at first, but rafe certainly wouldn't be taking you anywhere where you couldn't come back.

“uh…” there's a million questions you have about life and death, about heaven and hell, but that's not what you truly want to know. “what's your favorite color? do you have to eat? can you sleep even if you don't have to?”

“well…” rafe chuckles. “i love deep blue. i don't have to eat but i can, same with sleeping. and your favorite color?”

“also blue.” you swallow deeply, eyes turning upward as the invisible force keeps the boat moving steadily in the water. “but sky blue. like on a warm summer day.”

you're about to wonder if you'll ever truly see the sky again when you can make out a cloud in the distance.

“i-”

“for you.” rafe says as the color of the sky shifts, matching the exact shade you were thinking of. “everything here can be changed for you.”

the conversation flows naturally, you suppose it should between soulmates. every time rafe smiles, you get butterflies in your stomach, and by the time you're back where the river meets the castle, you have a question brewing on the tip of your tongue.

“can we… can we kiss again?” you need to know what it feels like, if it's the same cold lips despite his hands now feeling warm.

the smile comes back to rafes face, and then it gets closer and closer until he's kissing you, deeply.

you almost instinctively wrap your arms around his shoulders, able to fully touch him now as he kisses you, warm lips gliding against each other's.

you pull yourself closer until you can't get any nearer without climbing onto his lap, which you do next as you cling to him.

you thought your friends talking about the instant connection with their one true love was ridiculous, but you know what is between you and rafe is complete and real and right.

there's a woosh of air and when you pull away, you're still straddling rafe, but now in your bedroom.

“please.” he said softly, and the word comes out a little strange, like he's not used to saying it. “i need you.”

your fingers grasp the bottom of your shirt before you lift and pull it off your body, revealing the bra somehow already in your size that the maid got out after breakfast.

rafes hands stop yours when you go to unclasp it. “let me.” he says.

his hands are large and warm as they undo your bra and push the straps off your shoulders so it falls between the two of you.

“can i-”

“yes.” you answer quickly. “do anything you want to me.”

you take rafes cheeks in your hands as you look in his deep blue eyes. “do everything.”

your reaper transports you again, this time only feet as you're laid on your back, head rested against the pillows as he hovers over top of you.

your clothes as well as rafes are completely gone, and you're both silent, breathing heavily as you admire each other's bodies. if someone would have asked you what your perfect mate looks like, you'd absolutely describe rafe in this state.

“i will spend eternity pleasuring you, but you'll have to forgive me for not being able to wait a moment longer.”

rafes cock lines up with your entrance, and then he's pushing inside, his eyes shutting as he lets out a moan that makes you surge forward to kiss his lips and swallow the sound as his hips glide all the way in, fitting exactly inside of you like he's been your missing part all along.

“you're so- warm.” rafe manages to choke out. “ive never felt warmth like this.”

it makes you sad to think rafe spent so long as the cold and lonely reaper. you pull him into you, pressing your chests together as his hips begin to move, your moans growing and becoming in sync, creating a beautiful chorus even to your own ears.

you don't know what your future will hold. there will no doubt be ups and downs, hard times and great times, but you will face it all together with your reaper, your rafe.

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just-1-scorpio · 1 month ago

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I couldn't sleep. So now. I post these. A few memes about bad retellings, and reacuring bad takes.

Also here is a few veriants of the Clown makeup meme.

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aliciavance4228 · 4 months ago

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Persephone: An apple a day keeps Asclepcius away.

Hades: An apple a day, he'll die anyway.

#This the dynamic that I want to see in HxP retellings.#Screw Lore Olympus I want Hades and Persephone to threaten doctors and Apollo to actively hate them two.#greek mythology #greek gods #hades #persephone #apollo #asclepius #greek mythology memes #incorrect greek mythology

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laurasimonsdaughter · 7 months ago

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Red drops fell onto the frozen earth. Dripping off the knuckles of Demeter’s shaking fist, the pomegranate crushed between her fingers.

"You tricked her." Her voice was barely a breath, but it was in every howling gale sobbing in the barren trees.

Hades, lovesick, pained yet unrepentant, met her eyes without a word.

"So be it." The parched ground groaned under Demeter's feet, but she did not hear it, her eyes fixed on Hades' stoic face. "You took my child from me, then take all to keep her company. I shall not nurture earth she does not walk upon."

