Persephone accepted the bowl of water with a gracious smile.
Lita, the smallest of the village children that could walk, blushed and flashed a smile of her own. She garbled out her strange language, one that tried to mimic what she heard everyone else speak but unable to because of a misshaped tongue.
Often, Persephone begged her mother to fix Lita.
It would take minor effort, but Demeter wouldn't comply. She claimed neither Lita nor her parents had earned the blessing.
Persephone disagreed.
Lita and her family were the kindest mortals Persephone had ever interacted with. They were more likeable than most gods and creatures. Curing Lita of her disfigurement was the least Demeter could do for such devoted and gentle followers.
When Persephone argued her point, Demeter always told her that thinking the issue was easy went to show how young her daughter still was. It didn't matter that Persephone had turned twenty last fall and was no longer a godling.
To her mother, her wanting to do a kind act just because it was the right course of action made her as simple-minded as Lita.
Persephone didn't know whether to find her mother's view of her endearing or insulting. Maybe it was both.
"Thank you, child. This is just what I need."
For added measure, Persephone drained the bowl. The water was warm and gritty (Lita must have gotten it from the brackish pond near her home), but Persephone acted like she'd had nothing more refreshing.
Lita squealed, then clamped her hands over her mouth; suddenly embarrassed. And fearful. No doubt the girl's mother had warned her how enraged gods and goddesses became over too exuberant behavior from mortals.
Fake but convincing, Persephone let loose a loud belch.
Lita's eyes widened. Then she giggled.
Persephone joined her, and she was glad to see the tension ease from the girl's shoulders.
When their merriment died, Persephone handed back the bowl. She bowed as if in the audience of royalty. "I'm forever in your debt."
Lita looked from the bowl to Persephone, let out another squeal, and then raced away, back toward the village.
"She's almost as fast as me."
The familiar voice spoke from behind Persephone, too close to her ear.
She jumped backward, and the newcomer couldn't avoid the stomp she landed his unsuspecting foot.
A yowl of pain followed.
Persephone turned, a rueful smile stretching her lips. "You should know better by now."
Hermes glowered. "For a goddess, shouldn't you have more grace?"
Persephone mocked stepping on him again. "I can do this gracefully."
Hermes shook a fist at her. "Likewise."
Persephone pouted. "Is that why you came to visit? To beat up on me?"
Hermes rolled his eyes but reached for her.
Persephone entered his embrace.
His arms tightened almost too much, but Persephone didn't worry. Hermes had never hurt her. Even when they used to play-wrestle when she was a godling no bigger than Lita, he never caused her harm.
Hermes released her.
She kissed his cheek. "What brings you here?"
As personal messenger of the gods, Hermes hardly had time to lace his sandals, let alone take time to visit friends. He often complained about his duty, but he couldn't see himself not doing it.
Though, once, he'd mentioned another opportunity had been offered but the Titan War had taken it from him. He wouldn't elaborate no matter how Persephone had insisted.
"Where's your mother?"
What joy had blossomed at the sight of Hermes wilted. She hated when he was here on business.
Lately, all his messages upset Demeter, and Persephone was left to cool the raging inferno her mother became.
"Is it important?"
Seriousness like Persephone had never glimpsed from Hermes gripped his wicked features. He looked older, more god-like.
"For you, it is."
"Then why involve my mother?"
Hermes opened his mouth, but quickly shut it. He sighed. "You'll see."
His tone sent uncomfortable shivers down Persephone's spine, but she didn't press the topic. If Demeter had to be involved, it was better to get it over with sooner rather than later.
Maybe the morning meeting with the village farmers had gone well and her mother would be in a pleasant mood.
Persephone turned toward the village. "Come on."
Her feet dragged, but Persephone attempted to keep Hermes' long gait. She knew he was being slow, but he moved almost as fast as Persephone did when running. It was hard to match his stride, but she did.
Persephone led him through the village. They passed many villagers going about their daily routines.
Most stopped and watched the gods pass.
Once past, the mortals gossiped amongst each other. More than one young woman tried to catch Hermes' eye. Even if one did, Hermes wouldn't pursue them out of respect for Persephone and Demeter.
