Chapter 9

Persephone started mentally preparing herself for a confrontation. Makaria looked like she needed a break. Going to the feast of Dionysus was a good excuse for Persephone to have a long overdue conversation with her mother. Makaria would function as a decent cover—if she were escorting a young goddess of the Underworld to an Olympian party, it would make Persephone’s alliance with the Underworld clear. There would be fewer opportunities for Demeter or Zeus to insist that Persephone stay with them.

“Do you want to come, Hecate?” Persephone stood up and adjusted her chiton. She snapped her fingers, twisting her hair into a more appropriate updo. Hecate started laughing hysterically and didn’t bother with any further explanation. She slipped off somewhere with Ae?tes before Makaria and Persephone had even left.

“I suppose that’s a no,” Makaria shrugged.

Persephone nodded, extending her arm out towards Makaria.

“I don’t think Hecate has been seen on Olympus in two thousand years. She travels through the mortal world sparingly enough but never Olympus. I can’t say I blame her. Are you ready?”

Makaria looked paler than usual. “I… I guess so.”

“You’ll be fine.” Persephone winked. “Hold on tight.” Persephone had no problems summoning her old magic—the winds of spring—and whisking them to the front steps of Zeus’s before Makaria could react further.

The temple was lined with shining columns, with nearly a dozen steps up to the great doors. Each step was mosaicked with brilliant tile that shone with gemstones. Great basins of fire stood taller than both goddesses, and the air already smelled of smoke, ambrosia, and wine. Persephone’s stomach dropped and filled with dread. She hadn’t realized how accustomed she’d grown to the Underworld atmosphere. Dropping onto Mt. Olympus was jarring. Persephone took a deep, calming breath and prepared to wield personalities like weapons—the only way to survive a drunken party at Zeus’s.

At least it’s the feast of Dionysus, Persephone consoled herself. He has limits and ensures his guests don’t cross them either.

“Now,” Persephone squeezed Makaria’s hand as they materialized together in front of the doors, “remember, it’s not a successful party unless someone wants to fuck you and someone else wants to fight you.”

Makaria’s eyes got wide. Persephone chuckled to herself as she released Makaria’s arm. It was the best advice she could give regarding the volatile emotions of the Olympians.

“Do you like spending time with these people?” Makaria asked gently, looking confused.

“Oh, absolutely not. They’re horrid, each and every one of them.” Persephone shook her head and made a retching noise. “I’ve learned it’s best to play the part of bubbly, kind-hearted goddess of spring.” Persephone winked. “They never suspect her of anything.” She threw the doors open and could see Makaria was immediately overwhelmed by the sights and sounds of a raucous party.

Nearly every god in the pantheon was packed inside, and several more obscure immortals Makaria wouldn’t know. Persephone immediately caught sight of Dionysus, seated on Zeus’s throne, holding an amphora nearly as big as he was in his lap. Everyone was holding a cup or a chalice, and a fountain in the center of the room was flowing with wine.

The festivities of Dionysus were one of the few times that his wildergroup of acolytes were allowed on Olympus, further packing the hall with a myriad of wood nymphs, satyrs, and forest sprites.

Persephone walked inside more confidently than she felt, Makaria following close behind. As soon as they crossed the threshold, drinks appeared in their hands. It took only a few seconds for Persephone to pick up on Demeter’s presence in the great hall, and she slipped away from Makaria’s side.

She’ll be fine. Persephone assured herself. As long as Dionysus is in that seat tonight instead of Zeus, nothing untoward will happen to any man or woman at the festival.

Demeter was standing in a corner, glaring at another goddess Persephone couldn’t see. Wisps of green smoke curled around her ankles, a prominent warning that Demeter was ready to strike at a moment’s notice. She wore a himation entirely in shades of green and emerald, embellishing her lithe frame. Her dark brown hair was curled into several braids wrapped around her head, adorned with wheat stalks and tiny blossoms. Persephone couldn’t deny her mother was beautiful—but it was a haunting, empty beauty like a cold, barren mountaintop covered in snow.

Persephone’s heart rate doubled in her chest, but she forced her shoulders back and stood upright. She cut through the party and walked towards Demeter with determination, refusing to let her mother intimidate her for a moment longer.

Think of everything she’s kept from you, Persephone reminded herself. Think of the life you could have lived for the past thousand years if Demeter had told you about your power.

Persephone reveled in the utter shock on Demeter’s face when she realized her daughter was approaching her. Demeter had volatile moods on a good day but exerted extreme amounts of energy to keep a calm and collected manner in public. Persephone grinned at the sight of her mother’s mouth dropping open and her eyes threatening to pop out of her skull. Demeter stormed towards Persephone and grabbed her wrist, yanking her into a corner.

