Authors: Aimée Carter
And how was that any different from my life now?
I squared my shoulders. “I love Adonis. I love him more than my
own existence, and I believe he feels the same for me. I understand the
consequences if I’m wrong. I understand what I’m giving up regardless, and I’m
willing to take that chance.”
“You would leave us?”
Mother’s voice cut through my skin, burrowing into a part of me
no one else could touch. Not Adonis, not Hades, no one. I looked at her, and the
agony I saw in place of Mother—
A lump formed in my throat. I hadn’t thought it possible for
this to hurt anyone more than Hades, but it had never occurred to me that Mother
might still care. She’d walked away from me. She’d never listened when I’d told
her how miserable I was, and again and again and again she’d insisted things
would get better. They never had though, not the way she wanted them to, and
because of that, I was sure I’d lost her.
Maybe I hadn’t lost her before, but as I watched her shatter
into infinite pieces, I knew I had now.
“If the council grants me my request, I would like nothing more
than to see all of you as often as you’d be willing to visit me,” I said
unsteadily. “I would still be eternal, just in another form, and it wouldn’t
have to be goodbye unless you wanted it to be.”
Mother said nothing to that, and beside Zeus, Hera cleared her
throat. “Do you love him more than Hades?” she said in her girlish voice.
I frowned. Did Hera not understand what had happened between me
and Hades? Or was she just searching for affirmation? “Hades is my friend. He
will always be my friend, but we never fit. We’ve tried for thousands of
miserable years. I can’t love him the way he wants me to, and the way I’m forced
to linger just out of his reach is torture for him. I don’t want to hurt him
more than I already have, and the only way I trust myself to do that is to step
down and leave him completely.”
The council members all turned to look at Hades, who remained
stoic as ever in his throne. Hera pressed her lips together, and I could’ve
sworn I saw a hint of a smile. Why? Because someone was finally as miserable as
she was?
It didn’t matter. She could think whatever she wanted as long
as she let me go. “This isn’t an easy decision for me, and I’m more terrified
than I’ve ever been in my life,” I said. “But Adonis needs this. Whatever I’m
feeling is nothing compared to ensuring his eternity. Please—I know this is
unprecedented. I know it’ll throw everything into chaos for a while. But if you
allow this, eventually the wounds will heal. If you do not, they’ll fester until
Hades and I both shrivel into ash.”
“And you are all right with this, brother?” said Zeus.
“I am,” said Hades hollowly. “I have seen enough to know that
she speaks the truth, and I wish nothing more for her than eternal happiness. I
ask the same of you all, as well.”
A murmur rippled through the council, and Zeus raised his hand,
silencing them. “Very well. We will take a vote. Given the weight of the matter
at hand, I ask that we all be unanimous in our decision.” He cast his gaze
around the circle, focusing on each of us individually. “Those who agree to
grant Persephone’s request?”
I held my breath, and one by one, the members of the council
nodded. Hera first, then Ares, then Hephaestus—Artemis, Apollo, Athena, Hestia,
Poseidon, Dionysus, even Hermes. Even Hades.
And though her eyes shined with unshed tears, even Mother.
But despite the others’ consent, Aphrodite remained still.
Seconds passed in silence, and finally Zeus said, “And you, my daughter?”
“No.” She clenched her jaw so tightly that the cords in her
neck stood out. “I won’t agree. She barely knows Adonis—she stole him from me,
and she’s betrayed Hades and the council’s wishes repeatedly. I don’t see any
reason to reward her for it.”
I opened my mouth to retort, but Zeus raised a hand again, and
I fell silent. “Are those your only objections, Aphrodite?”
“Do you really need more? Because I have them.”
In a gentle voice he only used with her, he murmured, “Is it
possible you feel this way out of jealousy and grief? He did only die this
evening.”
“He did,” she said, her voice shaking. “And the only reason he
did is because she insisted I leave him. She couldn’t stand the thought that he
might love me more.”
Fury coiled in the pit of my stomach, hot and unyielding. If
that was the kind of game she was going to play, then forget silence. “I don’t
care
if he loves you more,” I said. “Don’t you
get that? It has nothing to do with you, and it never did. He’s suffering. He’s
torturing himself because of what we did to him, and I don’t care if he hates
me. I love him too much to let him go through that, and I will do whatever I can
to make sure he doesn’t have to, even if it means giving this up. Even if it
means spending the rest of my existence alone.”
