It's finally here, my personal Hades and Persephone AU is here! This idea has been in my head since I saw this ((deviantart).com/artcrawl/art/Hades-and-Persephone-765220685) post on deviantart and it went from there.
I thought I would've actually written more but in the end circa 4.2k words is not a bad result - although I'm sorry for any mistakes.
I really hope you'll enjoy this, because I've enjoyed writing it - I love greek myths and I also love Captain Duckling, which in my head perfectly fits the Hades and Persephone trope, maybe with even a touch of Lieutenant thrown in there because, why not?
Title from the amazing J.R.R. Tolkien, because when I don't know where to turn for inspiration, he's always there, giving me everything I need.
This might come off as anti-Snow, which isn't my intention at all, but I needed a scapegoat and poor Snow became Demeter in this 'verse.
I might also add a part two, set in modern times, but I'm not making any promises.
Feel free to come say hi on my tumblr at (darkcolinodonorgasm).(tumblr).com! I don't bite... much.
Enjoy!
Long, long ago, in a land of myths and in a time of legends, when gods walked among mortals, meddling with their lives as they pleased, the story of how the Lord of the Underworld had taken his Queen had spread, horrifying some while, well, some men would cheer, following his example.
What mortals didn't know, though, was that it didn't happen as it was told.
Year after year, tale after tale, age after age, the names changed, but the story didn't. Sometimes, it became darker, but 'twas never the true version.
Many names she'd had: Kore, Nestis, Proserpina, Persephone. This last one was the most famous, yet it wasn't the name her mother had given her. She actually preferred it that way, the gods found names to be powerful, just like their myths, though full of lies. Besides, she liked the way he said her name, giving a unique ring to it, making her shiver in pleasure every damn time.
«Emma.»
Biting back a groan, the Queen of the Underworld sat up, hands coming to rest on the grass next to her, feeling the earth pulse beneath her fingertips. If she concentrated enough, she would be able to feel the Underworld's rivers. Oh, how she missed her home.
Ah, yeah, that, something nobody would ever tell. According to the myth, her husband had abducted her against her will, then proceeding to rape her, taking her maidenhead with brute force. Which he never did, of course, but being the Lord of the Underworld meant having to deal with cruel remarks and myths. Neither of them cared, they knew the truth, as did their family – her mother, though, oh, that was another story.
«What?» she asked in a very unladylike way, her golden hair loose around her innocent – oh, well, not quite so – face, long and wavy well past her waist, a flower crown laying upon her head.
«Get up, the stains on your dress won't be easy to wash,» her mother said, a scowl on her face, her long pitch black hair tightly tied behind her head. Emma remembered her features being softer and her dresses lighter, reflecting the changing of season; now she dressed as if she was still mourning.
With a sigh, Emma followed her mother's order, she was used to it by now; after many years spent with her, everything Demeter said was followed by a long sigh, possibly a shake of her head, and whatever she had to do.
The lace of the dress scratched her around the neck, whatever her mother used to wash it made it uncomfortable. She'd always been tempted to… cut it a bit lower, just a bit, but her mother would castigate her and send her to change. And summer was just awful in those lacey clothes. Since she'd gone to the Underworld, her mother had forbidden her to wear her old clothes or one she would bring with her from home.
But, as she'd decided to do, she would bear her mother's orders and glares, though she couldn't help but hate her a bit for despising her husband. Emma was happy, why couldn't she understand that?
«Do you need me to do something, mother?»
Demeter's frown relaxed a little; even though she didn't like being separated from her daughter for six months, she still loved her. «No, Emma,» she replied with a small smile, «I just don't want you to ruin your gown. This is the last night we're going to spend together, I want everything to be perfect.»
Emma blinked. Was it time already? A thrill of excitement ran down her spine and she had to forcefully bit the inside her cheek to stop herself from smiling. She longed to go home, to her husband and all the creatures she'd come to love. «Y-yes, I understand, mother,» she stammered, picking up her skirts – careful not to show her ankles, something else her mother frowned upon – and went to the apple tree nearby.
