Thank you my lovely reviewers! This is a request for a loyal fan. The rape of Persephone as told between SwedenxAmerica. It is not true to the original myths. I want to be clear about that!

I made Sweden akin to the Grecian and Roman gods (who mostly went both ways, depending on the myth).

Sweden-Hades

America-Persephone

Denmark-Apollo

Iceland-Zeus

Norway-Poseidon

Canada-Demeter

Enjoy!

Rated M. I own nothing.

OoOoOo

The God of the Underworld had fallen in love, secretly, with the Goddess of Spring.

In some aspects it was inevitable.

She'd reminded him far too much of his first wife. The Finnish demigod that had stolen his breath away one fateful day as Sweden claimed the soul of a warlord. At first the demigod had been screaming for assistance as well. In time, Sweden had wooed him enough to accept the touch of a Dead God. However, even after years in the underworld, his lovely 'wife' had tried to escape him.

Until, he had finally proven successful. Sweden had tracked him down to the ends of the Earth. Unfortunately, his wife had been able to plead with the God of the sea to keep him from Sweden's grasp. Sweden had, in return, cursed the seas to drown those that went upon the waters more than they would carry them to safety. He refused to accept any that died in the seas to the afterlife.

Norway had been upset, yet his fury paled in comparison to Sweden's.

His rage had been justified, and only mounted with each day that his wife was kept from him. Sweden soon refused to take the dead back with him. He left their souls to wander and disturb the living mortals.

However, he had not anticipated that the other Gods would defy him. He was a cold and cruel god when he wished to be, and without the light his wife provided, he was far more dangerous than he ever had been before.

The fires that gave no warmth crackled about his darkened throne. The black marble offered nothing but he continued coldness of his realm. His little wife had been distraught with his kingdom. Often, the Finnish male had begged Sweden to take him back to the surface.

However, Sweden could not bear the pain of being parted from his darling bride. And, because he refused the demigod time and time again, the male had fled. Now, he was reduced to gazing in the orbs that watched mortal lives. The Finnish male rested in the sea, a citizen of the Sea God Norway and afforded all the protections such a position offered. It was unfair, but the pantheon was against him taking back what was his by rights.

His cold blue eyes, a mockery of the brightness of the sky, watched the world with dispassion. If he was to suffer, then all mortals would suffer.

He traced pale cold fingers along the ornate design in the marble throne. The dead moaned and groaned somewhere in the distance, sensing the will of their God. The mists swirled and retracted around the orb that made it possible for him to watch the entirely of his kingdom, as well as the above world where mortal men perished daily.

The God of the Dead and the Underworld watched the world suffer without pleasure. It did not even ease the ache of his cold heart. There was no light in this realm like the above world provided. There was only the dead and... their God. He was lonely.

Always alone.

The orb sensed its master's sorrow, and sought to correct it by presenting images of the things Sweden enjoyed. The bright colors of the above world, the mortals that worshiped him and offered sacrifices to appease his wrath.

It shifted and swirled again.

He caught sight of her then. The woman that possessed a halo of golden locks. Even the color of her hair was rich and welcoming. She was listening to the prayers of the mortals for a larger harvest.

A female child stumbled over the prayer, and mangled the plea horribly. The golden goddess smiled widely. Even the image of her caused the wailing of the dead to pause for several seconds.

The god of the Dead tilted his head to the side in contemplation. She intrigued him. He watched as she created a ripe fruit, and allowed it to roll to the mortal child. It would bring the girl good luck and help her find a good life.

Something in his chest clenched when the goddess laughed.

Her laugh echoed through the orbs supported by the mists of the dead. Sweden stroked his chin thoughtfully, shifting in his seat.

Normally, he would pass by the above world gods and goddesses because it pained him to be locked away down here while they were permitted to bask in the glow of Denmark's Sun.

The God of the Dead watched the goddess as her mirth effected all those around her. The mortals were un aware that she was even present, but the people smiled brightly. However, it was her warm smile and nature that had him drawn to her like a moth to flame. She had lovely blue eyes, eyes he wished to see every day. How they shined brightly when she was happy. They were as bold as blue river stones. Yet, as clear as the crystals that grew in his realm.

A flash of longing grew in his chest.

