Pain.

It is such a simple word, and yet it contains a wealth and depth of meaning I am only just beginning to comprehend.

At first I think that my essence is disturbed by trouble within my realm.

As a goddess of nature and the harvest, I am inextricably linked to the song of the earth and anything that flourishes within its embrace.

But what I feel in that moment is deeper than anything related to my duties as goddess of the grain.

Something vital to my existence has just been brutally severed, leaving emptiness and a sorrow beyond description in its wake. And there is only one thing that brings me such joy and fulfillment.

The bond I share with my only daughter, sweet and gentle Persephone.

Immediately I cast my senses outward, calling out to all things that answered to my command with a simple question.

"Have any seen my Persephone?" And from the ripening stalks of grain, the flowers of the meadows, and the very core of the earth the answer comes back.

"She is not here, my lady."

To an immortal the concept of death is something unknown, yet in that moment I feel as if something precious beyond description has been taken

That corner of my being, which has from the moment of my child's birth echoed the warmth, joy and brightness of my Persephone's spirit, is now barren.

Where once deep communion between mother and child has flourished, now there is only a terrible silence unbroken by anything save for my anguished lament.

For what seems like an eternity I pour all of my power into a desperate search, until at last utterly spent I am forced to admit defeat.

So I seek out my divine brethren, and at last through Hecate's aid am directed to Helios. And what he reveals kindles a rage and grief so intense that it takes all of my failing strength to remain in my immortal form.

Zeus my brother and former lover, has given my dearest child into the embrace of dark Hades, to be made his bride and queen of the underworld for eternity.

It is too much.

My endless strength broken by the shock of this revelation, I am no longer a goddess of rebirth, but a mother in mourning for her daughter.

Recklessly I cast off my divinity, assuming the shape of a woman bent with age and sorrow.

For days I wander the earth, taking neither rest nor ambrosia to sustain my essence, until at last I come to the city of Eleusis.

There I meet the king's daughters, and find such favor with the queen that she appoints me nurse to the little prince.

Never before had I realized the fragility of a mortal's body, until the queen hands me the precious child.

And as I hold him close, a thought forms which momentarily drives back my grief.

It would be fitting that just as Hades has stolen my beloved daughter, taken her to a realm where her bright spirit can no longer flourish, I take steps to keep another child's soul beyond his reach.

My course decided I smile down at the infant, assuring the queen that I will care for him as if he were my own son.

In secret I anoint him with ambrosia, and give to him strength and nourishment as I fill him with the glory of my presence

And in the deep hours of the night I place him in the heart of the fire, so that in time his mortality will be burned away leaving a deathless and ageless prince in its stead.

Silently I bless Metaneira for giving me this child to nurse, for it has helped to assuage the constant ache of loss and grief I have known since the abduction of my precious child.

But even the gods are subject to the will of destiny, and though I take care to conceal my work the time comes when I am discovered.

I have just placed the child at the heart of the flames one evening, when a cry of shock and horror causes me to turn towards the door.

There stands Metaneira; pale and trembling, eyes alight with fear and the pain of betrayal.

In vain does she call to her little son to awaken, for his soul has already fled to the underworld.

Perhaps it is this pointless death which causes me to lash out in fury, to reveal myself to this mortal queen and tell of my plan to grant her boy immortality.

It is only centuries later that I realize an astonishing truth.

I was so consumed by anger as I took my leave, that I never considered that here was one who could truly comprehend the depths of my pain and rage. For though Metaneira was only a mortal, she became in that moment a mother now mourning the loss of a beloved child.

The fires of rage and grief rekindled, I send my power forth.

All on Olympus hear my proclamation, declaring that nothing would flourish on the earth until Zeus commanded Hades to return my child.

And though the king of gods sends many of my divine brethren in an attempt to placate my anger, every appeal is rejected.

So I wait within my temple at Eleusis, built on the orders of the king in an attempt to calm my fury.

I remain cold and unyielding, a being of stoic indifference to the fates of mortals.

Not even the deaths of children cause a spark of compassion to be ignited in the shattered core of my essence, for I have none left to give.

All of my energy is devoted to rage and the need for vengeance, which will not be quenched until I might look upon the face of my beloved daughter and hold her close in my arms once more.

Only then, will I relent and bless the earth.

Note from the authoress: I wrote this after hearing a lecture on Demeter, and thought I'd post it here for fun.

I'm hoping to write chapters from the perspectives of Metaneira, Persephone and of course Hades.

Or I might just write more chapters from the viewpoints of different figures from classical myths. If anyone would prefer that idea just let me know in a review, I'd really like to tackle Clytemnestra.

Feedback is greatly appreciated.

Thanks for reading.