“What are you doing here?” Demeter reproached, glancing over her shoulder to see if anyone had spotted Persephone. “Do you understand the damage control I’ve had to do since that little stunt you pulled with Hades? Tell me it’s not fucking true, Kore.” Demeter hissed, her long fingernails digging into Persephone’s skin.

“Mother,” Persephone’s lip curled as she yanked her hand out of her mother’s grip, “I have told you once, and I will tell you again—it’s highly inaccurate for you to call me ‘Kore.’”

“It’s ‘Kore’ or ‘whore’.” Demeter cornered Persephone and blocked her view of the rest of the party with her body. “I’d say ‘only the gods know what you have been up to in the Underworld,’ but it’s true—all of the gods know what you got up to in the Underworld.” Demeter’s eyes flashed with anger as the smoke around her ankles flared up around her body. Demeter quickly tampered with the surge of power and plastered a brilliant smile on her face, patting her hair for any flyaways. In an instant, she was the picture-perfect goddess of the harvest again.

“Oh, well,” Demeter hissed through perfectly white teeth, “at least you’re back now, and we can put this whole mess behind us.”

“No, no, we can’t.” Persephone smiled mockingly, crossing her arms over her chest “Hades is my fiance, Demeter, and the sooner you accept that, the better.”

Demeter’s entire face flushed beet red.

“You cannot be serious. I know he told Zeus about some mess with the pomegranates, but you wouldn’t be so stupid as to eat anything while you were down there.” Demeter looked Persephone up and down, her icy gaze evaluating every inch of her daughter. “Although, I suppose you’ve never been one to skip a meal.”

Persephone blinked back tears but refused to look away from Demeter. Demeter had always chipped away at Persephone’s confidence by commenting on her body, what she ate, and how she looked. Even if she were relaxing with nymphs in the fields, if she weren’t trussed up in formal attire, her mother would take issue with how she was dressed. Demeter simultaneously kept Persephone in short tunics that were more appropriate for children, creating a bizarre paradox where she wanted a beautifully maintained, attractive doll.

Persephone stuck her chin up and maintained steady eye contact with Demeter. “It’s called being a goddess of fertility, Mother. I know it’s something you don’t understand since my father had to turn himself into a snake to sleep with you.”

Demeter raised her hand quickly as if to strike Persephone but dropped her palm at the last minute when she realized where they were. The party raged around them, and the guests were already so drunk that they couldn’t see the confrontation between Persephone and Demeter.

Demeter put her hand on her heart in a fake show of sincerity. “You were a monster when you were born, Persephone. Your father was barely divine and not worth a second glance.” Her words were icy. “Did you know that? You were hardly a girl at all. I wouldn’t look at you. Neither would your father. I wouldn’t for a long time either. You had a monstrous form, and when those fucking Fates…” Demeter’s eyes widened ever so slightly, and she stopped herself.

“Don’t stop on my account.” Persephone waved her hand and encouraged her mother to go on. “I already know about the Fates’ prophecy. How long did you think it would take before that caught up with me?”

Demeter’s lips pulled into a thin line, and her nostrils flared as she attempted to control her breathing. She kept looking over her shoulder as though her main concern was still not her daughter in front of her but the image she was giving off at all times.

“Tell me,” Persephone demanded. “Did you think nothing would ever happen? How could you think a prophecy like that would stay dormant forever? I have the powers of the Underworld—”

“No, you don’t!” Demeter snapped, covering her ears. “You don’t. It was a mistake. It was a mistake.”

Persephone shook her head slowly. “Your arrogance is astounding. Everything the Fates have said since the dawn of time has come true. I’ve always been meant to go to the Underworld, rule there, and be with Hades. You thought by calling me Kore and keeping me in a girl’s clothes that you’d keep me from my destiny? You useless—”

Demeter delivered a sharp slap to Persephone’s cheek, cutting her off.

“Don’t you dare attempt even to understand what I’ve been through,” Demeter sneered. “I didn’t touch you for seven days when you were born.” Her eyes narrowed as she got closer to Persephone, gripping her shoulders and shoving her further into the corner. “You were a freak of the Underworld, a tiny thing with a crown of bones. I should’ve left you on the side of the mountain, but the Fates made sure I couldn’t.”

Persephone was breathing hard through her nose, struggling and failing to keep the tears at bay as Demeter unraveled the story of the Fates’ prophecy.

