The Open Book Collection

Epic

A little background: This was (loosely) inspired by the songs from the musical Hadestown, which is based on the tale of Orpheus and Eurydice. The musical focuses on the relationship between the two mortal lovers while also delving into Hades' and Persephone's tense marriage. The title of this part is the same as a few songs/reprises from the musical that narrate the story of Hades/Persephone. My objective with this story is to focus more on those two's relationship. Enjoy~

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Persephone wished her powers worked in Hell. The Underworld was already in a constant state of cool, but the frost that chilled the air now was one wrong breath away from encasing her in a chunk of ice. And the last time that happened, Styx had turned from a goddess into an ice sculpture. She just wanted a sprinkle of warmth.

The King was in a foul mood, to say the least. He sat at the head of the table, eating his dinner with what Persephone thought was an unneeded amount of elegance. He didn't look angry, but she could hardly see him from this distance.

"My lord Hades, is there something on your mind?" Her voice rang out across the table, a slab of obsidian that was big enough to seat every Olympian and their favored heroes without anyone bumping elbows. Hades had gotten it a century or so ago, at the start of the First World War for no other reason than to "fill in the room." When Persephone mentioned that it would look better in the bigger, more decorative dining hall rather than their personal eating area, he had dismissed her, she'd fired back, and then the two of them had started arguing. If someone asked what he'd told her, she would not be able to answer.

They were always arguing these days. She didn't know when things had started turning so bad between them. Small disagreements suddenly escalated into shouting matches, and then they would start avoiding each other for days at a time. The temperature, reflective of Hades's mood, would become freezing, and they would argue about that too. When Persephone left to visit other—warmer—parts of the Underworld, she would come back to an angry husband and a cold home, and the cycle would repeat again. One particularly low point was when the two began fighting over verdicts in front of waiting shades. Styx had to remind them both of where they were, and that was that. At least for the moment. But as soon as they were behind closed doors, the accusations began anew.

The only relief Persephone got was when she did her rounds in the mortal realm, and even then she would be so distracted that her springs would be too cold or too warm, and her mother Demeter had to intervene. But despite that, the first few days after returning to the Underworld were calm and peaceful. And then, just like the seasons they controlled, the series of anger and aggression would repeat again and again.

For some reason that only the Fates knew why, Persephone hoped that this winter would be different. And so far, it was—no conflicts had arisen in the week or so she'd been home. So far.

From across the table, Hades continued to eat his food, silently. He hadn't even looked up.

Persephone sighed inwardly. No one could say she didn't at least try to start a normal conversation. She should enjoy the silence for a little longer.

"Persephone." Hades' voice was a deep, resonating, baritone that brimmed with the iron will he needed to rule the Underworld. It bounded across the table like a roll of thunder across a dark sky. "How was your time above?"

That was it? Persephone chose her next words carefully, lest she say something to disrupt what little conversation this was. "It was... pleasant." She said the last word like a question, like she was waiting for him to disagree. When he didn't, she continued, "Demeter moved her farm to the United States this year. There were a few demigods there to help out, and one or two mortals. My brother Ploutus was there for a while, but he left to check up on some appointment of his—he thanked you for the jewels. Did you get his offering?"

"No," Hades answered, his voice hard as stone.

Persephone would need to check that out, immediately. Ploutus was too greedy for his own good. Or anyone's. All of the wealth and prosperity gods—Tyche, Demeter, Plutus, Hades himself—had monstrous tempers when it came to being cheated, and most of the time took it out on the mortals. Another economy could crumble if she didn't clear this up.

"I will let my brother know of that immediately," she said.

"That'd be best. Will you continue?"

"Yes, Hades." What else was there to talk about? "Hermes bought a mortal to the farm," she started. "Or, I think he was a mortal. His soul was... different. But he had a gift, a divine one. He could write songs and sing and play the lyre so beautifully. Hades, I can count on the souls of Rome how many mortals know how to even pick up a lyre, let alone play one. When he plucked those strings, all of nature listened to see what sounds they would make. Oh, it was wonderful, Hades. The music reminded me of Greece, the original Greece."

"You seem quite smitten with this mortal."

"With his music," she corrected. She'd started rambling again. "You'd be assured to know that he gave up his heart to another. Oh, how they loved each other that spring. They gave up their hearts to each other so quickly I was frightened for them both. Mortals, they're so delicate sometimes. And this girl, Eurydice, she was even more so. She didn't look sickly on the outside, but she had allergies, these deadly allergies to every food you could imagine. Milk, nuts, grain. Hades, you've seen the deaths of people like that. You understand how serious things turn out when-"

"She died," Hades interrupted. "Didn't she? I remember the name, it was a Greek name."

Persephone nodded. She remembered seeing Eurydice in line to be judged. It had only been a few days since her return, and the numbness to death that she always wore underground had worn off while she was spending time with the humans. She wouldn't forget seeing the girl any time soon. Her stomach had dropped to the ground and a mix of grief and shock struck her so hard she remembered dropping the record of life of the shade in front of her. She thanked the Fates when the girl's life appeared in Hades' hands.

"I remember the grief her shade gave off," Hades said. "There was so much of it, as it is with a sudden death. A bit of an ironic one too, if I recall." He finally picked his eyes up from his plate, and now he was staring at her. There was a dark spark in them.

Persephone's breath caught in her throat. Hades was harsh at times and definitely had the capacity for cruelness, even more so than the average god, but he wouldn't... not to her... "Hades, you don't have to—"

"The girl's record said she had a gluten allergy. Imagine, working with Demeter and not being able to withstand wheat."

It was an accident. A terrible, deadly accident that was a result of a goddess's carelessness. Hades had summoned her to the Underworld the day before, much sooner than he ever had. As usual, she had had a few days to depart, and she spent the last one with the two mortals she'd grown close to, Orpheus and Eurydice. The three of them had been together all day, wandering through the fields until the day darkened. It had been Persephone's idea to spend the night outside, among the grass, among nature. None of them realized where they were until it was too late.

"Hades, stop—"

"The records said that her allergies caused her body to suffocate itself. Her death was long, drawn out for... how many days?"

Three, Persephone silently answered. Three days of such painful suffering because she had been too careless.

"I can see how you blame yourself," he continued, "but it is not your fault. It seems that mortals are as foolish as they are frail."

Persephone was going to be sick. The coldness of the room seeped out of her body, replaced with the heat of rage. How dare he? How dare he throw her death in her face? How dare he mock that poor mortal? How dare he lie to her, tell her that it wasn't her fault? The gods had always loved tossing the blame onto the next person, but Persephone hated it. She could not run from her fault any more than Eurydice could run from the grave. And it was all because of her.

She couldn't stand it, any of it. She needed to get out of this house, away from the weight of death, away from Hades. She got up.

"Persephone, where are you going?" Hades asked.

The only answer he got was her retreating back.