Chapter Text
Persephone glared at the carefree nymphs as they pranced around, frolicking through the undisturbed meadow. She huffed and plucked a single daisy from her braid, twisting the fragile flower in her dainty fingers. The sun was high up in the sky, and the tall flowers rustled in between the deep sea of green grass, pulled back and forth languidly by the wind, like an ocean pulling at the shore. Birds, perched on the tall branches of the evergreen trees, sang their sweet melody. It was a perfect summer day.
Just like every other day.
“Don’t you ever get tired of singing and dancing and dancing and singing, night and day, it’s all the same.” She said to no one in particular, her gaze focused solely on the bloom. The nymphs stopped their game of tag and stared at their mistress with creased brows.
“What do you mean? Don’t you want to play, lady Kore?” One of them spoke up, peering at the young goddess through her hair.
Persephone bit her lip nervously, now that she had voiced her thoughts, she wasn’t too sure of how to explain it to them. She stuttered: “I mean, playing is fun b-but don’t you think there has to be…more to life than just…this?” She smiled sheepishly. Her words were met with uncomfortable silence as all the flower nymphs stared at her in an odd way as if she had just said something funny.
Then, one of them laughed, the rest of them soon joining her. Now they all laughed at foolish Persephone. Ah, of course. She should have expected it. Flower nymphs were all about the fun and joys of life, they never took anything seriously for more than a minute.
“Lady Kore you sure are funny! Who cares about those other things, they are boring!” One of them, the one who had spoken earlier, exclaimed, wiping the tears off her eyes.
“As if the goddess of flowers should worry her pretty head over anything but her own enjoyment!” Another one chimed in. All the others nodded in agreement. “Leave the work to you mother, my Lady, you don’t have to worry!” Persephone sulked against the rock she was sitting on. Of course, they would think her silly. Poor little Persephone, she is too pretty to understand anything in life other than fun and games.
“Yeah, silly me.” She sighed, pressing her fingertips to the ground beside her, a patch of geranium bloomed underneath her hands. Persephone played with the small blossoms anxiously.
“Mistress, come join us!” The nymphs hollered at her as they approached the stream in the meadow. The wind sighed in the trees, reflecting the mood of their mistress. Regardless of the dark cloud hovering over her head, Persephone smiled brightly at them and stood up. A path of lavender heathers followed her every step. Despite being surrounded with such cheerful companions, solitude dripped into her life unbidden, creating ripples that echoed deep inside of her, threatening to drown the goddess in its deep, bittersweet waters.
There were fates far worse than this, she thought, which much to her chagrin, was technically true.
***
“You had fun today, daughter?” Demeter crooned, squeezing Persephone’s shoulders affectionately, delivering a sound kiss to her head. Persephone squirmed in her seat as she played with her fingers underneath the table. She felt her conflicting emotions bloom all over the place. Bright red for her deep desire to experience the world outside her mother’s constricting meadow. Soft yellow for the hopes of her dreams becoming true. An iridescent green for the terrible envy that lived in the back of her mind of all her brothers and sisters who got to do whatever they wished to. Light gray, for the sadness deeply embed in her bones. So many colors, all at once, she couldn’t grasp at any of them and was therefore left in the middle of a colorful turmoil that had every intention to sweep her off her mind and drive her insane.
“Yes, mother. The nymphs and I had a lovely time in the stream. What about your work?” She spoke softly, keeping her eyes trained on the plate before her. Demeter hummed in approval, moving about the dining table gracefully as she took her respectful place on the other end. “Pleasant and busy, this harvest is coming along beautifully Kore!” She said, and Persephone could feel her mother getting excited over the prospect of another successful harvesting.
Surely, her mother would understand, she reasoned inside her head. Formidable Demeter, of the original six Traitors, had once been new to the world, young in spirit. If Persephone chose her next words wisely, perhaps her mother would take pity and sympathize with her. She was sure that her mother couldn’t have always been the spitting image of demureness and tranquility, she had after all fought alongside her brothers and sisters to defeat their father; Kronos. Her mother loved her more than anything else in the cosmos, that much she was certain of, and Persephone loved her just as much. She wouldn’t deny her daughter the one thing she craved the most, right?
However certain she was of her mother’s unconditional love, Persephone couldn’t get rid of the persistent doubt clawing at her mind, her fear of upsetting her mother. Over the years, as she grew up and abandoned childhood in order to become a woman, Persephone was not uninformed of all the suitors that pretended to obtain her hand in marriage. She had spied on their conversations with her mother from behind columns and had witnessed the change in her mother’s semblance at the mere mention of having her precious daughter taken away from her. She couldn’t bear to cause her mother any unnecessary grief.
She will understand, she repeated to herself like a mantra inside her head.
Persephone cleared her throat “Mama,” She called, her own voice an alien sound.
At the sound of her voice, Demeter looked up from her plate and glanced at her daughter. Persephone straightened her back and played with the hem of her skirt. “Yes, Kore?”
“Mama, I was wondering if I—if perhaps I could visit Olympus? I’ve heard from the river nymphs it's quite beautiful there this time of the year.” She spoke softly, her eyes pleading. She felt her throat tighten, her mouth turn dry. Her insides coiled and she felt the little food she had ingested over the course of the diner threatening to crawl out of her stomach.
