Her fingers brushed across the grass tips. With a single touch the shoots began to plump, turning a rich green. She leaned forward, stretching her arm, hand, and fingers as far as she could. The path widened, a vibrant stripe of emerald spreading across the meadow. He held his arm out, anchoring her to the chariot basket and further extending her reach.
The wind lifted her copper curls, while the sun gilded her. He feasted on the sight of her.
She laughed softly, glancing at him with sparkling eyes. “They’re happy to see me.”
He nodded, though it pained him to do so. Of course they were happy, she was returned to them. Her very touch saw them healed and whole once more. He knew all too well the magic of her touch.
Silence fell. She turned her attention to the plants, growing more lovely with every flower she blessed. He knew her magic, her gift, was where it should be. Here, in the land of the living. She did not, had never, belonged with him. And she never would.
###
Her grip tightened upon his hand. The chariot tilted, leaving the meadow and climbing the base of the mountain.
She could scarce speak the word. “Olympus?”
He glanced at her, nodding. He looked away, but did not release her hand.
“Hades,” she started, then took a deep breath, knowing he heard the tremor in her voice.
“Perhaps it’s better left unsaid.”
She pressed herself against his side, resting her head on his arm. “Perhaps… I love you…”
“Be wary, Persephone.” His words were harsh. “Do not reveal yourself to them. They are your brethren, yes, but they will favor you only as long as it serves them to do so. Guard your heart… And your tongue.”
She nodded. “Honesty is not so revered here.”
His eyes traveled her face, and he shook his head, his smile sad and his brow furrowed. “No.”
“Then I will be careful.” She paused, stroking his face. “And I will love you…”
His hand covered hers. He turned into her touch, kissing her palm once. “No more. I beg you. Put such thoughts from your mind.”
His hand gripped hers, lifting it from his cheek and pressing it to her side. She watched as he took the reins in both hands. She stared at those hands…
“Will you be safe?” she asked. She would know that much.
He nodded. “Erysichthon thinks there is nothing to fear after death.”
She shivered, remembering his description of Tartarus, of the abyss beyond.
“And you will be safe, with your mother,” he finished.
“Yes.” She had missed her mother.
And the sun, she’d missed it as well. She tilted her face to its rays once more. It was hot, but it did not seem to warm her. She opened her eyes, astonished by the beauty of the mountain. Whereas Greece was brown, Olympus was green and fertile. The higher they rode, the greener it became. She stared behind her, taking in the land that stretched as far as she could see. On the horizon was blue, the sea, perhaps?
The clouds were vapor thin about them. And still the horses ran on.
The world below was lost, swallowed by the white clouds of the heavens.
And then she saw it.
Olympus. Such halls, white columns of gleaming marble shot through with gold and silver. Several halls resting at various levels on the mountains peak. On the tip stood the largest.
“There?” she asked.
He nodded. “The Council Chamber.”