Flowers of Hell

The dawn of spring was like coming up for a breath of fresh air after nearly drowning in a sea of darkness. Winter was cruel, killing all things beautiful and lively. So when the time came, Persephone ran through the frosted meadows, and in her path bloomed a trail of flowers of all colors. Wherever she went, life flourished. She was bright and beautiful and loved the springtide.

One brisk afternoon, when the sun was shining high in the sky and the grass swayed softly with the winds sent by Aeolus, Persephone ran through the meadows. Her golden-brown hair blew freely in the breeze, her floral wreath nearly tumbling off her head. With each wild stride, her delicate pink gown snagged on a blade of grass. Yet Persephone did not care, for just as flowers grew wild and free, so did she. Once her breath was too short to keep going, she collapsed in the grass laughing. She was so young, so naive to the duties that awaited her as the goddess of spring growth. 

Her mother, Demeter, shielded her from the other gods, hoping that they would not dig their claws into her. “My pretty Persephone. Your beauty is a weapon, but it is also a curse. Men will try to take you, to obtain such allurement. I will not let them, but you must learn to protect it yourself,” her mother had told her. Persephone brushed off her mother’s warnings and was careless to risks, so she did not notice the dark figure watching her. 

From the moment Hades first laid eyes on the Goddess of spring, he knew he had to win her heart. It was not just her physical beauty that took his breath away, but her jubilant free spirit. As he watched her race through fields of freshly bloomed flowers, something about her brightness drew him to her. So Hades prepared his chariot in the underworld, and then set off to take his bride. 

Persephone, still lounging in the sun, fiddled with a daisy flower. The petals seemed to warm under her touch, as if the flower was purring with each stroke of her delicate fingers. Suddenly, the flower wilted in her hand. She pulled a shriveled petal and examined it carefully. She closed her hand over the flower, but when she opened it, the flower was not as vibrant as before. Then, the ground began to tremble, and Persephone sat up abruptly. She was not afraid, but she was uneasy. Not many ventured to this rural meadow. 

A chasm opened in the earth, darkness emanating towards Persephone. Startled, she stood up and started backing away. Through her uneasiness, however, there was a small kernel of curiosity. So she decided not to run, but to see what or who was coming. Just then, a black chariot emerged from the crack in the earth. It was pulled by nothing but shadows, but a tall man stood in the chariot. He had long onyx hair and fiery eyes that were set on Persephone. The chariot began barreling toward her, but she did not move away. Who was this man? Why was he here? The chariot was now inches away from her, and the man began leaning over the edge with his arms outstretched. Suddenly, Persephone remembered her mother’s warning: men will try to take you. She stumbled away, but it was too late. The man grabbed her and swept her into his arms, and then there was darkness. 

Hades tried his best to be gentle with the young goddess, but she was struggling too much. He tightened his grip on her arms and she yelped. Hades felt a pang of guilt.

“Who are you?” she demanded. Hades just continued steering the chariot towards the dark palace looming in the distance. Persephone elbowed him in the ribs and his grip loosened enough to allow her to slip out of his grasp. She turned to face him.

“Who are you?” she said again, her voice shaking slightly. 

“I am Hades, king of the underworld,” he said. Persephone’s amber eyes widened. Hades could not tell if it was in fear or surprise - perhaps both.

“My mother will come looking for me. She will not stop until she gets me back,” she said curtly.

Hades smiled carelessly. He was not afraid of Demeter, the goddess of harvest. Persephone, unamused, glared at him.

“What do you want with me?” she asked. Hades reached out a hand and touched her cheek. Her skin was warm and soft, just as he had expected. She stiffened at his touch, but did not step back. Her eyes were large, with irises that looked like pools of honey; light freckles dusted her nose and cheekbones. Hades put his hands behind his back, and the absence of her skin beneath his fingers was a cold embrace.

“You will stay here in the underworld with me,” Hades stated. Persephone frowned.

“To what end? Why? What do you want with me?” she whispered. 

“Beautiful Persephone… From the moment I first saw you, I knew I loved you. I knew I would have to make you my bride, by whatever means necessary,” Hades said. Persephone’s skin paled. She stumbled back and gripped the edge of the chariot. They were nearing the dark palace now. Persephone stared at Hades with fear in her eyes.

“Please… Let me go,” she whimpered. Hades winced at the sound of her frightened voice. He shook his head.

“I will not hurt you, Persephone. All I ask is that you give it some time. You may come to love me,” he assured her. Persephone reeled in disgust.

“I could never love someone like you. You kidnapped me. You are the god of death and the underworld. There is no brightness here, no happiness, no flowers… I will never come to love you or this horrid place,” she spat. Hades stopped the chariot and started towards her. Persephone scrambled away, but Hades picked her up and threw her over his shoulder. She tried to squeeze out of his grasp to no avail. Hence, Hades took her into his kingdom of darkness, where no flowers bloomed and no life prospered; except there was one beacon of light, and she was about to change everything.

Persephone spent five days without food. She was starving, but she refused to eat the food that Hades had offered her. 

