Disclaimer: I don't own Trials of Apollo
Day 11: Spring Rains
Not much news came from Olympus to the Underworld. Her husband's domain was not as closed off as it could have been; since Kronos' attempt at reviving and destroying them two years ago it could almost be considered open, Hades basking in the smugness of his brother's reluctant gratitude even though he still stung from the betrayal of thievery accusations. More open didn't mean it was entirely open, or even mostly, however.
Her mother had not visited in some time, an unusual occurrence given how frequently she usually breezed into Hades' domain to argue with her brother and dote upon her daughter as though Persephone was still the young, naïve goddess that had been kidnapped in the first place.
Demeter had never really accepted that Persephone had a good existence, in the Underworld. She w and as its Queen, its denizens obeyed her above all bar Hades himself, and she had mastered the art of working around her husband when it suited her. Her mother treating her like a child who needed her hand held was frustrating.
It also made it poignant when Demeter did not appear. Poignant, and rather irritating, because as much as Persephone resented her mother's treatment of her, Demeter also came bearing news of the Overworld, arming Persephone with knowledge of what she would face when her half of the year in the Underworld finished and she rose to dance with the surface flowers instead.
Hermes' trips to the Underworld had also lessened. He still did his role, guided those souls that needed it towards Charon so they could start their final journey, but he didn't come all the way to the palace for a gossip, and so another of Persephone's usual contacts with the Overworld had faded away, leaving her largely in the dark about the machinations of Olympus and more specifically her father.
That wasn't to say she knew nothing, of course. Apollo's disgrace and disappearance had occurred at the height of summer, when she had been free to roam Olympus' gardens and her gossip came from nymphs and fellow goddesses. Rumours had trickled down towards them of a mortal god, and Hades had not been impressed to find out about Apollo's punishment from rumours rather than Zeus. Apollo's absence at the winter solstice had been notable enough for her husband to comment on it upon his return, alongside Zeus' refusal to even acknowledge it, let alone expand upon it and explain where the other god was.
Rumours and whispers were far less than Persephone wanted to return to the Overworld armed with, but the day came with nothing more concrete, and her farewell to Hades was overshadowed with the knowledge that she knew nothing of substance.
Returning to the Overworld was always a shift. For half of the year, Persephone was the Queen of the Underworld, proud and confident and dressed in regal finery befitting the wife of the god of riches. For the other half she was Demeter's prized daughter, swathed in flowers that bloomed and withered and died in a cycle of life and death. Beneath it all, her essence was still the same, was still Persephone, but the shift was as stark for her as some gods found shifting between aspects, Demeter one moment and Ceres the next. Persephone had been dealing with such a shift before the Romans had even existed.
It was also a change in environment, from the comfortable but stable Underworld, unaffected by things like weather and the sun to the yawning abyss above them that mirrored Chaos down below, stretching for eternity and consuming anything that got too close. The Overworld had no such restrictions and could be whatever it wished, the blustery winds of spring often welcoming her as Apollo waved from his chariot, blindingly bright as he sailed past overhead.
There was no Apollo in the chariot, this time. The sun still moved, but it was not Apollo's chariot, not this time. Persephone didn't know what it meant that in the absence of Apollo their sun was not theirs – she spent too much of her time shut down below to learn much of the deities from other pantheons, more familiar with the other gods associated with death than with life – but some things were not to be pondered.
She was not Queen here. She had no responsibility and not power over how the domain worked, and she was content to leave that to her father.
Hermes had greeted her as she ascended, catching her before she reached her mother, and finally, finally filled her in on the core details, at least, if not the nuances.
"Apollo is mortal," he'd said. "There is a no interference rule."
Two sentences he could've found the time to come to her palace in the Underworld to impart rather than waiting until she reappeared into the sunshine that wasn't Apollo's, but there was nothing to be done about the fact he hadn't.
Demeter had arrested her attention after that, fussing over her like she was still a young goddess and not part-time Queen of one of the three greatest domains, and Persephone could do nothing with her new knowledge until her mother was satisfied.
It was a rainy day when she finally made her escape, the sun that wasn't Apollo obscured by thick, dark clouds that birthed fat drops of water which cascaded down to gather on flower petals, shaking leaves with their impact.
She wasn't going to interfere, but she had to know, had to see for her own eyes what had befallen Apollo. Half a year in the Underworld was not going to deprive her of the same knowledge her fellow brethren had.
He looked pathetic, a handsome god reduced to an utterly ordinary mortal, no sparks of gold to be seen, but she found her attention skipping over him almost immediately, drawn instead to the smaller mortal beside him, the one guarded by seven dryads she felt.
Perhaps that was why her mother hadn't come to visit her so much; she had another daughter wrapped up in the business of a god.
Demeter always was possessive when that happened, and Persephone had to admit to some curiosity herself. No interference – she was not a fool, would not do anything to enrage Zeus, not when she was in his domain, a subject to the king rather than the queen to whom subjects bowed – but observation. The girl was only a demigod, would never achieve heights like Persephone, but it had been a long time since Persephone had last kept an eye on a mortal sibling.
This seemed as good a time as any to watch one.
Thanks for reading!
Tsari
