Chapter 62
Love and hate are two sides of the same coin. They are opposites that never meet, yet they are separated by the thinnest of margins. Like a coin tossed into the air, you can never be certain when love will flip to hate, or hate back to love.
In the beginning, Persephone hated Hades. Of course she did. Their meeting was not romantic. It was less a fairy tale and more a story of banditry: the warlord sees the princess, takes what he wants, and carries her off. The only difference was, in this story, there was no prince powerful enough to storm the fortress. In fact, most princes probably couldn't even beat the princess. So the innocent, vibrant Persephone was stolen away to be the bride of the King of the Dead.
It was a terrible, traumatic beginning. Hatred was the only seed in her heart.
But now…
"Darling, smile. A real one. The kind that warms a person's heart," Persephone chirped, using her fingers to gently lift the corners of Hades's mouth into an approximation of a grin.
Now, she was undeniably happy.
The Underworld was cold, colorless, devoid of life. Not a single flower would bloom here. In the early days, she had curled into a ball in the corner of her dark chambers, weeping, desperate to escape. She was bound, having eaten the food of the dead. Those days felt like an eternity of dying.
But she had adapted. She grew used to walking the banks of the Styx, watching the monstrous Cerberus's many heads bicker among themselves. She grew used to… Hades's own clumsy, earnest attempts at affection.
"The Lord of the Dead cannot warm anyone's heart," Hades stated flatly, holding the stiff, artificial smile she'd arranged for him.
"You two seem really close," Cyd said, a genuine, if slightly overwhelmed, smile on his face. He felt like he'd been force-fed an entire banquet of domestic bliss.
"We're a model couple," Persephone declared proudly, wrapping an arm around Hades's armored shoulders. It was a far cry from the girl who had once sworn she would kill herself if he dared touch her.
Ahem. Hades cleared his throat, a faint, uncharacteristic flush coloring his pale cheeks as he looked away.
Well, Cyd thought, most divine marriages in Greece were a mess. The most famous was Aphrodite and Ares cuckolding Hephaestus, resulting in a humiliating public spectacle. Although, with all parties involved being female in this version… Cyd's brain stuttered trying to figure out the logistics of that particular scandal.
"Oh, right. Your mother, Lady Demeter, asked me to bring you a message," Cyd said, glancing nervously at Hades. "Should I… deliver it now?"
"I should perhaps—" Hades began to stand, a look of resignation on his face, but Persephone's hand shot out and caught his.
"Stay right here, darling," she said, a flicker of genuine annoyance in her voice. "It's because you always withdraw at the crucial moment that I can only stay here for three months at a time!"
Cyd blinked. That was… not what Demeter had said at all. According to the harvest goddess, Persephone was counting the seconds until she could escape. But then, nothing about this scene matched that story. If Demeter could see them now, she'd probably dissolve into a puddle of confused tears.
"Very well," Hades sighed, sinking back onto his throne under his wife's unwavering gaze.
"Besides, it's not like she'll say anything new," Persephone waved a hand dismissively, the picture of a rebellious teenager tired of parental nagging. "Don't talk to him, don't look at him, don't even breathe the same air as him. What else could it be?"
Hades's expression grew somber. Demeter, your love may be suffocating. But perhaps that's why you sent this message…
Cyd took a quiet breath. The message wasn't words. It was a feeling, a raw emotion captured and carried in the blessing he bore.
"It's just… 'I'm sorry.'"
Persephone froze. The practiced, carefree smile on her face slipped, turning stiff and awkward.
Hades, as if he had anticipated this, slowly turned his head away, granting them a semblance of privacy.
I'm sorry I wasn't there when you needed me most.
I'm sorry I couldn't save you.
I'm sorry all I know how to do is fuss and fret, not how to truly reach you.
I'm sorry I'm a useless mother.
The jade bracer on Cyd's left wrist shimmered. The crystal containing Demeter's blessing glowed with a soft, golden light, warmer than anything else in the cold throne room. Within that light, a faint, flickering image seemed to form—not of the powerful goddess, but of a heartbroken woman, weeping for her lost daughter.
Persephone's eyes widened. The tears she had held back for so long—tears of rage, of frustration, of loneliness—now welled up for a different reason.
