A/N: I own nothing except the plot bunny that dashed through my head, forcing me to write this AU.
Of Flowers and Pomegranates
Lydia sits on her throne, deep underground, fingers idly tapping at the cool ivory that makes up her seat. It's exhausting spending all her time with the dead, which she should have expected when she volunteered to take the post. No one wants to die, so her realm constantly echoes with the wails of the recently departed. She finds herself wishing that she could just sit in the quiet of a garden, perhaps tip her face up to absorb the warm rays of the sun, just for a few moments.
She leans forward, lips pursed, fingers tapping more quickly as she considers. Well, why couldn't she? She's one of the most powerful goddesses, Queen of the Underworld; why couldn't she take a day off to travel aboveground as a vacation from her duties? The more she contemplates her options, the more she's convinced she could manage it. Just for a day, just to spend some time alone, in the sun.
Before she gives herself a chance to change her mind, she snaps her fingers and alights on a stone bench in a garden on the mortal plane. The plants are fragrant, a heady mix of several types of lily, daisy, and narcissus flowers, and Lydia relaxes immediately. It's nice to be away from the stench of death, the stagnant air of the Underworld.
She's startled out of her reverie when a voice to her right says, "I wasn't expecting you here, my lady."
Her eyes snap open as she jerks her head in his direction. "Scott. I didn't—Is this your garden?" she asks, taking another look around. Now that she thinks about it, she should have known this was one of his. He always smells of narcissus when she sees him at Olympus. Maybe that's why she likes the scent so much.
His smile widens as he lopes forward and nods. "Yes, it's my favorite one. Do you like it?" His warm brown eyes gaze eagerly into her icy ones and she shivers.
She looks away from him as she blushes. "I'm sorry to intrude. I was looking for a quiet place to sit in the sun."
"You're not intruding," he says as he takes a seat next to her. He leaves at least a foot of space between them, but Lydia's heart still pounds faster in her chest. "You can come here any time you want."
She clears her throat, turns to him, and murmurs, "Thank you."
They sit like that for the rest of the day, sometimes exchanging idle conversation, but mostly basking in the silence. Before she leaves, she places her hand on top of his, startling him for a moment. Their eyes meet, she squeezes his hand, and then she vanishes back to the Underworld.
She goes back to her post and continues reigning over the dead, using the memory of the peace she'd felt in Scott's garden to get her through a few lonely moments. The memory is enough for several months, but then she starts to feel restless again. She starts to feel the need to see Sco—the garden again.
Again, before she can talk herself out of it, she transports herself to the garden. It's as beautiful as it had been six months before, almost as if it had been frozen in time. She feels herself relaxing into the bench again, tension seeping out of her limbs. A different sort of tension fills her when she hears Scott's hurried gait coming through the maze of a garden towards her.
"You came back!" he exclaims happily the moment he sees her.
She can't stop her grin. "You did say I could," she points out.
He strides forward, hands in his pockets, and shrugs. "It's been so long, I'd wondered if you would take me up on it."
She sighs and slides over, making room for him to her left. "I would have come sooner, but I've been busy."
Scott takes her invitation and sits rather closer than he'd been the last time. "I imagine it's a lot of work, taking care of your domain. I sometimes feel overwhelmed with my duties, and I share those with my mother!" he jokes.
She nods, scooting closer to him. "Yes, it can be a bit of a burden sometimes," she sighs. "I do miss the scent of flowers and the heat of the sun."
His eyes roam her face, and this time she doesn't look away. "Can't you spend more time above ground? Do you always have to be down there to rule it?" Frustration bleeds into his questions.
She smiles sadly and brings her hand up to touch the corner of his lips. "Don't frown for me. You're too lighthearted to ruin it with a frown." Instead of answering his question, she closes the remaining distance between them and rests her head on his shoulder.
The sun sets and the garden grows dim. "I should go," Lydia says, reluctantly pulling away from Scott's warmth.
Before she can leave, he grabs her hand, big brown eyes looking into hers. "When will I see you again?"
Her heart aches. "I don't know," she shrugs. Already she can feel the loneliness of the Underworld creeping back into her. "I can't leave often, Scott. There's too much to do down there."
He doesn't let her retreat, follows her as she backs away from him. "What if I came down there to visit you?" he blurts.
She laughs bitterly and shakes her head. "You can't. No one's allowed down there unless they're dead or me. If I brought you down there, you'd have to stay down there." She shakes him free and is about to take herself home when he says something that stops her cold.
"So?" He stalks forward to grip her hand tightly in his, crooked jaw set, defiance burning in his gaze.
"Scott," she says shakily. "You don't know what you're saying. You'd be trapped there, forever."
He shrugs. "There's always a way around rules like that, and even if there weren't, I'd still go. I love you, Lydia."
Her breath hitches, her grip tightening on his. "I love you too, but I can't bring you with me. It's too risky."
He brings his free hand up to cup her face, leaning his forehead on hers. "If I found a way, would you bring me with you?"
"Of course," she says without hesitating. His smile is beatific.
Regretfully, she steps away, untangling their hands. "I'll come for you in six months. Find something by then and you can come home with me."
He makes a pained sound in his throat, unwilling to be parted from her. Before she can disappear, he reaches over to pull a purple narcissus from the plant behind her, weaving the stem into one of her braids. "For you to remember me by," he whispers into her ear, sending a shiver down her spine.
She presses a quick kiss to cheek. "Six months," she reminds him before she disappears back to the Underworld. The last thing she sees is his brilliant smile, his hand resting upon his cheek.
Six months later she finds him in the garden holding a pomegranate, excitement radiating from him. Before she can say anything, he pulls her into a leisurely kiss, fingers brushing over the purple flower woven into her hair.