Beneath the rich mirage of an orange sunset, the regal notes of a swirling waltz drifted lazily across the great hall of Olympus. Conversation buzzed in its every corner, interrupted only by peals of laughter and the airy clinking of empty goblets kissing the edges of tables.
Polished marble pillars arranged in a wide circle framed the central dance floor. Hundreds of flickering spheres of light held suspended above this space bathed its graceful dancers in a soft, dreamy glow. Those who decided against waltzing occupied the communal area surrounding the ballroom floor. Some stretched comfortably across elegant chaise lounges that dotted the hall, a goblet of ambrosia within their grasp. Others decided to climb the wrought iron staircase in order to take advantage of the second level of the lodge. Its circular design provided an all-encompassing view of the scene below.
Standing at the entrance of the great hall was the Goddess of Harvest and Agriculture. A golden crown of wheat rested upon her mass of intricately woven braids. Beneath sun kissed skin, the blush of health stained her high cheekbones. A sheer toga of sunburnt orange traced her stately figure, reaching down to the tops of her feet. Eyes the shade of a perfect summer sky peered worriedly at the figure beside her – her beloved daughter, Persephone.
The girl was all gentle curves and soft, rosy skin. Long auburn hair – two shades darker than her mother's strawberry blonde – curled down to the small of her back. A crown of wildflowers sat upon her head, a motif that continued in the hem of the swirling purple material covering her willowy form. She was a flower, forever frozen on the cusp of bloom – stuck in the blurred site between girl and woman.
An embodied paradox of naivety and seduction.
Demeter swallowed nervously, her heart filling with muted panic. She could not stop herself from reaching out to her daughter, placing a protective, restraining hand upon the girl's shoulder. Persephone absently accepted the gesture, covering it with her own. Her eyes, however, were steadfastly trained upon the novel scene before her. Never before had she stepped foot in Olympus. If it were up to her mother, she would have continued in this way indefinitely.
Indeed, Demeter's influence was great, but she too was subject to the whims of the almighty lord of Gods.
Persephone cleared her throat, swaying in indecision. She turned to face her mother, her fingers twisting and untwisting in agitation.
"Do I just...walk in?" Her voice was one of fragile beauty, imbued with the echo of delicate yet determined growth.
Demeter paused before nodding once, her tone strained. "Zeus wishes to formally present you in court."
Persephone turned back towards the hall, her eyes - an intriguing tangle of blue and green – trailing the mass of moving figures. Somewhere within the far recesses of her mind, she noted how the majority of immortals exuded a bodily glow, some more obvious than others. Within the realm of Olympus, her own mother radiated a rose-gold luminosity, tinged by the colours of harvest and substantial growth. Glancing down at her own hand she noticed – with a strange sense of discomfiture – that her skin did not glow like the others. Yet another thing that set her apart from the rest.
Demeter's smooth, familiar voice broke her from her thoughts. "Come, let us enter," she said with thinly veiled reluctance. She hid her deep-set fears well.
The Goddess gently pushed her daughter forward, making sure to keep a light hand resting just above the girl's waist. The shadowy darkness melted away from the two figures as they stepped into the great hall. Persephone's rich auburn hair shimmered beneath the golden light of orange sunset. Nymphs draped in sheer, gold material drifted across the marble floor, holding ornate trays brimming with goblets of ambrosia and the finest mortal wine. They were so unlike the colourful nymphs that Persephone passed her days with in her mother's meadow.
Demeter caught her staring at what Persephone imagined was a larger, more masculine nymph with glossy chestnut hair that reached her solid waist, uninterrupted by the curve of breast. A small, indulgent smile touched the Goddess's lips.
"He is not a nymph, dear one."
Persephone's brows met, confusion brimming in her eyes.
"Not a nymph? But what..." her frown deepened as she processed her mother's words. "He?"
"Yes, he," her mother replied.
Demeter accepted a goblet from the very creature in question. Persephone copied her mother's actions, but was stopped by the elder Goddess's gentle yet firm hand. That very same hand plucked the nearest goblet from the tray offered and tapped its edge twice. After she completed this strange ritual, Demeter placed the object in her daughter's grasp.
"What did you do?"
Demeter waved off her concern. "You will like this beverage more than ambrosia or wine. It is sweeter."
Mild irritation bubbled in Persephone's belly, more exasperated than truly angry. "Mother, everyone else is drinking what is being offered."
Demeter's expression tightened, but her tone remained level and rich. "Persephone, you are not obligated to drink ambrosia here in Olympus -,"
"- But you promised me that I could try it! Mother, I am not a child!" the young goddess interjected, eyes flashing with frustration.
Demeter shot her daughter a level stare, pausing for a pregnant moment. "Your behaviour suggests otherwise, Persephone."
The girl flushed with embarrassment at her mother's reprimand. Demeter sighed.