"I'm… I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have…" Her voice broke. She covered her mouth with a trembling hand as tears, clear and shining, traced paths down her cheeks.
"And…" Cyd said softly, reaching into his pack. "A little bonus gift." He pulled out a handful of ordinary-looking seeds and scattered them into the air before him.
The glow from Demeter's crystal intensified, bathing the seeds as they fell. Before they could hit the stone floor, they sprouted. Roots unfurled in mid-air, stems thickened, leaves unfurled. They wove together, a living tapestry of green and gold, climbing invisible lattices. In seconds, the gloomy, austere throne room was transformed. Ivy clung to obsidian pillars. Vines heavy with blossoms arched across the ceiling. The scent of nectar and living earth, utterly alien to this place, filled the air.
Flowers.
They were blooming in the heart of the Underworld.
Persephone stared, her tears falling freely now. Petals, carried on an impossible breeze, drifted down, landing in her hair like a gentle caress. She could almost feel it—the phantom touch of her mother's hand, the patient, loving gaze that had always watched over her as she danced in the sun-drenched meadows of the mortal world.
Even here… you are watching over me?
She stood, her movements fluid and graceful. And then, surrounded by this impossible garden born of apology and love, Persephone began to dance. It was the same dance she had danced on the surface, a celebration of life and growth, now performed in the kingdom of stillness and dust.
Hades watched, utterly transfixed. She was breathtaking. Just as she had been the first time he saw her, when a crack in the earth had shown him a glimpse of sunlight and a dancing girl, and he, for the first and only time, had abandoned his duty for desire. He felt that same overwhelming pull now. But it was different. This girl, dancing in a shower of petals in his hall, was his. Not by theft, but by shared time, by clumsy effort, by a bond that had somehow grown from terrible soil.
"Hades~" Persephone called, her voice soft and full of warmth. Still dancing, she turned and stretched a hand out toward the throne.
For the first time in his eternal existence, Hades thought that maybe, just maybe, this cold, dark realm wasn't so bad. Not when it held a girl who would reach for him with a smile like that.
"Well," Cyd whispered, a small, satisfied smile on his own face. "Time for a strategic retreat." He scooped Medusa into his arms.
"Your blessing?" she asked, tilting her head.
"Now's… probably not the best time," Cyd said, nodding toward the throne where Hades was now standing, his stern features softened as he looked only at his dancing queen. "Interrupting someone's happiness is a one-way ticket downstairs."
"But… we are already downstairs," Medusa pointed out, patting his head.
"No," Cyd corrected softly, turning and walking back into the dark corridor that had led them here. "This is their home."
It would be beyond rude to barge in now. Besides, judging by the look of utterly besotted devotion on Hades's face, the blessing wasn't going to be a priority for a while.
"I really am…" Cyd sighed, a wry grin on his lips as he reached the massive doors.
"...such a meddler."
The doors began to groan open before he could push them. But the light that poured in wasn't the cold, misty gloom of the Underworld's "outdoors." It was sunlight—warm, golden, and utterly impossible.
Hades's voice echoed from the depths of the palace, a final, resonant whisper that carried on the scent of flowers.
"May we never meet again."
A gentle, yet irresistible force pressed against the small of Cyd's back. He stumbled forward, through the doorway, and the world shifted.
He was standing on a grassy hillside under a clear blue sky. The air was warm and smelled of pine and distant saltwater. Behind him, where a palace door should have been, was only the mouth of a small, dark cave, half-hidden by ferns.
"Gone already?" Cerberus, now the size of a large bear and napping in a patch of sun by the cave entrance, cracked open one eye before snorting and going back to sleep.
"Tsk. Looks like you lost a repeat customer, my lord~" the ferryman's voice seemed to whisper from a nearby stream, though he was nowhere to be seen.
"Farewell."
It was a dismissal, a blessing, and a promise all in one. From this day forward…
Cyd lifted his left arm. On the jade bracer, among the other gleaming crystals, a new one had appeared. It was the color of a moonless midnight, dark and profound. It didn't sparkle. It seemed to absorb the light around it, a tiny piece of the eternal quiet. Holding it brought not fear, but a strange, deep calm.
The blessing of Hades had been granted.
The existence known as Cyd was now, and forever, untouched by death.