Author’s Note: This is a stand-alone bonus chapter that takes place centuries before the main story. It’s set a couple years after The Birthday From Hades.

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“Mom, do I have to go to the palace with you?”

The strawberry blonde goddess was still seated on the bank of Lake Mnemosyne, challenging her mother’s announcement that it was time to leave. I was sorry to see her go. Persephone was the first goddess of my generation that I’d ever met. Well, aside from my sisters. Persephone was practically the same age as us. My sisters and I were eleven months old, and she was ten. According to Mom, that was about the same as humans in their early twenties. I wouldn’t know. I’d never seen a human.

“No, I just said it was time to go because I like hearing meaningless words come out of my mouth,” Demeter replied. “Now, come on. You know better than this.”

“I know I don’t want to meet Hades,” said Persephone, remaining in her spot. “He sounds as boring as the rest of your friends. Can’t I just wait here with the Muses? You can pick me up when you’re done at the palace.”

“Yeah, can she?” I asked both moms.

“She’s welcome to wait here,” Mom offered. “You can let her stay longer if you want. My girls are moving to the surface in less than a month to start their work. They can take her home then.”

“Persephone isn’t allowed to stay away from me overnight until she’s a year old,” said Demeter. “And honestly, I don’t know how you can even consider letting your daughters move to another realm.”

“They’re Muses,” Mom gracefully stated. “Their purpose is with the living, not the dead.”

“I guess we’ll come visit you next month, then,” Calliope tried to shake Persephone’s hand in farewell. Persephone kept her arms folded. “It was really nice to meet you,” Calliope tried again.

“It was nice to meet you, too,” said Persephone, still seated with folded arms. “I wish my mother wasn’t a paranoid control freak so we could hang out more.”

“Persephone, I don’t have to let you ‘hang out’ with girls your age at all if this is how you’re going to talk to me when you do,” Demeter warned. “Now, stand up and come with me. We need to pay our respects to Hades before we leave his realm.”

“You’ll like Hades’ palace,” Calliope encouraged. “We’ve been there lots of times. His throne room has this absolutely epic relief carving of the Battle of Cronia. The figures are enormous. My head comes to their knees.”

“Who cares?” said Persephone.

“Some of them are nudes,” said Erato.

“Ew,” Persephone replied, to Demeter’s relief.

“Point to all the pictures of Hades and ask him if that’s Zeus,” I suggested. “It drives him nuts. He’s a riot when he’s ticked off.”

“It’s not funny, it’s tragic,” said Melpomene. “Hades is nearly as powerful as Zeus, and he played a vital role in the overthrow of the Titans, but no one gives him any recognition. And the mortals think he’s evil just because he rules the Underworld, even though all he wants is to be left alone and to guard the souls of the dead so they can have the same luxury.”

“That could not possibly sound lamer,” said Persephone.

“What if my sisters and I go to the palace with you?” Calliope offered, glancing at Demeter. “That way we can spend a little more time together and you can still pay your respects.”

“I guess,” Persephone relented. She took Calliope’s hand, stood up, and dusted off her skirt. “It still sounds lame, though. Maybe Mom’ll let us wait outside when we get there.”

“You’d better lose that attitude by the time we get to the palace, young lady,” Demeter ordered. “You are going to meet Hades, and I don’t want to hear another word about it.”

“So then she goes, ‘You are not going to marry Hades, and I don’t want to hear another word about it.'” Persephone concluded her story. She was visiting us at the Helicon Museum under the alleged watch of Artemis and Athena. The two chaperones had wandered off some time ago.

“You must be heartbroken,” Melpomene swallowed a sob. “You and Hades couldn’t be more perfect for each other. You’ll never be able to love another man, will you?”

“I’m still surprised and a little disturbed that I love this one,” Persephone acknowledged.

“Alone for eternity because of a guardian’s denial,” Melpomene summarized. “Poets will sing of this tragedy for thousands of years to come.”

“Screw that,” I said. “What’s your next move?”

“I don’t know. I give up on talking sense into Mom. I don’t know what her problem is. Sure, Hades isn’t perfect, but he’s better than any of the guys she’s dated. And you’d think she’d want me to get married now, with Hera being all, ‘Oooo, I’m so awesome, my son is having the first wedding of his generation! All hail me!’ lately.”