For the first time, Hades started back, but Demeter was turneding away from him already, casting her sunken eyes to the heavens.

"I will be deaf to their pleas, like you were to mine!" her voice screeched, and breaking, shuddered on: "And there won’t be a parent among them, even as they curse my name, who can swear they would not have done the same..."

Silence fell. And the wilting earth wept. Until a voice came from the dark like a song and Hermes, swift-footed, emerged from the mouth of Hades.

"Six seeds, dear uncle, sweet aunt of mine. Only six out of a whole fruit..."

His smile was winning, but his cunning eyes were wide. As wide as the as the vast fields, ploughed to breaking in human desperation, that stretched lifeless past every horizon.

"Six seeds...six months..." He looked from the lord of the dead to the mistress of the harvest. "Six months above, with her loving mother, six months below, with her faithful husband."

The very breeze held its breath as hope and fury mingled in Demeter's eyes and Hermes bowed, his knuckles pale around his winged staff.

Hades stood, silent, and then quickly stepped, allowing Hermes to pass. And behind him, led up the endless steps of Hades, came Persephone. Dressed in rayments as fine and dark as the night.

"Mother!"

It was a commonplace cry. Cried by every fledgling tumbled from the nest, every cub turned around in the woods, every child lost in the dark. But the whole world breathed as Demeter answered.

Hades averted his eyes, Hermes grinned at the sky, and holding her daughter once more, tears finally welled in Demeter's frozen eyes. Raining down upon the earth, where grass began sprouting between Persephone's feet.

#merry autumn equinox!#greek mythology #hymn to demeter #retelling #reimagining #laura drabbles #hades and persephone #demeter #persephone #hades #hermes #zeus isn't here but he's listening #greek gods #greek myth

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kurzler · 1 month ago

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psst. "feminist" retelling writers. yes, i'm talking to you. i have a gift for you: here are some interesting women from greek mythology that you can write about that are NOT medusa, persephone or clytemnestra! there ARE other women, shocking i know!

-medea: she literally killed her brother and her children, i thought "female rage" girlies would be all over her

-danae: her life is so crazy, imagine being imprisoned by you father, getting impregnated by a god, being locked in a box and left to die at sea and then basically becoming a hostage to a king while your son is sent to kill a monster. and she's one of the only ones who, to my knowledge, actually gets a happy ending!

-atalanta: basically the only female hero in greek mythology!! and she was an argonaut!! c'mon now there is so much potential here, why does nobody care for atalanta

-the amazons: penthesilea! hippolyta! literally any of them! you're telling me there is a whole society of female warriors and so called feminist writers aren't jumping at the opportunity??

-hecuba: such a tragic and interesting figure, being the queen of troy, she lost her whole family in the war, i wish more people explored her relationship with her children (especially paris) and apollo

-andromache: i'm shocked andromache isn't more popular with the "tragic female characters" people, she literally lost everything basically because of men

-cassandra: i know cassandra is fairly popular, but i love her so much and i want more people to explore her relationship with her family, every dynamic has the possibility to be SO interesting

-electra: this whole family is a MESS and yet i see people mainly focusing on clytemnestra (with iphigenia), but not exploring the relationship between electra and clytemnestra is such a missed opportunity

-helen: i just want the focus of her story to be shifted from paris to the other people in her life, like her daughter hermione! how did they rebuild their relationship after troy? or her sister clytemnestra! what happened to her bond after the murder of agamemnon? or her brothers, castor and pollux! there is so much untapped potential

-demeter: there is a story about a mother's grief for her daughter, her journey looking for her, her anger, and yet every retelling of the homeric hymn to DEMETER focuses HADES to make him a dark romance mafia boss?? come on

and more!

conclusion: i'm tired of seeing the same stories being retold over and over again when there are so many characters to explore

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neptunesize · 9 months ago

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𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓾𝓷𝓭𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓷𝓮

a dionysus and ariadne playlist

✦ Bedroom Hymns - Florence and the Machine

✦ Glitter & Gloss - Skott

✦ Fool - Børns

✦ Is Everybody Going Crazy - Nothing but Thieves

and more! listen here!

