Five

Day 4

Mid-morning.

Tired of sulking.

I wrinkled my nose, and decided I could use a bath.

Yawning, I pulled myself out of the bed, disentangling myself from the luscious blankets, and went to the washroom. It had been several days since I had bathed, and I was starting to feel the wear. The pool inside was already filled with warm water, and there were bathing salts that I could use to scrub the dirt off of my skin. I wondered briefly how all of that worked (Did servants come in while I slept? Or was the pool magickal?) before deciding that I didn't care, as long as I could use it.

I disrobed and eagerly climbed into the water, relishing the feel of it as it swept over me. I sat down in the pool, floating with my head above the water. It felt truly wonderful, to be able to just soak and forget where I was, and what had happened to me. I closed my eyes, and just lay there for a long time.

Finally, I grabbed a handful of the bathing salts, and began with my hair. The strands were dark, stained with some unholy substance or another. I scrubbed them fiercely, the wet strands clinging to my fingers. Rinse. There was no change. Nothing came off in the water.

Huh. That was odd. Why couldn't I get the black substance out of my hair? Surely it was only ash of some sort, something that had resulted from my coming through Erebus' veil…

I grabbed another handful and scrubbed harder, until my head stung and my eyes were tearing up from the exertion. I rinsed my hair again, checking the long tresses in my hands. They were still black!

The realization dawned upon me then. When I had come down through Erebus… the lily tucked behind my ear had turned to ash. Was it possible that my hair had turned black and dead, like everything else around me? I looked at my reflection in the water, gasping in horror. My eyebrows were black as well! Black. Everything was black in the Underworld. But what truly unnerved me, to the point of speechless shock?

MY HAIR WAS BLACK.

I did the only thing that made sense. I took a deep breath,

And

I

screamed.

Day 14

Alone. Going mad inside my room. Pacing, worrying my lip between my teeth. Wringing fingers.

There was just one thing left to do. I had been dwelling upon it for the past few days, while pacing in my room and bemoaning the state of my once glorious hair. Because I could not escape, there was just one thing left for me to attempt: I was going to kill Hades.

I had not come to the decision lightly. I had fought over it for many hours, the obvious deception twisting in my brain. I didn't want to kill him. My purpose was to give life, not take it away. But I could see no other way to escape, especially since he had said it was impossible.

But now, after sleepless hours spent pacing and plotting, I had come up with the perfect solution. Once he was dead, I could take not only his brooch that was clearly a key to the Underworld, but I could also escape using his chariot. After all, it could pass over the River Styx. I wouldn't need Charon at all, and I would be able to rush right past Cerberus without him trying to tear me limb from limb.

Simple.

And yet, not. How was I going to kill him? And with what weapon? I possessed nothing but my hands; in the mortal term of the word, I was a pauper, living out a life of luxury that had been given to me unwillingly. I wanted nothing of his, especially those rich clothes sitting forlornly in the wardrobe that stood in the corner of my room. I would remain in my soft pink chiton until it fell into ashes, for I had no doubt that it would one day; even now, the ends were frayed and tattered, stained gray by the excessive filth and desolation of Hades' realm.

After a fortnight in the Underworld, I developed a loose strategy of what I would do. When night fell - a truly black, completely inescapable night, as it was in the Underworld - I would escape from my room by shifting into a mouse. I would slip beneath the door, and out into the hallway. There, I would change back, and I would go searching for a weapon of some sort - most likely a knife. There had to be something somewhere. Then I would find his rooms, and slay him while he slept.

I prayed to everyone atop Olympus that when the time came, I would find the strength to push down, and end his miserable immortality. I prayed that I would be brave when I needed it most, so that I could return to my mother - and my freedom.

The night arrived just as tenebrous and tense as I had imagined. The Hall, which rumbled and screeched during the daytime with phantom noises, fell completely and utterly silent, to the point where I thought I might go insane for lack of sound. I paced my room endlessly, until I was certain that it was safe to leave my room.

My tiny heart beat erratically as I shifted into a mouse, and squeezed out from beneath the door. The hallway was cold and empty, just as I had imagined. Twitching my nose, I scurried across the stone, leaping over the cracks in the floor that would have otherwise been miniscule. Instead of heading for the entryway, like my heart was yearning to, I ran the other way, to the right of my rooms and towards the rest of the Hall.