Brushing her fingers on its bark, Emma felt it pulse beneath her skin. Her mother didn't like to tend the apple trees, not to mention pomegranates. She snorted at the thought that Demeter had to, she hated that task as much as Emma hated coming back on earth. Well, she didn't exactly hate coming back, but earth hadn't been her home for so long, maybe it'd never been.
It was need for freedom, her longing that had driven her to search for it. Emma could still remember how she always pushed herself farther away from home, exploring, discovering new species and plants, things her mother had never explained to her. Each night, though, at sunset, she came home, staying just outside her house until the last rays of sun bathed the sky, turning her face at the darkness she longed to explore. She wanted to know what animals came out at night, what plants would bloom just under the moonlight; she wanted to know how she would look beneath the moon, wondering if her hair would turn silver.
Emma closed her eyes, tears threatening to spill out and she could almost feel him pacing in the throne room as he waited for souls to be sent to him just not to think about her. Oh, how lonely he must've felt during these six moons, as much as she had. Midnight, she thought with a sigh, they only had to wait until midnight. Her mother always wanted Emma to stay until morning, but she never did, she couldn't bear the thought of being separated from him any longer. The deal was six months, and the moment summer turned into autumn, she would go home.
It'd pained her the first times, both leaving him and her mother, but after a while her mother had just become too much. Demeter didn't understand, it probably was because she still pined after David and felt betrayed by the fact that, in her mind, at least, he'd allowed his brother to kidnap their beloved daughter.
David, or Zeus, or Jupiter, whatever mortals called him, had never had to allow his brother to do anything, permitting his daughter to follow him to the Underworld instead. Ah, yes, that wasn't what the myths told, was it?
What mortals never mentioned was how Emma met her husband. It was the only time she ever came home late.
He'd stopped by the stream where she was washing her hands and the stains of dirt off her skirt, the setting sun casting golden rays onto the water, making the surface sparkle. He always told her it looked like she was surrounded by a halo, wrapped up in light when he was darkness. His self-loathing had been what had kept him from going near her, that and the myths: who in their right mind would ever go near the King of the Underworld?
But Emma being Emma, had never felt a deeper connection with anyone, not with Hermes nor Apollo, not even with her own mother, and it had scared and excited her so much she wasn't even able to speak at first.
It wasn't the darkness that had drawn her to him, no, it was the hesitation in his gentle eyes, the hard and soft lines of his visage that did it, along with the fact that he was the most beautiful man she'd ever seen, even more beautiful than Apollo or Narcissus or Adonis himself.
«Are you hurt?» she'd asked, suddenly concerned about his well-being. He had just taken off his helmet and tucked it under his arm, looking absolutely stunning with sweaty, dishevelled hair and bright blue eyes, the perfect incarnation of sin. A gash marred his pale face, and bruises darkened his skin – she would later come to know that it'd been one of the most rebellious harpy living in the Underworld; with them being the ministers of the Thunderer, they weren't fond of the King of the Underworld's commands, after all, though they had to follow them since they were its guardians – and she'd rushed to him, stepping further into the darkness created by the shadows of the trees, leaving all the light behind.
He didn't exactly feel pain, merely a fastidious burning that reminded him of the wounds' presence, hence why he didn't bother healing them; it wouldn't even be the first time he ended up bruised and battered, especially not by one of his creatures. Yet, Emma's touch on his skin was something unknown to him; he didn't have an adjective to describe how he'd felt in that moment, none of the words he knew could define the sensation that had wrapped around his heart.
At first, he'd tried to retreat back into the darkness, to escape from her, but she didn't yield, tightening her grip on his hand and leading him to the bank where she fell down onto her knees, gently inviting him to do the same. Next thing he knew, Emma was tending his wounds with a care no one had ever used on him. The loving attentions Emma was giving him had made his heart flutter like never before.
«My name is Emma,» she'd introduced herself, not even using one of her many names, as if she already knew in her heart that she could trust him. He didn't tell her name that time, not knowing how she'd react discovering his true nature. However, that wasn't the only reason he didn't speak: he simply was too mesmerized to form even just a word, let alone an entire phrase.