“Mel, you think poets will be singing about that tragedy for thousands of years to come?” I smirked. “The son of Hera, lame from the day he was born, once rejected by his mother and now forced, forced by her to marry the Goddess of Love, Sex, and Beauty! With absolutely no regard for his wishes! After all he’s been through, shouldn’t poor Hephaestus at least be able to choose his own bride?” Persephone got a good laugh out of that one, as did all my sisters.

Except Melpomene. “It is tragic,” she mourned. “Aphrodite doesn’t love him. And you know as well as the rest of us that she’s not going to stop sleeping with Ares or anyone else she desires  just because she’s taken a few vows.”

“Yeah,” I acknowledged, holding my mask up. “Great precedent to set for the rest of the Olympians’ children.”

“Why don’t they set the precedent of saying, ‘Screw this, we’re grown gods, we don’t need our parents to make major life decisions for us’?” Persephone scowled. “I mean, come on! Zeus isn’t even Aphrodite’s father. He just gets to decide who she marries because of that stupid rule that he functions as guardian in the absence of a parent.”

“Technically he’s our guardian, too,” Calliope reminded her. “None of us like that rule. But it’s less trouble to work with the existing rules than try to change them, especially when their arbiter is immortal and invulnerable.”

“I told you, we tried that,” said Persephone. “Mom’s not going to change her mind.”

“If one of us got married in this realm, our mom wouldn’t have any legal say in the matter,” Calliope mused. “She’s only a citizen of Hades.”

“How nice for you.”

Calliope looked at me in defeat.

I took the reins. “It’s crazy how simple it is to become a citizen of Hades’ realm,” I commented. “All you have to do is eat food that was grown there. You know that pomegranate tree by Mom’s lake? You could’ve eaten a pomegranate that time you came to visit us, and bam! Your mom would’ve had to leave you there, and then Hades would’ve been your guardian.”

“That’s kind of disturbing,” said Urania.

“Sounds kinky to me,” Persephone shrugged. “You know, if you’re into that kind of thing. Which I guess some people are. I’ve heard. I’m not saying I am. Whatever. This is nobody’s business. And you two,” she said to me and Calliope, “can quit miming at each other. I have actually thought of what you’re trying to get me to think of.”

“Whips and chains?” I asked.

“Eloping,” Persephone smacked me upside the head. We both laughed as she did.

“So why don’t you?” I asked. “You could go through the Springs. Mom would invite you.”

“I couldn’t do that to you guys. I don’t even want to think about what kind of curse Mom would put on you. Even if Helios didn’t see me, it wouldn’t take much for her to figure out I’d used your back door.”

“She has Helios spying on you?” Calliope gasped.

“Yep, ever since Hades sent his proposal.”

“In case you’ve forgotten,” I twirled the ends of Persephone’s stick-straight black hair, “we are theater goddesses. If your only obstacle is a spy, we could give him something to see.”

Somehow “we” ended up turning into “I”. My sisters supported the endeavor, but they all have a much more hands-off philosophy toward their powers than I do. None of them recognized this venture as a legitimate theatrical venue. At least Calliope could appreciate the epicness of the situation, and Erato, the romance. The two of them did finally agree to collaborate on the script.

The job of director/producer, however, was left entirely to me.

The eerie, peaceful glow of torchlight burned over Hades’ cavernous throne room. His few attendants had been dismissed. The only two people present were the Lord of the Underworld and his acting coach. Hades was clothed in an unadorned black robe. A simple iron circlet crowned his long, black hair.

“Let’s go over the blocking one more time,” I directed. “These two chairs?”

“Are chairs,” Hades replied, not sharing my rich imagination.

I sighed in exasperation. “They’re Artemis and Athena,” I reminded him. “Look, blocking is important. If you open the ground at the wrong spot, it’ll swallow everyone up and there won’t be any show.”

“And that would be bad.”

“If you leave Artemis and Athena above ground, they’ll be witnesses to corroborate Helios’ story,” I reminded him. “And Artemis and Athena are…?”

“At those two chairs,” Hades gave in.

“Persephone?”

“Near that,” he indicated a block of wood on the floor.

“Which will really be?”

“An enchanted flower, with a glowing root that I’ll see through the cavern ceiling.”

“Perfect! We’ll skip over the intro for this run-through. Start from where you dismount from your chariot,” I motioned to the block standing in for the flower. “I’ll play Persephone and read the others’ lines. Aaand, action!”

“I have ta-”

“Cut!” I shouted.

Hades let out a low growl. “What now?”

