Those meetings became a usual occurrence in the course of the following weeks. The more I talked to Persephone, the more I realized how those few short years had truly changed her. She was no longer unsure of herself—no longer confused in what part was to play in the world she was born into. Her strides were elegant with her arms hanging beside her, and her head raised proudly. Her hair was still unadorned, neither with flowers nor pearls, and flowed freely behind her back. Her skin was softly tanned brought by her frequent exposure under the scorching heat of the sun. She had this aura about her that prompted anyone who would dare to approach bring her homage. She had grown to be quite a capable young woman, and this I say with all due honesty and pure admiration.

I did not know how it all started. Quite naturally, we fell into a pattern. After my usual obligations of judging the dead, I'd find myself near the meadows where her evenings were daily spent. I would accompany her in her usual errands which primarily composed of overseeing rice fields or attending town festivals. A number of times, we were compelled to go in disguise for various reasons. Persephone never objected to my presence. Even if she did, I wouldn't have listened.

It was essential to explain the mind inside her beauty to understand her charms.

Persephone, contrary to what the majority of the public believed, was not the innocent bloom of youth depicted in the sculptures or paintings of Greek art. Persephone was the maiden hidden behind the rich foliage of mortal forests, the benevolent caterer of the lost but loyal lovers of nature. She was and forever would be, the Goddess of spring and she knew this to be an ascertained fact.

She was merciful and forgiving but she was not someone who could easily forget. This was something which I knew from experience, from the reserve smiles and nonchalant stares that awfully reminded me of my past offenses. She would talk greatly of Eris, ask often of Leone, speak fondly of Athena and Ares and yet somehow, from the tone of her voice she'd be able to communicate a great deal more than what was said. Anyone who did not know her ways would easily accept a shallow understanding of her words. Those who were aware of the secret of her tongue though, would not dare to think as how she'd suggest. Persephone was an intelligent speaker, able to afflict without insulting, able to compliment without flattering. Her complete frankness was strictly reserved for those whom she trusted; those whom she knew were capable of tolerating harsh vocabulary for the sake of the truth.

She was simply different from all the other gods and goddesses of my acquaintance. She was neither vengeful nor ill-tempered; and though she wasn't easy to anger, her sarcastic remarks could easily earn Hera's raised brow and Poseidon's proud grin.

Persephone was someone who could smile at a person passing by and be remembered for a decade for it. There was something in her gestures, in her ways and in her presence that could make anyone glance back. She had this charm that transcended the fine lines of humanity and immortality. Her beauty was indeed a great asset but her character was the real treasure.

She was comparable to a block of white marble, finely shaped by the chisel of life experiences. I knew I was one of the reasons for her hardened edges. I knew I was not alone. I knew her mother also played a part, together with Zeus. I could've been one of the few to save her—back when she was still young, back when she could still be saved. I could've offered her salvation through my guardianship. I could've done for her what I had done for Ares and Athena—had I not been blinded by the bitterness of her tragic parentage.

Had I done so, perhaps, she'd be the same as Eris singing softly in the blooming daffodil meadows or like Athena studying diligently in the great Greek libraries. But it was too late now. And my regrets weren't entirely regrettable. Had she not been this way, she would've never held my interest. She had a good sense of judgment. Her age was a merely a number. She was matured in the all the important aspects. And though her smiles could never be taken as what they were and her words had a greater meaning than their actual definitions, she was and forever would be, Persephone.

And for me, it was enough that she'd be so.

Here's a teaser for the next chapter:

"You know brother," She seemed to have followed my eye's line of vision, leading her to the unusual pair of dancers. "Athena is really beautiful in her dress. I really hope she wears these kinds of gowns more often."

"You know how she is, sister. She grew up barely concerned of her appearance. She's hardly interested in what another being's opinion of her. Athena's comfortable in the way she sees herself and because of that, there's no room for change."

"I don't want her to change." She shook her head gently letting her blond fringes sweep just above her brow. "Nor will I ever want her to, I believe. Her humility was what melted me. For a moment, I just couldn't help but wish it. Perhaps, if she took a little more effort in her appearance, she'd be the one walking on that aisle."

"You want to see Athena get married?" I almost choked with laughter. No. That could never happen.

It's Hera speaking with a somewhat intoxicated Hades. Look forward to it, people of the internet. IT'S HADES WITH ALCOHOL.

I am too excited. Advance Happy Holidays! :*

Love,
Ms. Reen