Tiny Tales of the Greek Gods

PART ONE: Persephone

The boy fell with a soft thump at her feet, skin whiter than snow. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the gash partially hidden under his hair. She could see part of his brain amidst the mess of blood and gore, and her smile disappeared. Clearly dead. And yet he sat up, a pleading look in his jet black eyes that she couldn't quite meet. The unimpressed shadow who had pushed the child towards her stood to attention when she fixed her stare on it instead.

"What is this?" She gestured to the boy with one hand, and he scurried behind her in fear of the shadow. She let him. 

"My Queen, this soul," the shadow said disdainfully, "has crossed the river without paying the Ferryman." 

"Is that so?" 

"It is, Queen. Shall I... dispose of him?"

Persephone looked down at the boy, who was trying to hide himself under a layer of her golden skirt, and couldn't help smiling. An escaped Soul was certainly a unique thing, especially one so young. Clearly the Ferryman was losing his touch, to allow a child across the river without paying - unless it had been done on purpose. Judging from the boy's torn clothing and ragged hair, he was likely an urchin of some sort in the Midworld. She couldn't tell if he knew that he was dead or not, or if he knew exactly who he was trying to hide behind, but it was cute, nonetheless. 

"I shall take care of this," she said, waving the shadow away.

"But, my Queen, the King will not want you t-"

"What I do is my business, no? Unless you would like for me to tell Hades you are wasting your time chasing children instead of serving your true purpose," she answered smoothly, ruby red smile back in place. The shadow curved away from her, almost as if it feared the small white-haired woman standing before it. Persephone patted the boy's head idly, ignoring the wet smear of blood on her fingers. 

"Very well," the shadow muttered, and it dissipated not a moment later. 

Persephone turned her gaze down to the boy, who gave her a shy smile but remained firmly wrapped in one shimmering layer of her skirt. 

"Do you know where you are?" She asked the question slowly, not entirely sure the boy was listening. 

"Is it Hell, miss?"

"It is," she affirmed. "But here we call it the Underworld, and it is not a place for bad people." 

The boy still seemed apprehensive, and she reached for his cold, pale hand. "Come, there's a nice town nearby where you can sit next to a warm fire and tell me all about yourself."

"Are you Satan?" The boy didn't hesitate at all in his question, and Persephone let out a soft laugh as she began leading him down a stone path.

"No, I am not Satan. I am the goddess of Spring... and of the Underworld, too. My name is Persephone."

"My name's Timothy."

"Is that so? That is a lovely name."