“Your line doesn’t come yet. And where’s your Helmet of Darkness?”

“In my vault where it belongs.”

“Thank you.” I snapped my fingers and the prop appeared in my other hand. “We have to nail the timing, which means rehearsing with the helmet.” I handed it to Hades. “And take these, too,” I snapped up a couple of spears. “Remember, you’ve got to get both Artemis and Athena in one shot. Otherwise nobody will believe one didn’t attack you after the other was hit. On your mark. Helmet on. And action!”

The moment Hades donned the Helmet of Darkness, he became completely invisible, as did the spears he was holding and the block of wood he was standing on. Two spears came flying out of nowhere. They penetrated the backs of the two chairs at which they were aimed.

“Persephone; is she safe?” I cried as Artemis. “It’s Hades! We have to stop him!” I called back to myself as Athena. As Persephone, I ran toward the two chairs. I was stopped in my tracks by Hades’ sudden appearance between me and the chairs as he took off the helmet.

“Hades,” I trembled. “What are you doing?”

“Taking what is-” he awkwardly swiped at my wrist. “Do we have to do this?” he griped, dropping his hand to his side.

“Cut,” I rolled my eyes. “Look, it’s just blocking. I’m about the same height as Persephone. Is it weird because you known me since I was a kid? You can run down to the Asphodel Meadows and pick a cadaver if you want,” I waved my arm in that general direction.

“No, let’s just get this over with,” he grumbled.

“Fine. This time, put a little feeling into it. I’ll start. Action!” I got back into character. “Hades, what are you doing?”

Still with some hesitation, Hades clumsily grabbed my wrists. “Taking what is mine.” The block of wood could’ve delivered the line more convincingly, but I wanted very much to get all the way through the scene. I snapped my fingers. Prop handcuffs appeared on my wrists.

“You know what Mom said. We can’t be together. You know what she’ll do when she finds out.” Then I switched to my Athena voice. “Demeter will hear of this,” I faltered. Then Artemis. “We’ll see to that,” I gasped.

“Silence,” Hades said in monotone. “I have taken this woman-”

“No you haven’t,” I hissed in my own voice.

Hades gingerly put his arm around my shoulders. “I have taken this woman,” he started over. “She is my own, and none can take her from me.”

“A stiff breeze could take her from you,” I whispered through my teeth.

Hades took hold of my handcuffs and pulled me toward the spot for the chariot-block. “Pick me up,” I directed. He ignored me. I went limp and collapsed. “As your director, I order you to pick me up.” He continued dragging me by the cuffs. “Pickmeuppickmeuppickmeup.” Too late. We were at the block.

“Cut,” I said. I stood up and snapped my handcuffs off. “That could’ve been worse, I suppose.”

“You don’t have much of a concept of chain of command, do you?” Hades remarked.

“I have an excellent concept of that concept. It goes like this. Director — that’s me,” I raised my upturned palms, “everybody else — that’s you,” I lowered them. “Look,” I said, “I just want this to work, okay? You know Helios can focus up close on anything he wants. He’ll have a perfect view of the show. You can’t look like you’re acting. And I don’t understand why it’s so hard for you to act like you mean what you’re saying, because I know you do.”

“Yeah; big, bad Hades,” he snarled. “This is what I do. Pop out of the ground and drag innocent women off to my evil lair. Which I absolutely didn’t put in the depths of the earth to keep people out of.”

Actors. So sensitive. I didn’t give a damn about Hades’ image problems. I did, however, want more than anything to wring the performance of a lifetime out of him. So I said, “I hate Zeus’ court.”

“And I should care because?”

“The whole thing’s so fake,” I continued anyway. “It’s all bright and shiny and heavenly and perfect, but Zeus is just…I don’t know, sociopathic? Everyone’s scared of him. And he’s such a perv. I can’t stand being around him. I would never work with him one-on-one like this. And I would certainly never help someone I cared about run away with him. My home is in Zeus’ realm and, as long as humans need to laugh, I don’t see that changing; but sometimes I miss having a king I can respect. You know, to the extent that I respect anything.”

“What in Tartarus did that have to do with your stupid show?”

Good grief. “Do you want Persephone?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Do you want any other man to have Persephone?”

“I wouldn’t wish her on anyone else, and I designed Tartarus.”

“Then let’s get your ass in gear and kidnap that bitch before someone beats you to her.”

A backhand across the chest knocked me flat on my back.

