A Bloom So Deadly: Hades and Persephone Retold

The Claiming

"I told you we should have sent someone else," Poseidon said with his crooked grin, absolutely delighted at his older brother's misstep. There weren't many of those to enjoy. He was easily the most level headed and responsible of the brothers.

Hades grit his teeth.

"I did not come here to be laughed at," the Dread King said. "Only to report that she has escaped and Ares with her."

Zeus was not nearly as jovial as Poseidon, instead stroking his beard. There was a frown evident on his mouth.

But Poseidon was not done with his jokes. He leaned closer toward the Dread King with a wicked grin, a gleam in his eye. "Was she as pretty as Hermes said?" he whispered conspiratorially. "Did the little nymph distract you?" 

Hades' jaw was beginning to ache from his clamped teeth. "That is all I come to say," he spat in return, then disappeared in a black haze back to his domain.

As soon as he'd freed himself of those wretched vines and appeared in the grove, cloaked in black mist and his fury, it became clear he was too late.

The girl was not there. Nor her mother. Nor Ares. Not a trace of darkness on the wind.

His helm, lost in the scuffle, was also gone.

Hades had appeared in Olympus at once to give the news, hoping Poseidon would have long left, but he had no such luck.

He would not sit there and have his shortcomings thrown in his face.

The moment he arrived in his own realm, the tension largely slid from his shoulders, though did not disappear. All he could think of was the siren's dark eyes and her hateful assessment of him. Recalling that image made his stomach knot.

Black haze unfurled next to the Archeron, one of the five rivers of the Underworld. There, on the riverbank and spread over a rock that jutted up from the water's surface, over a dozen nymphs lounged and laughed. They straightened as they saw him, but each had a cunning grin. They knew why their king came to them.

The Underworld water nymphs were all dark haired with cool eyes and milky skin. None of them had a sunkissed glow, nor tawny hair, nor pink lips.

None of them were what he found himself - with a great amount of self-loathing - aching for.

One caught his eye, lounging on the great rock. Her hair was not black, but a mousy brown, the ends tinged with algae green. It was the closest he would get. She was pleasant enough to look at, though she was thin, not having the ample breasts or the thick hips of the girl who'd bested him.

Normally Hades held no preference as far as such things went, but there was an unending need to release his frustrations. And what would it matter? This nymph did not truly look like Persephone, not in any way that would be obvious or give Poseidon further kindling.

"You," he said, pointing at the nymph. "Come, if you wish it."

The nymphs all looked at each other and giggled, then went back to playing as their sister left the rock and swam to shore toward their king.

"What is your name?" he asked, putting a hand to her cool, clammy shoulder. Everything was cold there. Dark. The only thing the Underworld lacked was warmth - was the sun.

A vicious smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth as she glanced up at him from under her dark lashes. "Minthe, my Lord."

Up, far away in the Mortal Realm, Persephone sat upon Ares' lap and clung to him, the Helm of Invisibility on her head and digging into his cheek.