Thanatos, who, despite his ungodly personality was a very godly man.
...
It's a long time before Hades sees Persephone again.
He is shunned.
Man and god alike despise him. They are terrified of him. It's possibly because they fear he is deleterious, detrimental to their health but he is not. He merely settles souls to their final destination.
He doesn't see Hestia often. She's an elusive creature, wherever there's a home and hearth, she's there. But obviously, there is no home nor hearth in the underworld. Hestia quite dislikes the underworld. The few times she does visit she bothers and prods Hades to liven it up a bit, toss in a throw pillow, a garden, a path of lanterns for his future lovers.
Hades would simply roll his eyes at her.
He isn't sure what he feels for Hestia. She's adorable, to say the least. Pin-straight tresses of thick, dark hair that glints with a soft glow, much like the embers after a fire. Her eyes a bright amber, seductive flames crackling within. Perhaps that's why people long for home - the warmth beckons.
Compared to her, Hades is a colossally scrawny thing, all sharp angles swept under a sheet of ghostly skin. He towers over the tiny goddess of hearth, a haunting figure threatening to diminish her glowing embers.
Hestia, however, can protect herself. She was unfortunate enough to have met Thanatos, who despite his ungodly personality was a very godly man. A thick head of midnight hair, toned, lean muscle with eyes that glittered not unlike obsidian and skin nearly as velvety dark, and a smile of white teeth that sent man and woman alike falling at his feet. The moment he laid eyes on Hestia, willowy frame and teenage smile, he shot her his award-winning teeth and waited for her to fall into his bed.
She smiled politely, told him where to stick it, and "accidentally" bumped him into the Styx.
That was the first time Hades smiled.
But Hestia doesn't visit as often as he would've liked. He doesn't know what she's off doing, but she could disappear for years on end and it was during that time he met Persephone again.
...
Persephone, like spring, was a carelessly happy girl.
There was no denying she was beautiful. She was a breath of fresh air after being trapped indoors all day, the first wildflower to bloom after winter, darling green sprouts to peek beyond a blanket of snow. She enjoyed wandering and looking at beautiful things. She enjoyed making beautiful things.
Hades was fascinated. He knew nothing about beautiful things.
Persephone, surrounded by handmaidens, swinging her smooth, pale calves from a branch of an oak tree, scattered wildflowers pillowing at the ground beneath her feet. Silvery, bell-like laughs escaped rosebud lips and Hades had never been more enthralled in his life.
He needed to see her. He needed to see in person, up close. He needed to hear her laugh that laugh for him and smile that smile because of him and he wanted - no, needed - to touch her soft skin just to see if it were really as soft as it looks.
Of course that doesn't happen, and Demeter chases him off with a curved scythe much like his own while a schoolgirl giggle escapes from the goddess of spring.
...
Hades doesn't mean to run into Persephone again.
It's not his fault! It's not like he was keeping tabs on her, no. So what if he knew she liked hanging out in fields of wildflowers? Doesn't everybody like that?
Hades hasn't seen Hestia for seven years. Time means nothing to gods, but boredom certainly does. The next time he sees her won't be until she's throwing pomegranates at him and questioning his bad judgement.
But that's a story for another day.
Persephone wanders dangerously close to the Underworld, daisies springing from her step and dying just as quickly. Hades doesn't notice until she's almost there.
He's lost in his thoughts. What does the lord of death think about? Perhaps the tortured wails of dying souls. Perhaps a certain head of auburn hair. Perhaps chocolate cake.
It doesn't matter. What matters is Persephone, dress flowing, laugh ringing, eyes searching. She flits across the meadow in an almost euphoric way, so stereotypically feminine and beautiful.
Oh, how Hestia would scold him. She's a girl you've only seen from afar, she'd say, what do you think you're doing, objectifying women?
Hestia was some sort of ultra-feminist. You'd assume that of Artemis, but really she just hated everyone equally.
A voice whispers through Hades' head. You could do it, it says, no one would notice. You could do it and you could take her and she'd be yours. Forever.
Hades isn't sure if the voice was his or some random malevolent spirit whispering.
It doesn't matter either way. Hades steps down, closing up the crack in the earth. He disappears, a wistful glance back.
Persephone jerks around. She doesn't see anything, but something tugs at the pit of her stomach.