“Excellent!” I cried as I hopped to my feet. “That’s the kind of attitude I’m looking for! Now, from the top. On your mark, and, action!”

The day was upon us. Artemis, Athena, Persephone, and I were in an idyllic meadow in Artemis’ hunting grounds. Flowers in every color of the rainbow were scattered all over the place. I checked the sun’s position. Right overhead. Perfect.

“Places, ladies,” I directed. Persephone bumped into me and nearly knocked me over. I couldn’t blame her. I was invisible. Being friends with a passive-aggressive smith who was sick of his mom’s fuss over his impending nuptials was, it turned out, a very useful thing. It had only taken Hephaestus a week to reverse engineer Hades’ helmet of darkness and make a smaller, lighter, prettier one for me.

Persephone sat down next to a flower that was the only one of its kind in the meadow. Nearly a foot in diameter, its iridescent petals shimmered a thousand shades and hues in the sunlight.

“Ready?” I asked her quietly.

“As I’ll ever be.”

“Good. Action!” I called. Nothing happened. “Artemis, let’s go.”

Artemis was silent and motionless.

“We rehearsed this,” I reminded her.

She stood in place, hand on her bow, eyes darting back and forth between the source of my voice and the overhead sun. Her lean, muscular legs were shaking. Stage fright, I realized. My invisible forehead fell into my invisible palm. “Athena,” I cued.

“I can’t remember my line if she doesn’t say her line.”

“You’re the goddess of wisdom and strategy. Make something up. Improvise.” Oy. Actors.

Athena raised her shield over her head with one hand and drew Artemis against her with the other. “So warm for this time of year, isn’t it?” she smiled. The shield was blocking both of them from Helios’ view. Athena’s steady shield arm wavered just enough to make sure the reflected light caught his eye.

“Um, yes, it, is.” Artemis’ tongue stumbled, but unseen by her audience, she could at least remember how to use it.

“I’m just sweltering in all this heavy armor,” Athena lamented. “Will you take off my scabbard?”

“What good will that do?” Artemis queried, evidently wondering if Athena really was suffering from sunstroke.

“Just unbuckle it and throw it aside,” Athena persisted, still holding Artemis under the shield. Artemis awkwardly complied.

“You’re right,” said Athena. “That didn’t do much good. Try my helmet.”

“That makes more sense,” Artemis agreed as she lifted the shining, plumed helmet from Athena’s head. “Apollo has a theory that most of the body’s heat escapes through the head.” She tossed the helmet over her shoulder. I dodged it.

“Interesting hypothesis, but I’m not sure it’s right,” said Athena. “Can you reach the buckles on my cuirass? Careful, it’s heavy.”

When the cuirass hit the ground, I swear the sun stopped.

“Oookay, I’ll just look at this flower,” Persephone reacted. She glanced at me with uncertainty.

“Go,” I ordered. If Hades wasn’t at his mark, I’d bind him in Tartarus myself.

Persephone turned to the flower. She stroked its petals in a steady rhythm. The center, then the petals, then the leaves, and finally the roots burned bright red.

The ground began to shake. Persephone jumped back from the burning flower. Athena lost hold of her shield and fell on her back with Artemis on top of her.

“Wrong mark!” I reflexively waved my invisible arms. “You two, get up!”

“Twisted my ankle,” said Artemis, her head resting on Athena’s bare décolletage.

“Stubbed my pinky toe,” Athena excused herself as she stroked her poor fallen comrade’s shoulder.

They were saved from my wrath when my attention was diverted to a loud, sudden crack in the ground. A chasm gaped where Persephone’s flower had been. Grass flattened in parallel lines. A single spear flew over Persephone’s head and skewered her entangled bodyguards, pinning them to the ground.

“Persephone; is she safe?” Artemis finally remembered a line. I hoped she was remembering to use her painkilling powers on herself and Athena, too.

“It’s Hades! We have to stop him!” Athena cried.

Persephone ran toward the goddess shish kabob. But just before she reached her friends, she stopped and stumbled backward. It looked as though the air broke her fall. Hades’ right arm materialized behind her as he took off his helmet with his left. I watched from behind his chariot, which had been visible since he’d dismounted it. Hades stood resplendent in his full royal armor. His eyes bore down on the goddess in his arms with all the desire, all the passion, all the triumph that he was about to fulfill.

“Hades,” Persephone breathlessly delivered her line. “What are you doing?”

