A Bloom So Deadly: Hades and Persephone Retold

The Duties

Hades woke long before the day was due to begin. He'd always been one to rise early and a sleepless night (or rather, quite a few sleepless nights since Persephone arrived) would not change that.

A roll of self-loathing washed over him, thinking of Thanatos sneaking her off after dinner the night before. When he'd arrived back at the castle without Persephone, it alarmed him. But it alarmed him more when Than told him he'd left her to her thoughts after they'd discussed the prophecy. Thanatos' prophecy. And though he didn't know the whole of it, the fact that his friend had tried to push him into wedding Persephone made his gut clench in embarrassment. Had Thanatos approached Persephone with the same idea? The thought of it rolled in his stomach, picturing any number of ways she could have reacted. Had she answered Thanatos in anger? Or had she laughed outright? Had he brought the idea of marriage up at all? It was stupid, for she was his enemy, and it would never happen, but he could not stand the embarrassment he felt when he wondered over how poor her reaction was.

What he wanted, more than anything, was to wring Than's neck.

Hades sat, still and awake, with his back still pressed to the door that hid her away. The castle and grounds were quiet, as they always were, but the silence of the early hours was unmatched. He wrapped his arms around his legs and buried his head between his knees, allowing himself a moment of weakness. It was the only time of day he could. The only time of day when he wasn't worried about someone bursting in for this or that.

He would fixate on it all day, he already knew. Had Thanatos told her of his idea for them to wed? Over and over he pictured her scoffing at such an idea, of laughing cruelly with disbelieving eyes.

She had not been cruel when he went to fetch her mere moments after Than had reappeared. He had followed her for a while, watching her look around in wonder at his realm. He had watched her approach Cerberus without fear. Watched her love on Cerberus, even. And then, after he'd revealed himself, there was no disgust from her, no sneering. She had, in fact, acted more tame than she had thus far. Persephone had talked with him, even joked with him, without any notion of anger. But the way she called him Dread King sliced through him.

He hated that title. He had hated it since it was bestowed upon him, hated the way the mortals used to whisper it as if fearing he would appear. As if the dread in his title was not at what he might do to them, but that they merely dreaded his presence in general.

Hades. That was his name. His face, pressed against his knees, curled into a snarl. A good name for him, too. Unseen. Invisible. The Fates surely knew who he would grow to be when they bestowed the name upon him - hidden in his father's stomach throughout childhood, constantly overlooked in adulthood, outright ignored.

Persephone had laughed at the idea, he just knew it. And, again, it did not matter, it would never happen, but just for once he wished that he was seen for what he was. Decades by his side, warming his bed, and even Minthe saw him as nothing more than a king.

Minthe. She'd been so upset with Than's words that he'd had to send her away. Or rather, Hecate advised her to leave after she started pounding her clenched fists into his chest under the guise of imprisonment for assaulting the king. He would have to make it up to her, give her some better explanation for Persephone's presence. Minthe was a fickle thing - all it took were a few mere jewels from his treasury and she would be sated.

He found himself aching for her then, as he always did in his moments of uncertainty. Whatever their relationship was, it should have ended long ago. But it was so hard when she was there and familiar, when he at least knew that when no one else gave him a chance, Minthe did. He also knew, though, it was only because he was a king. And if Minthe was nothing else, she was ambitious. The situation wasn't fair to either of them, yet he felt powerless to stop it.