darling, dreadful persephone
queen of the underworld,
goddess of rebirth:
she resides both over the dead
the living.
Persephone could never quite regret eating the pomegranate; it was dark and dreary in this kingdom, but well. It was her kingdom, and that made all of the difference. Of course, she missed the golden sunlight, but she still had the garden her husband had given to her as a gift, and she would never, never miss the way her mother used to smother her. Hades would never do that to her; after all, her husband understood, in a way no one else ever could, the way it felt to have someone constantly cheating you out of greatness. She bit into a pomegranate and smiled down at some unfortunate soul (Orpheus, was it?) as the juice dribbled down her chin. Sweet and tart, just the way she liked it. She stared the man down some more just to watch him squirm, concocting some ridiculously complicated trial he would never complete. She couldn't have her favorite companion stolen from her, after all. Eurydice was so very lovely, and she smelled like spring. Felt like it too. A sly smile spread across her face, and out of the corner of her eye, she could see her husband trying to cover up a grin. She could see right through it of course; after all, he was her husband. That certainly counted for something. Persephone glanced back at the harpist, and her smirk grew all the wider. Oh, this was going to be fun.