For the first time since his wife had left him, Sweden felt... warmth.

He blinked and time passed. The day had passed, and the orb glowed with the sight of her again. Sensing the will of its master.

She was in a field, gathering herbs and flowers with the nature spirits.

The little spring goddess, laughed at the antics of the surrounding nymphs that flocked toward her. However, she shone far brighter than any of the buxom beauties that danced about in the rivers and field.

His dark blue eyes watched her for a moment, which was long enough in the above world to span several days.

He watched her gather fruits and nuts for her mother. The mother would be problematic, however he was a fit husband for any daughter of the Goddess Canada. Yet, Canada was known to guard her daughter's virtue with equal tenacity as Sweden possessed guarding the dead from escaping from their eternal judgment.

Cold, pale fingers stroked the throne once more, watching the Spring demigoddess bathe in a river. His eyes took in how her robe became wet from the rivulets of water cascading down her smooth skin. He flickered his gaze to another orb, noting that the souls of the mortals he'd left upon the world as a sign of his displeasure were nearing the grove and stream where the woman was bathing.

With a flick of his hand, they were cast into the halls of the underworld to await their fates. If they were good men or not had yet to be established. He leaned forward, caressing the image of the goddess' face as she shivered slightly from the early morning chill.

As a God of the dead, he was not permitted to leave his kingdom. A third of all creation belonged to Sweden. He, Iceland, and Norway had all drawn lots after they had cast the titans into the deepest recesses of the Earth.

Sweden had, since that tiny speck of time, been the God of many. The God of the dead. He did not know the touch of the sun the way the mortals did. It did not caress his skin, and his kingdom was a misty, dark, and icy existence. A place between his world, theirs, and the next.

He sought to reach out, and try to feel the warmth of the goddess, even though they were realms apart.

Yet, as he caressed the image, the goddess appeared to sense him. Her blue eyes fluttered closed as he traced a finger down her cheek to her neck. When she shivered under the phantom touch, Sweden made his decision.

He would be willing to take the mortal souls back for judgment, and allow the living a chance at momentary peace.

In exchange for something far more precious to him.

It was Iceland who had conspired with Sweden to snatch the goddess from the land of her mother Canada. For Sweden had made it so that no mortal souls were accepted into the underworld until he was given what he wanted.

He wanted the little spring Goddess America.

For a wife.

Iceland had readily agreed, as the prayers of the humans grew louder and more desperate. As the dead plagued the innocent and tormented the guilty upon every land. Their wailing cries of despair shook the very heavens.

In response, Iceland had commanded the earth to grow the most beautiful of blossoms to tempt the little goddess to try and pick it. The petals were softer than any fine cloth and the bloom gave off a perfume so sweet that the world over rejoiced.

Iceland ordered it to grow on the edge of the field where America often walked. The flower caught her attention instantly.

So eager, the goddess had been, to possess the rare and enticing bloom, that she had not noticed the earth forking open. Nor the black chariot that was pulled by horses of bone and flame. Their muzzles were grizzly twisted masses of dead flesh that burned with dark fire.

The horses of the Underworld. Whose hooves stole life away from whatever they touched. As the powerful beasts surged forward onto the living Earth, grass and flowers wilted into death. Sweden's gaze was locked on the prize he wished to possess.

He pulled upon the reigns, forcing the beasts to stop in place. Their soulless eyes gleamed at nothing. Sweden stood in tall in his armor, emblazoned with his crest as he took a moment to drink in the sight of his bride.

Without making a sound, he stepped off the chariot and strode forward to the Spring Goddess who was prevented from reaching the beckoning bloom by large, thick thorns.

He laid his hands upon her, grabbing her firmly. He could feel the life that pulsed under her skin, unlike the dead that usually surrounded him. Sweden could also feel her warmth.

The woman stilled, looking at his with those sky blue eyes that were wide with alarm. Her lips parted, and her face flushed. One look into his eyes and at his armor told her who he was.

"Sweden?" She asked with a gasp, attempting to shy away from his touch. The flower long forgotten at the sight of his stoic face.

He said nothing as he pulled her closer. The goddess understood in an instant that she was in danger at the hands of the more powerful God.