Hades tightened his grip on his captive. “Taking what is mine.”

This time I believed him.

I snapped my invisible fingers, and a pair of cuffs appeared on Persephone’s slender white wrists. “You know what my mother said,” Persephone pleaded, struggling in vain against Hades’ obsidian-covered chest. “She’ll never allow it.” Pause. “Will she, Athena?”

“Oh, yes. I mean no,” Athena responded distractedly. “Demeter will hear of this.” There was another unscripted silence. Athena flicked Artemis’ thigh.

“Right. We’ll see to that,” Artemis recited what, thankfully, was her last line. She slapped Athena’s cheek with her fingertips. Athena giggled. I made a mental note to never ever work with either of them ever again.

“Silence,” Hades roared. His voice resonated across the meadow and shook the surrounding trees. He hoisted Persephone off the ground and declared to Artemis, Athena, Helios, and anyone else who might be listening, “I have taken this woman. She is my own, and none may take her from me.”

Satisfied that Persephone was putting up a convincing fight, I jumped into the chasm, floated to the ground inside the cavern below, and took my helmet off. Hades and Persephone followed in the chariot. The chasm closed behind them once they’d cleared it. Hades snatched my helmet and made it disappear. “That’s mine now,” he said.

“We’ll talk,” I replied. I snapped Persephone’s handcuffs off. Once her hands were free, she grabbed a handful of hair on each side of Hades’ head and shoved her mouth into his. The two of them melded into a writhing, black-haired, faceless monster. “Um, okay, people,” I waved my arms, “we’re not home free yet.”

“As Lord of this realm, I order you put a sock in it,” Hades moaned.

“Demeter can still get her back,” I reminded him. “Unless your tongue counts as the food of the Underworld. Let’s get this show on the road.”

“Oh, shut up,” Persephone took her face out of Hades’ neck long enough to say to me. “You already lost your virginity.”

“With Hephaestus,” I muttered.

“She’s right,” Hades conceded with great displeasure. “We’ve got to make the transfer. Thalia, food.”

“Is it in the chariot?” I asked. “I didn’t see it.”

“It’s not in the chariot because I didn’t bring it,” he growled. “I thought you could’ve done at least that much.”

“At least? I directed and produced this whole thing!”

“Not that well if you couldn’t even work out who was bringing the most important prop,” Hades said.

“Teleport us to your palace and you can get the food there,” I directed. “Here.” I snapped the handcuffs back on Persephone’s wrists. “In case anyone sees you.”

I grabbed Hades’ arm. In a flash, we three were in the throne room. The four guards averted their eyes in a mixture of discomfort and confusion. “You,” Hades pointed to a random guard. “Fetch a plate of food from the kitchen, anything you can find. Be quick about it. The rest of you, leave.”

“Start the ceremony,” Persephone ordered as soon as the three of us were alone.

“Hades, you’re on,” I cued. I’d written a modified script for the occasion based on the one Hera had written for Hephaestus and Aphrodite’s wedding.

“Persephone, do you consent to be given to me?” Hades haltingly asked in place of the bride’s guardian.

“I do,” said Persephone.

“I’m not saying the next part,” Hades glared at me. “The writing sucks.”

“It’s legal,” I said. The writing most certainly did not suck, unless one had no understanding of comedy. “I guess you could release Cronus for a few seconds and let him say it. I’ll bet it’d mean the world to him to witness the wedding of his firstborn. Firstmade. Firstwhateveryouwere.”

Hades rolled his eyes in disgust. “Hades, do you consent to be given this woman?” he asked himself. Then he answered himself, “I do.” Addressing Persephone again, he said, “As your guardian, I give you to me, that together we may create a home and a family with honor. Thalia, quit that damn giggling and hand over the rings.”

Doing my best to suppress my amusement, I handed over a matched pair of iron bands as ordered. Hades and Persephone exchanged them.

“All right, we’re married. Go away now,” Persephone said to me.

“I still have to see you eat something,” I reminded her.

“Make her leave,” she ordered her husband.

“You do have to eat something, or your mom can come here and have the whole thing annulled,” Hades reminded her. “Besides, you’re too skinny.”

“I will beat you with a stick,” she threatened.

“Looking forward to it.”

