He had not come to her naming ceremony, as the others had. He had long ago established his comfort in being a recluse. He sent a gift, of course, as a matter of respect; no one could ever accuse Hades of showing disrespect. But the actual social function itself he stayed away from. He wasn't really missed. His gift was presented to the child among with the others. Her father Zeus proudly exclaimed over her as his wife Hera scowled nearby. The child was not hers. It was Demeter's. Many exclamations were made over the physical perfection of the newborn. She was called Persephone.
Her mother would always refer to her as Kore, throughout the years. The maiden goddess of springtime. She spent her childhood in near idyllic perfection. She played with the wood nymphs, who braided twigs and leaves and flower buds into her curling, rich brown hair. When the child ran, flowers sprang up behind her. She was doted on by her mother. The young girl was Demeter's world. During the child's early years, the Earth celebrated a riotous bounty like it had never seen before. Demeter's joy brought the Earth prosperity in harvest, and the child brought joy to her and even the Olympians. Things were idyllic, as they can only be in Heaven.
And so it went, and so she grew. Over the years the child began to become restless. Her peaceful days began to seem dull to her. The constant company of her mother bore down on Persephone like a weight. As a young woman, she felt she was missing something. She would take long walks in the forest on her own. These were her favorite times. She liked to visit the families of animals, which she adored. Animals loved Persephone. The rabbits would hop to her, standing on their hind legs, until she picked them up, one by one, to stroke. Everyone got a turn. The deer would nuzzle against her shoulders, the babies hobbling up to her on their twig-branch legs and new, unsteady hooves. She watched baby animal after baby animal learn the ways of the wild. The birds would sing when she was nearby, the bees buzz happily, the snakes would curl peacefully at her feet. Persephone liked the snakes, which she knew were treated widely with fear and disgust. She was an empathetic girl. She would pick up the snakes and stroke them, let them twine themselves around her arms and shoulders and rest, basking in the sun and the warmth of her goddess skin, the peace at being accepted for what they were in their content, half-closed eyes.
"It is alright", she would often whisper, stroking the snakes' cool scales, "I think you are majestic."
Persephone was the goddess of springtime, but what her mother Demeter failed to realize that springtime was the season of procreation. Of mating. Her daughter embodied this aspect of the season as well, and exuded a sleepy sensuality as she grew that made her to be nearly as irresistible as Aphrodite. Demeter, however, wanted her daughter to remain a maiden forever. To be unsullied by the hands of another. In Demeter's mind, spring was as virginal as the buds that sprung forth to bloom. New, precious, untouched. She wished her daughter to be this way. Pure as the new season.
What Demeter did not know was that Persephone was already changing. Like the season she had dominion over, the child was temperamental. One minute she was sunny, vibrant. The next she was yelling, screaming, lashing out, pouring down rain. Her mood changed as quickly as the weather. Because she was beautiful and the daughter of two gods, she had been coddled all her life. This led her to be a little impudent by nature. She was not the weak and docile young ting her mother had raised her to be. She was evolving into a woman.
Persephone adored talking with the older gods, her aunts and uncles and cousins. She was especially fond of her Aunt Hera. The friendship the two developed amused everyone, considering how much Hera had hated the child at first.
After she found out about Persephone's conception, Hera flew into one of her usual jealous rages, hurling things at Zeus, screaming.
"Traitor! Scum! Worthless, worthless husband!"
But unlike Zeus' many other conquests, Hera could not to anything to harm neither mother nor unborn child. Demeter was a goddess, not a mortal. And, being the issue of two gods, the child would be one as well. Hera could not touch either of them.
After Persephone grew, and her mother became more and more wearisome to her, she sought out the other female gods for answers. Since Hera was the goddess of marriage, Persephone went to her to ask her about what happened in the marriage bed. When the child (who was no child anymore) first arrived at her private garden, Hera was filled with disgust and irritation. Persephone showed her all the proper respect, and when she explained to Hera that she had come for answers, Hera was all too happy to give them to her. She knew that passing this knowledge to the child would anger Demeter, whom she was still bitter against. However, an odd thing happened as time went on. Persephone began to visit her and aunt more and more, until at last a begrudging Hera admitted that she liked the girl's company. The child is certainly not dim, like that mother of hers, she often thought to herself. Indeed, she possessed such a keen wit that she could be mistaken for a daughter of Athena. Hera told Persephone this and made the child flush with pride.
Now that Persephone had reached her womanhood, suitors were vying for her hand. One of the most admirable among them was her cousin, Apollo. He presented Persephone with the finest jewelry made from fragments of the sun, a fine chariot of her own, and hundreds of golden gowns.
Persephone disliked the heat and brightness of the sun jewelry, and thought that gold did not compliment her skin. The chariot she liked, as it gave her more independent and a way to travel without her mother. But what pleased her most of all about the entire ordeal was that others were noticing her long-discovered readiness to mate. Her new favorite thing was to stroll in the forest and watch the bees pollinate the flowers. It seemed so beautiful to her. All that light golden dust and the bees flying from flower to flower, creating new life where once there was none.
