I Am Persephone

I

It was strange, so very strange, she thought, how darkness and light could coexist like that. How the world around her could look so peaceful, so bright and green and lovely, as a tempest raged within her.

Kore wiped away a single hot tear. Not that doing that made her cheeks look any drier – they were damp, soaked in frustration. She hated it. Treated like a child, sheltered from the world, and dependent on her mother for centuries. Because she was centuries-old. An adult, not a child. It was her mother's fault, but she wasn't the only guilty party. Somehow being infantilised by her made everyone else view her as a weakling too, but it was her mother – and only her mother – who had set her off this time.

The day had barely even begun – Helios, still groggy from sleep, had just woken up and hadn't yet taken to the sky – when Demeter had decided to lecture her again. Kore was trying. She really was. But sometimes she couldn't control herself. Sometimes she didn't want to. She had the power to create life, and she used it as much as she could, but she could also take it. It was rarely – if ever – her intention to do so, but that was a side of her that couldn't be ignored. That wouldn't be ignored.

It was a darkness that didn't care how pretty the flowers she grew were. A darkness that knew the true beauty was only achieved in death, that longed to send things to the land beneath her feet. Sometimes she imagined how it was to be the Receiver of Many in his dark realm, able to view her dark works as they were meant to be viewed. But she would always catch herself, and turn her thoughts to lighter things. Things her mother would approve of. Things like how lovely the sun felt on her bronzed skin. Things she didn't care about.

Once, she had brought up these feelings to Demeter, searching for some motherly advice. Now she kept them to herself. Her mother didn't understand. Not that Kore had expected her to. She liked to believe Kore was just bad at her job, which, she supposed, she was. She was terrible, actually. No matter how her mother raged at her, or pleaded with her to accept her role and to "stop being immature", she couldn't be the fertility goddess Demeter dreamed of. Besides, even if this was a matter of maturity, how was she supposed to mature if Demeter refused to give her even a sliver of independence? She couldn't even go for a walk without a gaggle of nymphs following allowing behind her to report every detail of the outing to her mother.

Kore hated it, living in cages. The cage of her mother's expectations. The cage she placed herself in, trying to reel in that dark side of herself. That darkness was a wild creature, and she knew it could not be contained forever. Already, it was reaching outside its cage. One day it would open the door, and it would prowl out proudly, and she did not think she had the strength to muscle it back in once it did.

Nor did she want to.

A hush came down behind her. The hairs on her arms rose, scouts sensing danger. The nymphs were never silent. It was rare for them to even lower their voices when they were spying. It was eerie to hear the silence settle so suddenly. But she closed her eyes, readying herself for-

"Kore!" Two rough hands planted themselves firmly on her shoulders. The hands of a huntress. "Did I scare you?" Artemis, with her bark-brown hair braided back out her face, threw herself down onto the grass beside Kore.

"You know you did." Even if she'd been anticipating her appearance in those last few seconds, she was sure the only thing keeping her on the ground had been Artemis' hands. "Is-"

"Yes," a voice like liquid silver – bright and sharp and smooth – came from her other side. "I am here also." She twisted around to see Athena standing there, gleaming helmet under her arm, eyes like molten gold. It was always a shock seeing her. Like she was a painted statue, not meant to move. Behind her, the rustling of bushes alerted her to the nymphs' departure. They'd never stay if someone else was there to nanny her. And they'd never go against a god, which meant they provided absolutely no protection for her. Then again, they weren't really there to protect her, no matter what lies Demeter thought she could feed her.