The corridor opened up into an enormous, high-ceilinged room that I immediately deduced was the throne room. It wasn't hard to tell. The throne itself lurked ahead of me, carved from ebony stone and glittering with gems along the bottom. The braziers in the room were flickering with purple fire, but the flames were low, their crackling quiet, like whispers. No one else was around. Sniffing, I ran for the nearest door.

I found another hallway on the other side; it was lined with doors to rooms that I gazed at with a feeling of annoyance. So many doors, so many rooms. If he rarely had any visitors, then why did his Hall have so many rooms? What was the purpose of so much grandeur, if there is no one to appreciate it? It just becomes a cold, lonely wasteland, like the rest of the Underworld.

Slowly, I began checking all of the rooms. Most of them were entirely empty, with no furniture at all. One of them was what seemed to be a library, though it looked decrepit, like no one had gone inside for years. The books were a mess, in piles on the floor and strewn over tables and chairs, and the shelves were covered with inches of dust. Another room looked as though it belonged to someone: there was room full of furniture, and on a table inside there was a silver pentagram. Whoever it belonged to, it looked as if they hadn't been there in a very long time. I quickly moved on.

Finally, I found his rooms. They were at the very end of the corridor, and I hesitated as I slipped in beneath the door. If I had been able to, I would have gasped at what lay before me.

The room was in ruins. Everywhere there were pieces of broken furniture, like wooden table legs and splinters. The bed was broken, slanting downwards. The curtains around it had been slashed and torn, until only short remnants were left. In the corner, however, there was one piece that remained intact: a long, low table. On it was a black helmet, curling black horns spiraling from its sides; a black shield inlayed with silver and gold; a vicious looking sword with a glowing ruby set in the hilt; and his ram's brooch, the one that opened the gates to the Underworld.

My heart leapt at the sight of all of these things, especially the sword. That was what I could use. Imagine, killing Hades with his own sword! I felt terrible, knowing how humiliating that would be, but at that moment, my escape meant more to me than anything. My heart pounded with a ferocity that frightened me. Set in my resolution, I shifted back to my usual form as quietly as possibly, crouching by the door. My eyes cut to the bed. Unwillingly, my mouth opened in a silent scream.

He was there, on the bed. Naturally, I might have known he was there. I was, after all, sneaking my way into his rooms. But for some reason, the sight of him lying there, complacent in sleep, shocked me. Until that moment, I had never considered that Hades might actually sleep. Not all of us immortals do; some, however, choose to, and I imagined that Hades would. What would he do with all that time spent awake, anyway? It wasn't like there were many others there in the Underworld, besides me.

My heart was racing until the beating evolved into an actual physical pain, one where it pained me to draw breath. Sweat beaded on the skin of my face, as I hesitantly side-stepped as quietly as I could, not taking my eyes off of Hades for a moment. His eyes were closed, I reminded myself. He was not simply peering at me through half-lidded orbs, preparing to strike. His even breathing told me that he was truly asleep.

In the back of my mind, I could see my mother's face. I could see her heartbreak, as it was surely etched there in my absence. Gritting my teeth and keeping her image in my mind, I crept silently towards the table, reaching out for that gleaming sword.

Nothing was as important as returning back home to the only person I had ever loved.

A cave. Shadows whispered past the edge of what Hades could see, but he didn't turn his head. Instead, he leaned over the cool waters of the grotto there, listening to the soothing sound of trickling waterfall that gushed over the smoothed rock. Dimly, he could hear other voices, but he brushed them away.

He stared at his reflection, frowning at what he saw. There was nothing there, nothing to suggest he was out of the ordinary. Yes, his eyes were black and deep and fierce, but that was who he was. Did his younger brothers not have the same eyes, the ones that clearly marked them as siblings? And yes, his cheeks were sunken, and his skin was thin and stretched over his bones. True, he also had unruly black hair and a tangled beard. But did his brothers not have the same wild curls, in different hues?

So what was so terrifying about him?

Was Persephone frightened of him because of how he looked? Or because of who he was? On one hand, Hades was certain that he didn't look as bad as Hecate had said - he might look like Death in Persephone's eyes, but she had yet to be introduced to Charon. He truly appeared as Death, all bones and grinning lipless mouth and staring, empty eye sockets. On the other hand, however… Hades, by no choice of his own, was the Lord of the Dead, and he had a deep feeling that Persephone's fear stemmed from that fact alone.