"Darling, why consume ambrosia when you have no need? Trust me, you will love what is in your goblet. It is sparkling sweet pear and apricot nectar – much preferable over the bitter aftertaste of ambrosia."
The young goddess sighed, her irritation melting into resignation. "Well... I do love apricots."
Demeter grinned. "I know. I am your mother." She nodded once to the servant, signalling that he may leave. The beautiful man bowed his head, shooting a quick, curious glance at Persephone beneath thick dark lashes, before moving on. This soured Demeter's smile.
"So, back to the not-nymph servant?" Her daughter said between lingering sips of her personalised beverage. She grudgingly admitted to herself that the drink was indeed delicious. The floral notes of pears blended seamlessly with the earthier tones of the apricots.
"Well, I suppose he was once a mere mortal. Our host, however, allowed him to sip the God's nectar, thus granting him immortality."
Persephone frowned as she considered the new information. "What was the purpose of that? Why did Zeus decide to transform the human?"
Demeter cleared her throat, her expression twisting with equal parts of discomfort and disdain. "Personal reasons, my love," she replied.
The two goddesses had stopped a few meters away from what appeared to be an imposing throne constructed of molten gold and swirling clouds. How such a thing could exist, Persephone could not even fathom. Beside it sat a smaller, more feminine throne of similar design. Both were occupied by glowing deities, one of which was tracing Persephone's form with narrowed eyes. Curiosity, then detached amusement tinged her expression.
The dull throb of anxiety Demeter had experienced all night suddenly spiked, clawing like an angry housecat within her stomach. She did not want her daughter in this place. Persephone was too young, too innocent, too naïve to belong in this pitiless world of corruption and greed. No, her daughter's place was in her meadow, surrounded by her flock of nymphs that danced amongst the willow trees and wild flowers. Zeus' word, however, was final.
Demeter straightened her posture, raising her chin in regal confidence. She led her daughter before the elevated dais of the Lord of Gods, seizing the goblet from the young Goddess's grip.
"Kneel until he acknowledges you, and then we can go home," she whispered in her daughter's ear, squeezing her hand once before pushing her gently forward. A soft hush fell upon the hall as its occupants curiously watched the scene before them.
Persephone swallowed nervously as she took a few shaky steps, bringing her closer to the figures reclining before her. The female had skin of milk and honey, soft as the petals of blooming white roses. She was ageless: neither young nor old, instead a constantly shifting combination of both. Her brunt blonde hair was styled into a perfectly balanced halo of soft waves. A magnificent crown of gem-encrusted gold sat upon her head, glinting below the glare of floating lights. A white silk robe traced the contours of her feminine curves, decorated by strands of delicate gold and lavish rubies – their rich colour matching the shade of her soft lips. A shifting undertone of red shone through the otherwise vibrant glow of gold emanating from her skin. Although she was slight in comparison to the male figure sitting beside her, Persephone did not doubt the power of the Goddess. Hera's wrath would be something to behold.
Beside the Queen of Gods sat her King. Zeus, almighty lord of Olympus - and Persephone's father. What a strange thought. All her life, the concept of 'father' was a mere abstract notion. She knew his name, but never had a face to connect the word to. In all honesty, however, Persephone never truly minded – she did not think of her father enough to crave a relationship with him. For her, her mother was enough. Her meadow was enough.
Persephone stared at the mountain of flesh before her. As old as he was, Zeus' appearance matched that of a mature mortal man in his mid 50s. He was a mass of thick muscle and sun kissed skin. His deep-set eyes glinted sky blue. A thick beard framed his lips, its salt and pepper colouring matching the long waves growing from his scalp. A wreath of solid gold encircled his head, matching the stylized lighting bolt pendant that held his white toga in place. A cape of heavy red silk trailed behind him as he rose from his throne.
So, this is my father, Persephone thought before she sunk into a kneeling position before him. The room fell completely silent as the Lord of the Gods approached. The young goddess kept her gaze trained on the floor, listening to the shift of Zeus' fabric, until his covered feet entered her view. For a long moment, nothing happened. Her hands grew clammy with every second that ticked by.
A full minute had passed before Zeus took pity on her.
"Stand, daughter," he declared with a flourish, presenting her with his hand. His loud, deep voice reverberated across the hall, laughter infusing his tone. As rose into a standing position, the throng of divine immortals offered a round of applause – for what reason, Persephone did not understand – and the music began to play again. Gods began to disperse, returning back to their distractions.
Zeus stared down at his daughter with laughter in his eyes as he wrapped a thick arm around her.
"The rumours were true. You are stunning, little flower!"
Persephone smiled shakily in response, quietly thankful that her mother decided upon that moment to intervene. Demeter offered a deep nod of courtesy, before standing beside her daughter, a hand at the young Goddess's waist.