The village wasn't large, and they reached the communal building used for meetings to gatherings after weddings.
Persephone could hear the spirited talk of men and frowned. The meeting had run longer than expected; never a positive sign.
Hermes flicked a curious glance her way. "Is it safe to interrupt?"
Persephone shrugged. "Maybe a distraction will be welcomed."
But she doubted it.
Still, Hermes sought an audience with Demeter, and godly issues took priority over any mortal concerns.
Persephone entered the building; Hermes close behind. The building had one room with many tables and chairs.
Now, every piece of furniture was pushed against the walls. Twenty men stood near the center of the room.
In front of them was a tall, green-skinned figure with a regal, palpable air. All focus was on the figure, and no matter how the men shouted at each other, they used a soft, respectful tone with the goddess.
On more than one occasion, she'd turned a rude mortal into a stalk of barley.
No one noticed the newcomers, so Persephone cleared her throat.
All conversation stopped.
Twenty-one pair of eyes sought her out: the one the color of a fall sunset the most unsettling.
"Not now," Demeter said.
Hermes stepped into better view. "I don't have long."
Demeter sighed. She glanced at the men. "Please excuse us."
Several looked ready to protest, but others whispered sense into their ears. With more than one glare at the disrupters, the men left the building.
Gone, Demeter fixed her full attention on the two younger gods.
"What?"
"Persephone's presence is demanded at The Deciding," Hermes said.
Persephone looked between her mother and friend. "What's The Deciding?"
Neither paid her any mind.
A showdown of wills was taking place with nothing but stares and furious expressions.
Persephone would have laughed at the absurdity if she weren't so confused and worried for Hermes.
"It won't happen."
"Then Persephone will be Purposeless. Is that what you want?"
"Of course not, but I don't see why they can't come here, like it's always been."
"The Fates have settled on this."
"They can bend the rules for me!" Demeter's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. "Without me, they'd still be locked away. Nothing!"
Hermes just watched her, silent.
This exchange confused Persephone even further. "I don't understand. Doesn't the Purpose just come to you in your twentieth year?"
Hermes' mouth became a grim, thin line. "No," he said, not looking at Persephone. "The Fates bestow a god or goddess their Purpose."
Persephone couldn't believe her ears. "Why did you lie to me?" she asked her mother.
Demeter ignored her. "She can't go there."
"No fighting is allowed. It's supposed to be a day of peace and fun."
Demeter snorted. "Like that will stop her."
"I'll make sure Persephone stays safe."
Demeter's pinched face remained clouded, but her eyes darted back and forth like they did when she mulled over a serious topic. Hermes didn't pull his gaze from her; didn't look any less likely to battle a Hydra on Persephone's behalf.
Demeter nodded. "Fine. She'll be there."
Hermes let out an audible sigh of relief. He turned to Persephone and clapped a hand on her shoulder. "See you in a few days."
Persephone responded with a meek grunt.
Hermes frowned, but didn't hang around. In a blink, he was gone (never the one for proper goodbyes).
In his absence, Persephone's mind struggled to put together a coherent string of thought. She had so many questions and all wanted to come out at once. To avoid babbling like a fool, she had to find the most important one and word it correctly.
While Persephone grappled for sense, Demeter picked at her pale yellow peplos. Every so often, she glanced at her daughter, but she didn't speak.
Persephone didn't know if she welcomed her mother's silence or resented Demeter's reluctance to start the conversation Persephone sought.
"You lied to me about Purposes." Persephone swallowed hard. "Do you want me to be Purposeless?"
The question left a bitter residue on her tongue.
To be Purposeless was one of the worst fates a god could suffer. Only the unstable chose that life, and to think Demeter might want that for her daughter filled Persephone with a fear she couldn't describe.
Horror chased away Demeter's nonchalance. "What? No! How could you even suggest that?"
"You lied about how I'll get a Purpose."
"Only because I sensed what was happening. The Deciding." Demeter spit the last word like it was a bit of ash that had found its way into her mouth. "Ridiculous. Everything was fine the way it was."
"What of the change? I don't understand why it'd make much of a difference."
