Rose and Asphodel

Shall We?

Hades didn't take Persephone toward the fire. When she set her hand in his surprisingly warm one, he tugged her slightly farther between the trees—close enough that they could still hear the conversations nearby, but not so close that there were spectators as they danced.

Persephone almost couldn't get her feet moving, but once she did, it was as though she had known this man for years.

"Hades," she breathed. "It's been so long."

He cracked a rueful smile. "I'm sorry I didn't come to you earlier."

"It's okay," she assured him. "I would not have gone with you anyway. Not before today."

"But I should have made the offer. A friend in need is something I cannot ignore." He gave her a cautious smile, and Persephone wondered for a fleeting moment if the Lord of the Dead was...shy.

Her disappointment drowned her amusement.

A friend, he had said. A careful line drawn, even though he looked at her as though—no. She would not ruin her most precious friendship with speculation. Fantasizing that she could read his feelings in his eyes had been a foolish mistake. Persephone wished the disappointment away, but could not entirely rid herself of it when the love for him remained.

"If you need to rest, I will take you anywhere you need to go," Hades said, misinterpreting her silence as exhaustion. "Just say the word."

His smile turned soft and private, and Persephone finally let herself examine the man she had fallen in love with. Moonlight lit the angles of his face as though it had been made to gild him.

And then there were those damn eyes. Blacker than the night itself, but lit with something from the inside, as though he had his own little moon inside him.

Hades smelled of blackberries and jasmine and—that could not have been a mistake—roses. Persephone tried to conceal a smile at the same time as she tried to suppress her disappointment. Of course Hades had thought through their first meeting in a decade.

Even if they were just friends.

His hands were warm around her waist, and though their chests did not touch, she could feel the heat of his body in front of her.

Who would have expected the Lord of the Dead to be so warm?

"I have to say thank you," Persephone said. "I know it's probably excessive at this point, but your hospitality is..."

There were no words. She couldn't think of a single thing to say to him. Perhaps a hug would be too much?

Hades glanced away from her toward the crowd.

"I understand," he said.

Of course he did. He knew her better than anyone, even her mother. But it was completely different to read his script scrawled across a piece of paper. Here, the man was flesh and ichor, letters taken shape as the ruler of the Underworld.

Maybe Demeter had been right. This was a man to fear, no matter how many pretty letters he had written.

Hades slanted a glance at Persephone as though he could read her thoughts, although she knew for a fact that it was impossible for him to do so. And that incredible quiet, the hesitation, the respect, was worth the pain this night had done to her heart.

Maybe she couldn't have him yet. But she would win him.

Once she figured out how to live her own life first.

Persephone let Hades spin her once, twice, three times, gliding through the dappled spots of moonlight across the soft grass of the forest. The crowd roared behind them, louder and louder the drunker they got, but Persephone nestled herself into the quietude of her dance partner and wished they could be truly alone.