"Ah, Demeter! It has been too long. They weren't lying when they said you were hiding a treasure in that meadow of yours."
Demeter stiffened, but her tone remained neutral. "Persephone is a shy girl – and still quite young. I was allowing her to mature in her own good time."
From the corner of her eye, Persephone noticed the Queen of the Gods rise and slink her way towards the trio. She moved with a graceful fluidity – almost unnerving in the way she echoed the sensual smoothness of flowing water. With a spare glance at Demeter, Hera took her place beside her husband, eyes trained on the young Goddess before her. Her gaze was calculating, coloured with a subtle undertone of derisive humour.
"Well then, dear Demeter, I believe you have achieved your objective."
Demeter stiffened, though her expression remained level. She offered a slight of nod of courtesy to the other Goddess.
"Hera. It is good to see you again."
The Goddess in question continued as if Demeter had not said a word. She moved closer towards Persephone, a smirk beginning to stretch across her face. The young Goddess felt her mother's grip tighten on her waist to an almost painful degree as Hera lifted her chin with delicate fingers, her soft thumb tracing Persephone's rosebud lips.
"So beautiful – like a wildflower begging to be plucked. Indeed, you have done your job well, Demeter – perhaps too well." With a lingering gaze of satisfaction, Hera stepped back towards her husband.
The Goddess of Harvest had reached the end of her tether. She would not let her daughter be subject to this any longer.
"Thank you, Hera. Unfortunately, we must be off now. Persephone's throng of nymphs will be feeling quite agitated without her there amongst them."
"Come now, Demeter! The party has only just begun. Let Persephone mingle with others her age," Zeus replied, gaiety infusing his deep tone.
Demeter's responsive smile was – at best – strained, her muted ire just barely veiled. "My Lord, I must insist. My daughter -"
" – My lady, I must insist. Our daughter is to enjoy the festivities whilst you and I discuss a few matters." Beneath Zeus' merriment lay a steely anger, flashing with warning. Hera's smirk became more pronounced.
Despite her influence, Demeter had no choice but to obey her host's wishes. She feared the unpredictable whims of Zeus were she to refuse, particularly given the fact that he had an audience to parade in front of.
"Perhaps you are right, Zeus," she replied before turning towards her daughter. Persephone stared up at her mother with wide, anxious eyes. "Darling, please enjoy yourself. Find Artemis – I know she has been longing to meet you."
Persephone nodded, taking in her mother's encouraging gaze. She bit her lip at the splinter of worry hidden behind Demeter's soft expression. Never before had she had to face anything alone. Her mother had always been by her side. Yes, it may have aggravated her at times, but now...
"Go, little flower. Eat, drink and mingle! I bet there are a few people who are dying to dance with you!" Zeus declared with a boisterous laugh. Had she not been so nervous, Persephone would have laughed at her mother's pronounced flinch at Zeus' declaration.
With a final encouraging squeeze of the hand, Demeter turned away from her daughter, falling in step beside her hosts. Persephone was left standing alone before the raised throne dais. She swallowed heavily before turning around to face the rest of the hall.
A few immortals stared at her, whispering behind goblets of ambrosia and handfuls of ripe fruit. She felt a blush begin to stain her cheeks and she averted her gaze. Persephone's feet began moving out of her own violation, taking her in a directionless path that followed the sequence of golden tapestries hanging on the walls of the hall.
As she observed small groups younger looking Gods and Goddesses talk and laugh and dance, a strange longing rose within her. She felt lonely and out of place, hiding in the shadow of a large, golden statue.
"Well, well, well. So the rumours are true."
Persephone quickly glanced up from her fiddling hands, taking in the figure before her. Physically, he was gorgeous - perhaps male beauty embodied – his sun kissed skin imbued with a gentle blue body was perfectly carved, featuring large shoulders and a tight waist. A halo of Nordic-gold surrounded him, falling in perfect curls that were tucked behind delicate ears. Apart from the ornate golden lyre held casually in his grasp – fingers absentmindedly stroking its taught strings – a laurel wreath was his only decoration. Full, sculpted eyebrows sat above enchanting blue eyes as clear as a mountain stream. His polished skin stretched over sharp cheekbones and a chiselled jaw. A sensual smirk stretched across his full lips as he awaited her response.
"What rumours?"
The God raised a single eyebrow, his smirk becoming more pronounced. A calculating look entered his gaze, and he slowly leaned forward, his soft lips brushing the outer shell of her ear.
"You are quite the topic of conversation tonight, dear Persephone," he whispered.
Although Persephone felt irritation stir within her at his evasion, her discomfort at the God's nearness forced her to blurt out her response without filter – a dangerous move, according to her mother's advice.
"Is that so? You Olympians must live a frightfully boring existence if I am a popular topic of gossip."
The God jerked back, eyes widening in surprise. A grin slowly replaced the dark smirk that previously tinged his expression. He laughed, bright and clear.