Thankfully for my ears and my mind’s eye, the guard showed up with a plate of food soon thereafter. Hades took the plate and sent the guard away. He then proceeded to take a pomegranate, peel it at a ridiculously slow pace, and tease his still-handcuffed bride with one seed at a time. After three seeds, I decided I’d fulfilled my duty as a witness. Actually, it might have been four. Or six. I lost count. “I’m leaving through the Springs,” I said. “Let’s hope Helios doesn’t notice.”

“Go away,” said Persephone.

“Gladly.”

When I got back to the Museum, Athena, Artemis, and Apollo were there with my sisters. Artemis and Athena were lying stomach down on cots while Apollo was sitting between them, fussing over bandages that were wrapped around their upper torsos. “Thalia,” Artemis quickly greeted me. “Look who found me in my hunting grounds with a spear in my back.”

“You had a spear in your back?” I gasped. “How did that happen?”

“Sh, don’t talk,” Apollo comforted his sister. “You need to let yourself heal.” To me, he said, “Hades did this. They were guarding Persephone and he took her.”

“You’re not going to do anything stupid, are you?” I cautioned.

“No,” said Apollo. “Artemis should be fine by this time tomorrow. Calliope’s already made arrangements for the three of us to stay here overnight. And having experienced the pleasure and dignity of Demeter’s rejection myself, I can’t say I blame Hades for what he did.”

Uh huh.

As soon as I thought he’d be comfortable leaving his patients, I invited Apollo to join me elsewhere on the grounds for a private chat. “Well?” he asked me once we were safely out of the Museum’s hearing range.

“You’re not planning any kind of secret revenge, are you?” I asked. “I know you’re one of Zeus’ most powerful children, but Hades is a son of the Titans. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“I don’t like seeing my sister get hurt,” said Apollo. “But in this case, it doesn’t look like she did. She wasn’t in any pain, and she’d already started healing herself when I took the spear out. She’ll need to rest overnight to give her heart and lungs a chance to return to normal, but I don’t anticipate any lasting damage. It was almost like she knew the blow was coming,” he gave me a curious look. “But she couldn’t have, of course,” he apparently dismissed the idea. “She can outrun a spear. I can’t imagine what would have motivated her to stand there and let herself get run through if she knew she was in the line of fire. By the way,” he smoothly changed the subject, “did you have a nice swim?”

“It was awfully warm this afternoon.” I glanced at the western sky. “Nice sunset, isn’t it?”

“I could do better.”

The sun had barely disappeared from the sky when Artemis and Athena heard Demeter’s enraged summons. Apollo told them to stay put and went to Olympus himself. It was hours before he came back to the Museum. When he did, he told Artemis and Athena that he’d bought them a night’s rest.

Artemis and Athena did visit Demeter first thing in the morning. They came back to brief me as soon as the inquisition was over. One of Hades’ minions had already brought word that Persephone had married Hades and eaten food from his realm. The magnitude of Demeter’s rage was as predicted. That of her sorrow was much greater. Hera, livid that Persephone and not Hephaestus had now become the first of our generation to marry, wasn’t speaking to Demeter. Demeter’s mental state was in no way improved by her best friend’s snubbing. She had declared to the entire Olympian court that she would go to the Underworld herself and bring Persephone back.

But Hades had gone above and beyond my directions in covering his bases. He had issued a decree that no citizen of his realm could grant an invitation to Demeter. “I don’t know what he was thinking,” said Athena. “It would have been better to let her come, see them married and Persephone happy and willing, and get the whole thing over with. It’s not like Demeter can take her now.”

“This can’t end well,” said Melpomene.

“It hasn’t ended yet,” I said.

Hades wouldn’t recall his decree. Persephone sent word herself for Demeter not to come after her. This just made Demeter more angry and worried. Her whole realm felt her distress. Crops froze, flooded, and dried out. Trees withered and rotted. Meadows fell barren. The seasons’ clock was broken. The air burned one day and froze the next. A month of nonstop flooding preceded two of total drought. Mother Nature’s mood swings brought disasters that Greece had never seen before. Livestock and wildlife alike suffered many casualties, and before long, the human population followed.

That finally got Hades and Persephone’s attention. Hades has never relished war or famine or anything that causes a huge influx of immigration to his realm. It’s a logistical nightmare. Expansion, housing, resource distribution, processing, paperwork, etc. His new co-ruler was finding the experience at least as distasteful. So, about six months after their wedding, Hades and Persephone granted special permission for my sisters and I to invite Demeter to their court.