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the-mori-arty · 1 month ago

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DID YOU MISS ME

Persephone, goddess of spring

The first of many fanarts I shall do for Caspers new musical: Stories From Styx

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be-it-so · 9 days ago

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#mainly inspired by the the people rewriting Persephone and Adonis' relationship as mother-son thing #greek myths #greek mythology #greek myth retellings #tagamemnon #i spent almost an hour trying to find the meme #so now at least one person should laugh at this because after all these search i cant anymore

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amaziana · 1 month ago

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A hymn of Demeter retelling.

Demeter walked down the halls of Olympos as the first cold winds of winter swept through it. She could feel the scorn radiating from those she passed.

"A wicked old hag" someone muttered behind her.

"She's such a control freak" another said.

"I would not be surprised if her daughter actually ran away instead of being kidnapped."

Ignoring them, Demeter continued on her way head held high. She knew others had said those and much worse things about her behind her back, but she did not care.

Demeter still remembered the day she had stood in front of zeus' throne. Her chiton dirty and torn and her hair an unbraided mess. Behind her a trail of golden footprints of blood followed. Demeter had walked for so long that the skin of her feet had been stripped off. But even when each step had felt like she was walking upon a thousand needles, she had kept going. For her daughter. For Persephone.

Having found her daughter, Demeter stood in front of the king of the gods tired, but head still held high.

"What do you mean by no?" She asked him voice trembling with rage. Zeus sighed as if he was dealing with a petulant child and not the goddess of harvest.

"I will not make your daughters marriage void." King of the gods said.

"Marriage?" Demeter asked, "you call that abomination a marriage? Hades kidnapped my daughter! Took her against her will and that is what you call a marriage?"

"Just as the other realms, the underworld needs a queen. For too long it has been without a one and as such is falling to a disarray. So no, Demeter, I will not return your daughter to you. In fact I don't see your issue. Your daughter is a queen now. Should you not be happy she has secured such a prestigious marriage?" Zeus answered. Demeter balled her hands into fists.

"Persephone is a queen against her will. She has a husband she did not ask for. How could I be happy that she was stripped of a choice in those matters?" She hissed. At that point Zeus was clearly annoyed.

"The situation is not ideal." He admitted "but it will not change. Persephone will remain Hades' wife and the queen of his realm." Demeter could feel her eyes stinging.

"She is my daughter! My life! I will not allow her to be treated like this!" She screamed.

"Enough!" Zeus bellwoed. Thunder crashed outside the room. "I am the girl's father! It is my right to choose her husband and I have chosen Hades! It is not your or her place to go against my word on this!" Demeter felt the ichor in her veins turn to ice. Zeus had known. All this time he had known. He had told Hades to take Persephone without saying a word about it to the girl herself or her mother.

After the realisation came rage. All consuming rage she had not felt before, not even when the man before her had chased her, ignored all her pleas and cries and taken her against her will.

"You are not her father." Demer whispered. "She has no father. She only has her mother, me. And I will not stand for this. You will bring her back to me. Until you do so, no plant will grow. No fruit will ripen. No harvest shall be reaped. I will keep the earth barren until Persephone is back home." Zeus stared her as if she had lost her mind.

"If you do so you will kill thousands upon thousands of mortals. There will be no one left to worship us and we would fade into nothingness. All that over a girl fulfilling her role in life?" He asked. Demeter raised her chin. Tears were now streaming down her face and blood dripped from her palms where the nails had pierced the skin.

"The girl you talk about is my daughter" ,she said, "I would to anything to protect her and her happiness." After that she had turned away and limped away from Zeus leaving a trail of blood and tears behind her.

The first one to come was Athena. Demeter was not surprised to see her emerge from the shadows the oak trees clad in full armour as always. Despite her attire her face was not warlike but rather sad.

"You come later than I expected." Demeter croaked as Athena approached the giant oak under wich she sat.

"It is because I did not want to." The goddess of wisdom answered.

"But you had no choice." Demeter said. Athena nodded solemnly.

"Zeus is my father and my king. When he commands me, I must do as he says."

"If he commanded you to marry against your will, would you?" Demeter asked her. The other woman shuddered.

"He wouldn't" she answered, "I am too valuable to be given away. But if he would...I would rebel."

"Then you understand why I cannot give up my daughter." Demeter said bitterly. Athena did not argue. She only nodded and said:

"I would not expect you to. But I hope you can forgive me. As you said, I had no choice."

Demeter looked the younger goddess in the eyes.

"As you didn't with medusa." She said quietly. Athena lowered her gaze.

"As I didn't have with medusa." She whispered. Demeter laid back against the oak and closed her eyes.

