Sundown

I

The heat of the blaring sun seeped into Persephone's skin as she stood, eyes closed and arms outstretched as if to catch the rays on their way to the Earth. After a few moments she sighed and opened her eyes, taking up her basket from the ground and continuing her aimless wandering.

Demeter had insisted that Helios celebrate her return to the fullest for months. Her mother was overjoyed and meant well, as she thought that's what Persephone wanted. While her daughter certainly had missed the open air and the sunlight while she was gone, after yet another month of blaring heat, all Persephone wanted was some shade and a cool breeze.

And space. Space from her mother who smothered her in constant, anxious affection. Space from all the celebrations from her return. Space to finally stop smiling and repeating for the umpteenth time about how happy she was to be back.

She was happy to be back, and she had missed her mother. But she was overwhelmed and over stimulated from the blinding heat, the constant companionship of her mother, and the gaggle of nymphs her mother had unleashed upon her. At first she thought they were to keep her entertained or from being lonely. Over time Demeter's insistence on spending time with them made her think they were there to socialize her and to make sure she was never unsupervised again.

Persephone cherished this rare occasion of wandering the fields alone to find a spot to sit and simply enjoy the solitude. The heat of the relentless rays had exhausted her. If she were mortal, she imagined she would have burned by now. Instead her skin radiated a smoldering gold, so much that she could smell the excess sun on her.

Her bare feet trod through the soft, warm soil until she finally found a tall, thin tree that cast shadow below it.

Tall and thin, she thought, like him.

Demeter refused to ever speak his name, as if even that alone would be cause enough for him to split the earth and take her back. As if even thinking of him would cause her to disappear. She would quickly silence anyone who tried to reference Persephone's time in the Underworld, referring to it simply as "when she was away," in "that place" or with "him."

As Persephone sat in the cool grass the shade offered her, she realized Demeter's strict repression of those missing months had made her feel guilty for even thinking of him. Alone in the quiet shadow of the tree, she leaned against its trunk and let her mind wander.

Hades. The man who had taken her. Her husband. Cold, taciturn, ruthless, feared. At least what everyone else knew of him.

She understood why the mortals feared him – they feared Death and what lay below in the Underworld. The nymphs feared Demeter's anger at his mention. The immortals feared the return of her devastating, famine-inducing scorn should they dare mention him or the abduction of her precious, innocent daughter.

She pondered over the word innocent. While she supposed she had only been there for a short time, she felt changed now that she was back. Despite her mother's best efforts, it didn't feel like things would go back to the way they were before. She was certainly not pure in the physical sense anymore.

Persephone lay down across the cool grass, letting her mind take her back to the palace in the Underworld. Her palace, he had said.

The quiet stillness of her ornate, golden bedroom. The cool softness of her sheets across her bare skin. At first, there was nothing but the raw loneliness, the claustrophobic sense of isolation, the crushing feeling of hopelessness and loss.

When that pain subsided, there was curiosity. Walking the halls of the vast palace, the floor cold on her bare feet, eyes wide as the plain architecture was sharply contrasted by endless diamonds, rubies, sapphires, so numerous it seemed impossible and surreal.

His dark throne. His stiff posture as he sat upon it, his body a compilation of sharp angles and tight, practiced control. His jarring bright eyes. His pronounced jaw. His firm lips. His bony shoulders. His narrow torso. His long fingers.

Persephone thought of the night she finally allowed him entrance into her room. She remembered the surprise on his face when she opened the door, most of their conversations held on the opposite sides of a door. She thought of his awkward gait as he sat on the edge of her bed and spoke to her as she fell asleep. The feel of his hand in hers when she grabbed it, stopping him, asking him not to leave.

She thought of his warm lips pressing into her skin over and over again, the cautious, exploring touch of his hands across her curves. She thought of the cold bareness, the raw vulnerability once nothing was between them. She thought of those piercing eyes on her as he slowly entered her, taking her.

Persephone sighed as a chill crept across her body, wondering if invoking his name would really bring her to him as Demeter feared. She lay down in the shade and pressed her cheek to the soft soil, closing her eyes. Her hand pressed into the dirt, her fingers tapping the ground.

"Hades..." she whispered. "My king..."

A realm away, Hades jolted as if he had been burned, her voice ringing clear as day in his ears, the heat of the sun's rays racing down his spine.