As Emma washed dried blood off his bruised face, she noticed all his beauty marks, the light freckles one could see only when close to him, the way his short beard seemed ginger under the setting sun. It would be dark soon and her mother would worry, but right there, with the darkest being she'd ever met, Emma felt safe.
Neither of them had noticed the sun disappearing below the horizon, leaving Selene to rule over her nightly domain, and neither would've left their spot hadn't it been for Demeter's worried cries for Emma.
Before she could leave, though, the King of the Underworld had taken her hand in his, kissing her wrist where her nacre skin was thinner, her heartbeat racing under his soft lips. No man, immortal or not, had ever dared so much or acted so boldly. And yet, in his blue, blue eyes, along with gratitude and a tiny bit of mischief, there'd been a glint of shyness no one would ever think the King of the Underworld could feel.
«Thank you, my Goddess,» he'd whispered with a deep yet gentle voice, warming her body and soul as if Prometheus had placed the heavenly fire in her heart.
And so it went on for days, then weeks, then months, until it became too unbearable to just meet at sunset, Helios and Selene watching over them as their love blossomed like Emma's middlemists, the clearing near the stream covered in them creating a world of their own, a sanctuary for their secret encounters.
«I want to come with you.»
«You cannot, my love. The life in the Underworld… is not life. I am fated to a lonely existence, Emma.»
«No, you are not! Every King needs his Queen! Look at your brothers, they have Hera and Amphitrite, they are not alone. You are not alone. You have me.»
That was the first time his eyes had flared with a light that could only belong to the darkest of gods. «You don't belong in the Underworld, Emma, I don't want its darkness, my darkness to snuff out your light. I couldn't bear it.»
«I would rather spend one lifetime with you, than face all the ages of this world alone.»
And Zeus, hearing his daughter speaking those words, knew he had to allow his daughter to follow her heart, because he couldn't bear to see her suffer, not even if he didn't agree with her choice to become Ruler of the Underworld, to be touched by darkness when she was light. He knew, though, that if he'd kept her from going with him, Emma would've perished from a broken heart, wasting herself away until he'd have to put her in the night sky next to many.
So he'd descended the Olympus, appearing in front of the two lovers, both afraid of what he would do to them, fearing he would separate them forever, never giving them the chance to meet again.
«Is it this that you truly desire, child? To become his wife and live in the Underworld with him?»
«Well, he has not exactly asked me to become his wife, yet» Emma had taunted her lover, the tips of his ears tinging a deep shade of red, «but yes, it is. I want to spend my eternity with him, Father. What I have here with Mother isn't life.»
One thing the myths got right, though: Emma never came home that night, she never told her mother goodbye, afraid she'd try to keep her away from him just like she'd kept her away from everyone else. Demeter wasn't cruel, yet the lengths she'd gone to keep Emma separated from the other gods were ridiculous, and now she would pay the price for forcing her daughter to a life of seclusion.
Hand in hand, darkness and light had descended into the Underworld, their chariot trained by four pitch black stallions – that the myths got right.
That night, Demeter had used Hecate's torches as she searched the woods, not giving up until her former lover had appeared in front of her, telling her their daughter had decided to rule over the dead.
Demeter's cries had been so heart wrenching the nature around her died, fruits and vegetables started to rot and snow to fall, covering her, cold penetrating her bones. She had not cared.
Since then, many had started to call her Snow White, her broken heart causing nothing to grow and the snow to still fall although the sky wasn't her domain, Helios' sun uncapable of warming mortals up and of melting what snow had already fallen. Nothing, not even David's pleas had been able to mend Snow's heart.
Unable of ignoring mortals' pleads for food, Zeus had decided to confront his daughter, absolutely not willing to go back. Yet, deep down, Emma knew she couldn't let her selfishness mean death for innocent people. At first, Emma had wanted to just talk to her mother on neutral ground, but the moment Demeter saw her, she'd started to become more insistent, wanting her daughter to come home and swearing the snow wouldn't stop until then.
Desperate, Emma had run back to her home, into her husband's arms, knowing she didn't have a choice in the matter, because she just wasn't evil, she didn't know how to be. He loved her for it. He loved her because she was light and had given him a chance when no one else ever had. He loved her simply because she loved him.
