Hades and Persephone: A Fated Love

The Kiss

I thought about Hermes long after he was gone. He was handsome and boyish, with a trickster's green eyes and curls that were a shade lighter than mine. The first god I had ever been curious for, who humored me and kissed me one day when my mother wasn't looking.

That didn't call to me anymore. Not like the dark dreams I had about Hades I hoped no one would ever suspect. He was so wise and quick-witted, and there was an unspeakable attraction in the hard lines of his face. The square cut of his jaw. No matter how far he had been cast from the heavens, he was not a pitiful angel. Instead, he had become a cunning prince of shadows, too disinterested by the gods to care about their opinion of him.

I knew that I couldn't leave the Underworld without knowing what his kiss felt like. I was a curious spirit and I simply wondered too long to never find out. Besides, I had already damned consequences when I met him in the garden. And then again when I begged Hermes to fly me away from him, for fears of thoughts like these.

Regardless, I strode barefoot through the caverns with one thought: I was going to kiss him, and then I was never going to speak about it again. To anyone.

I wandered to the dead oaks, and must have spent days there before he sought me out. Here was an endless forest of leafless trees, twisting higher than the mouths of the caves. When he first took me, I spent days climbing them as if I could reach Olympus but they weren't even close.

Hades finally found me there, and his presence was calm as he peered up from the ground.

"I hoped I would find you here," he began.

I didn't respond. I didn't want to talk to him, really. I was still angry with him for tricking me, and I didn't want to remember how much I actually liked him. It seemed dangerous for everything else I wanted to do.

I climbed down to meet him and he waited in the clearing below. On the ground, I stood only a breath away and tilted my face to look at him.  It was just like our moment in the cave, but this time I wasn't afraid. I was ready.

"I wanted—"

Before he could continue, I pulled his face to mine and kissed him. Hard. For a moment, he was too stunned to respond but when he did, I knew I had made the biggest mistake of my immortal life.

I could have died by the way his mouth parted mine and claimed it. His kiss was like a hot brand, equal parts gentle and desperate in its restraint. His hands found my waist and when I pulled him closer, he pressed my body into the cold wood of the oak. I shivered and let the feeling overtake me, wishing I could kiss him like this forever. I wanted him to taste me and touch me and take me and—

Hades's fingers wrapped around my wrists. His hands were so strong and I froze as he broke the kiss. For a moment, I kept my eyes closed. I didn't want to look at him or see whatever was on his face.

But when I opened them, he was studying me like I was the most fascinating creature to ever live. At my terror, he raised his eyebrows and let out a breathless laugh as if he didn't know where to begin. I stared at him, speechless as the gravity of what I had done settled.

Then I pushed past his arm and strode away. I didn't know where I was going, but I didn't know what else to do.

"Persephone," he chuckled, following closely behind.

"I'm sorry," I lied. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

"I think I can find it in myself to forgive you."

I tried not to think much about that. "Can you not mention this again, please?"

"If that's what you want," he said.

It was and it wasn't. I stopped beside the Styx and Hades waited patiently for whatever I could possibly say to him. We stood across from each other and life and death itself misted over our faces under the night sky. I wondered the best way to tell him I didn't want to pretend it never happened. No, I would very much like to acknowledge this moment fully.

But I didn't want to talk with anything except our hands.

"What do you want me to say? I still can't stay," I began. Neither of us mentioned the fact I had to stay. I had taken the pomegranate and was bound to this place now if he didn't agree to let me go. "I can't be your wife." I amended.

"You kissed me," he said.

I fumbled for a response, wishing I could fade into the shadows where no one would ever see me. Then, I could wither away into oblivion.

I had kissed him, and now I was telling him nothing changed in our situation. Or maybe it had since he pushed me away, after all. Perhaps it wasn't any good and he could feel my inexperience and now didn't even want me as his wife anymore. Would that be such a bad thing?

It felt crushing.

"I only mean that it was a kiss and I liked it very much," he said simply, oblivious to the panic in my mind. I hoped he couldn't see the rush of relief that came with his response. "But I haven't mistaken it for a proposal."

I nodded. "Good because I'm still angry with you."

"I actually came to tell you that I was sorry for my behavior in the garden. But I hadn't expected to catch you so...flustered," he continued with a sly smile.

"I'm not flustered," I said. But the blush that had stained my cheeks betrayed me like a bloody handprint. By the hint of his smile, I could tell he saw everything.

"I apologize then," he said very seriously. But there was still that playful glint in his eye. "I should never have touched you. Especially as you have made it abundantly clear that you would like me to be slow with you."

He didn't laugh, but he didn't have to. I covered my face as if that could make me disappear. Or him, I wasn't sure.

I hadn't realized it before, but asking him to be slow with me implied that ultimately, I would give myself to him, it was just a matter of when. My head spun with the knowing that I didn't have any desire to correct myself.

"I will meet you at your table. But I don't want to see you before then," I said.

"Alright," he chuckled.

"I'm going to leave."

"Alright," he repeated. I turned to walk away, but stopped at the sound of my name. "Persephone."

I didn't turn around, but I waited.

"You didn't have to apologize to me. And if you never want to speak about this—if you never want me to touch you again—I will forget about today. I swear on the Styx."

I pressed my fingertips to my lips, imagining the pressure of his kiss. I didn't ask him if he was sorry enough to forget the fact I had eaten from his garden. I didn't think I could myself, no matter how hard I tried.