That brought about new questions. Was she afraid of him because of the legions of souls he commanded? Or because she was secretly afraid of that which she was unaccustomed to - Death, in its truest, rawest form. Never had she been forced to view mortality so closely before, and no doubt, it chilled her to know what fate awaited the mortals of the land of the living.

Hades sighed. Fear. He was sure he would never understand it.

There was a scuffing upon the stone floor to his right, and he glanced over. Morpheus hung on the blurry edges of the dream, leaning against a stalagmite, his arms folded over his chest. Hades could only see him clearly if he squinted, and when he did that, the dream wobbled, threatening to burst like a bubble if he moved too much.

"Quite a time it has been since I last laid eyes upon the Lord here," Morpheus said, his soothing voice breaking through the mist hanging above Hades' head. "You have not surrendered to my father in quite some time."

Hades nodded distractedly. "I have had no reason to sleep, thus no reason to inconvenience Hypnos." Without even realizing he was doing so, he sighed again.

"You are troubled, my friend," The dream-god replied quietly. "That much is blatantly apparent. Tarry a time with me here, in my world, and tell me of your woes."

Hades turned his eyes back to his reflection. "No doubt you have heard of my taking a bride?"

"Indeed, Lord." Morpheus cleared his throat. "If I may say so, I don't think there's a soul in the Underworld, alive or dead, who doesn't know by now." When he spoke next, his voice was faraway, as if he was locked in the throes of some memory. "Ah, the youthful Persephone. Often I have seen her here in my realm."

Hades managed to laugh. "Often I asked for you to spin her for me out of moonbeams and cobwebs, or whatever magick it is you use to show me all I wish for."

Morpheus scoffed. "Wishes. What do I know of wishes? No, Hades, I give to you dreams, as my father has taught me. After all, what would he do if the sleep he gave to all was empty? I provide the entertainment. I provide the prophecies." He shook his head, his short dark hair stirring in an absent wind. "Still, I wander from our subject, friend. You were speaking of your troubles. With your new wife, perchance?"

"My intended," Hades corrected. "We are not yet married. Not truly."

Morpheus' eyes were wide. "And yet you have dreamt of this."

"I have. But the fear she holds for me is greater than any love she might ever learn. I find myself at a loss."

There was a pause, a lull to the conversation. When Hades turned his gaze to the young god, he saw Morpheus' face was hesitant. He bit his lip, his brow furrowed in thought. "If it would help you," He said, sparing Hades a furtive glance, "I could speak with Chronos, in the hope of convincing him to divulge how this will all end."

Chronos. The eternal god of time. He could see not only into the future, but in the present, and into the past, all at once. To know what would become of Hades and his unwilling bride… his heart panged with the longing, the temptation to do what he knew would not be right.

Finally, after a moment of internal struggle, he hung his head. Slowly, he shook it no. "I am sorry, Morpheus, but I could not. To know the future… it is a weight that I could not bear."

Morpheus bowed his head respectfully. "Still, Lord, I felt the need to offer my services. It is not often that I am given the chance to."

Hades pondered that for a moment. How lonely he imagined it was for Morpheus, to great worlds filled with grandeur and monsters inside the head of mortals, and to be forced to watch from behind the veil, unable to reveal himself to any but those who share immortality… To see some of man's most intimate thoughts, and not be able to share in the unknown bond that they shared.

Looking at Morpheus was new eyes, he rose to his feet and offered what he hoped was a kindly smile. "Would you mind indulging me a while longer? I find your father has quite a hold on me, and at present I am not so keen to shake him off."

Morpheus beamed in return. "Then come. You look like you could use some idle chatter."

Hades nodded, certain that nothing could be closer to the truth.

The sword was heavy, much heavier than I had realized immediately. My fingers closed around the hilt, and I intended to raise my arms, but my hands slipped with the weight of it, and it crashed back to the surface of the table. I ducked down, and chanced a glance towards the bed. No sound. Nothing to indicate he had stirred at all.