"Do you know who he will send next?"she asked. Athena shrugged her shoulders.

"I know he tried to get Artemis to talk to you. However, she refused and has not since talked to him. She is the protector of young women after all." She said. Demeter nodded.

"Well, you can tell him talking to me is useless. I will stop this only after Persephone is free." Athena bowed her head.

"I will." She said.

The next one turned out to be Hermes. He came three moons after Demeter's declaration.

"This has to stop Demeter. Mortals are dying like flies. If you keep this up, we will all perish." He said. Demeter looked at him with disinterest.

"You visit the underworld often, do you not Hermes?" She asked. He nodded.

"I do and thus I see the souls that have perished due to your grief. There are thousands of them Demeter. Do you truly want all this suffering?"

"Tell me Hermes", Demeter continued ignoring him, "have you seen my daughter? Is she happy there?" Hermes hesitated before answering:

"She...is not as sad as she was in the beining. She has taken some interest the affairs of the underworld."

"And when the night comes? Does she seek the company of the man who brought her there? Does she dine with him? Do they converse with each other? Does he make her happy?"

"When the night falls, your daughter locks her door and cries herself to sleep. If Hades comes close she flees. She has no one to talk to but me on the occasions I visit." Hermes admitted. Demeter raised her head to look at him.

"Then I will not relent. I will not have my daughter wither away when she has all the right to flourish."

"Even if costs us all our lives?"

Demeter laughed bitterly. It was a dry, croacking laugh that sounded like more like a crow than a goddess.

"Why should I care about the rest of the gods? I have suffered in the hands of both Zeus and Poseidon. For eons I have slaved away keeping the earth fertile to feed the mortals that worship us. All the while the rest of you have slaughtered them in thousands. I have not said a word of complaint during any of this. I endured it silently, because it was my duty. My only delight was my sweet daughter. I swore to give her a better life than I have and yet I failed to protect her from Hades. I might not be able to undo what has been done but I will condemn my self into Tartarus for the rest of existence before I stop fighting for her happiness. So no. I do not care for the rest of you. I will no longer bow and bend to keep you happy. After all, when have you done the same for me?"

For a moment Hermes looked at her silently. Then he bowed and said:

"I will tell this to the king."

Finally, after six months, Hera finally appeared.

"Sister." The queen of the gods said as she came before Demeter. By now it was hard to tell the goddess of harvest apart from her surroundings. She was all sickly pale skin and bones. Her hair looked like dried twigs and her eyes were dull and tired.

"Sister." She greeted Hera back. By now her voice was barely a whisper.

“You need to end this.” Hera said softly. “You are not helping your daughter. You are just killing us.”

Demeter looked at Hera with her dull, lifeless eyes. She had run out teras to shed long ago but the sadness in her eyes was still clear as ever.

“Tell me,” She asked, “If you could go back in time, would you still mary your husband knowing what you know now?”

Hera sighed heavily. She sat down besides her sister.

“It doesn’t matter what I would or wouldn’t do. Zeus is my husband and nothing can change that. I just have to live with it and make most of my situation. After all, it is not a bad one. I am the queen of gods. I have possibilities and privileges any goddess or mortal queen can only dream of. And I do love my husband.”

“Even after everything he has done?” Hera nodded.

“Yes. Even after everything. It hurts. Sometimes I wish I didn’t, but I can’t help it. And I know that he too loves me no matter what he does.” She answered.

Demeter tilted her head.

“But it makes you angry. Then you kill his lovers and you fight.”

Hera closed her eyes.

“I’m not proud of it. Every time I swear to myself that I won’t do it again, but in my anger I forget it. Every time.”

“So you two are stuck. Doing it over and over again. More and more tears, more and more dead mortals. Is that the future you want for my daughter?”

“This is not up to what I want. This is simply the way things are. That is our lot in life as women. Your daughter is no expectation.” Hera answered. Demeter hummed. She too closed her eyes.

“I don’t care.”

The two women sat in silence. The only sound was the wind swinging the dry, dead branches above them.

After a while Hera said quietly:

“Ares asked me to tell you that he is ready to march into the underworld to get your daughter. You’d only need to ask.”

If Demeter could, she would have smiled.

“That would be pointless. However, I do appreciate it.”

“He is vehemently against his fathers judgement on this. Do you remember Alcippe? He is almost as angry now as he was then.” Hera said.

