A Bloom So Deadly: Hades and Persephone Retold

The Soliloquy

Ares would never -

Over and over he heard those words echo in his brain. It was another sleepless night, but Hades had managed to keep his fitful turning contained to his bed. He would not allow himself to go to her door again, just to feel her power nearer his. He wondered if she was curled next to her side of the door once more.

Ares would never -

Three words had told him all he needed to know. She had not mentioned her mother. And while most might pick up on such a thing and immediately believe her defense of Ares and not Demeter meant her mother was at fault, Hades knew better. He had listened to enough Shades make excuses for poor behavior over his long reign as king to know that her instant defense of Ares alone meant only one thing: the War Lord had, at least once, harmed her.

While that was, for obvious reasons, concerning, there was another matter at hand that also sat heavy in his gut.

A steady, murderous rage at the thought of Ares raising his hand to her.

He had been right, he knew he had to be right about the bruises on her face. The moment he'd first seen them, he'd grown angry with Ares, then let himself be lulled by her tale of unloosed powers.

Hades knew that he was not much; he was generally unliked, he did not have the roguish good looks of his brothers, he was often outright overlooked due to his standoffish nature. But he was clever. And that was the one thing he held onto, the one thing that he felt he had over the others. He had known the moment he mused over the marks on her face that Ares had been the one to put them there. And he had allowed her story to make him doubt the conclusion he'd come to.

Hades thought of her bursting from the house in his helmet, thought of her fingers digging into the deadening soil as she screamed into the ground.

What had Ares done that had been so terrible?

And then, he had appeared before her with his dark armor and imposing figure and she had whispered so quietly, all color gone from her face, "Can you see me?"

She had fled from Ares' abuse (he just knew it), she was bleeding, and he had taken advantage of that weakness to steal her away. And how angry he felt for having to chase her so long! How triumphant he was to have finally brought that chase to an end!

Would he have acted differently if he had known she was scared? If he had known, in the darkness of that grove, that she was bleeding?

He did not know. He thought - no. He still would have done it. And he knew then that he deserved her thinking that he was frightening. Because just that small, ugly truth made him frightened of himself. It did not matter if he had known she was afraid, if he had known that she was hurt - he was too angry from chasing her for so long. He would have stolen her all the same.

Perhaps he was cruel with the occasional mask of kindness and not the other way around. She said that was why she found him frightening: not knowing which way it went. It seemed she observed as well as he. And so used to the shadows, to being overlooked, he did not like being under her watchful eye. Surely she would find every last one of his faults. Hades knew he had many and they had been thrown in his face for all his years. It was just...he did not want her to see them.

But Persephone was kind. And though she had been angry with him before, had hissed words through her perfect teeth, she did not ever pretend to be cruel. She had...immediately pressed her darkness against his when she thought she'd taken her jokes too far and he could feel her concern in it. And just as immediately, she pulled away when he told her to stop.