Demeter sighed. "It wouldn't if it wasn't being held on Mount Olympus."
Delight wove through Persephone's tangled emotions. Mount Olympus had always fascinated her, especially from the stories Hermes wasn't supposed to tell her.
With every one of Demeter's assurances that the place was sordid, the place a respectful goddess shied away from, the more Persephone wanted to go.
"So?"
"You need to avoid the city."
"Mother, I'm sure it's not the... bawdy place you think."
Demeter shook her head. "That's not why. I—You shouldn't go because... you have a powerful enemy there."
"Enemy?"
Persephone was sure a nymph or mortal might dislike her, but not someone stronger. She had had little contact with other gods or goddesses. Demeter kept her on Earth, supposedly to keep Persephone humble.
That had been a lie?
"What have I done?"
Demeter dropped her gaze to the floor. "Nothing. It's what I've done."
"Mother, out with it! What have you done that's so terrible?"
Demeter still spoke to her feet. "I shouldn't have made a particular god your father."
Surprise stole Persephone's words.
This was about her father?
Excitement swelled within her. Finally, her earliest question would get.
"I used to be power obsessed," Demeter continued. "I... I wanted to be the God Queen. I was devastated when Zeus chose Hera instead."
Zeus? He was her father?
Persephone's joy vanished.
There was nothing special about being one of Zeus' countless illegitimate spawn.
Persephone brushed away her disappointment to focus on what else her mother had just said.
It wasn't hard for her to believe her mother's confession. Demeter commanded complete obedience from each of the villages she and Persephone tended. All of them had mortal leaders, but Demeter could override any ruling they made.
"But I didn't let his decision deter me. Over the years, I watched their sons. Neither was a worthy heir, and I could tell Zeus thought the same. So, an alternative plan came to me."
Demeter looked Persephone's way. Crushing shame and guilt radiated from her.
"I figured if I gave him the perfect progeny, he'd see our union was better, and he'd leave Hera. I seduced him and fell pregnant."
"With me."
"Yes. I told Zeus my idea, thinking he'd come around to my thinking." Demeter frowned. "He laughed in my face and swore he'd never touch me again."
"Why did you keep me?"
The question came out harsh and full of the disgust racing through Persephone.
"I considered—My thoughts turned to the unthinkable." Tears gathered in Demeter's eyes. "Then I felt you move for the first time. You became real to me, and I realized you were a part of me; that I loved you. When I held you for the first time, I knew I'd been gifted the most wonderful treasure. The Titans couldn't have taken you from me."
"Yet you still lied to me. All my life."
Demeter closed the distance between her and her daughter. With unsteady hands, she cupped Persephone's face.
"I only acted to protect you. Can you see that?"
Persephone could.
How her mother had gone about protecting her had been wrong, but the reasoning wasn't. Persephone had witnessed plenty of insane stunts mortal parents had pulled off under the guise of loving their child.
Did Persephone think that made what her mother did right?
No, and Demeter needed to understand that.
Persephone removed her mother's hands from her face but held her fingers tight. "I appreciate what you've done to keep me safe, and I always will, but I'm not a godling anymore. You can't keep treating me like one."
Demeter squeezed her fingers back, and she wore the oddest expression. "You'll always be my little godling."
An unnamed emotion gripped Persephone. It sent her pulse racing, and she fought the urge to rip her hands from her mother's.
Deep instinct told her not to further upset Demeter.
"All right, Mother," Persephone said. She forced a smile. "Will you help me make an acceptable peplos?"
Demeter studied Persephone a bit longer.
Under her mother's continuing scrutiny, Persephone realized what she was feeling: life-threatening terror. The reason for the severe emotion bubbled under the surface of Persephone's conscience, close enough to grasp.
Yet she couldn't. If she did, nothing between her and her mother would ever be the same again.
Demeter grinned and looked like the mother Persephone had adored all her life.
The terror fluttered, demanding attention, but Persephone ignored it. It was ridiculous, anyway. Her mother loved her and wanted only the best for her.
To think otherwise was an insult to Demeter.
Demeter knocked her hip into Persephone. "You'll outshine everyone."