Aphrodite said nothing, and her entire being seemed to burn
with vehemence. Rather than wearing her down, as I’d hoped, my words only seemed
to reinforce her hatred. Terrific.
Zeus sighed. “Aphrodite, I will give you one more chance. Yay
or nay?”
“Nay,” she said. “And it will be nay no matter how many times
you ask or how often she begs. I will not allow her to win.”
I let out a frustrated noise in the back of my throat. Didn’t
she get it? It wasn’t about winning. It was about Adonis and his well-being and
making sure he didn’t spend eternity in the cold, being eaten alive by a bear.
But she didn’t care—all Aphrodite could see was the fact that I would be with
him and she wouldn’t.
I may have been selfish for hurting Hades the way I did, but in
that moment, Aphrodite was more selfish than any of us. Because of pride or lust
or envy or all three, she would stop Adonis from having the afterlife he
deserved, and I hated her. I hated her more than I’d hated anyone, even
myself.
Zeus straightened, a flicker of regret passing over his face,
and he let out another weary sigh. “So be it. As you have made it clear you are
incapable of ruling without bias, I am forced to overturn your vote.”
Both my mouth and Aphrodite’s dropped open simultaneously.
“What?”
she screeched. “Daddy, you can’t—”
“I can, and as you have given me no choice, I will,” he said.
“Persephone, your request is granted. When you return to the surface, you will
be mortal. Take a moment to say your goodbyes. Aphrodite, if you would follow
me.”
She sputtered in protest, and as he made his way into one of
the hallways, she stormed after him. Once she was gone and silence filled the
throne room, I looked around at the members of my family, growing dizzy as
reality set in.
I was going to be mortal. I was going to die.
And I would never come back here again.
But even as I thought it, I pictured Adonis’s face in the snow
and the bear that loomed over him. Even if it didn’t work and he remained in his
frozen hell forever, at least I would have the satisfaction of knowing I’d
tried. I would find him no matter how long it took me to scour the Underworld.
And even if all I could do was hold his hand as he suffered, then at least I
would be there for him for eternity.
One by one, the members of the council said goodbye. My
brothers and sisters hugged me, even Ares, and Hestia and Poseidon kissed my
cheeks. Hera smiled as she embraced me, and as her lips brushed against the
shell of my ear, she murmured, “You made the right decision. You deserve the
future you want, and you would have never been happy with Hades.”
Something about the way she said it sent a shiver down my
spine, reinforcing the wall that had stood between Hades and me since our
wedding. That war was over now though, and neither Hades nor I had won. But at
least we wouldn’t end up like Hera and Zeus.
Finally it was Hermes’s turn. He gave me a small smile that
didn’t reach his eyes, and despite everything between us, he trapped me in a
giant bear hug. “I’ll miss you,” he said. “Things won’t be the same without
you.”
“You’ll know where to find me if you ever get bored,” I said,
but even if he did make the trek, he was right—things would never be the same.
“Take care. And do yourself a favor and stay away from Aphrodite, would
you?”
He snorted, but a cloud passed over his face, as well. I didn’t
understand what it meant—then again, maybe I wasn’t supposed to. We all had our
demons, and Hermes would have the chance to face his when he was ready.
Once he let me go, I turned toward Mother, who stood stiffly
beside her throne. Her eyes were trained on the floor, her hands clasped tightly
together, and as I took a step toward her, she backed away. With that one
movement, my heart broke completely.
“I hope you are happy,” she said in a strange, almost formal
voice. “I will come see you when I can.”
“Thank you,” I whispered, though we both knew that if she did
come, it wouldn’t be for a very long time. We’d both made mistakes, and it would
take a lot more than this to fix the rift between us. But despite everything
that had happened, I ached for the certainty that one day, things would be okay
again. No matter how long it took.
Hermes slipped his arm into hers, and as he led her from the
throne room, he glanced over his shoulder to give me one more smile. Mother
didn’t look back.
