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Persephone: Chapter 2

Chapter 2 is as far as I ever got when I first started writing Persephone all those years ago. From here, it’s a completely new adventure. I can’t wait to share it with you!

Read the first chapter of Persephone here. 

Chapter 2
Persephone

“Don’t say it so loud, if you please, my dear.” He took her hand. “If my wife does find me here, it will not be pleasant, and I did not spend all those years diverting her gaze from you for nothing.”

“What do you mean,” I asked.

“The queen is the most jealous of immortals,” he said. “Completely unreasonable and distrusting.”

Both water and woods stirred as the nymphs fought for his attention. He winked at them, and there was a collective sigh.

I raised an eyebrow.

He cleared his throat. “Yes, well, perhaps she has had some cause in the past.”

A dryad dropped a wreath of blossoms at his feet.

“When you were born, I was hard pressed to hide you from her. As an infant, Persephone Kore, you were absolutely radiant. Though, I say this without much firsthand knowledge. By then, your harpy of a mother wouldn’t let me near.”

I couldn’t decide if I wanted to laugh aloud or hit him. Mother certainly was stubborn.

“And perhaps she was right to hide you away, but I still say that I was robbed.” He gruffed. “I barely saw you your entire childhood, and here you are, a fully grown goddess with grace, beauty, and extraordinary power.”

My eyes widened, and then, I did laugh. “Extraordinary power,” I repeated. “I cannot do a fraction of what Mother can. I can scarcely conjure enough food to feed a single village. My power is almost entirely useless.”

“My daughter,” he smiled. “I have many powerful and talented children, but none are like you.”

Of course not. I was the runt of the litter. Not wise and cunning like Athena. Not strong and mighty as Ares. Not fleet like Artemis, nor radiant as Apollo…

Disbelief must have shown on my face. He lifted my chin with a gentle touch to meet his eyes.

“You, Persephone Kore,” he said, and a calm warmth encircled me. “Have a quiet power that surrounds you. The flowers grow brighter, even the water glistens more with you near. Yet, your talent for creation is exceptional. You pour your beauty into everything you touch.”

He picked up a tiny flower I’d covered in speckles.

“Such delicate, subtle beauty,” he whispered reverently. “And yet, I sense there is even more to you.”

He looked pointed at me. It took all my will to not look back at the grey patch I ha fled.

“I am what you see,” I deadpanned.

“I very much doubt that,” he chuckled. “Though, what I do see does give me worry.”

I stiffened. He knew. I was a monstrosity. An ugly thing hiding in a young body. He would seen me thrown into Tartarus, for certain, and Mother would never recover from shame.

“How long can such a goddess remain hidden,” he continued.

“Hidden?” I asked cautiously.

“The queen is not the only danger to you, my daughter,” he said solemnly. His fingers dipped in the clear water. “If not her, others will surely seek you out.”

He looked at me, lightning flashing in his eyes.

“And there will be war,” he said.

I couldn’t speak. It was nonsense. He was mad.

And I ran. As fast and hard as I could.

I ran for days, it seemed, until I saw my mother’s dragons ahead.

“Daughter?” she asked, concern filling her voice. “What is the matter?”

She pulled me to her.

“Nothing,” I lied. “I just came to meet you.”

She smiled, and drove to our palace.

It was good that I sneaked away when I did to paint the ugly grew flowers that I’d abandoned in my haste. From that point on, Mother would watch me like a hawk.

But, after days of quiet, I started to relax. If Zeus hadn’t pursued me yet, I had hope nothing would happen.

How wrong I was.

It stared with a gentle breeze. I was picking a bouquet of flowers for Mother, as I often did. The breeze tickled me as it passed. Then, the flower I’d just picked blew away.

Strange, I thought, and moved again. This time the flower I was reaching for was snatched away before my fingers gripped it.

I exclaimed and tried to chase it, but it rose into the air and joined the first flower.

“Who’s there?” I glared with suspicion.

Instead of an answer, the breeze ruffled my hair and plucked a flower from it.

I gasped, covering my head and jumped to take it back.

A mischievous laugh echoed through the meadow, and a god with winged shoes shimmered into sight.

There was no mistaking Hermes, the messenger of the gods.