Demeter, of course, was adamant in her refusal of her daughters many suitors. "Persephone will only marry when- no, if- I wish it. Until then she is to remain a maid untouched," Demeter would coldly say to suitor after suitor, even the mighty Apollo. This annoyed Hera, who had long since considered herself Persephone's co-conspirator. She talked it over in her garden one afternoon with her closest friend among the goddesses, Aphrodite. Hera liked Aphrodite. She was good company; not dull and bookish like Athena or tomboyish and wild like young Artemis. And, unlike nearly other female, god or mortal, Aphrodite had no interest in Hera's husband. She was content in her affair with Ares and countless mortal men, but left the king of gods be. Hera had always liked her for this.
"It's a shame, really," said Aphrodite, sipping at her tea. "Never have I seen such a young woman ready for love. The things that child has asked me! And being a beauty like she is, it really is a waste if that mother of hers doesn't let her marry. Why, it would be as bad of a waste as poor Artemis."
Hera nodded sadly. Artemis was a sore spot with the two of them. Being as beautiful as she was, the two goddesses had tried to take Artemis under their wings. Artemis had refused them point blank, stating that she was happier running wild in the woods (as they saw it) than becoming a prim and majestic goddess.
"Still, you know the future of love for everyone, do you not? Is there a man in her future?" Hera asked. Aphrodite furrowed her lovely forehead.
"I see the potential for love there, but the lover himself is a fog to me. This rarely happens, but it is not impossible. I cannot see because there are many paths upon which the girl may tread." Aphrodite began to absentmindedly twirl a piece of perfect golden hair around her finger. "It will play out as an interesting love story, no doubt. What about you? Can you see marriage in her future?"
"Like you, it is vague. I honestly cannot tell if the child will enter a marriage or not. I asked you hoping for more insight." Hera sighed, resting her cheek against her hand. She examined her other hand; her perfect nails, her beautiful porcelain skin.
"Look at the two of us worrying as if she were our own daughter!" laughed Aphrodite, pouring herself another cup of tea. Hera seldom laughed, but she gave her friend one of the low, close-lipped smiles that she favored. "Silly isn't it? And to think I despised the little thing at her birth."
"You despised her before her birth!"
The two goddesses then moved on to other topics; Aphrodite's usual fights with her husband, Hephaestus, and the recent scandal between Apollo and a mortal girl. Meanwhile, as the sun set on Earth below, Persephone would make her first (of many) secret trysts into the night.
After the sun set, her mother slept. Persephone could not understand how she did this. Perhaps it was the busy job of making the whole earth grow. Or perhaps it was because her mother had never liked the night. Persephone loved night. She would often talk with the moon goddess, Selene, when she was unable to sleep. But tonight she wanted to explore the night on Earth, see the creatures that moved in it. But her mother would never allow Persephone to venture to Earth at night without her. So Persephone decided to sneak away.
Persephone quietly slipped out of her room. She crept past her mother's door and made her way out of their palace. She rigged her chariot outside and wondered where she wanted to go. Selene smiled down at her.
"Going somewhere, Sephie?" she whispered. Persephone smiled. Selene was her closest friend, a younger goddess like her, still wild and young. She provided Persephone with a friend similar to herself, where stately Hera and sensual Aphrodite could sometimes be unable to relate. Even if Selene was too drowsy to be much fun during the day, she was a loyal and lovely companion.
"Yes," Persephone whispered back excitedly. "You wont tell on me will you Selene?"
"You know me, silent as the night." Selene giggled. Persephone giggled with her, feeling an infectious excitement bubble up. She climbed into her chariot.
"So long Selene, I'll come see you when I get home."
"Goodbye Sephie! Be careful!" Selene suddenly grew solemn. "Strange things can happen in the night, not all of them good."
Persephone shivered, chilled suddenly. "Duly noted. Don't worry Selene. I'll be alright!" And with that, she climbed into her carriage and rode into the night.
Not knowing where else to start, Persephone made her way to the forest, her favorite forest. She did not know that there was such an array of different creatures that only poked their heads out at night. Bats and owls, she had never seen an owl before. Such beautiful things, she thought, as a brilliant tawny owl landed beside her and hooted amicably. She reached out a long, pale finger to stroke his feathers, cooing softly to him. She heard a twig snap behind her. She turned her head, expecting to see another new animal, and was so startled to see a man there that she let out a small and gasping "oh!"
"I apologize miss, for having obviously startled you," said the man, with a bow of his head. His voice was low, deep, and slightly cold. She couldn't make out his features in the darkness, but his figure was tall, broad shouldered, powerfully built. Persephone felt a jump of fear rise to her throat.
"I-it's alright" she squeaked, as the owl, startled, flew away. She watched it go and wondered if she should flee along with it.
The man must have sensed her alarm, because he said, "No need to be frightened, miss. I will leave you be." He bowed his head to her again and started to walk in the opposite direction.
"Wait!" Persephone called out, not exactly knowing why. He turned and she caught a glimpse of his profile in the moonlight, his eyes covered in shadow. Her stomach jumped, but in a different way this time. "W-what is your name?" she asked.
From his turned head she saw the curve of a small smile, and when she blinked, he was gone.