Spoiler warning for the first completed escape from the Underworld

I never wanted to be remembered as anything but your mother.

I didn't know it when I was a girl called Kore. It was a time when my own mother weaved flowers into my hair. Her fingers were not so icy as they are now, but her hands were just as calloused. They were hands used to work, and in time, mine would become the same. Weathered and rough, a thin line of dirt always under my nails.

Yet the earth Demeter cherished was not meant to be my fate. At least, it was not thought so at the time.

Upon Olympus the girl Kore disappeared, and Persephone took her place.

Time passed on Olympus in its unchanging, immutable way. The gods held their festivities and affairs. They amused themselves as they saw fit, in war and revelries. The days or years - for one seemed as long as the other - passed by in an indistinguishable montage.

Through the clouds at my feet, I looked down at the mortals on the surface of the earth. I watched them wage war and make peace, sow seeds and reap fields. They were born, they aged, they died. They changed. My own life was the same, wandering the halls of Olympus, avoiding the politicking of the gods, keeping my eyes on the mortals below. I wished I could reach down to them, feel my feet on the solid earth once more.

It was your father that, for a time, made me stay on the mountain. He rarely came to Olympus, but I knew he was unlike the others. He did not care if mortals made sacrifices to him or praised his name; more often, they cursed it. We spoke only a little. He did not tell me of the depths of Tarturus or the wonders of Elysium, and I did not ask. He spoke of Cerebus. The fiendish dog guarding the gates of the Underworld, a creature born of monsters, was a friend to him. A sweet pet, no different from a lap dog.

I hated to see Hades leave. But I loved the moment when he bid me farewell, taking my hands in one of his own. They were swallowed up, delicate and small compared to his. He kissed my fingers delicately, as though he was afraid to do so. I had never suspected the god of the dead could know fear.

That moment was not as secret as I thought.

Some of the most ancient shades in the Underworld fade to almost nothing as the eons pass. All that's left to them is a potent memory, and their voice, a sound like wind rustling leaves on a branch. They whisper their only memory again and again, with such sharpness and clarity it is as though they are still alive in that moment. It is all they have left, a moment that shaped their lives, which they must ever cling to.

I have no such clarity in trying to remember my kidnapping. This is what I do know.

Zeus had invited me to dine with him and Hera. It was clever of him to say that Hera would be present. I knew far too much of Zeus's reputation to ever be alone with him.

I drank a combination of nectar and wine, and the rest was a blur.

I remember the sensation of falling, of Zeus's massive arms wrapped around my slim frame. Electricity arched across his skin, stinging mine.

Then, the air changed. It felt as though something in my chest had loosened, and I could breathe in a way that I never had on Olympus. There was a sense of familiarity, of home. Then it all disappeared. The light grew dim, then faded. There was a coppery taste in my mouth, the metallic scent of blood in the air.

When I came back to myself, I was in Lord Hades's bed.

There is a question that is often asked in these circumstances. Had Hades taken advantage of my vulnerability as I lay, somewhere between wakefulness and sleep, in his chambers?

No, he had not, nor would he ever. Hades is many things, but he always was a perfect gentleman with me.

For my part, I was not exactly ladylike when I first arrived in the Underworld.

I had not been happy on Olympus, and had wanted to leave for some time. Even so, I had not wished to be flung from its heights and tossed into the depths of the Underworld. I had thought fondly of Hades after our brief meetings, but I did not want to marry him. I missed my mother, and the garden we'd tended together. I longed for the feel of wind on my face, the warmth of sunlight, a breath of air that did not have the tang of death in it.

At first, I was inconsolable. I wept in my private chambers, mourning for the time I was only a girl named Kore with flowers in her hair. I was surly towards anyone who dared approach me, even Hades. I might have stayed that way forever, angry and bemoaning my fate, had it not been for Cerberus.

I was laying in my chambers, tears rolling down my cheeks. I felt as dead as the shades that populated the House. Then, something cold and wet poked my arm. It was one of Cerebus's noses. The dog looked at me plaintively with his six large eyes. When I ignored him, he put his large snout under my arm, seeking affection. At last, I reached out to stroke one of his massive heads.

His fur was silky soft, tongues surprisingly gentle when he licked my arm. I smiled for the first time since I had been hurled into the Underworld. Like those first cautious conversations we shared during our brief time together on Olympus, Cerberus was the bridge over the gulf between your father and I. Though it would be a good deal of time before he became my husband, let alone your father. In those early days (or nights) of my time in the Underworld, we spoke of Cerebus, and nothing more.