I was too startled to be frightened. I laughed, and he smiled in return.
He swept past me, teasing with one of the stolen flowers, just out of my reach.

This game continued, me getting ever nearer, yet no closer to my target.
Hermes’ incorrigible smirk so irresistible, I couldn’t help but giggle.

He whispered insincere encouragement. I knew it was hopeless to catch him, but I was determined. And I nearly did.

He flew around me in circles until I collapsed in a dizzy heap on the grass. We both gasped for breath as our laughter rang out.

He sat over me. Instead of offering his to help me up, he merely took my hand and held it. My skin tingled at his touch. My eyes locked on his. They sparked with an unspoken dare, and his face moved closer to mine.

“Oh no you don’t,” Mother exclaimed, and pulled the god away by the ear. “You no good louse of a sheepherder. Stay away from my daughter!”

She flung him so far into the sky, his screams disappeared long after his body.

Mother grabbed my arm and pulled me back to our home.

It would not be the last time. The scene repeated in a dozen different ways. All ended with the great goddess Demeter angrily chasing my suitors away.

Apollo met with little more success. He arrived just after sunset, while my mother and I slept. I awakened to a beautiful melody as he sang and gently strummed his lyre. I sneaked out into the night to better hear the magic of his song.

He was, by far, the most handsome god to seek my hand. The mere thought of his brilliant eyes and golden hair would make anyone swoon.
In a self-emanated, glowing light, he quietly serenaded me with ballads as I blushed. He whispered poetry of my beauty and how glorious life would be as his wife. He said that he would carry me away in his chariot of golden light, and the sun itself would not shine as brilliantly as he and his bride.

I was transfixed, nearly hypnotized. No song had ever called to me like this. It seemed all verses of love I’d ever heard were promises about to come true.

He took my hand and began to lead me away. I was all too willing to follow. It was just too wonderful to be true.

It really was. Just before we reached his chariot, one of Apollo’s impatient, fire-breathing steeds stomped, and snorted. A blinding stream of fire shot from its nose. Of course, this awakened Mother, and… Let’s just say that Apollo won’t be renewing his proposals to me anytime soon. Or ever again.

I admit, I was a bit sulky by that point. I was eating up the attention like ambrosia during a famine, and my mother was just plain mean. I had never imagined love could be so wonderful. There was a big part of life I had never know, and Mother was keeping me from it. I knew better than to whine at her or, even worse, at Artemis. (The last man who pursued Artemis was transformed into a deer and torn to pieces by her hounds).

At least most of the Oceanids were sympathetic. Many were enamored of Zeus and (and probably any other god for that matter), but several were Artemis’ loyal companions. It was probably the only reason Mother would leave me with them for a short time, even though the Oceanids’ sacred duty to keep watch over the young. Despite Mother’s belief, I was not so young any longer.

Clytia, the sea-blue naiad was the closest I had to a friend. She combed my hair and cursed my mother in commiseration. To cheer me up, she and her sisters shared their juiciest gossip and best love stories.

As Clytia and I talked, I began to realize I wanted more than a fleeting romance. Many of the stories they told were of brief trysts and tragedies. But I wanted a partner. A soul mate. I grudgingly admitted to myself that none of my suitors thus far had been that.

I was almost grateful for the lockdown Mother imposed after Ares showed up. In his battle chariot, the god of war thundered into the field where mother and I were harvesting wheat. Fully armored, the god had not even removed his helm. He practically ordered Mother to surrender me in marriage to him.

Affronted, I opened my mouth to protest his arrogance, but Mother beat me to it. At first glance, Demeter did not seem to be the most powerful of goddesses, but she was formidable in her anger. Even the mighty god of war fled from Mother’s wrath.

I nearly wept. Was this what I could look forward to? Suitors either too weak to stand against my mother’s powers or gods I that made me consider life as a perpetual maiden with Artemis? It was the only time in memory I was grateful for my mother’s overbearing protectiveness.

The weeks after Ares’ appearance were quiet. Oh so boringly quiet. It seemed all my marriage offers had come to an end and all for nothing. I hadn’t even gotten to see any of their horses up close, and I had so longed to see one of my uncle Poseidon’s creations.

