To the Olympians, Persephone was a flower.  

A beautiful item to pass from hand to hand, a pretty face to frame and smile fondly at, a wilting thank-you gift that was quickly forgotten. And really, compared to the wealth of the Underworld that they received in exchange, who could blame them?  

But Persephone wasn’t a flower; She was something very different. 

And she had learned to bloom where no light could reach her.  

It was the beginning of spring.  

The air was cold, even for the Underworld. Persephone was sitting on the balcony, swirling her tea and thinking. The entire pavilion was constructed from her favorite gemstones and wisteria vine dripped from the woven dome above, creating a spacious yet reserved area of the palace. 

It was then that Hades appeared.  

Most people thought that the King of the Underworld entered the room in a puff of smoke and a mysterious wind that blew all the lights out, the subsequent darkness accentuating the red glow of his eyes. This was untrue. Rather, the King of the Underworld entered much like a cat; quietly, hesitantly, and largely unnoticed until he wished otherwise. Persephone, however, could always feel him coming; His presence felt like a cold hand clasped to the back of her neck. 

“Hello, darling,” Hades smiled idly and sat across from her.  

“Spring seems to be well under way,” remarked Persephone airily, with a vague upward gesture.  

“Oh, yes.” Hades took account of the items at the table and reached for the teapot. “We could take a trip to the Mortal Realm soon, if you’d like? I know you love it there,”  

“That would be wonderful.” 

A cold and polluted silence stretched between them. 

“What’s that you put in my cup?”  

“Hm?”  

“Just now. You reached across the table.” 

   “Only a pinch of sugar, darling.” 

“Oh.”  

They both took long drafts from their respective cups. To Persephone, the tea was perfectly balanced. Hades frowned at his. It wasn’t sweet.  

“I’ve always liked the Underworld this time of the year,” said Persephone.  

Hades brightened. “You have? I never knew that.”  

“You don’t know a lot of things.”  

Hades choked. “I’m…sorry?” 

“Don’t worry, darling. It isn’t personal.” At last, Persephone turned to meet his eye. There was a sort of venom in her voice that Hades had never heard before. He could almost feel her words taking root within him. “It’s a problem with the triarchy. A willful ignorance towards the Mortal Realm and its inhabitants. An ignorance towards gods like me.” 

Hades opened his mouth to reply, but no sound came. He felt like his lungs were being constricted. He couldn’t breathe.  

“Powerless immortals that you teach them to ignore. To forget. Who is Persephone without Hades? A queen without her king?” Tears coursed down her cheeks, rivers cutting through the powdered makeup, so carefully applied every morning. “I wonder if they’ve forgotten about Kore. I almost have.” her voice tore, and she closed her eyes. “I miss her. That poor, naïve girl in the meadow…I miss…so much, Hades.”  

Tiny pinpricks, all over his skin. A deep, visceral pain in his chest. And still, it was as if he was a puppet, strings running deep through his skin, splitting bone…he couldn’t move… 

Persephone’s eyes snapped open. “It’s time that Olympus recognizes me, don’t you think, baby?” she bared her teeth at him. “Don’t fret. They’ll remember you, too. The death of the deathless, to make way for–”  

And at last, a light went out in Hades’s eyes, but just as it did, a single breath escaped his lips, and with it, a name… “Kore,” 

For a moment, she froze. 

She was Kore. 

She was that sun-kissed girl in the field, laughing as flowers and possibilities bloomed at her feet, the long grass tickling her wrists, the sweet juice of fruit on her lips as it dribbled down her chin and turned her skin sticky and sweet… 

Persephone jerked away.  

A tendril snaked its way out from between Hades’ half-parted lips, vibrant emerald leaves budding and expanding before her eyes. At the end of its vine, a single fruit, red as blood, swelled to the size of her fist. Quietly, she paced over to where it grew, plucked it from the vine, and bit into it. She played with the seeds on her tongue before cracking them, one by one, between her teeth. She grinned and took another bite.  

Persephone then turned and paced back to the edge of the balcony, fruit still in hand. She watched, half-amused, as the juice spiraled down her forearms and stained her dress. The patterns they soaked into the white linens looked almost like flowers.  

The Queen of the Underworld gazed over the vast, dark, realm, the smoky buildings in the distance that jutted out from the cliffside, the endless midnight that stretched above. Just then, a rumble like thunder pervaded the air and dust and debris fell like rain. With a roar, an enormous chunk of rock fell, tumbling down the colossal cliffs to land with a splash in the river Styx.  

From the gap that it left, a brightness like fire poured in.  

For the first time since the dawn of the titans, sunlight shone in the Underworld.