The Flower and the Abyss Part 1 (A retelling of Persephone and Hades' Story)

Chapter 8 - Disturbing Revelation

*Kore (Persephone)*

As Apollo approached with a handful of dying flowers, disappointment washed over me like a cold wave. His cheerful demeanor grated on my nerves, especially considering the circumstances of our impending marriage. With my mother's watchful gaze boring into the back of my head, I forced a polite smile and accepted his gift, though my heart rebelled against the charade.

"May we?" he asked, gesturing towards the forest, a saccharine smile plastered on his face. I suppressed a sigh, knowing that I had no choice but to comply. With a resigned nod, I fell into step beside him, the tension thick in the air as we treaded the path into the heart of the forest. Though I knew Apollo wouldn't dare harm me under my mother's watchful eye, the thought offered little comfort in the face of my impending fate.

As we wandered deeper into the forest, Apollo's words took on an unsettling tone, his pleasant demeanor masking an undercurrent of something darker. "Do you know why we're getting married at the summer solstice?" he inquired, his voice laced with a deceptive charm that sent a shiver down my spine. I remained silent, a sense of unease gnawing at me as I braced myself for whatever twisted narrative he was about to spin.

"The first time I saw you was at last year's summer solstice," he continued, his tone becoming more animated. "Helios was shining so brightly that day, sparking a magnificent forest fire. When I heard the rumors, I simply had to investigate. And there you were, tending to the forest with your mother, mending the damage caused by the flames. It was truly... captivating."

His words painted a disturbing picture, casting him in the role of an observer, lurking on the fringes of disaster, drawn to the chaos like a moth to a flame. I couldn't shake the feeling that there was something deeply unsettling about his fascination with the fire, a hint of sadistic pleasure hidden beneath his façade of charm. As the memory of that inferno resurfaced, I came to a sudden realization: Apollo wasn't just an admirer of chaos—he reveled in it. And now, he saw me as a part of that chaos, a pawn in his twisted game.

His cavalier attitude towards the suffering of mortals sent a chill down my spine, and I couldn't hide my disbelief at his callous response. "That forest fire was not amazing; it killed most of the trees and caused humans to suffer," I retorted, unable to mask the incredulity in my voice. Yet, instead of remorse or empathy, his lips curled into a chilling smile, his response dripping with indifference. "Well, agree to disagree," he quipped, his words like a slap in the face. How could someone so casually disregard the pain and anguish of mortals? It was as if he saw their suffering as nothing more than a minor inconvenience, a mere footnote in the grand scheme of his existence. The realization sent a wave of unease coursing through me, as I grappled with the unsettling truth of his indifference to the plight of those he claimed to protect.

The air grew heavy with discomfort as Apollo's unsettling gaze bore into me. His words, dripping with arrogance, only served to deepen my unease. Despite his attempt to intimidate me, I refused to avert my gaze, determined not to show any sign of fear. Instead, I met his stare head-on, a silent declaration of my defiance. As he stood and began to disrobe, I quickly turned away, unwilling to subject myself to his lecherous behavior. His words, spoken with an air of entitlement, grated against my senses, each syllable fueling my growing revulsion. "Let's take a dip," he suggested casually, as if the idea of stripping naked in each other's company was perfectly acceptable. I remained silent, refusing to dignify his proposition with a response. His next words sent a shiver down my spine, a cold reminder of his narcissism. "You know, when people look at me naked, they tend to fall in love easily. I wonder why you won't," he mused, his tone laced with condescension. I'd had enough of his repugnant behavior. Without a word, I turned on my heel and walked away, leaving him standing by the water's edge.