"Who would have thought that this little wildflower possessed such a spark of inner fire? I am impressed." Following his declaration, the God stepped back, falling into a deep bow with a flourish.
"I am Apollo, God of music, light and many other interesting things. At your service, my Lady."
"Come now, dear brother. It would not be wise to set your sights on Demeter's daughter," a deep, feminine voice intoned.
A statuesque female suddenly stepped into view from behind Apollo, her warm, hazel eyes rolling with exasperation. Her aura of divinity was tinged the shade of cedar rose, reminding Persephone of soft deerskins and long walks through her mother's woods in autumn time. The Goddess's honeyed almond hair reached the small of her back in a wild mass of curls, tamed only by a thin braided rope of leather that wrapped around her forehead. Her wiry muscles spoke of regular physical activity, a notion that was confirmed by the golden bow and arrow that lay strapped across her back. Bands of leather encircled her wrists and upper arms, complimenting the moss-green shade of her sheer gown. A golden anklet glittered on her left ankle, matching the amulet of a crescent moon that lay hanging against her throat. She moved with a cat-like grace as she approached Persephone, leaving the young goddess feeling like a bumbling hedgehog in comparison.
"It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Persephone," she said, tone sincere. "I am Artemis, Goddess of the Hunt. Please excuse my brother's behaviour. Whilst his ego rivals that of Narcissus, he means you no harm."
Apollo let out a cry of mock outrage. "How you wound me, Artemis."
As the Goddess rolled her eyes once more, a small smile rose to Persephone's lips. Her mother had implied that she would find friendly company in Artemis – and watching the way the two siblings interacted, Persephone believed that this friendliness extended to Apollo, as well.
"In any case," the God continued, "As beautiful as Persephone is, I have sworn off women for the time being." Thinly veiled derision coloured Apollo's announcement. "Perhaps Ganymede will be willing to entertain me for a while..."
"Zeus' brainless plaything? Really, brother?"
Apollo raised a single eyebrow in challenge. "He's handsome and eager. What more do I truly need?"
Artemis sighed quietly, and Persephone noted the sliver of worry glinting in her almond eyes.
"Apollo, if you would only approach Cassandra -,"
The God's eyes flashed, his face flushing with mesmerizing anger.
" – Enough, Artemis. I told you before that I do not want that viper's name spoken in my presence ever again." Suddenly, as if he had flipped a switch, the rage melted from Apollo's features and his posture relaxed. A charming smile rose on his lips as he offered a hand to Persephone.
"Now come, little wildflower. Will you do me the honour of joining me in the next dance?"
Persephone shot a quick glance at his sister, who shrugged helplessly in response. Whilst she found Apollo's behaviour disconcerting, there was a strange sadness in the God's eyes, stirring pity within her.
"I do not know how to dance as they do in Olympus, Apollo," she offered weakly.
"My beauty will distract them," he replied with a smirk before taking Persephone by the hand. "Go mingle, dear sister! Perhaps you will finally find the lucky God who will rid you of that pesky virginity of yours!" He shot over his shoulder as he led the young goddess to the dance floor.
Persephone almost flinched at the animalistic growl Artemis released in response to her brother's taunting.
Luck was on Persephone's side as the moment she and Apollo entered the throng of waltzing couples, the music changed. Fast paced music of a merry nature replaced the previous slow, enchanting tones. Participants arranged themselves in two long lines, smiling and laughing flirtatiously as the music began. Whilst Persephone felt quite lost, her partner made her learning experience an enjoyable one. With gentle hands and a winning grin, he helped her in following the lively yet precise movements of the dances. As the night passed, Persephone felt a genuine smile stretching across her lips. This smile turned into laughter as Apollo pulled his reluctant sister into a lively dance that required many intricate twirls and shifting of feet.
After several songs, a strange feeling overcame her – as if someone was watching her with a heavy gaze. She craned her neck towards the upper level balcony, trying to find the source whilst her latest dance partner was twirling her around. Apollo noticed her distraction when she was reunited with him in the next dance.
"Is something bothering you?"
Persephone hesitated, before shaking her head.
"No, I just thought I saw...something."
As Apollo spun her around once more, he scanned the second level balcony. A confused frown creased his expression as he quickly glanced down at Persephone. His gaze lingered on her face, expression calculating.
"What?" She whispered uncomfortably.
Apollo's expression melted back into what she now considered his signature smirk. He shook his head in bemused wonder.
"Nothing," he replied, "nothing at all, little wildflower."
Chapter notes:
1. Although I make reference to the myth of Cassandra, I want to make it clear that in my retelling of Persephone/Hades, Apollo is inherently bisexual. For him, 'gender' is not a concern. Physical beauty is what initially attracts him.
If you have any questions, send me a message! I hope you enjoyed this first chapter. Let me know what you think.