"What are you doing?" She shrieked loudly, nearly deafening him with her impressive vocals. "Release me at once!"

He shook his head.

"Y'u're c'mming t' my h'me." He replied stoically, mindless of the way she attempted to beat at his back with her fists.

It would do nothing, he was Sweden, God of the underworld.

He'd captured America, daughter of the Goddess of the harvest, bearer of the summer fruit. The trim female wailed loudly, attempting to call for help of any who would listen. Her golden locks bounced wildly as he hefted her over his shoulder, and leapt back onto his chariot.

She screamed for her mother as he picked up the reigns in one hand and flicked them commanding the beasts to return home.

They reared back, letting out a ghoulish sound as they plunged forward. Dark flame danced around the chariot as they began to return to his realm.

"Mother!" America screamed. "Mother help! Mother!"

Yet, only the birds in the trees bore witness to tragedy of what was occurring before them. The Goddess cried to the wind, in the vain hope it would tell Canada of America's capture at the hands of the god of the Dead.

Sweden was pleased with his bride. She fought, as any good woman of virtue would, and tried at every opportunity to free herself.

He would not make the same mistake with this one as he had with his last wife.

OoOoOo

The moment he set her on her feet, the air in the Underworld changed slightly. The darkness grew lesser, and the air was warmer. Sweden knew this is what Denmark's sun must have felt like to the mortals. How marvelous. How wondrous.

The blonde Goddess stepped away from his quickly, her face contorted in fear and determination.

"Release me! My mother will come for me." She said angrily.

The corners of his mouth turned up in the barest hints of a smile as he neared her. The Goddess could not run from him here. There was not place in the Underworld where he would not find her. She took steps backward as he advanced, until her body met with the side of his throne.

She seemed perfect there. He would have a matching throne crafted just for her, so she could sit at his side for all eternity.

Sweden caressed her cheek though the Goddess flinched and pulled away.

"T's Str'nge," he murmured as he watched her lovely face, feeling the life that pulsed under her skin.

"You must release me," America demanded looking away as she tried to create distance between them. There was none to be found. "My Father-"

"Y'ur F'ther h's giv'n m' p'rmiss'on t' m'rry y'u." He interrupted, nearly gently as her eyes widened upon him.

"What?" She asked clearly startled. "But how could he? Why would he? We have never even seen each other before today!" The goddess argued.

Sweden shook his head with an indulgent look in his eyes.

"W'tched y'u." The God told her as his face drew closer.

"Watched me?" America repeated stiffly, "but how?"

"Th're." Sweden replied pointing a finger toward the orb that swirled in the mists. America stilled and looked at the glowing ball with apprehension.

Her blue eyes flicked to his hesitantly, and she moved away from him slowly. Sweden's eyes trailed her figure as the mist gently parted around her lithe form. America turned back to gaze at him, her long golden locks swayed.

Sweden knew he would never feel lonely with her eyes on him. They were not clouded with anger, but colored gently with stark curiosity at the moment.

America walked toward the orb that glowed in the remaining wisps of the Underworld mist. Sweden commanded the orb to follow America's will for one glance at whatever she wished.

The Goddess gasped as the orb shimmered. He walked up behind her silently, wishing to be near the spring goddess. He inhale the subtle scent of flowers and early fruits that emanated from her skin.

The image of her mother Canada, sprang up in the crystalline depths. America watched the orb glow and pulse.

"America! America where are you?!" Her mother called. She could see that Canada was walking tall mountains and into steep rocky crags looking for her. The images changed, but her mother was always searching for her.

America reached out for the orb, trying to touch it. "Mother! Mother! I am here!"

"America!" Canada called again, "America where are you?!"

"Mother!" The Goddess cried bitterly. Her fingers grasped nothing as the orb dissolved at her touch. For she was not of the Underworld.

America buried her face in her hands and wept openly.

Sweden watched her with growing concern. He should not have allowed her to see her mother wandering the globe in search of her missing daughter. The god of the underworld gently stroked the sides of her arms, whispering words of care in her ears.

The Spring Goddess tried to shrug off his touch.

OoOoOo

However, the longer America spent in the Underworld, the happier Sweden was. Her brightness chased away the lingering vestiges of the gloom. His realm was beautiful in its own rights. Marble pillars gleamed with the dark fire, but it was her glow that warmed him.

