There were two watching Persephone that fateful day. Floating amongst the clouds, an angelic façade of light and beauty, Cupid notched an arrow headed straight for her heart. Deceptively perfect and dripping a pink, bitter-sweet poison, it hurtled through the air, blinding the unsuspecting goddess with its dazzling glare. The invisible arrow pierced her beating heart as she lay her eyes upon it for the first time.

Golden braids entwined with living, growing, thriving chamomile glistened in the dancing rays of pure sunlight. Barefoot and giggling, the Goddess of Springtime played with harvest and plant nymphs in the sun-lit, flower-filled meadow. Meanwhile, there was a god driven half mad with longing, daring to step half-out of the shadows to catch a glimpse of the lovely maiden. He saw something deep within her soul that she didn’t understand yet: innocence with potential for darkness.

He was Hades, God of the Dead. Persephone found him alluring in a subtle, mysterious fashion. Sunken cheeks, haunted black eyes and the complexion of a corpse made for a curious appearance rather than a pretty face. He seemed sick and exhausted and she had the immediate urge to offer him shelter and comfort and care.

‘I can’t speak for all women, but I find introductions more attractive than lurking,’ Persephone stated gently. With no intention of alarming the secretive stranger, she spoke slowly and made no sudden movements. She knew of him, of course. They had unofficially met years ago when Hades was still welcome at Mount Olympus. That was before he was banished by his brother, the King of the Gods, Zeus.

‘Forgive me. I didn’t realise I’d left the shadows behind.’ His tone was almost sorrowful, but it had a force behind it as though bitter at himself for making a terrible mistake. He turned away from her and began to fade back into dark nothingness.

‘Wait,’ Persephone stopped him. She reached out to grab his cloak but her long fingers waved right through the material as though he were a ghost. The attempt wasn’t entirely ineffective as Hades turned his head towards her. At first, she was afraid. His thin lips, which were set in a threatening line, had the constant ability to summon an army of skeletons to overpower her. With a flick of his wrist he could dissolve her fields into grey ash. But her mother, Demeter, had taught her better than to submit to masculine intimidation and she held her head high. ‘Why were you watching me?’

He narrowed his eyes, suspiciously silent. At first it seemed as though he wasn’t going to answer, but then he bitterly demanded, ‘Why do you care?”

He left Persephone with questions. Why wouldn’t he answer her? Why wouldn’t she care? And why was he watching her?

The day wore on and the maiden couldn’t forget about Hades. ‘He came to see me, mother. Next time, perhaps we can invite him to stay for supper?’

‘There won’t be a next time, child. You’re going to stay far away from that creep and scream if you see him again,’ Demeter instructed firmly, her voice wavering with concern. The God of the Dead was dangerous to even the smartest, most skilled heroes in Ancient Greece. Demeter swore that Hades would have to destroy her before hurting a hair on Persephone’s head. Foolishly, her daughter refused to listen to her warnings.

Persephone wandered the country village until sunset, inspecting the shadows for any trace of his whereabouts, thinking of the chase as a game of hide and seek. Poor Persephone had no idea she was the sought and not the seeker, though she would soon find out.

One moment she was peering around tree trunks and over bushes, the next she was struggling to move under the restraint of skeletal captors. Kicking her bare feet, screaming at the top of her lungs and thrashing about like an abducted cricket, the maiden was dragged through earth, air and water to the fiery pit of hell.

The innocent Goddess of Springtime was caught beneath an upside-down wine glass like a mischievous fruit fly in the kitchen. Viciously wiping away her tears of terror, she uncurled from the foetal position. She wasn’t weak as they believed. Ghosts would not mistreat her. Her captors would not torture and break her.

Her magical Springtime abilities were significantly subdued beneath ground. The chamomile blossoms twisted into her braids were wilting, but Persephone found strength in the little energy they preserved. Long, firm branches sprung from her fingertips, reaching out to break or overturn the large wine glass. It shattered into a million shards which rained down around her.

That’s when she saw him, seated on a mahogany throne upon a marble platform. ‘Welcome, Persephone, to my dark abode.’

‘Hades,’ she hissed in response, fuming with as much anger as a flower goddess could muster. Lips pursed and golden curls springing from their wilted restraints, she looked to him like an angry child who didn’t fully understand the evils of the world.