Demeter raised her brows.

“Is he now?”

She did remember the case. Ares’ daughter had been attacked by Poseidon’s son and Ares had killed him. Poseidon had dragged Ares in front of other gods and demanded justice for his son. Zeus had been ready to grant it, but Demeter, Hera, Hestia and other goddesses had spoken against it. In the end, Ares’ had been punished, but only lightly.

Hera smiled, pride in her eyes.

“Ares, Artemis and many others have left Olympos as a protest. Many who stayed would have wanted to follow them, but couldn’t.”

If Demeter had had any tears left, she would have cried. She had not expected sympathy from others, much less that they defy the king of the gods for her and her daughter.

“Thank you Hera, for bringing me these news.” Demeter said. “But you can go back now and tell Zeus that I’m not yielding. The earth will remain barren until Persephone is back home.”

Hera sighed.

“I knew you were going to stand your ground.” she said. “But I had to try.”

For Demeter’s surprise, two weeks later Iris, Hera’s messenger, came to see her.

“I did not expect you.” Demeter said. Iris bowed her head.

“I come bearing a message my lady.” She said. “From the king of the gods.” Demeter raised her eyebrows.

“I thought you served the queen. Shouldn’t Hermes be the one to bring his command to yield?” she asked. Iris shook her head.

“Hermes couldn’t come as he was needed in the underworld. After all, only he can guide our daughter back to the world of the living.”

Demeter's immortal hearth, that had stopped beating a while ago, jumped. For the first time in six months she felt something other than desperate rage or all consuming numbness. A feeling of fearful hope was slowly rising it’s head.

“Is Presephone… is she being freed?” Demeter asked. Iris nodded.

“Yes my lady. The king of the gods has yielded and ordered Persphone be returned to you. I’m here to take you to her.”

A smile made it’s way to Demeter’s face. It was painful and awkward and it made her dry lips bleed, but never before had her smile been as genuine and joyful. She tried to stand up, but her legs, weak from months of not being used, gave up under her.

“Quick!” she rasped at Iris, “Help me up. Take me to see my daughter!”

A little while later Demeter arrived at a cave entrance. Zeus and Hera waited for her there. Zeus looked at her with scorn.

“Are you satisfied now?” he asked. “You have killed thousands and brought us gods to the brink of destruction with your tantrum just to break up a marriage.” Demeter shook her head.

“I’m satisfied when I see Persephone in front of me safe and sound.” she answered.

“Well, you’re about get that.” Zeus grumbled. “And the moment you do, you better let earth bear fruit again.”

“Don’t worry, I will.” Demeter said without paying too much attention to the man scowling at her. Her gaze was fixated on the cave, waiting for the girl she loved more than the whole world and life it self.

They waited silently for a while. Then, as Demeter was getting anxious, a girl stepped into view.

“Mother!” She cried and rushed to Demeter.

“Persephone!” Demeter ran to meet her daughter, all exhaustion forgotten. When Persephone's feet touched the living ground, the yellow dead grass turned green and lively. Flowers, snowdrops, crocuses and irises, burst from the ground with each step.

Mother and daughter met in an embrace. For a while they just hugged each other and cried. The earth around them woke and started blooming.

Then Demeter pulled away and took her daughters face between her hands.

“Let me look at you.” She whispered. Persephone laid her hands on top of her mothers and stood weeping silently, as her mother observed her.

Persephone had changed. She was still young and beautiful, but she wasn’t as full of life as she used to be. Her skin was white, her freckles were gone and she had gotten thinner. But her eyes had new determination in them. Her gaze was harder and her demeanor more self assured. Demeter’s heart broke a little when she realized that her daughter looked more like a woman than a girl now. She had always known that the day would come, but it did not make it any easier to accept that her daughter wasn’t a little girl anymore.

“You’re home.” Demeter whispered, tears falling from her eyes. “Really home.” Persephone smiled and pulled Demeter back into a hug.

The happy reunion was interrupted when somebody cleared their throat. Hermes had emerged from the cave looking worried.

“There is something we need to discuss.” he said avoiding Demetr’s gaze. Demeter felt cold all of a sudden.

“What is it?” She asked.

“While in the underworld, Persephone ate pomegranate seeds. As such she is bound to my realm.” Hades had followed Persephone and Hermes from the cave.

