I think it's about time I face the fact that I'm not cut-out for the cute/touchy fiction stories. I want something dark, something close to, if not entirely, upsetting.

Romancing a God

I made several attempts to dissuade myself from feeling what I felt. She was only a sweet temptation. A flower whose aromatic nectar tantalizes anyone who dares to take a whiff of her high airs and once enchanted shall never be the same ever again. She was my wife but it was all under the same context of how our relationship was established—under duty and obligation. She belonged to me but she was not mine, quite ironic but true in sense. I promised myself that I would not love her, I should not—though I easily could.

I am Hades, Lord of the Underworld. And I will not fall for that thoughtless, Persephone.

Perhaps, I should start from our humble beginnings—me and the lovely, the young and adored, Persephone.

I no longer care to know how many words of pleasantry were said whenever her name was mentioned.

It was not surprising and she was favored by many.

The first time I saw her was under the heavenly gleam of the sun near the house of an old shepherd whom I visited often. I was there to ask of a friend's well-being—half wishing good health and the other, the complete opposite. Cruel as it might be to yearn ill for a good friend, the intention was—in the end—for his sake. I spent years judging the dead, hearing their stories and considering their pleas. I knew enough—or so I believed myself to fully comprehend—the situation of their lives as fully dependent beings to their patrons. Elysium Fields was a paradise for the kind and charitable and I knew, with or without my partiality, my companion was worthy to belong there.

"You are growing old, milord. Surely, you do not plan on living as a bachelor for eternity, do you?"

His name was Leone. He was an old man with a relatively long beard. There were wrinkles in the edges of his face. His eyes were gentle but bright. His smile was genuine but teasing.

"I have no time for such affairs, Leone. They will pose only as a distraction from my daily responsibilities."

For they did or so, that was how it seemed—seeing Zeus' attachments. Leone chuckled softly and once again, I felt a slight regret not to have Leone under my jurisdiction in the underworld. He would make a fine addition to my mortal counsels.

I was not like most gods with beliefs or values—or maybe I was simply too different from those who resided in the surface or in Mount Olympus. I was the god of the dead and yet it was I who found life sacred. While the others would strike anyone who displeased them, I would sit quietly in my throne, waiting. Bullying the weak did not appeal to me as it was for the others. If I ever wished death upon a certain individual, it was either because the world was better off without them or my realm would be far better with them.

We were discussing the current state of the farmlands nearby—discuss, for I could only advise. I was not capable of providing fruitful harvest—when Leone suddenly stopped on his tracks. I followed the direction of his eyes, and looking at front—near us but still a good few paces away—was a child.

She had dark colored locks transcending between the hues of fresh apples and loam soil. She was tanned and brought with her the scent of the woodlands. I wondered why Leone found her to be someone peculiar—for he had the well-practiced habit of ignoring even the most noticeable distractions when speaking to me. I looked at her closer and beside me I heard a murmured a prayer. I furrowed my brows and followed Leone as he approached.

She then looked up—from the garland which her small fingers were designing—she looked at us. She looked at me. Her great emerald eyes reflected the rich forestry of the fertile earth. It seemed to blend in all kinds of different shades—this I knew, was not merely the illusion of light but truly transforming to a whole new different green from the previous one to the next.

It was only then, did it occur to me that she was not a mortal child but a god much like myself. Of whose blood, I did not know. Of whose flesh, I cared not. Leone stooped near her and mumbled something incoherent and yet she seemed to understand. She placed her little hand on the old man's head and uttered what seemed to me an earthly incantation.

She was giving him her blessing.

Leone smiled. "Thank you, young Persephone."

She nodded and her features softened as she smiled back. "You are always welcome, Leone." She was looking at me again and for some reason, I could not help but stare back. Leone was already at his feet and was now helping the young girl get up. "Lord Hades," She bowed to me. "Good morning."

"Good morning," I replied not knowing whether I should call her by the name I heard from Leone or simply admit I knew nothing of her parentage. "May I ask, what brings you here alone in the fields?"

"I am a frequent visitor here, milord." She said calmly. "I wait for mother from her affairs with the nearby villages here."

I eyed her curiously. "Your mother?"

"Demeter, milord. Goddess of good harvest and the earth's fertility."

Ah. So she was a child of the earth. It did not come to me as a surprise. And no sooner did I found out the identity of the mother, I no longer had doubts in the father. Hera spent a good three years or so in the underworld after Zeus' affair with our sister, Demeter. She wasn't able to forgive this one easily. Not when the participant happened to be her sibling. I felt my veins constricting, my hands clenching into fists as my tongue clicked disapprovingly the roof of my mouth. It would be unfair of me to judge the child by the sins of the parents. And yet try as I might, I was unable to contain myself.

"Ahh…Your mother was then responsible for the sudden inflation of deaths in the regions of Eastern Greece? Departed souls had told me of the great draughts they experienced there. They were unable to find food for themselves in the dessert-like lands which your mother had neglected."

I did not regret saying this to her. Demeter needed to be chastised and what better way to do that than to embarrass her to her daughter? My sister needed to understand that the human race was not hers to toy. Persephone did not speak but from the expression that glazed over her innocent face, I knew she was hurt. I did not say more. Persephone meekly bowed once more and bade the both of us a quick farewell. I did not blame her if she chose to run. She ought to be ashamed.

"You should not have said those things, milord. She was merely a child."

"Are you reprimanding me, Leone?" I looked at him incredulously. He might not complain but I knew he shared my sentiments regarding Demeter's selfish actions. "Will you rather have Demeter continue to go on and about neglecting those who are faithful to her?"

"I do not, milord. But I do not believe it is right of you to let Persephone share the blame. She was not the one at fault."

"I did not accuse Persephone of anything. To share the blame will be to divide the punishment, Leone—We cannot have that—Demeter will pay for this alone and with interest. I simply gave Persephone a warning."

"A warning for what, milord?"

"A warning that if she ever dares to follow Demeter's example, it will be met with due penalty." I could not help but sigh at this point. I could not believe I was forced to explain myself and my actions though I know they were in accordance with my conscience if not generally right or just. "It will be better if she understands her place as an earth goddess sooner—that is to care for the well-being of those who depend on her and not to follow her mother's footsteps."

"Ah. Were you also given a similar warning regarding your father when you were young?"

My eyes sharpened. And I glared at Leone in full disgust. "I did not need to be told to deviate from Cronus' example, might I be few in years then."

"Then how is Persephone any different to you, Milord?"

I swore I saw Leone shook his head whether it was out of frustration or disappointment, I did not know. I cut my visit short. I could tell Leone had no intentions of prolonging my stay any longer. He was upset if not in my actions then my intentions. I returned to the Underworld, blameless but blaming. Had Persephone been born of another womb, perhaps I could have forgiven her for setting Leone against me. Had she not been Zeus' perhaps I could forgive her for hurting Hera.

There was that famous saying, coined by the wise. 'No one is born guilty' but I only needed to be reminded of a certain girl to prove it was otherwise.

If you've come this far, thank you.

Love,
Ms. Reen