I took a deep, shuddering breath. Hades and I were alone now,
standing face-to-face, and I had no idea what to say. I should’ve apologized. I
should’ve thanked him. I should’ve said a million things, but nothing came
out.
“Are you ready?” he said quietly, and I nodded. He took my
hand, and as I gazed around Olympus one last time, the sky-blue ceiling and
sunset floor faded. This was it, the moment I’d been racing toward ever since
Adonis had taken his last breath. But no matter how frightened I was of
mortality, of what it would be like to need to breathe, of what it would be like
to feel pain and the world around me as a mortal, a sense of calm washed over
me, as well. I’d made the right decision. That was all I needed.
When we landed, a sharp pinch jolted through the bottom of my
foot, and I opened my eyes. We stood in Mother’s cottage, and the moonlight
seemed to light up every corner. I shifted my weight, and underneath my foot I
found the source of that jabbing sensation: a pebble.
So this was what it was like to be mortal. I set my hand over
my chest, feeling my heart beat, and I drew in each breath with care. Everything
felt like it was
more
somehow—smoother, rougher,
hotter, colder, all of it. It was as if I’d woken up from a deep sleep, and I
was only now aware of the world around me.
“Are you all right?” said Hades, and I nodded.
“It’s just…odd.”
He smiled sadly. “I cannot imagine.”
We stood there side by side for a long moment, and all I did
was breathe. In and out, in and out, memorizing the awareness of mortality. How
was it possible to feel so alive every day and not burst?
But as much as I enjoyed it, it couldn’t last forever, and I
didn’t want it to. I sat down on the edge of the bed and shoved my trembling
hands between my knees. “I’m ready. How…?”
“Leave that to me,” he said quietly. “Make yourself
comfortable.”
I lay down in the bed, my heart pounding so hard that it
actually hurt. “I’m scared,” I whispered, and Hades took my hand. I’d never
realized how soft and smooth his skin was.
“Do not be,” he said. “I promise everything will be all
right.”
For once, I believed him. “Thank you,” I whispered. “I know I
was never very good at showing it, but you’re my best friend. Even when things
were rotten, you were always there no matter what I did to you. I’m so sorry for
everything.”
“What’s done is done,” he said quietly. “All I have ever wanted
was for you to be happy, and if this is the way…”
“It is.” I propped myself up on my elbow. “This is exactly what
I want.”
He stared down at our joined hands, his expression forlorn, and
he said nothing. He really had been so damn wonderful to me—maybe I hadn’t seen
it at the time, but I did now. He deserved so much better than what I’d given
him, and in that moment, I wanted nothing more than for him to find it. I was
only sorry it’d taken me so long to realize it.
Before I could stop myself, I leaned in and touched my mouth to
his. It was a gentle, tender kiss, the kind he’d given me the night we’d nearly
slept together a second time. Now I was glad he’d stopped me. Between us, we had
enough regrets without inviting more.
Warmth spread through me as I moved my lips against his, and
all too soon, he pulled away. For several seconds, neither of us said anything,
and my heartbeat resonated in my ears. How was I supposed to say goodbye when
I’d spent my life thinking I would never have to?
“I will be there for you whenever you need me,” he whispered.
“All you need to do is ask.”
A lump formed in my throat. “Thank you. Come visit me sometime,
yeah?”
But even as he nodded, I knew he never would, and asking him
was cruel. He deserved the chance to move on. We both did.
“Lie back,” he murmured, and I obeyed. His silver eyes met
mine, and as the weight of sleep pressed down upon me, he gave me one final
smile. I returned it.
“I love you,” I whispered, and he was silent. At last my
eyelids grew heavy, and darkness closed in around me as eternity claimed me as
her own. It was painless, peaceful, everything death should have been, and I
went quietly. I went gladly.
The last thing I saw was him.
* * *
The sun in my afterlife wasn’t as warm or as bright as
the real thing, but it was enough to wake me.
I shielded my eyes, squinting at my surroundings. I lay in the
bed that I’d died in, but it was daylight now. Somewhere in the distance, birds
chirped and a strong breeze rustled the trees, and the flowers hanging from the
rafters of Mother’s cottage filled the room with the most incredible scent.