Halves

XXVIII. Hades

When I wake holding Persephone close in my arms, every day still feels as miraculous as the first. 

I cannot believe we have already been together this long.

Today marks ten years, in mortal measurement, from the day we vowed to love each other for eternity, the day Persephone ate the pomegranate to ensure she would belong to the Underworld. 

Ten times she has returned to me, and ten times I have carried her back to the surface, into the waiting arms of Demeter.

Waking on this day brings its own sadness, along with the pleasure. For after today, I will spend the next six months in a bed that is far too empty.

Our marriage is a happy one. We both realize that we are far from perfect, but we have not fallen prey to any of the issues that constantly plague my brothers' marital lives. There have been several incidents of outside origin, of course, which are perhaps only to be expected. 

The mortal "heroes" Theseus and Pirithous actually entered my world WILLINGLY, with the express intention of stealing Persephone away from me. They had heard tales of her otherworldly beauty, unsurprisingly, and made some ridiculous pact with each other about what sort of woman each would marry. 

I did not care about the details. Nor did I spare them any mercy. 

Playing the part of their cordial host, I bade them sit down on a bench to wait for her, from which they were never again to rise. One of Zeus's half-mortal sons came down to free his friends much later, and I did allow him to rip Theseus free. 

Poor Pirithous, however, who committed the original sin of lusting after my Persephone, still sits there to this day. 

I feel no remorse.

The other incident involved a river nymph called Menthe, who, after being dazzled by a glimpse of my wealth, became bent on seducing me. The crafty girl waited until Persephone was away in the mortal world to try it. Her frequent attempts did no more than serve to annoy me, though when Persephone returned, I finally got to play witness to the full extent of my wife's jealousy. 

In an act of wrath that would have impressed even Hera, she quite literally trampled Menthe into the ground, whereupon the hapless nymph shriveled into a mint plant.

Persephone now takes on a certain...smugness, whenever she adds mint leaves to her tea. 

I myself have lost the taste for it.

I watch my sleeping wife for some time, committing every contour of her face to my memory anew. Other than rare lovers' trysts on moonless nights and our all-too-brief meetings when everyone is summoned to Olympus, my memory will have to suffice until she again comes back to me. 

Resting my forehead against her shoulder, my fingertips trace across her smooth skin, following each curve and dip of her body. This too, must be enough to satisfy me until we can be together once more.

Early in our marriage, Persephone insisted she did not want to live like my brothers and their wives, retiring to separate chambers and sleeping apart. I gladly welcomed her into my bedroom, swiftly arranging the transfer of all her belongings. 

Her original room here has sat empty, ever since the first time she returned.

I am pleased that the annual summit between the Three Worlds falls during the part of the year that Persephone is with me. She has grown into her role magnificently, unafraid to say the things we are both thinking, but that centuries of self-control prevent me from airing to my brothers. The youngest of the six rulers by a significant span, she brings a much-needed fresh perspective to issues that in the past have been dealt with using only the same stale methods time and again.