When time came for Emma to leave her home, gathered in his arms as they lay on their bed, Emma unwillingly swallowed the pomegranate's seeds he fed her, each one of them making her want to vomit as they slid down her throat. Because those seeds didn't force her to stay in the Underworld for six moons, but allowed her to go back on earth after having already eaten its fruits.
Six seeds, six months away from her heart each year, six months of solitude she'd spend wishing she could just return home.
At first, snow had kept falling, anchoring onto Emma's sorrow until, one morning, she'd found an asphodel on her windowsill. A brief visit as she slept, torturing only himself knowing he couldn't slip under the blankets with her and hold her close, inhaling sunlight from her hair.
The months she spent of earth were exhausting to say the least, her mother pushing her to do more and more with each passing so she would be too fatigued to even think about meeting her husband during the night, but what was really draining were her mother's insults. Only once Emma had threatened to never come back Snow had stopped. That one had been a long winter.
Just like cursed lovers, in those six months they would never meet; year after year the burden of their separation never felt lighter, always broken-hearted until they touched, knowing they were whole again even if not for long.
And tonight, they would be whole once more, the six months of longing now almost behind as they both counted down the hours.
As she slowly dragged herself to the house, Emma couldn't help but think of the middlemists she loved so much. The flowers had never bloomed again after her return, breaking her heart even more: she hadn't been able to preserve their sanctuary on earth, the only place under the sun where she'd ever been happy. She knew it was Snow's punishment for her, having to see a barren piece of land instead of her favourite flowers blooming all around. How arid Demeter's heart had become.
Cold breeze had started to blow, signalling a fast approaching winter, making Emma desire once more to be wrapped in her husband's strong arms, stealing his body heat after they'd made love. A blush crept up her face. One of the reasons why she despised being away from him was that she couldn't enjoy his body and he hers; even worse, she didn't dare pleasuring herself, always fearing her mother would hear.
Hurrying inside, Emma ignored her mother, gathering what few things she wanted to bring home – usually just clothes, some other time things she would make for herself or buy in a market. She then went back to the main room, satchel ready next to the door.
Although meals with Snow were always tense, whenever the equinox came, everything seemed to be even more unbearable. The silent treatment didn't help – nor did the fact that Snow always accompanied her goodbyes with a barely-whispered prayer that Emma wouldn't conceive a child so she would come back the next spring.
That hurt even more than the insults Demeter aimed at her husband.
This time was no different, her prayer making Emma's stomach churn as she felt bile rise in her throat.
Snow never waited for Emma to leave, always leaving first herself, going to bed well before midnight. She never knew ever time Emma would silently cry because of her words, the desire of bearing a child more and more consuming with each month that passed in which she bled.
Tonight she didn't wait for midnight to be upon her, leaving mere moments after her mother had retired for the night. Tonight it was just too much. She needed her husband.
Usually, she would wait for one of their four stallions to come and bring her home, but tonight she would call the Ferryman himself, too eager to wait.
Blood tinged the waters red, summoning the Ferryman of Souls, his boat sliding over the surface causing no ripple to form, a thick cloud of smoke accompanying his arrival.
«Milady,» he bowed his head under the hood.
«Charon,» Emma breathed, relieved to see a familiar and loved face. She almost gave into the urge of hugging him.
«Pardon me, but ain't it a bit early?»
«I couldn't stay there any longer,» she explained, climbing into the boat, the white dress she was still wearing almost blinding under the moonbeams.
«Very well, my Queen,» Charon said, rowing home. «He will be happy.»
If she'd said her heart didn't constrict in her chest she would've been a liar. Though she had people to call friends on earth, he was alone, no one to help him let the days go by a little more rapidly.
«Does he know I've summoned you?»
Charon shook his head. «Nay, milady, he's busying himself with the souls of the departed, trying not to think about which day it is: he's found out losing count helps a little.»
Yes, it does, Emma thought, remembering how she would fall into routine and forget which day it was, but never her pain.
Another thing mortals didn't know about the Underworld was how it looked exactly like up above, with the exception of an enormous palace where Olympus should be and under which met the Five Rivers.