I frowned as I stood, and gripped the sword once more. This time, I anticipated the weight and heaved it up. My arms trembled with the effort, but I could hold it. When the moment came, I was certain I could kill Hades with it.

I took two uneasy steps towards the bed, gazing at his face through the tattered curtains hanging around. He appeared locked in slumber, his face relaxed so that he appeared entirely non-threatening. I simply stood there and watched him for so long that my arms went numb.

What did a god such as Hades dream about, I wondered. What could possibly fill his head during those empty hours of inaction? I barely knew anything about him, so of course I couldn't even begin to comprehend what he might see when his eyes closed and sleep took him. Did he dream of his brothers, of books, of mortals, of the world up above? What could possibly entertain his mind whilst he drifted off into the realm of Hypnos?

I shook my head. Truly, it was no matter. What did I care? I wanted nothing to do with him, and so I would have nothing to do with him, once I finished him. I took another two steps, until I was standing over his prone form upon the bed. I raised the sword, and found my fingers were wrapped so tight around the hilt that they glowed white. Sweat beaded on my forehead, and I bit my lip.

How would I do it? Would I stab him through the chest? Would I slice him? The neck, I decided. I would slit his throat, and be done with it. I did not wish him to suffer anymore than he already did.

That thought stopped me, astounded me. I didn't? Yes, I was a creator of life, but he had abducted me. Didn't he deserve to suffer for what he had done? I found I couldn't answer that question. My mother might have said yes, that he deserved to burn in the Pit of Tartarus for all eternity, but she was my mother. She was supposed to say that. What did I think? How did I feel about that? I knew that one. I didn't want him to feel any pain at all. I couldn't justify why I wasn't more vengeful; I could only express my desire to be free and back home as quickly as possible. If that meant killing him kindly, then so be it.

The sword wavered in my grip, and I steadied my hands. I brought the tip near his throat, until the shadow of the blade drooped over his pale skin, until the very edge of the sharp blade drew nearer and nearer…

The news came unexpectedly. One moment, Hades had been listening to Morpheus talk about the activities of his father's cave, only a short journey from Hades' Hall itself, and in the next, the dream-god had burst into a cloud of black smoke. The smoke hung over where the two of them had been sitting near the grotto in Hades' dream, twisting like some demonic entity. Hades quickly sprang to his feet.

"Morpheus!" He cried. "What is it?"

"My father - he is releasing you! Quickly, Hades, quickly! Open your eyes, let go of the dream!"

"But why?"

"Persephone! She means to kill you!"

No other words needed to be said. Hades closed his eyes in the dream-world, and felt the soft hands of Hypnos slowly let go of his mind. Shaking his body awake as quickly as possible, he urged his limbs into movement…

The very edge of the sword dipped low, until it touched the skin of Hades neck. I watched as it cut a small line. A tiny pearl of blood welled up and spilled over, dribbling down into the hollow of his throat. I gasped, distracted at the sight of his scarlet blood upon that white skin.

Just then, he shifted. His eyes opened, their black depths focused right upon me.

I screamed in fright, falling backwards upon the stone floor. Pain shot up my elbow as I landed upon it; my chiton twisted up around my knees as I tried to scramble, crab-like, away from him. The sword dropped heavily and loudly, spinning away from me. In an instant, Hades was on his feet, and he looked more enraged than I had ever seen him. His eyes were bright, and his brows were furrowed heavily.

"Why?" He roared, putting one hand to his neck. He looked at his fingers, looked at how they came away stained red. "Why would you even attempt it?"

"I…" I stammered, my teeth chattering from fear. Would he strike me? Pick up the sword and do what I was about to do to him? I deserved it, for even thinking I could achieve something so cowardly. "I want…"

"Why?"

"I want to go home!" I shouted suddenly, the emotion bursting from my lips.

He paused. Looked at me with narrowed eyes. The room was eerie with silence for a moment, as Hades tore another piece from the rotted curtains around his bed and used it to wipe the blood from his neck. He tossed it away; it landed beside me on the floor, and I couldn't help but stare. The red droplets of his blood had already faded from the fabric, so it appeared as though he had not used it at all. I turned my gaze back to him. "How?" I asked incredulously.

"I am a god," He replied, not answering my question. He laughed bitterly, picking up the sword. He trailed one finger over the blade, inspecting it with critical eyes. "Did you think it would be so easy?"