Chased away the cold.

The God of the Dead wanted to do something for her. Wanted to give her what he could, and he wished to start by securing her place as his new wife.

She had been without food or water for days.

Sweden approached her, as she sat by the river Styx, watching all the new mortals he'd collected from the above world, with a platter and bowl in hand.

He spread some berries from the bowl onto the platter and set it before her. The berries glistened a deep blood red in the flickering dark fire.

"What is this?" America asked with curious eyes.

"E't." He commanded sternly, his eyes roaming over her brightness covetously. He desired her to remain with him for all time. In order for that to be possible, he would require her to eat some of the food of his realm. He, who was the keeper of many, made an offering of lingonberries to tempt the goddess into eating.

For if she ate even one bite of the underworld food, she would never be permitted to leave. Iceland had sworn it this time, and the word of the Head God of the Pantheon was law unto all creation. And none could revoke such a law.

Sweden gazed upon her with amusement in his eyes. America was a fine bride.

She blinked, and looked down at the platter, as she licked her lips. Sweden watched the motion with darkened eyes.

America was growing less and less afraid. Though it was not of the God she was the most wary anymore, but the realm which he ruled. This was the underworld, where no mortal light could shine. Only the dead wandered the never ending chamber at the heart of the earth. And, only the worthy could enter the fields of paradise. The damned and wicked were sent to a place where even titans feared to dwell. The spirits walked in darkness all around. There was only the glow of dark fire in his kingdom. She had never known such things, only the bright beauty of the sun.

She shuddered.

" 're y'u c'ld?" He asked in silken tones that had her glancing at him warily. She flushed slightly, trying not to let her guard down too quickly around the God of the Dead. Yet, she was rather hungry.

"E't. 'T w'll h'lp." He coaxed as his eyes bored into hers deeply.

America's hand moved toward the berries, nearly unable to refuse the commanding note in his voice. The Goddess also had no wish to offend him. He had been... kind to her even though he had kidnapped her against her will.

She gently picked a blood-red berry up and pressed it to her lips. As soon as she bit into the tender flesh, she knew it was a mistake, but the deliciousness of the fruit soothed the pangs of hunger she felt. It compelled her to eat more.

Sweden watched with hooded eyes as she began to devour the seemingly harmless fruit that would keep her chained to his side.

This wife, his new wife, would never be permitted to leave him. The warmth he felt around her, and the way his heart clenched at the few timid smiles she gave him, made him even more inclined to keep her by his side. He watched her finish her meal with satisfaction.

He reached for her, but America scooted away.

OoOoOo

Weeks had passed in this manner. Sweden continued to gently court his bride. To woo her to be pleased with his realm and therefore with him.

He had all eternity to change her thoughts of him. Even if they were not where he'd like them to be.

Yet, she started to cast small true smiles his way with a slight blush staining her cheeks, and had even allowed him to spend more time in her company as he sorted out where the mortal souls belonged based upon their deeds.

She was beginning to laugh again. When he made comments she found amusing, or when the spirits of the more worthy mortals told her their tales of adventure.

The sound of her laughter echoing through the caverns of the Underworld filled him with a sense of peace and pride. He longed for her to accept him. He wished to take her in his arms and make her a wife and not simply a bride.

However, he was content to bide his time.

"Why won't you release me?" She asked gently, when he had not expected it, her golden hue brightening up the darkness around them. It would have hurt his eyes, were he a mortal and not a God.

His stoic face revealed nothing.

"N'ed y'o." He replied simply, leaving no room for argument.

The Spring Goddess blushed at his proclamation.

"You need me?" She asked with wide eyes..

Sweden smiled softly, his hand rose to cup her cheek.

"L've y'u." The God of the Underworld proclaimed, and the very fires seemed to rise with his words.

America bit her lip. Her sky blue eyes wandered to his darker ones. She looked at him uncertainly.

Sweden leaned in and kissed her, his little wife, with a passion he had not shown to anyone outside of the Finnish Demigod.

She was softer, and yielded to his touch. Sweden was nearly overcome with joy. He pulled her closer and his heart warmed even more, when she did not push him away.