“Persephone, please, eat. Anything you should crave, I will provide,” Hades begged her. Persephone shook her head, her face gaunt. They were sitting at a large mahogany table, with intricate carvings on the legs. The carving portrayed an execution, with agonized faces and body parts going all the way up the leg. It was a horrifying image, but Persephone found herself struggling to tear her gaze away from it. Sitting atop a red tablecloth, there were platters of food. It was the fifth night, and she was beginning to feel sick with hunger.

“Return me to the mortal world, and I will eat,” she said weakly. 

“If you eat something here, I will return you,” Hades said after a moment. Persephone glanced at a creature standing by the door. In the palace, there were strange, skeletal beings that served Hades. The creature’s milky white eyes swirled as their eyes met, and Persephone quickly averted her gaze back to the table of food. She was too exhausted to say anything else, so she reached for a pomegranate. The rich crimson and pink fruit glistened in the candlelight, a reminder of the vibrant colors that she missed so much even after only five days. Hades’s eyes brightened as she brought the fruit to her mouth. Slowly, she took a bite. Then chewed. Then swallowed. She looked at Hades pleadingly.

“Please, now take me back,” she whispered. Hades’s face crumbled into what looked almost like guilt. He shook his head. Persephone, despite her food-deprived weakness, stood up abruptly.

“You promised,” she sobbed furiously. 

“First, I did no such thing. I never swore upon anything. Second… there is a rule of the underworld. Once one eats here, they may never leave,” Hades explained. Persephone froze. He had tricked her into staying here with him forever. Breathing suddenly became difficult, and her knees buckled. The next thing she knew, Hades was rushing to catch her. She blinked up at the god of death through a veil of tears. 

“You lied to me,” she whispered. Hades looked away, but Persephone took his face in her hands. 

“You have ruined any chance of me ever loving you. Even one thousand years from now, I would sooner take one of those hellish creatures as my husband than you. I would sooner take my own life than bind mine to yours. You, Hades, are an evil god,” she told him. It was a prophecy, one that she intended to keep. Hades frowned and cupped her cheek. Persephone shivered at his cold touch.

“Persephone…” Hades just held her, kneeling on the floor with her limp body in his arms. She let him hold her, even though she resented him. This would be the last time he would ever lay a finger on her. She would make sure of it.

Hades wanted to hold her for eternity. He would have been happy, just having her in his embrace. When she finally left, he stayed on the floor, hating the absence of her touch. In the underworld, time was a blur. What felt like a day could end up being a month in the mortal realm, and what felt like a year could be but a second. No matter what realm is considered, however, Hades stayed there for a long time. Finally, he sulked to his chambers where he collapsed on the bed. All he could think of was Persephone, that gorgeous spring goddess. When sleep claimed him, it was Persephone inhabiting his thoughts.

The floors were made of some kind of bone, so they did not creak like wood. Persephone slinked down the dark hallway silently. Each step she took was full of determination, fueled by resentment. She stopped in front of the tall black door. Human skulls were engraved into the wood, looking down at the goddess with the promise of a dark fate to any who entered. She opened the door without a sound and made her way to the edge of a huge bed. Four posts stood at each corner, with balls of flame atop each. Hades was sleeping soundly. He was a king, yet here he was, in his weakest form. Persephone climbed onto the bed and straddled his sleeping body. He stirred, and for a moment she feared he would awaken, but he did not. Just as Persephone raised the dagger over her head, his eyes flicked open. His eyes widened and he opened his mouth, but Persephone brought the jeweled dagger down into Hades’s heart. When the blade went through his chest, Hades screamed. His scream shook the ground; the flames on the bedposts flared. 

Persephone raised the knife again. She stabbed him again and again, until his screams sounded more like a beast than a human. When he was too weakened by blood loss to fight, Persephone dragged him out of the bed and into the hall. She whistled, calling those dreadful, bony creatures. They came scurrying towards her, their claws scraping against the bone floor. Despite her blood covered hands, and despite the hole in her chest that felt as if it was about to swallow her up, Persephone smiled. She pointed the dagger to Hades’s bleeding body.

“Creatures of hell, this man has treated you as slaves. What kind of king is that?” she exclaimed, her voice unwavering. The creatures glanced at each other, communicating in eerie whispers of a language she did not understand. Then, they all looked at Persephone. She nodded.

So the creatures feasted. They tore apart Hades’s body until it was nothing but bloody pieces of flesh and bones. Persephone wiped her hands on her cheeks, smearing crimson blood up her cheekbones. Vengeance burned in her eyes, making those lovely ‘pools of honey’ look more like orange flames. She looked like a savage, but at the same time… Persephone looked like a queen. Her once innocent springtime powers were now tainted, but it made her even more powerful. One of the skeletal creatures came forward, kneeling at her feet. The rest of the creatures did the same and kneeled, one by one. Persephone looked down and saw that the creature was offering her something… a crown - a flower crown. It was made of dried flowers, shriveled but still stained with vibrant reds and oranges. Persephone took the crown gingerly and set it on her head. 

She was the goddess of spring-

And the queen of death.