Demeter teleported all ten of us to Hades’ throne room before Calliope even finished delivering her invitation. The wedded monarchs sat enthroned and crowned side by side, cool and unaffected. Hades was dressed as he had been on his wedding day. Persephone’s hair was still black and straight, and her eyes still surrounded with kohl, but her gown was the pale blue of a spring morning.

“How could you betray me like this?” Demeter demanded as soon as we’d materialized. “You were my friend!” she shouted at Hades. “Out of all our creators’ sons, you were the only one I truly thought of as a brother.”

“You mean the only one you wouldn’t sleep with?” Hades replied, unmoved. Persephone glared at him. “Not like I ever wanted to go there,” he assured his wife.

“Can we make this quick?” said Persephone. “There’s a mountain of paperwork waiting for me and my husband, thanks to your latest flood. By the way, Paperwork Mountain is Tartarus’ newest natural wonder. It’s where we send the bureaucrats. Thanks for the inspiration.”

“It was all her idea,” Hades boasted.

“My flower child is inventing tortures for the damned now? What has he done to you?” Demeter cried.

“He’s let me be myself for once in my life,” said Persephone. “I never was your sweet little flower child. That’s who you wanted to believe I was. This is who I am, and where I belong.”

“I’ve seen this among the humans,” said Demeter. “A captive growing enamored with a captor.”

“Mom, I wanted to go with him,” Persephone insisted. “Do you really think I couldn’t have found a way to escape by now if I didn’t want to be here?”

“I’m sure you think that now,” said Demeter. “It’s not your fault he’s brainwashed you, sweetheart. Please, come back with me. Spend some time at home, and you’ll begin to see things as they really are again.”

“You’re the one who can’t see things as they really are,” said Persephone. “I. Love. Hades. I love him. I loved him for years before we got married, before he even brought up marriage.”

“Really? Because I don’t remember you ever saying anything of the kind.”

“Don’t you remember a year after I met him? You said you’d never let me date any of the gods on Olympus. I said I didn’t want to anyway because they were all morons. And then I said Hades didn’t seem like a complete tool.”

“In what universe was I supposed to interpret that as ‘I love Hades and I want to spend eternity with him’?” Demeter groaned.

“Don’t feel too bad. It was a couple decades before I figured it out, too,” her son-in-law comforted her.

“In the universe where you know your own daughter,” said Persephone. “I don’t know, maybe I could have tried to be a little…”

“Remotely understandable?” said Hades.

“I was going to say ‘pathetic’,” said Persephone. “But what if I had? What if I’d told you back then that I was in love with Hades and I wanted to marry him? What would you have done?”

“I would have talked you out of it before you’d had a chance to develop this psychotic obsession,” said Demeter. “Did you give any thought at all to what kind of life you’re going to have here? What kind of life your children will have?”

“Children? What children?” Hades panicked.

“No children,” Persephone reassured him. “And, yes, I have thought about it. A lot. Life here has turned out to be about how I imagined. It isn’t perfect, but it sure is a better fit for me than the Olympian Court.”

“I don’t believe you,” said Demeter. “Come back with me. Give yourself time to remember. I know Hera will annul the marriage if you want.”

“I don’t want that! I will never want that,” Persephone protested. “I married Hades of my own free will because I wanted to be married to him. Because I love him. I have always loved him. I will always love him.”

“You mind staying around a little longer?” Hades interjected. “I’m not used to hearing this crap completely insult-free.”

“Oh, shut up. You know I love you, you moron.”

“Forgive me if I’m still a bit incredulous,” said Demeter.

“What do I have to do to convince you that I want to stay here?”

“Come back with me,” Demeter persisted.

“Fine,” said Persephone. “If that’s what you need, I’ll go to Olympus with you.”

“Sure, leave me with the paperwork,” Hades complained.

“I’ll be home in six months,” Persephone promised him. “That ought to give Mom enough time to rebalance the seasons.” To Demeter, she said, “I will visit you every spring and come home to my husband every autumn if that’s what it’ll take to convince you that this is my home now.”

“Like I’ll take you back,” said Hades.

Persephone kissed him. “Like you’ll have a choice.”

So that’s how it’s been ever since. At the Spring Equinox, Persephone comes to visit her mom, and at the Autumnal Equinox, she goes home to her husband. The seasons come and go like clockwork as long as Persephone does. She claims she and Hades enjoy the breaks from each other. I believe her. But I know they enjoy the reunions even more.