Crown of Darkness

Chapter Two

"I need your help."

Cerberus had ran off after Hades had spoken, leaving us alone with just my words hanging in the distance between us.

"Only the dead need my help, little one, and you are certainly not dead," he said, and I was again struck by the sound of his voice. Everything else about him seemed cold and rigid, but his voice was low and held heat.

It reminded me of the time Ro had snuck whiskey into the gardens when Mom was out for the day with Him. She had given over the bottle of amber liquid with a dare in her eyes and I met the challenge. It had burned my throat and settled in my stomach in the most delicious way.

That's what his voice was like.

He said something under his breath that I couldn't quite catch, breaking me from the memory, and my eyes snapped up to his.

"I know, but I have nowhere else to go. Just let me explain, please," I begged, daring to step just a bit closer to him. He stiffened ever so slightly, but he didn't back away.

"First tell me who you are."

I lowered my eyes, focusing instead on his gloved hands that were clasped together at his waist.

Who was I? Immediately, sneering voices filled my head with the words that I carried with me every day.

A whore's daughter.

An unwanted child.

A disgrace.

A disappointment.

It seemed like everyone had an answer but me.

"I'm Persephone, daughter of Demeter. But you can call me Seph," I said, forcing myself to meet his strange eyes again.

His head tilted slightly to the side, a movement that reminded me of Cerberus, and a lock of hair fell into his blue eye.

"A young goddess of spring coming to the ancient king of the Underworld for help," he said, more to himself than to me, and chuckled softly.

I hated that. I hated when everyone equated me with my age. I was young, I knew that, but that didn't mean I was any less than the older gods.

"What does my age have to do with anything?" I snapped, my eyes widening as soon as the words came out of my mouth.

I definitely should not have said that. I braced myself for hellfire to come reigning down, reducing me to a crisp, but it never came.

A confused expression passed over his face and his brow furrowed.

"It has to do with the fact that I've never seen you before. If I had I would've remembered you."

"Oh."

I was caught off guard by the way my cheeks heated at his words, and his unusual reaction to my comment. I tucked my hair behind my ears and made circles in the dirt with my foot, focusing on that instead of the man—god—before me.

"I've heard of you," he said, voice soft.

Seeing the surprise on my face, one side of his mouth raised slightly.

"The dead talk just as much as the living, if not more. And their favorite topic is that of the gods and goddesses. When you were born there was... controversy."

Didn't I know it. I hadn't been there to see it, but the images I created sometimes kept me up at night.

Mom, battered and bruised, Hera hovering above her like an avenging angel, Zeus standing back in cool indifference and I would guess even mild amusement.