A Bloom So Deadly: Hades and Persephone Retold

The Quiet

"Again," came the deep pitch of his voice, sending a pleasant chill up Persephone's spine. Two weeks had passed since her abduction - well, her second abduction, the abduction into the Lethe - and much of that time had been spent trying to fight off the Dread King's ability to get inside her mental walls. Both literally and figuratively.

He stared down at her from his throne, head craned to the left where she sat on the stair beside him. His beauty, as always, held her pinned in place and she had to remind herself - as she had to do multiple times a day - that she was supposed to be acting coy.

"I'm never going to get this," she muttered, tearing her gaze from his blue eyes and staring sullenly out over the empty throne room. This is how they passed the time between Shades entering.

"Your mother did not let you learn to exercise this side of your powers," King Hades said. "You must allow yourself some grace. It will come with time."

Persephone stared ahead, feeling dejected. "I do not like this game," she said quietly. Over and over he would use his darkness to find a chink in her armor and would sink into her, as she had done to him the night she made him sleep. Only he had realized quickly how unconfident she was - and therefore not willing to earnestly try to block him - and began plucking memories from her mind to make her work harder. The last had been a small, inconsequential memory, but one she had not wanted to share. It had been nearly a hundred years ago and the first time Ares had been outwardly annoyed with her constant chattering. He'd told her to be quiet so he might have some peace.

She did not like that the Dread King had seen her be an annoyance.

His darkness still ghosted across her skin. "Then fight me harder," he said and his powers sunk into her once more.

There was a flurry of images in her brain - her mother's laugh, her mother's scolding, her feet sinking into the cool water of a creek, flowers blooming and dying in her dirt covered hands, her giggle as Ares trailed his lips down the curve of her neck, Ares' fist pummeling into the side of her head and mouth.

Persephone let out a frustrated, panicked cry and pushed the Dread King's darkness away. She shot up off the stair, arms crossed tightly over her chest as she took several steps toward the door.

"Persephone," he said and there was something there, some urgency that made her halt and look back at him despite the heat crawling over her face. The Dread King was standing, one foot on the stair beneath him as if he'd been ready to come after her. For a moment they just stared at each other, his eyes roving over every inch of her face as if convincing himself that she was alright. "I apologize. I should not have pushed you."

"I told you I don't like that game," she said breathlessly, an edge of hurt in her tone. His brow tucked for the sparest moment, as if her demeanor had pained him, and then he drew his foot back up on the dais platform and his face was once more expressionless.

"I would understand if you want to return to your room," he said, voice even. But there was something in his eyes as he looked at her, as if trying to relay that he did not want her to go. "However, I am loath to be without your company."

How did he do that? How could he so easily take her embarrassment away and make her insides feel all jumbled? The heat on her face only grew and this time it was not from her mortification. She stared at him, mouth slightly agape, not knowing whether she should go or stay, but knowing every moment she stood still made her look all the more idiotic.

"I-," she started, but lost whatever she'd been about to say. The way he stared at her as if willing her to walk back to his side was making her stomach clench in a most pleasurable way. "No more of that game?"

The Dread King shook his head, eyes unmoving from her form, but did not speak.

Persephone lost her nerve, another bout of heat crawling across her cheeks and nose as she gave a small nod and stepped back toward the dais. She could feel his eyes on her with each step and she could not make herself look up at him as she approached. Instead, quite awkwardly, she took her seat all the while keeping her eyes glued to the floor. Only then did he take his throne again.

You could cut the tension with a knife. Gods, she should have just gone back to her room, anything had to be better than sitting in that thick silence. Finally, unable to take it any longer, she shifted and said quite pointedly toward her knees, "There are things I don't want anyone to see. And that I don't want to relive."

More silence. Then, finally: "Alright." She peeked over at him. The Dread King's head was cocked, looking at her from the corner of his eyes, face grim. And, then, the smallest twitch perked up the edge of his mouth. "You should be proud that you pushed me out, though. That was impressive."

Again she was filled with that wobbly, liquid sensation in her stomach. Persephone gave him a nervous laugh and turned her head back forward, trying and failing to remind herself that she was supposed to be acting like she didn't care, she was supposed to be acting like she was interested in Dio. But how on earth could she when she had King Hades in the vicinity? How could anyone focus on anything that wasn't him when he was near?

The next day, King Hades did not make her work on pushing him out. Instead, he wanted to work on a theory - if she had half his same power, then perhaps she would be able to lift a shield as he could. It was a thing no other could do to his knowledge.

For hours, over and over, he made her focus on her hands, on imagining an impenetrable wall leaving them. When they returned to his rooms after dinner, he wanted her to write in the journal he'd given her about the different things she had tried to keep track of what didn't work. Persephone quietly agreed and then sat with her legs tucked under her on his bed as he wrote at his desk, holding the journal close to her chest and merely doodling to hide the fact that she couldn't read or write.

The next day, they did the same. They practiced for hours in the throne room between the Shades' arrivals and then in the evening they took to their journals.

And the next day.

And finally on the fourth day, she managed a shimmer of something to flicker out of her palms before it faded. Persephone sucked in a breath, looking up at him wide-eyed, a broad and excited grin lighting up her face. King Hades laughed, those dimples on rare display, eyes gleaming with pride.

Then...Hermes entered. He sauntered up to the dias and the two looked quickly away from each other, offering him a polite smile to match his broad grin. He bowed first to King Hades, then Persephone.

"A message, Persephone, from Dionysus," he said.

In an instant, she felt the Dread King's energy shift: no longer was it a warm, welcome thing, but instead cautious and watching.

She nodded to Hermes, her smile now pinched. He cleared his throat and straightened his shoulders before opening his mouth to speak. "I've got a surprise for you," came Dio's voice in a sing-song. 'Sorry you haven't heard from me. I've been traveling. As in, to you. We'll be there tonight just in time for the Dionysia to begin and I have every intention of making you my special companion for the festivities. See you then."

It was hard to focus on Dio's words, hard to piece them together when there was such a wretched energy rolling off the Dread King. Persephone looked over at him, but he was staring at the door in the distance, his jaw set and ears red.

Dionysus was going to show up tonight.

That was what she wanted, wasn't it?

But King Hades did not merely seem jealous. He seemed enraged. And for the first time since she'd committed to this farce, Persephone wondered if it had been a terrible idea.

"King Hades?" she asked quietly, concern laced in both her tone and the tuck of her brow.

The Dread King stood without a word, face twisted in a snarl, and stormed from the throne room. Anxiety notched up in her throat with an uncertainty at the games she had been playing. She started to stand, to go after him, but thought that might just make it worse.

She looked at Hermes, who looked in the direction of the Dread King with a worried expression, then turned back to her with a tight smile.

"Would you like to compose a reply?"