A Bloom So Deadly: Hades and Persephone Retold

The Parley

Hades stood stone faced, looking at the door to his dressing rooms. His own clothing - he saw with dismay - was flung in a pile on the middle of his bed, but his arms were filled with the garments Hecate had sent for Persephone. And insisted he take to the girl because Hecate was not doing all the work around here.

As if anyone did more work than he did.

How to approach the girl was the puzzle he was currently trying to piece out. In his anger, he had wanted her kept close to him so he could keep an eye on her, but now that he had calmed he was aware of the implication of keeping her in his rooms. Albeit, it was his dressing room and wholly separate, but still part of his personal space. There was nowhere else to keep her, though. All other rooms in the castle either had open spaces to view the night sky or windows, both of which would provide opportunity for escape.

Hades straightened his shoulders and made himself move toward the door. He was being idiotic.

Idiotic notions.

He immediately halted, a grimace crossing his face. He shouldn't have said that to her. And then that thought made his grimace turn hard. She was the enemy to his throne and he was standing here being concerned with how harsh his words were. But he had not liked how she pulled into herself for that brief moment as if bracing for him to strike her.

He was too soft, he thought with determination. Even so, he stopped his hand midair as he reached for the doorknob. Hecate had told him after sealing the girl inside that the door would only unlock at his touch. Instead, he steered his hand upward and gave a gentle knock on the wooden door.

There was a pregnant pause, as if time itself had stopped for the briefest of moments.

"Whoever heard of someone knocking on a closet door?" shot the girl's voice from within.

His grimace again grew. "Hecate has sent me with clothing for you," he said, voice clipped.

The girl did not deign to answer. Hades stood for another moment, unsure what to do. But this was his damn dressing room in his damn castle in his damn kingdom. With grit teeth, he lowered his hand to the knob and pushed the door open.

Embers of light floated overhead, illuminating the small space. It was not all that small, he would argue. There had been ample room for Hecate to craft the girl a double bed with room to spare on either side and she even had a chair.

Which she was not using.

The girl sat on the floor, her back to the wall facing him, knees curled up against her chest. She was looking at him with no small amount of distrust until her gaze faltered and she looked down to stare at her knees.

Hades stood, frozen in the doorway, and admired her for a moment before shaking himself from the thought and stepping into the room. "Where would you like them?" he asked, voice hard and unyielding.

The girl gave a stiff shrug, still staring daggers into her knees.

He was resisting the urge to crane his neck to the side until it cracked. Dealing with his little enemy was causing a stiffness in his neck and shoulders. Instead, he walked deeper into the room, toward the bed, and laid the garments on the delicate quilt Hecate had crafted. Hades turned, crossing his arms over his chest, and stared once more at the girl. She seemed aware of his gaze - her shoulders seemed to tighten ever slightly - but she would not look up or speak.

"Hecate says you will be joining us for dinner," he said, attempting a lighter tone. But it came out like he was rather annoyed.

"So I am told," she answered, still refusing to look up at him.