Oceanids joined hands and danced together.

“Cousin,” Clytia called, her eyebrows pinched. “Come join our song.”

Eyes downcast, I shoot my head silently and moved toward the edge of the clearing.

It wouldn’t help. When I danced, it felt like moving through mud. Weighted and sluggish. What did it matter? What was the point of any of this? Dance around and paint useless flowers? Sing the same songs, tell the same stories every day? Spend my life listening to stories of other people living?

“Lady Persephone Kore?” a gruff but quiet voice asked.

I started. A hefty god covered in sooty smudges hobbled toward me.

“I apologize for startling you,” he mumbled with reddened cheeks and bowed. “My name is Hephaestus.”

“The blacksmith god?” I asked confused.

“Yes, my lady. I was wondering if I could… If you would, perhaps allow me to…” He stuttered and looked around nervously.

My heart softened. I felt a nature desire to help him overcome his discomfort.

With a smile, I said, “I have heard of your marvelous workmanship. That it is truly a wonder to behold.”

His blush deepened.

A soft snort sounded behind him. A pair of large firey red horses stood harnessed side by side.

My eyes widened. “Horses,” I exclaimed and clapped my hands. “May I touch them?”

His hands held in a warning he said, “Stay back!”

Just then, fire shot from the horses’ nostrils and scorched the earth beneath them.

“Oh,” I said, deflated. I tried not to pout. After mother’s dragons, shouldn’t I be able to handle a couple of little ponies?

Before I could ask, he held out a small parcel.

“This is for you,” he said, his face redder than before. He seemed hurried.
The parcel was weightier than I’d imagined for its size. As I took it from his large, calloused hand, he jumped back as if I would strike him.

“Thank you,” I tried to meet his eyes.

“Naught but a small trifle,” he said, eyes flashing in the direction my mother had left.

The silken fabric of the package was smudged with soot. Curiously, I moved aside the unevenly knotted ribbon, and unwrapped it.

I stared in wonder. A pair of bronze horses fit in the palm of of hand. Gears whirring, the precious things stumbled to their feet and strutted about. Each took turns blowing gentle kisses of steam as they whinnied.

“I know it’s nothing grand…” he started and fidgeted.

How had he known?

“It was very considerate of you,” I said.

He mumbled.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?”

It took a few more tries before I understood the words “ask” and “marriage”, but before I could reply, he was climbing back into his chariot (which was more like a sturdy wagon).

I wasn’t sure if I should be flattered or irritated. He had been thoughtful enough with his gift, and I could understand the wisdom in presenting his marriage proposal when Mother was away.

But if I were to decide to accept his offer, would it matter? Would Mother even allow it?

I was grateful for his digression but a bit put off by his haste.

I slowly went back toward my friends. Lost in thought, I startlingly realized that one of the bronze horses had begun to nibble on a violets from the garland laced about my neck.

How charming! I pulled another off to feed it.

The unmistakable roar of a dragon sounded outside the clearing. Mother approached.

I sought a suitable hiding place for my little gifts. I wasn’t sure what my answer to Hephaestus might be, if it even mattered, but like him, I did not wish to anger Mother.

I nestled the mechanical horses carefully inside a dense bush just in time.
“Hello, my dearest,” her mother smiled and hugged me. “Oh how I’ve missed my dearest, my sweet daughter. How did you fare while I was away?”

“Splendidly, Mother. Clytia and I. . .” I began.

Mother’s eyes blinked in confusion, and I followed their gaze. Behind me, the bush that had caught fire.

“What is this?” he mother exclaimed as she picked up one of the bronze horses, then the other. Her eyes flashed with anger. “Where is he?”

She stomped about searching, as if a large god like Hephaestus could hide behind a tree or under a log.

That stupid god! I thought. Perhaps I should have guessed from his own horses, but he could have at least told me that the horse breathed fire.

“Hephaestus has already left, Mother.” I replied sullenly.

She rushed back and gripped my shoulders tightly.

I had never seen her this frantic.

“Have you made him any promises,” she nearly shouted. “Given him any vow?”

“No, Mother. . .” I sighed.

Lockdown had been irritating, but Mother would be unbearable after this.

Read the next chapter of Persephone here!

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