“YOU!” Demeter shrieked and squeezed Persephone closer to herself. “You’re lying!”

“He’s not mother.” Persephone whispered. “I ate six seeds. One every month. I was so hungry.” New tears filled Persephone's eyes and her shoulders started shaking as sobs made their way up her throat.

Demeter stroked her hair soothingly while staring at Hades with burning rage.

“You will NOT have my daughter.” She declared. “You have no right to her. I will destroy the world before I let you touch her again against her will.”

“Demeter!” Zeus said. “You already have gone far enough! There are rules even us gods cannot break!”

“And I will go even further!” Demeter hissed. “I wont let anyone hurt my daughter ever again!”

“But by the law of the cosmos she, like anyone, is bound to the underworld after consuming it’s food!” Zeus roared.

“I don’t give a damn about the cosmos or it’s rules!” Demeter shouted back. “If you force my daughter to go back, I will starve the world to death.”

Demeter and Zeus glared at each other. The skies turned dark and the rumbling of thunder could be heard. The atmosphere grew colder and thorny bushes started to emerge from the grounds. Then, Hermes stepped forward.

“If I may, I might have a solution.” he said. All the gods turned to look at him.

“Persephone ate six seeds. If she stays six months in the underworld and six months in the land of the living, the law of the cosmos will not be broken and Demeter gets to have her daughter back.” Zeus seemed thoughtful for a moment.

“It could work.” he said.

“No.” Demeter said. “I will not subject my daughter to any more misery.” Zeus sighed.

“Don’t you see? This is the only way to keep everyone happy!”

“Is it?” Demeter hissed. “Do you really think…” Persephone interrupted her.

“Mother.” she whispered. “I will do it. I want to do it.”

Demeter looked at her daughter shocked.

“Are you sure?” Persephone nodded.

“As long as I can come home.” she said. “While I was…down there, I learned a lot. There are so many dead who are lost and I could help them. I want to keep helping them.” she explained.

“Are you sure?” Demeter asked. Persephone nodded.

“It’s just…I don’t want him to… to…”

Demeter kissed her daughters hair.

“I will make sure he will leave you alone.” she whispered. Then she turned to look at Hades.

“Persephone will be the queen of the underworld.” Demeter declared. “But she will not be your queen, Hades. She will rule in her own right, be her own mistress and won’t be subject to your whims or wants. You will make the decisions concerning your kingdom together with her, for it will be as much hers as it is yours. You will not take her to bed, touch her or even speak to her without her permission. You will not be unfaithful to her or make her cry. You will respect and honour her and hold anyone entering your realm to the same standards. When the six months of her time with you are up, you will not try to hinder her departure. If I hear even a whisper of you breaking these conditions, I will freeze the earth and flood your kingdom with dead mortals until you drown yourself in the river of misery. This I swear on the river styx.”

“Don’t be crazy!” Zeus shouted, but Demeter hadn’t finished.

“And as a reminder to you and all the other gods, for those six months Persephone spends ruling the underworld, I will forbid anything from growing. Only when my daughter returns will I let the earth to bear fruit again.”

Persephone smiled.

“Thank you mother.” She whispered. Demeter stroked her hair and kissed it again.

“I would to anything for you, my daughter. Now, shall we go home?”

It had been almost two millennials since Persephone had become the queen of the underworld in her own right. Since then, a respect had grown between her and Hades. Persephone had confided in her mother and told her, that she wasn’t sure if she loved her husband, but that they got along with each other well enough. She no longer feared him, due to the reassurance her mother had given her.

Their relationship was so good, that some, who hadn’t lived during the time of the abduction, had started to doubt wether Persephone had truly ever been kidnapped. They had started seeing Demeter as a hag of a mother, who had smothered her daughter until she had ran away and Hades as a liberator, who had given Persephone her freedom. Demeter knew that Zeus, still bitter from having to yield in front of her rage, liked to feed these rumors.

But Demeter didn’t care. The way younger gods, nymphs and spirits saw her didn’t matter. Not when Persephone was safe, free and happy.

When Demeter now looked at her daughter, she felt tears filling her eyes. She was incredibly proud if the woman and queen her daughter had become, but could not help missing the girl she had been. But at the end of the day, Persephone was happy and that was all that mattered to Demeter.

So others could talk and glare at her all they wanted. Demeter would let the world freeze over a thousand times for her daughter and not regret it for a moment.

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