A Bloom So Deadly: Hades and Persephone Retold

The Tour

What had come over her?

Persephone did not know. When Hera had visited, when she had seen what Ares had done to her, why was it that she had stepped, without thought, toward the Dread King? What was it about him that had made her step against him the night before when she'd been upset? That made her confident enough to brush her powers against his and force him into slumber? And tease him as she had about the tour?

He had stepped away from her and then her playful words had drawn him closer again, blue eyes boring into her, that playful smirk curving along his mouth as he stepped nearer. Her heart had hammered so hard in her throat as she looked up at him.

She was off the path. She had not merely been lured from its safety, she had jumped headfirst into the dark unknown. Persephone leapt into it.

What was it about King Hades that made her lose all senses? Why could she not think straight when he was in her presence? How could she so completely forget herself, forget what he had done, when he was in the room?

He had done nothing to earn her trust and yet she did trust him. Such a silly girl doing silly things, making silly decisions. He would not have let Hera take her. Even though the question of her leaving had not come up, she knew it deep in her bones, she trusted that he would keep his word. He had promised. So instinctive were her steps toward him in Hera's presence. Why?

Perhaps she was, after all, a stupid, useless girl.

A stupid, useless girl playing dangerous games she ought not be playing.

Who am I to deny your request?

Dangerous, dangerous games that she could not help joining despite not knowing the rules. Stupid, useless girls should not play games in the darkness with men.

And even knowing this - oh, how she wanted to.

Persephone found she did not care if Hecate had put a spell on her. Would never care as long as it did not come to an end. She felt possessed and fevered, wishing for nothing more than his thumb grazing over her temple once more, fingers resting lightly in her hair.

It was whatever lived inside him, that darkness, that power, that called to her like some primal drum beating in her soul. She could not keep her head around him. Could not heed the warnings she knew she needed to heed. It was as if his mere presence alone swept her mind of any rational thinking. What a reckless thing she had done, telling Hera she wanted to stay. She was a reckless, foolish girl who made reckless, foolish decisions.

But...he was like her. That darkness in him felt one and the same with her own, felt so similar and comforting, like nothing she had ever before known.

She had made the right decision. Even if he hadn't had moments of kindness, even if his powers weren't so similar to hers, she would have come to the same conclusion. Ares waited for her above. And that was not something she was yet ready to face.

The Dread King had not...been cocky when she'd admitted to Hera that Ares had been the one to bruise her. He had not been arrogant, nor smug, that he had been right all along about Ares. He had asked her if she was alright, he had asked her so gently if she wanted to talk.

He was her friend.

And though she knew there had to be more to friendship than simply declaring it, she felt it so strongly with her entire body. He was a friend. He may have stolen her, he may have put her in Tartarus, but he would not hurt her. And...and he liked her jokes.