She removes her crown from her crest, the dress of her Dread Queen self falling down past her hips and her thighs, the black fabric gathering below her toes. She looks at her hips; at the stretch marks which span along them and her abdomen, how she gets self-conscious of them and yet her husband, Hades embraces them with such delight. He calls her Little Goddess, a name which only he may summon her by, any others calling her such would inspire her wrath and her rage. The name coming from another's lips reminds her of Apollo, and how he overpowered her, was so much taller and larger than her, that she didn't stand a chance against him and wanted to grow stronger because of that. And yet she is reminded that Hades is also taller and stronger than her and yet he treats her as an equal. He uses his strength to worship her, making her feel loved by the embrace of his hands, his lips, and his thighs and his hips.
His hips so angular in comparison to hers which are round and soft, her legs are so delicate looking, they're rounded on top and curve into the earth like a upside down tulip. At times she feels inferior to him, that her femininity is a defining feature of hers which some try to covet whilst her husband's body is of little importance. The way certain shades ogle at her as she takes her throne by her husbands side, with an obsidian bident in her palm; the sexualization of her an offence to her character when they should really fear her like her husband for her power for her dread.
How as thousands of years have gone by she is no longer The Bringer of Death or the Dethroner of Kings; No she has become Prosperina the innocent goddess of spring. She is no longer the goddess which these mortals feared, her rage and her wrath of thousands years past is long forgotten, instead she is remembered as a sweet cherubim in a field of cherubs.
It angers her this belittlement of her, this creation wherein she is an accessory to her husband rather then a regent at his side; his advisor and yet also his lover.
Hades reminds her that the world changes and with it so do our myths, the once strong matriarchs of the world at a struggle with patriarchs, in most areas they cease to have any power and although she is grateful that on her throne she is a queen who rules the underworld next to her husband that infuses her femininity in her rule, she is reminded that that femininity is used against her. That every cherry blossom which bursts from a tree is a reminder of her delicate femininity that ever doe lifting its head from the grass at the time of the spring sunrise is a reminder of her innocence.
That she is forced into this constant struggle of maiden, mother, and crone not due to her own invention but rather the invention of those around her.
That woman turned goddesses like the likes of Cleopatra who were feminine are remembered as snakes who sliver into mens beds. That somehow the richest and arguably most powerful woman in the world at the time became an exotic and erotic queen who men were rumoured to have risked dying for a night where she spread her legs for them rather than a day spent conversing of strategy. And what's worse that they used this myth of her to say that she was that myth; that she was this seductress or rather enchantress who used her looks as a means to gain power and control over men due to a patriarchal society hardest on the vilification and sexualization of women.
She thinks of power and control, and how men use it against woman and their sensuality; their sexuality. How she used to be comfortable in her shorts and oversized tees while watching a movie and now prefers the comforts of her husbands oversized sweatshirt or a dress which covers her arms and legs, reducing the amount of exposed skin as much as possible to keep herself safe from the true snakes, the boas who suck the life out of you while they poison you with their lust and hunger for power over you. How Apollo took her shorts and kind demeanour as an invitation to rape when really it was not about what she wore or what she looked like; no it was about her powers of fertility, the power which could overthrow Zeus and make him king while she would be expected to submit to him. He would not appreciate her candour and intelligence the way that Hades did, he would not see her as an equal for her was too busy objecting her or rather the distorted idea which he had of her. The thought repulses her to no bounds, the disgust of his hands on her inspired her to be stronger and braver and yet she is reminded that she is brave not just for what she has done but for what she survived during that night and the days which he stalked her and harassed her afterwards. That her husband appreciates that strength and encourages what others see as a weakness; her compassion, her Elysium; her heart. That makes the mortals see her as inferior to what they deem as her rigid and cold husband who is so kind, light, and warm to her. She is grateful to see the side of himself which he is unable to reveal to others in this patriarchal world of Olympus which relies on strong masculine leaders to rule it so that they may abide to the toxic masculinity which permeates. That masculine anger and sexuality are seen as rationale whilst feminine anger sexuality is seen as irrational; hormonal.
She steps out of her gown as her husband kisses her, kneeling before her as he hugs her.
"My equal, my one and only my queen."
"My husband, my equal, my one and only, my Hades" she tilts her head down taking his lips in a quick embrace and is reminded that as the world would judge her, her husband would never do the same and she would reward him with the same basic act of decency; deserved by god and man alike.