You would have liked Cerberus, I think. You would have liked so many things. There was so much in the world for you.

Then Nyx. She came to see me, carrying a goblet of nectar. I was hesitant to accept it after its role in bringing me to the Underworld, but even gods have trouble resisting the drink's allure. I longed for its amber color more than its sweetness-a touch of light amongst the gloom.

Nyx and Cerberus drew me out of my self-imposed isolation. Nyx became my closest friend and confidant, Cerberus my court jester.

And Hades...what can I say about Hades? He is not a gentle god, but then, none on Olympus are. But there was something within him that his brothers did not possess, something I had rarely seen among his relatives. It was his honesty, the truth at the core of his being. Olympians are capricious as cats, as like to bless you as they are to destroy you. Hades was not like that. He could be difficult and stern. There are those who would call him cruel, and I could not disagree. Yet he still heard the complaint of every shade in his House, and dealt an even hand to all. He would never smile and act as your friend, then destroy you for a perceived slight.

And he worked. There is no glory in being ruler of the Underworld. Mortals do not sing your praises and the shades do not thank you. Alone, in the dark, he still did his duties. He faithfully served his realm with unwavering devotion.

I would sometimes rub his shoulders after a long day or night. His flesh was hot under my hands as I worked out the knots in his muscles. But that was only after I came to love him.

It took time. There were shared drinks in the lounge, conversations in the west hall. For all his fearsome reputation, Hades never had a harsh word for me or touched me unless I wished it.

Somewhere, in that strange passage of time, Persephone disappeared under the earth, and the Queen of the Underworld bloomed in her place.

Slowly, like a seed taking root, I fell in love with Hades. It was not always an easy love, but it was true and strong. It was like a hidden spring beneath the earth. You couldn't see it, but it was always present and nourishing. It sustained me even in the depths of the underworld.

You were the first real division between us. I wanted you so badly, but your father was wary. He knew what the Fates had foretold, that he would never have an heir. He was afraid that we were too different for your conception to ever be possible. But he understood how I longed to be a mother, and his love for me was greater than his fears.

Oh, Zagreus. Carrying you in my womb was the most joyous time in my life. I spent many happy hours with your father and Nyx preparing for your arrival. Your father and I speculated what you would be like. Would you be a boy or a girl, a warrior or a poet, or anything in between? You cannot know how deeply I loved you, even before you were born. I couldn't wait to meet you. You were a piece of my soul.

Your birth was the most intense pain I'd ever felt. I thought it might kill me. Ichor gushed down my thighs while your father held my hand. I clawed into his hand so tightly there were sickles of blood where my nails had cut him. Yet he never let go. I labored through the agony and tears, knowing that all my suffering would be forgotten when I heard your first cry.

But you did not cry.

I only held you once. Your small, breathless body, the flames at your feet dead. I sobbed and rocked you, sang you lullabies that you would never hear. Then Nyx took you from my arms, and you were gone.

Things blur after that. The darkness in the house, the cold in me that not even the fires of Asphodel could thaw. Hades, sitting at the foot of our bed where I lay. He put his hand on my shoulder, and I shied away. There was a great chasm between us once again, one that neither of us understood how to cross.

Food had no taste. Colors drained from the world. Not even Cerberus's antics could bring out a smile in me.

I didn't say goodbye to Hades before I left. I did not say goodbye to anyone. I simply left, shedding the gems and raiment befitting a queen of the Underworld.

I went to the surface. The sun was warm on my face.

Now I am content to be alone on the surface. Here I am not Kore or Persephone, nor the Queen of the Underworld. But the name I most longed to hear is the one I will never be called.

I will never be your mother.

So I work in my garden. I try to forget your small, soft body, the mass of dark black hair on your head. I refuse to think of your father. I will his face, his voice, his touch, to fade from my memory. I allow myself only to think of the soil beneath my fingers, the trees I carefully prune, and gathering the harvest as it comes in.

Time passes. The aches subside, but they will always be there, under my skin. They are a shadow on my heart. All I can do is find contentment in my solitude, passing time in my cottage and working the garden I cherish.

For so long, the only voice I've heard has been my own. It is why I am so startled when I am alone no more for the first time in...how long, I cannot say.

There is a young man approaching me. He is muscular and strong, but his footsteps are full of trepidation.

"Who's there?" I call.