Persephone Myth retold

When she’d first come to her husband’s dark shadowy country, she hated it. Hated the muted colors, hated the muted sounds. She’d come here as part of an arranged marriage, the old kind that prevented wars, and obligated generations. She missed her homeland, gentle fields, endless sky and wildflowers. She missed rivers that didn’t scream and wail, but that flowed from mountain peaks gurgling happily. She was young and naïve, and not a little afraid.

Through the years, her husband was attentive. He wooed her with care and consideration. There was a considerable age difference, but he knew, if given a chance, she would come to love him. He gave her free reign to wander, to explore. He waited for her. He flirted gently. He showed her some of the wonders of his land. He warned her not to try to leave his country except as per the prenuptial agreement – she was allowed to return to her homeland for certain months of the year. She refused his advances and was petulant and stubborn.

He tried enticing her with food and wine. But it was food that had sealed her fate to begin with. He tried seducing her with poetry and music, gathering some of the greats to sing for her, and recite beautiful words. But she continued to refuse his advances. Pining only for her homeland.

He loved his wife. He understood she was homesick and heartsick. He continued seeking ways to entertain, to lighten her moods. Alas through the centuries the only thing that brought her joy was when she was free to take her leave and return to her homeland. He wished only that she’d come to think of his kingdom as her home.

To celebrate their second millennium, give or take a few years, he gave her a garden. A small intimate garden, a miniature of her fields and mountains. She was breathless. It was so beautiful she turned to her husband and embraced him. She kissed him and when he returned her kiss, one thing led to another, and soon went from embrace to entwining. Their lovemaking could be felt through the entire kingdom. They paused only long enough to feed each other pomegranate seeds and choice morsels.

In her homeland there were late snows falling, rains that swelled the rivers causing floods. Storms that came ashore and left paths of destruction. It should have been summer, but winter still reigned. There’d been no spring. With no spring and no summer there could be no fall harvest and famine threatened.

Her mother paced, waiting for her daughter’s return. She was never late, and yet, this year, her arrival was so late as to portend disaster. When Persephone finally emerged, her dress was disheveled, her hair was unbound. Her mother looked her over, noticing her bitten swollen lips, and her eyes glistening. Now that Persephone loved Hades, she had to remember that she had obligations to the world outside. Six months below, six above.

— Lkai