Let those who read, judge.

I saw her rarely since then and whenever I was given that occasional chance, it was merely a small glimpse if not a hazy silhouette of the so-called Persephone. My visits to Leone didn't cease, though it was greatly reduced to annual calls. The everyday duties of the Underworld pulled me away from the surface. Years passed by without my slightest notice. But then, what was time to a god?

I could never truly say what brought me up from the underworld to the earth that day. Whenever I tried to recall my reasons, I continuously found myself receiving vague answers. There was a force of a kind that called me to the surface. An attraction—I could not specifically identify but irrefutably existent—that pulled me up from my abode. The scene which I entered to was of no significant nature—merely the setting of a sun in a cloudless horizon. I purposely drove myself away from Leone's dwelling. For some reason, I wanted to be alone—away from any form of life if it was possible.

Peace.

I could not help but think this was inner peace.

The view of the orange skies as Apollo finished parading his chariot across the sphere of human life was exceedingly beautiful. It was similar to seeing the denouement of a Greek play—the fulfilling sensation in having seen its end was something one could not easily forget. 'Some die. Some live.'—That was how life was for a mortal. It was an endless cycle, an art which I did try to preserve by adhering to the laws of the universe.

And then, I heard a soft sigh.

I looked around. There was no one. But then I squinted and very near me, I saw a kneeling Persephone. Hera had long ago forgiven her. Whenever I let my carelessness protrude from my being as I ask about the subject, I would always receive the same answer, "She wasn't the one at fault".

I would have gladly left Persephone to her designs, had I not smelled the saltiness of her tears. I was not merciless and I did not wish her harm or embarrassment. But it was against all that I believed in, if I left her in such a state. She was cared for by Athena and Ares like the dear sibling she was to them. She was a close companion of Eris—who was Zeus' youngest and Hera's beloved. Above all, she was my niece and I knew I could not leave her in such a poor state as she was, presently.

I did not greet her on sight. I did not say a word. I kept my silence as I situated myself beside her and simply waited. She felt my presence a few seconds late. I was already seated. I looked far into the endless plains of human lands imitating her.

"Lord Hades!" She exclaimed in apparent surprise.

I looked at her. And if my face showed my shock, I did not know. She was different—different from the seven year old whom I once humiliated. Her softened features were pleasant to look at. The curve of her lips and the line of her jaws were delicately shaped. Her hair was now darker in hue. Its ends were loosely curled and framed her face in such a way that suited her. Her eyes were the only thing that remained the same—still transcending the shades of emerald green.

"Do not trouble yourself, Persephone. I came only to assure you were alright." She averted her eyes away from mine. And somehow I saw in her the younger Zeus. The same troubled Zeus who doubted himself in ruling the heavens. "You were crying, I presume."

"I was venting my problems out in the airs, milord."

There was a significant gap between us which I was thankful for. She was hugging her knees close. Her chin rested on her arms. She was not sobbing—at the moment at least—but I knew she was sad. I did not speak. I chose not to. I knew I needed to be careful in associating myself with her. She was still a child regardless of the ten years that was added in her figure.

"I do not understand my mother at times. Often, she will shelter me from everything she thinks is too exhausting for my being and yet she expects so much from me that I do not know what to do. I do not have full control of my powers—I am well-aware of that. But I try my best do I not? And yet whenever I try to improve, she will forbid me saying that I should not tire myself. How in the world, am I to be the Spring Goddess if I cannot even make a single flower bloom?"

I did not understand where all of this was coming from. On how and why she was saying this to a soul she barely knew. Who was I to her? I could not help but wonder.

"She tells me how I must act, how must I behave, who I should befriend and who I should not. She tells me my duty but rarely does she give me the chance to fulfill it. My responsibilities are no more but reminders. At times, I could not help but think I was more of human than a god."

I remembered a similar circumstance with Zeus, the time when we drew lots on whose dominion would be the skies, the waters and the underworld. Zeus knew his duty—at times, I wished he didn't. He was far too young then, too innocent to be expected from of so much. He was troubled, concerned and afraid with the responsibilities of ruling over Olympus—of having to guide the other gods when he himself needed guidance.

"You must forgive me, milord. Perhaps, it is due to the stress of having to satisfy the insatiable." She was talking of her mother—this I knew was obvious. I could not ask her about the subject. There was something in her tone, something in the way she voiced her allusions to her mother that told me there was a far deeper story to it than she would ever be willing to tell. "I should probably go now. I'm afraid I've wasted much of your time already."

She motioned to get up. But I stopped her with a sign of my hand. "No wait." From my palm, I produced a bud of a yellow Narcissus. It was the only flower I was capable of producing—a flower which bloomed from the death of hunter, the blossom of the dead or so others might call it. Persephone's expression was one of awe. Her look was a mixture of discouragement and resentment—maybe there was even an inch of jealousy. "Here, try it."

I gave her the flower. And she examined it carefully. I found it hard to believe that the child of Demeter and Zeus would have any troubles in controlling her powers. She was practically born of the most powerful deities from the heaven and earth. No. It could not be true. It was highly improbable for her not to be in touch with her powers.

And yet she was in full concentration. Both of her eyes were closed and her mind was completely focused on the task I gave her. She held the Narcissus far more tightly than it was probably needed. I swore I felt a slight movement from the grounds. I waited. She waited. The two of us anticipated something but saw nothing. She opened her eyes in slight disappointment. She did not succeed in making the small bud blossom.

"What else did I expect?"

She laughed dryly at her attempt for a sarcastic jest. She got up and bowed down. And before I even managed to say my own farewells, she disappeared. I did not understand why it did not work. I did not understand why the daughter of Demeter was unable to perform such a simple feat of opening a few petals. The minor nymphs of nature were able to do it so effortlessly and yet a goddess was incapable? I found that very hard to believe.

I swore I felt the ground tremble. The first time it happened, when Persephone was still beside me, I blamed my dulled senses. But alone and forced to be on my guard, I knew this was real. And then, I saw a sprout appear slowly from the ground—one, two, three, there were countless of them that were growing rapidly. Each blossomed fully—and I could not believe my eyes. From where Persephone had left and from where I currently stood, was a newly forming flowerbed of Narcissuses.

I was astounded—amazed even, of the result. Was she really unaware the extent of her powers? Or was she only making a fool of me?

She seemed too innocent for the latter. And yet the former was somewhat unbelievable.

I did not think much of it then. She was the spring goddess after all. And she should be completely able in doing things of the like. That day, she merely proved her worth—might she not have been aware of it.

It was true, she didn't have full control of her powers but if she had, she would truly be someone worth the attention of a Lord.

Thanks for your support...

With respect,
Ms. Reen