¹On This Spring Day.

007.

Persephone, much like her mother, was much more regal up close. Her dark hair and eyes eerily matched Demeter's too much for Violet's liking. For a moment, Violet wondered if that's how people felt when they saw Violet and Dahlia side by side—a mother and daughter who shared exact features, the only thing separating them was age and the odd feature the daughter earned from their father. For Violet, she knew that feature was a more mischievous smile. Eros had a pretty mischievous smile for a god who wasn't the God of Mischief.

But Violet even saw the similarities between Persephone and the ghostly image of Elain. If it wasn't for the blonde hair, Persephone and her daughter would've been exact carbon copies. And Persephone's dark eyes imbued the Goddess of Springtime with an air of mystique and power. Her eyes were twisted with melancholy—the melancholy of one who has treaded the shadows of the Underworld for many, many years. Persephone still looked timeless, like any goddess would—her face was eternal beauty, with high cheekbones and a flawless complexion.

"Um ..." Violet clears her throat, "I don't want breakfast." But she added hastily; "Lady Demeter."

The goddess eyed her for a moment, but then turned to her daughter. "I like this one. She has respect."

Violet looked off. That's not what any other god would think.

Persephone rubbed at her eyebrows. "Eat," she insisted to Violet. "You will need strength."

"What I need is to find Nico and Percy and get to the River Styx," Violet countered. But she added; "Lady Persephone."

Persephone waved her hand, and three seats slid out from the table. Two on one side, and one alone on the other. The invitation was obvious, and you never could deny the gods of anything really. So Violet sat in the chair that was alone, sitting opposite to Demeter and Persephone. She nudged at her fork and the plethora of spoons on the gold plates.

A gold bowl swirled into existence, and splashes of milk spilled out onto the table. Violet looked up sharply, and Demeter smiled at her. "Cereal!" the goddess said. "A fine breakfast. Named after my Roman name, Ceres."

"Which is why you like it so much," sighed Persephone. She snapped her fingers and the bowl of cereal disappeared, and a blueberry muffin took its place. "Violet, you like muffins, don't you?"

"Uh ... yeah." Violet poked at the muffin. "I can't eat this, can I? I mean, we're in the Underworld."

Persephone looked down at the muffin. "Oh, I suppose not." She waved her hand, and the muffin disappeared with a zip! "Don't want to risk it."

Demeter eyed her daughter. "Oh, so now you think of that?"

The Goddess of Springtime glared at her mother. Violet shifted in her seat, tugging at the bracelets she had on her wrists. For so long, especially after meeting Hades for the second time last summer, Violet assumed Persephone was happier up on Olympus during the spring and summer and with Demeter, but seeing them interact ...

Violet wasn't sure if Persephone had any reprieve anywhere she went, whether it was the Underworld with Hades or if it was Olympus with Demeter. For one-half of the year, Persephone was Queen Persephone. She was Queen of the Underworld, Hades's right-hand woman, and she took the second throne beside him. For the other half of the year, she was up on Olympus with Demeter, with flowers, and with spring and summer. The two couldn't be more opposite. Demeter had a hard time accepting that her daughter was both instead of just her daughter and the young goddess who loved flowers.