«Thank you, my friend,» Emma told him, stepping onto the wooden pier. Bowing his head, the Ferryman took his leave, disappearing behind the foggy horizon.
Suddenly giddy, Emma started to run towards the tall castle, rushing past the trees and her subjects, those poor souls who couldn't move on because of their unfinished business.
She burst past the high doors of the throne room, finding no departed soul in sight, just a tormented one.
He looked up, eyes wide in surprise and disbelief as he took her in.
«Sorry, I'm early.»
He opened and closed his mouth, no sound coming out of it. Emma giggled. «Please, let this not be another dream,» he murmured, and her heart clenched.
«Killian,» she breathed, letting the sack hitting the stone floor with a thump and rushing to him, her hand coming up to cup his cheek, «I'm real. I'm here.»
And then his mouth was on hers and she in his arms and she actually didn't know which happened first because she didn't care, what mattered was that they were together.
Tears spilled down their cheeks, the dam that kept their feelings at bay bursting. Emma peppered his face in kisses, drying his tears as Killian used his thumbs to dry hers.
«I love you,» Killian breathed against her lips, his fingers tangling in her golden hair, running them through it, losing himself in its softness.
«I love you,» Emma said, clutching strands of dark hair in her own fingers, the other hand still on his cheek, her thumb brushing the scar under his right eyes.
«I thought…»
«I couldn't bear to stay there any longer.»
They stayed there, not caring about the time ticking by, kissing and whispering "I love yous" in each other's ear, holding onto one another for dear love, Emma breathing in his scent of home while Killian ran his fingers through her hair, his rings never hurting her even once.
After an unmeasurable amount of time, Killian took her hand in his and kissed her wrist, just like he'd done the first time they met. «Follow me,» he whispered, intertwining their fingers and leading her out of the castle, towards the spot that, on earth, would've been their clearing.
Emma stopped, urging him to do the same. She couldn't bear the view of a patch of land as barren… as barren as she was.
«My love,» Killian sighed, heart aching for her, «I beg you, trust me when I say there's nothing I would do to make you suffer.»
Then why?, was the question she couldn't ask, a lump keeping her from talking.
«Do you trust me?»
Only love shone in Killian's bright blue eyes. Nodding her head yes, Emma kissed him one last time before continuing their trek.
And then, Emma started to cry again.
The clearing wasn't barren anymore, middlemists had bloomed all around, perfectly recreating their sanctuary.
«H-how can it be possible?» she asked once she was able to find her voice again.
Bashfully, Killian blushed. «I've been trying for years to plant them and make them bloom when winter came, I wanted it to be a surprise. Lately, I wanted it to be a sign.»
With tears still in her eyes, Emma circled his neck with her arms. «I love you,» she whispered, lifting herself on her tiptoes to brush her lips against Killian's. As the kiss deepened, a consuming fire lit up in them both. «Make love to me, Killian.»
Later that night, with the stars blinking above them – because no, the Underworld did have its sky, and it was the same one mortals saw when looking up – wrapped in each other and covered by their cloaks as grass and petals tickled them, Emma placed a kiss upon her King's heart.
«Killian?»
«Aye, my love?»
«Will… will you always love me? Even if I cannot give you an heir… Even if I'm barren?»
Sensing anguish in his wife's voice, Killian adjusted himself to better look at her. «You're not barren, Emma. And even if you were – though I doubt not we will have a child and many more – I would never love you less.»
«So why I've not conceived yet? It's been years and still…» Tears pooled in her eyes, tears he was fast to dry with his lips as his fingers widened over her stomach.
«As I already demonstrated you, my love, it takes time. Before you, this whole land was barren, nothing grew, and whatever did, already belonged to this world, but now things have changed, and I do no doubt things will change for us, too. We just need to be a little bit more patient.»
At his words, Emma grumbled, burying her head into his chest. «You know I'm not a patient woman.»
Killian chuckled, kissing the crown of her head, her hair sprawled over his arm in thick curls of melted gold. «And this is part of the reason why I will always, always love you.»
«You will?»
«Aye, my love: I will love you until the stars are all alight.»