I didn't answer. Instead, I watched him as he crossed the room and returned it to its place upon the table.

"Well?" He asked, looking at me again. "You could not do it even if you tried, Persephone. You never would have been able to press down and drain the life from me."

I watched him warily from my place on the floor. "Why not?"

"Because that is not what you do." He looked away, back towards the bed. He was silent for a very long time after that, and I finally decided to pick myself up from the floor. My body throbbed when I stood, stemming from the bruise already blossoming on my elbow. I winced as I stood as tall as I could, throwing him a defiant look.

He didn't even turn. Instead, he just said, "It's late. You'd best get back to bed." Nothing more than that, except a pointed glance towards the door.

Fuming, I did as he said, marching from the room and slamming the door shut behind me. As soon as I was out of sight, however, I slumped back to my usual destitution. While I may have been able to assume a façade of bravado in front of him, I could not hold it up any longer than that. My last remaining chance of escaping had failed, for I knew his words were true: I could not kill him. I thought I had been able to, but when it came down to it, I was weak and afraid. And now I was trapped. I truly was a prisoner, doomed for all eternity. There was nothing else, no way to return to my mother. No hope. The only thing I could do now was… give up.

I slept not a wink that night, pondering the one remaining choice that seemed available to me. It seemed like there was nothing left for me to do but to give in entirely, and become Hades' queen.

Day 15

I slept for only several hours, waking continuously from nightmares of black eyes and fiery pits.

I woke to find a scroll beside my bed, on the floor. Without doing anything else, I leapt from my place immediately upon waking, ignoring the throb of pain in my arm, and seized it from the floor. I tore off its bindings, and rolled it open. In a messy hand, it said my presence was required in the Throne Room, by order of Hades, as soon as I was available.

I crumpled the parchment in my fist, frowning. What did he want from me? Had he realized the decision I had made, and decided that today would be the day we would officially rule alongside one another? My head felt light when I thought of that, and my stomach turned nervously. Was I ready for this? Surely not.

But as I had kept asking myself throughout the night, what else could I do?

Trying my hardest not to cry, I dropped the note to the floor and went to the wardrobe. If my presence was requested, it was high time I changed from the ratty, torn chiton that I had been wearing since the day of my… departure. Swallowing that word was hard; it tasted bitter going down, but I tried my best to ignore it. I was going to make the best of my situation, even if it killed me. I pulled a dark blue chiton from the wardrobe, and laid it across the bed. Next came a pair of black sandals and a silver strophion that I could tie just beneath my breasts. Shedding the last remnant of my life among the living, I gently placed the smudged pink fabric in the bottom of the wardrobe. It would stay there, as a reminder of the life I had left behind.

I bathed quickly, before dressing in the clothes I had laid out. I tied a length of silver cord around my middle once I was wearing the blue chiton, and I went back to the bath in the other room so that I could see my reflection. There was nothing I could do for the black of my hair, so I merely brushed it with my fingers and braided it into several simple plaits at the sides of my face and neck. Lastly, I placed a simple silver circlet upon my head; it was one of several that I had found inside the wardrobe.

I stared at my reflection in the water. I looked regal and queenly, as I was sure I was supposed to. I barely recognized myself. My eyes were tired and sad, and I looked nothing like I had while with my darling mother. I imagined this was how a mortal girl felt when she was forced to marry a man she didn't love. I felt as if I was staring at myself before my wedding, and questioning why this must happen to me. My heart felt drained of all feeling, and in my chest I carried a hollow ache that plummeted below my stomach like a stone.

So ends the life of Persephone, Maiden of Spring. So begins the life of Persephone, Queen of the Underworld.

I left my room in the middle of the morning, slowly making my way to the Throne Room. Truthfully, I was in no hurry. I felt as if I was walking towards my own doom, towards a funeral where I would find myself upon the pyre. Chills raced down my spine as I neared that fateful archway. As I did, I heard the distant sound of hushed voices; I could just barely make out what they were saying. There were three, maybe four men and it sounded to me as if they were in the thick throes of an argument.