Demeter stared at her daughter oddly, then laughed, her hazel eyes glinting with glee. “Is that what’s got you all worked up? Kore, Olympus is perfectly beautiful all year, but if you wish to visit it so feverishly, I guess we could organize a quick trip. I do have matters to discuss with that unruly father of yours.” She commented casually, and the glimmer of hope Persephone had felt growing inside her like a delicate glass figurine shattered at the same time she deflated against her seat.
“We? Mama, I had been hoping I could have gone by myself—“ She stammered, pushing a stray strand of coppery hair behind her ear before her mother interrupted her.
“No, absolutely out of question. You are not allowed to visit Olympus by yourself, not now, not ever. Am I clear Kore?” Demeter’s calm and easy-going demeanor disappeared immediately. Her words had been cutting, straight to the point and so unlike any other interaction she had ever had with her mother before. Disappointment and impotence grew inside the young goddess as she felt tears swell in the corner of her eyes. She hated crying. It made others think she was weak, and she was not. Just because she was the goddess of Spring, or as the nymphs had so kindly put it—flowers, it didn’t mean that she was some frail, delicate thing that needed to be treated with extreme care in order to avoid breaking. She was a goddess, for crying out loud! The daughter of the cloud-gatherer himself, King of the gods Zeus! A direct descendant from Chaos, the creative force behind everything.
She wanted to be taken seriously at least once in her immortal life.
“Mother, you must understand, I am begging you, please. I’m sick of playing and weaving and being useless all day long, every day. Just one day, one day is all I ask you to give me. There is more to life, I know there must, mama. Please.” That’s it. It was out there. Everything. Tears brimmed her eyes and Persephone couldn’t tell exactly when during her speech she had risen from her seat and sunk to her knees before her mother. She was begging her for a chance to prove herself of use, not just some flimsy, unimportant minor goddess of flowers. There had to be more for her out there. She refused to accept that she had to spend the rest of her immortal life fooling around and doing nothing of value, like those nymphs who knew nothing of taking things seriously, of caring, of being important.
Demeter’s expression saddened and Persephone took that as a good sign. She stared at her mother through blurry eyes. Her mother placed a single hand on her daughter’s cheek, wiping a single tear that had rolled down with her thumb. She stared right into Persephone’s eyes, her words, spoken sternly but with compassion, broke her heart: “Daughter, it pains me to see you like this, to know you feel this way, but I can’t allow it. You wouldn’t understand, you’re too young, too innocent. There is evil in the world, my child, all your life I have done my best to shield you from it, but I won’t be able to protect you from those repulsive gods if you were to go on your own. You haven’t known true suffering, Persephone, and you will never have to, you’re not meant to. Not if I can help it.“ Each of her words was like daggers, stabbing Persephone over and over in the heart. There it was again. Too young, too innocent.
To her mother’s eyes, she would always remain a child. Too young to know better. Too innocent to want better. To want more, to want purpose. To want it all. She was a goddess, was she not? She too had her pride, did she not?
To the nymphs, those stupid nymphs, she was too pretty to think of anything else but flowers. They probably thought she was just another one of Zeus’ spoiled brats, an ungrateful little thing that had everything and yet wanted more.
“I know it is cruel, but you must understand, dear, I do this for you. Cruel to be kind, as the mortals are so fond of saying. If I allowed you to go on your own, those vile gods would pounce at you as if you were a piece of meat. They don’t deserve you, yet they want you. Your innocence and pureness, it attracts them like honey attracts flies.” She spat, her voice bitter, her mind caught up in some sour memory of past occurrences. Perhaps even in how Persephone herself had been conceived. The cruel way her own brother, Persephone’s father, had his way with her despite her cries of protests. “You belong here, with me. Where nothing can ever harm you. You’re brimming with glorious purpose, my daughter, right here, beside your mother.” Persephone wanted to be mad at her mother, she wished she could hate her, but she was unable to. Instead, she fell forwards to her mother’s lap and cried as Demeter ran her fingers through her long hair and whispered words of sorrow and comfort. Glorious purpose, the words nothing but a mockery.
Could she even blame her mother? Persephone had been cocooned her whole life, but she was not a stranger to the wicked ways of the gods. She was well aware of her father’s own behavior. His multiple infidelities, his taking of unwilling lovers, spreading his seed all over the Earth, wherever he went. Her suitors were none the better either. Apollo found a new interest to woo every other day, his affections changing from one person to the next as soon as his initial infatuation faded. Hermes’ godhood spoke for itself, what stability could the god of travels offer her? Never home, flying from one flower to the next. Ares was no better. Could the god of war ever love anything more than he loved bloodshed? Perhaps, but that spot was already taken by Aphrodite herself, and the goddess of beauty did not like sharing what she considered her property. And to speak of Hephaestus! Who lived in constant mock and ridicule of the gods, at the shadow of his wife’s infidelities.
Her mother was right. This is where she belonged. It had been foolish of her to ever want to leave.
Still, as she laid in bed that night, her eyes closed tightly, she couldn’t help the hooded pink aconites that bloomed all over her room, around her bed, in her hair and although not deeply rooted, inside her heart.