Flowers Before Pomegranates

In Which Persephone Is Not Zeus's Child

Persephone may have been Zeus's child, but she was not his daughter. Not his offspring. Let the hymns sing what they will, let the scrolls say what they will, let the storytellers weave a new version every night to those who gathered round to here the stories of the gods. He was not her father, and she was not his daughter. But he still claimed her as his child. Zeus was god of all, father of all, and thus claimed Persephone as his own, as he did with everything and everyone.

Almost everyone, at least.

And so Persephone was known as a child of Zeus, despite the fact that they had no connection other than their shared status as gods.

Zeus did not call her daughter. He did not call her anything. He probably didn't even know of her existence. Demeter kept Persephone far away from the gods, from both Mount Olympus and anyone she didn't see fit to look upon her daughter. Which was almost no one.

Save for the nymphs, Persephone had practically no one.

She wandered the earth, unable to be seen by mortals by pain of them unto them, but still the mortals knew of her. Somehow.

Demeter could hide away Persephone all she wanted to, but the mortals knew of her existence. Goddess of Life, Goddess of Spring. Goddess who must not be known. But the mortals didn't know everything.

She was not Zeus's daughter.

She was a child of the gods, and thus a child of Zeus, but she was not his daughter.

Demeter and Zeus had slept together, there was no denying that. On multiple occasions, even, much to the fury of Hera. But Hera's rage extended only so far, and Demeter shared his bed unharmed many, many nights before she grew tired of him. Zeus could easily seduce with his shapeshifting, but he had a shit personality, and Demeter saw through the illusions he gave her every night. Disgust and distaste crossed her face, and she gathered her robes and leather sandals and left, wanting nothing more to do with him.

Hera was thrilled to see her go.

As Demeter passed Hera, she heard Hera whisper a curse. Demeter ignored it; she had said worse things to her.

Persephone's father, instead, was the very earth itself. Demeter, goddess of the harvest and fertility, grew the seeds herself. Up from the earth sprouted a grain, seeds glistening white from the fragile stalk that lifted up from the soil. Demeter harvested this herself. She took the harvest, pulling the seeds from the plant and putting them inside of her. She closed her legs and went to the nearest temple, all the while feeling the seeds shift inside her.

In the temple of Demeter, she waited, focused purely on her own fertility. Inside of her, she felt the grain seeds become liquid and she pressed her legs tighter together. She stayed in the temple for three days and three nights, and by the time the full moon rose on the third night, she knew she had conceived.

She felt the baby like a root in her body, stretching down into the soil of her womb, and Demeter waited another three nights before she left.

And thus, Persephone was born.