"-he could hardly be considered virtuous, look at what he did to his family-"

"He was redeemed!" A second voice implored. "He journeyed far and wide, slew countless fiends-"

The first man spoke again. "Yes, but to kill one's own family! Even were he redeemed in their eyes, one could hardly consider his soul virtuous after all that. Imagine all of the death that his eyes have seen. Surely even he thinks he must be damned for all eternity. Throw him in the pit, and be done with it!"

"But to judge, Brother, without thinking of all the possible outcomes for him-"

"My mind is made up! Toss him into the pit!"

"Yes," A smoother, quieter third voice said. "I think we should give him to Tartarus. He would probably be much happier, thinking he had deserved it all along…"

"Who cares how he will be feeling? He'll be dead, either way-"

"Gentleman," A weary fourth voice said.

My heart sputtered. Hades. He was just there in the room beyond me, and now the three other voices present made sense. They were not men at all, not anymore at least. They were the Judges of the Dead. It seemed to me, however, that they were having a hard time doing their judging, and had taken their qualm to the Lord himself. I stopped short in the hall, hesitating. Would I be welcome among them? The debate sounded serious, and if they were busy, perhaps it would have been better if I did not bother them-

"As much as I enjoy hearing the three of you argue," Hades continued. "I have more pressing matters to attend to, such as the state of my honored guest, who is currently standing outside this room."

My heart very nearly stopped. He knew I'd been standing there the entire time. I bit my lip, looking around in a panic. What should I do? Was I so ready to face him, knowing the grave decision I had made to spend immortality at his side? My stomach turned tumultuously.

"Well, come in," Hades said. His voice sounded… amused. Was that even possible? "They might have eternity to spend dallying, but they do actually have work to do."

Slowly and carefully, I edged around the corner and into the Throne Room. It looked as it had the previous night when I had run through it as a mouse, albeit smaller now that I was a more normal height. The three of them stood there, each of them looking 'round at me. I gulped, taking in the faces I had heard so much about: Minos and Rhadamanthys, brothers, and Aeacus. All of them former kings, now dead, but still alive in glory. They wore gold around their fingers and upon their heads, and they each stood high and mighty, much taller than I. Hades, however, was the one my gaze was inexplicably drawn to.

He looked much changed since I had seen him the previous night. He was dressed in a stately black chiton, with his usual brooch holding his himation. His black hair was less unruly, and it appeared to have been combed. His beard had been trimmed so it was close to his face, and neat. He finally looked like the Lord I was sure he was, though his starless black eyes remained ever fixated on me. I resisted the urge to shiver.

"Judges, may I introduce Persephone, daughter of Demeter?"

The mention of my mother was like a spear shot straight into my heart. She would have been so proud of my composure, I was sure, as I nodded to each of the Judges, letting them bow before me.

"Beloved, perhaps you could assist us."

Each Judge flicked a glance towards their Lord, and I could already see the doubt that fill their eyes. Flushing slightly, and ignoring Hades' ridiculous pet name, I assumed what I hoped was a smile. "And how may I be of service?"

Was it a smile, or a grimace? I couldn't tell. Hades, however, appeared satisfied by it. He gestured lazily to his subjects. "They have a dilemma. You see, a mortal man murdered his family. He claims it was an accident - claims he was bewitched by a goddess. The ever-loving Hera, no less. The man spent the rest of his pathetically short life trying to atone for the murders. Now, Rhadamanthys here says the man has indeed redeemed himself. He believes that the man's soul should be sent to the Elysian Fields. Aeacus and Minos, however, believe his soul is tainted and should be sent to the Pit of Tartarus, where he may burn for all eternity."

"I heard," I said, sending Hades a dour glance. He only appeared more amused at my discomfort, so I instead turned my fierce glare upon the Judges. "You think he feels he is damned already, so why not just toss him in the Pit."

"Yes, Lady."

I could see Hades' smirk from above their heads. He was enjoying the show of me playing who I had already decided to be. He was enjoying that right then, at that moment, I was already doing what his wife would do for eternity. I was sorting out problems that the men themselves had no solutions to, and he was parading me around in front of his subjects, asserting what he already knew that I had decided. He already knew. Suddenly, I felt a rush of anger. Was there nothing that he didn't know? Was there nothing that he wouldn't take from me?

"If you are all too stupid to find a solution amidst all your bickering," I snapped, "Then leave him to a fate in the Asphodel Meadows. No matter if you think he is wicked or good, he will continue to suffer in his own disagreement with your ruling. In the Meadows, he may find his family. Then, he shall know peace."