“It was the first time the Fates had left the Underworld in anyone’s memory.” Demeter continued, cursing under her breath. “They told us what you would be. Not only a consort to Hades but the Dread Queen herself. The ruler of the Underworld.” Demeter scoffed, releasing her grip on Persephone. “They said you’d be even more powerful than him. Tell me, daughter, does his heart even beat in his dead chest? Because on the side of this very fucking mountain,” Demeter hissed, “I looked at you and I felt dead.”

Persephone’s mind whirled with the revelations, but she forced herself to stay composed. She calmly wiped her tears and leveled her gaze at Demeter. She raised a single brow and shook her head slowly, feeling the dark power in her blood beginning to boil.

“Then why do you care if I return?” Persephone questioned. “Why not send me to the Underworld the second I was born if you hated the sight of me so much?”

“Because,” Demeter hissed, “the Fates made it very clear that my power would start to crumble if there was no goddess of spring,” Demeter said the title like a curse. “You needed my tutelage to develop the…finer parts of your position.” Demeter gave Persephone another once-over, and she clearly didn’t like what she saw.

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Persephone pushed. “Why send Zeus to the Underworld? Maybe you only raised me out of concern for your power, but it doesn’t explain why you won’t let me go now.”

“Because I need you!” Demeter scolded, all her words coming out in a rush. “Olympus has had a vacant seat of power ever since that bitch Hecate murdered Hera. Zeus needs a wife. The god of lightning needs a consort. As much as I am loath to admit it, the harvest needs spring. If Zeus will seriously consider my proposition, my standing is tied to yours. He’d never make me queen of Heaven if my daughter were in bed with the brother he hates the most.”

Persephone nearly fell over. After all this time, after centuries of being forced to live a life that weighed on her every day and kept her trapped, it was all for power. Demeter didn’t even love her. She only saw Persephone as a pawn. Persephone knew Demeter was correct in that Zeus would never make her his consort if Persephone were tied to the Underworld. Persephone’s heart was breaking inside of her chest. No love was lost between her and her mother, but it was another thing to realize that love had never been part of the equation. Her mother would’ve left her to die if it didn’t behoove her to raise Persephone.

Demeter took a few steps back and squealed in shock. The noise was drowned out by the raucous party happening around them. Persephone didn’t know what startled Demeter until she realized it was her. Her fingertips appeared black and dark smoke curled around them. The veins creeping up her arms slowly turned black too. Persephone was practically vibrating with hurt and fury, and her power was rising to stop it. Persephone realized in horror that she didn’t know how to stop it.

She pointed her finger at Demeter and took no small amount of joy in the terrified gasp Demeter made.

“I’m saying this once and only once,” Persephone scolded. “Do not look for me. Do not seek me out. I am no longer your daughter, if I ever was. I’ve been a grown woman for a thousand years, Demeter, and you have no claim over me and my life. I’m returning to the Underworld, where I’ll be staying.” If Persephone hadn’t been partially preoccupied with the horror of the powers she couldn’t control exploding all over Mt. Olympus, she would’ve spent more time realizing how right those words sounded.

“You can’t—” Demeter started to argue, but Persephone raised her hand and poised her thumb and pointer finger together like she was about to snap her fingers. Demeter paled and took another few steps back.

“I can. I will. It’s done.” Persephone threatened Demeter. At that exact moment, one voice rose above the raucous din of the party, shouting and sounding stark raving mad.

Ares. Persephone realized. It’s definitely time to leave.

Persephone didn’t look back as she stormed past her mother. Once she put some distance between her and Demeter, the rage in her veins dissipated, and the black marks vanished from her skin.

I’ll have to deal with that at some point. Persephone looked around the party and realized she couldn’t see Makaria anywhere. Finally, Persephone caught a glimpse of her white hair stepping outside. Persephone was right behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder as soon as Makaria walked into Zeus’s gardens. Makaria spun around, looking momentarily horrified, until she realized it was Persephone touching her.

“Are you okay, Makaria?” Persephone looked at her quizzically and wondered if leaving Makaria alone at her first party on Mt. Olympus had been a bad idea.

“Yes,” Makaria answered a little too quickly. “I’m all right. Are you enjoying yourself?”

“It’s great…” Persephone answered slowly. Her brow furrowed as she took in Makaria’s stilted tone of voice and ruffled appearance. “We need to go, though. Ares just pulled out his weapons, which means this is going to turn into a drunken brawl faster than you can say Aphrodite.”

“Aphrodite? What does she have to do with that—” Makaria was cut off by the sound of a massive crash and a flash of lightning, followed by a chorus of angry shouting.

“That’s our signal to leave,” Persephone said firmly, grabbing Makaria’s hand to pull them back to the Underworld.

Makaria opened her mouth to protest, but she already felt herself disappearing into the air as Persephone yanked them back to the safety of Hecate’s home.