But she will learn, he thought, and she will fulfil her dark potential.

‘I think it’s about time you answer some of my questions.’

His smile seemed devoid of all emotion. ‘What would you like to know?’

‘Why did you bring me here?’ It was the obvious question to which she figured she would receive the most answers. All he did was confuse her further.

‘To make you my bride.’ At least she believed him. As dark and foreboding as he was, he was trustworthy in the sense he had no apparent reason to lie.

‘But, why?’ she asked, her eyes wide with desperation and curiosity.

He seemed genuinely amused and shrugged. ‘Because ghosts are terrible company and you are a pretty girl.’

Persephone was put off by his candour. Despite Hades’ ominous appearance and role in her capture, she was fascinated by the stranger. ‘I would have come if you would have asked.’ It was a kind enough statement, sincere and soft, but a shadow crossed his face as though she’d spat at him.

‘Asking would be counterintuitive. You don’t have a choice. Zeus gave you to me.’ These words sent chills down her spine. Would Zeus do that? Was she surprised?

Whilst Persephone battled her inner demons with Hades in the Underworld, Demeter unleashed her fury upon the earth in the only way she knew how. Hunger and famine plagued mortals and gods alike until Hades’ accomplice, Zeus, confessed to Persephone’s whereabouts.

Gracefully reclined on a couch of black velvet, Hades and Persephone became unlikely friends. They made conversation like a field on fire. With her, he was easily amused. Every moment he spent gazing into her wild, golden honey eyes, increased his hold on life and humanity.

‘In time, I hope you will feel kindly towards me,’ Hades wished. For some reason, Persephone made him feel ashamed of his harsh actions. When he was with her, he wanted to be better.

She lowered her gaze with humility. ‘I’m not bitter, nor cast down, though I can’t say I ever desired the title of Queen of the Underworld.’

He laughed at that. It was an unusual sound to his lips and echoed around the walls, eerily. ‘While you are here, you shall rule all that lives and moves. You shall receive offerings, gifts and rites and those that refuse to respect you will be punished,’ he promised, faithfully. After a night-time of talking, Hades sighed and looked towards the sundial near the middle of the throne room. There was no sun to cast shadows across its concrete face, but he stared at it intently and seemed to receive a clear message. ‘As much as I am enjoying your company, it seems your mother misses you. I release you, for the time being, but not without a gift.’

‘A gift?’ She blushed, foolishly flattered.

‘A promise of what is to come,’ he responded as carefully as he could manage. Persephone offered her hand, palm to the concealed heavens. Hades opened his fist over her palm and withdrew, leaving behind a small handful of ruby red pomegranate seeds.

‘Thank you.’ A smile transformed her features as she accepted them, brightly. One, two, three. She swallowed them in Hades’ chariot on the journey to Eleusis where Demeter was waiting.

Demeter’s eyes were clouded with morning dew. Persephone didn’t realise how much she missed her mother and the outdoors until she emerged. They ran towards one another for an embrace, overjoyed to be reunited. Demeter breathed in the acidic fragrance of the dead which had attached itself to Persephone’s hair and flesh like a shroud.

‘My dear, my darling, I warned you to stay away! I warned you to scream! Now tell me the truth, did that loathly god trick you into consuming food from his home?’

‘Don’t worry, mother. He took good care of me. I’m not harmed,’ her daughter insisted, extending her arms which were pale but unblemished.

Demeter remained firm. ‘If you have eaten food from the Underworld, you must return there for two of the four seasons. Without you, plants and crops will wither and there will be Winter. But if you have not eaten food from the Underworld, you can remain above land amongst the nature spirits. We can stay together.’

Persephone’s heart sunk in her chest. Unknowingly, she had made the choice to return to the Land of the Dead. She had no choice but to be with Hades for two of the four seasons. ‘I cannot appease you, Mother. I was ignorant of the consequences and consumed three pomegranate seeds. I am bound to the King of the Underworld,’ she confessed sadly.

Demeter was dismayed. She would grieve and mourn her daughter’s capture every year, as per the compromise.

Persephone grew into a fearless, strong-spirited Queen of the Underworld as Hades had promised and Hades charmed her. She hated him for trapping her but eventually realised he made for better company than her whining, controlling mother above ground.

Musing for Meaning by Deborah Rose Green, 23/05/2020