The three Judges looked at each other, gauging each other's reactions to my words. Finally, Aeacus nodded. "It is an acceptable solution, and clever at that." He bowed once more. "Thank you, my lady. You have helped us greatly."

"Yes, yes," Hades drawled. "Be gone, now. That man is not the only soul that you must send on."

The three of them jostled their way from the room, returning to their home at the crossroads, where the new souls gathered to discover their eternal resting place. Awkwardly, Hades and I refused to make eye contact, alone together in the sudden silence. The last time we had been alone together, I had been trying (and failing) to kill him. I just stood there aimlessly, unsure of what I was to say, and Hades sat there inspecting his hands, looking bored with the morning's proceedings.

Finally, he looked over at me. "Your hair looks lovely."

I couldn't tell if he meant it or not. There didn't seem to be any emotion in the words. I put a hand to my plaits self-consciously, blushing. He was mocking me, I was certain of it. He knew I hated the black hair. He knew I had cried over it. I glared at him, lowering my hand as his lips twitched.

"I received a summons," I choked out from behind my clenched teeth. "What do you wish of me, my lord?"

"Don't call me that," He snapped. "I may rule here, but you are my equal. You are not a man, long since dead, and you are not a wandering soul. You are the daughter of an Olympian, and…" He slid a glance towards me out of the corner of my eyes. "You are my Queen."

I didn't dispute him. Instead, I hung my head, my hands clasped tightly in front of me. "As you wish-" The name stuck in my throat, until I was forced to cough it out. "Hades."

"Persephone," He said in return, rising to his feet. He stepped down from the throne, and walked towards me. "I think perhaps the two of us have… what's the expression? Gotten off on the wrong foot. I wish to make amends for what I have done to frighten you, as I wish only for you to be happy here."

This time, he sounded genuine. Was that why he had cleaned himself up? Because he wanted to make me feel better? Well, so far, it wasn't working. I still felt terrible. However, I nodded mutely.

"In that case, I was wondering perhaps if we might… try and make the best of the current situation? As I'm sure you've found, there's really no way out of it." His voice was gentle, surprisingly, but I wasn't comforted. Instead, a thought drifted past: I want my mother. I bit my lip, blinking past the emotions swelling to the surface. Again, I nodded.

"That's excellent. I am willing to propose that from this moment, we begin anew with a clean slate. Is that agreeable?"

Another nod.

"Wonderful! May I then ask you to sit beside me here?"

I looked up, confused. Then I saw it. How had I not noticed it before? It was a smaller throne to the right of Hades', made of the same black stone and inlaid with glimmering jewels. To sit beside him would be the final stage in my change. To sit beside him would signify I was giving in, and I would become his queen through that tiny gesture. Try and make the best of the current situation. No, I did not love him. No, I did not want to stay there with him. But I could learn to, perhaps, with time. I would adjust, as I knew I would have to.

"I will be your queen," I said. My voice was shaky and insubstantial in the enormous room. I made eye contact with him for the briefest moment. "But I will not be your wife."

His face hardened, but then he nodded anyways, like he knew I would say that. Perhaps one day I would be, but not now. Now I would simply rule beside him, afraid to take that final plunge that would mark the point of no return.

His hand was in front of me, and he was waiting for me to take it. Slowly, I did. His fingers were as cold as ice. He led me across the throne room, to the throne that was now mine. He sat down in his, watching me patiently as I hesitantly stared at mine. It looked forbidding. Finally, though, I couldn't take the staring, and so I sat down, at his right. Faithfully at his side. Holding in the screams that were threatening to overtake me, I leaned back and placed my palms flat against the arms. This is it, I thought. Now, I am changed. Now, I am the Queen of the Underworld. The knowledge was like the throne: cold, and hard. Like the rest of the Underworld, it swallowed me until I was no longer certain if I was a goddess, like Hades had said, or if I was just another ghost looking for a way home.

I'm so sorry it took me this long to update! Your patience, however, is appreciated. This might have mistakes in it, because I didn't edit it as well as I should have, and you are welcome to point out any that you find. Thanks to all the readers and those who take the time to favorite and drop me some lovely reviews :)