My Heart Beats For You

The Soldier, the Rich, and the Garden [ Part 1/5 ]

warnings: transphobia, misgendering, misnaming, depictions of violence and death (not all in this one chapter)

Thomas, also known as Persephone to the greeks and Tom to his 'friends', never really wanted to bother with mortals. Especially ones who didn’t recognize that he was a goddess.

Their first interaction was an accident. Tom was tired of being around death and Hades, also known as Edd. The two had gotten into a small disagreement on how he was handling things and things seemed to have escalated without either of them realizing it. Seething, he went up into the mortal world earlier than usual. Demeter must have heard about his early arrival because instead of the cold blizzard he was expecting to hit him when he exited the underworld, he was met with a mildly cool spring. To his surprise, someone was already in the field of almost fully developed flowers

A boy with tan-brown hair was sat, body pressuring down onto his legs, on the ground. He had a basket of flowers beside him, filling the hand woven craft with more flowers that he picked from the field. Tom glanced down at the boy, curiously. He seemed to have not noticed the goddess yet, which was strange. Hid divine presence wasn’t the strongest, but it certainly wasn’t weak either. He watched as the latter carefully picked out the best flowers, but leaving some to continue growing.

“What have the flowers done to you to make you take their lives away?” Tom decided to ask, after watching him for a bit. The mortal flinched at the voice and turned around, his eyes scared. The human was on the thin side, with the skin sticking to his bones. Over his shoulders laid an olive green cloak, hiding the tunic underneath.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry,” he let out, after struggling to talk for a few moments. “I wasn’t- I wasn’t aware someone was here.” He lifted one pristine eyebrow at the boy and studied him a bit more. He was short with brown hair. There were some dried up stains in the locks of his hair that the goddess didn’t bother to decipher, but even with it, he held a sort of aura to him… It seemed almost divine, if the idea hasn’t been so preposterous. There wasn’t a possible way this mortal could be a demigod. Tom deemed him as harmless, but looks can be deceiving.

“So if I weren’t here, you would have picked every flower in the field?” the goddess asked instead, narrowing his eyes a bit at him. Before the mortal could even respond, he spoke once again.
“Do you know who I am? What this place is?” The human bit his lip in contemplation. No, he didn’t know who the strange being who wore a blue hoodie and grey pants was, but he did know that the field was a sacred place. He just didn’t know why people held it so high up on a pedestal.

“Well- Well, no, not every flower. I-... This is the Sacred Field of Demeter,” he gave instead for lack of a response towards the first comment. “It’s where the gateway from the Underground to Olympus lies, or so they say.”

“You do not believe in the greek gods and goddesses,” Tom stated, instead of questioning. There was no doubt about it, if this mortal was picking flowers from his mother’s field. The boy definitely wasn’t in the least born of a god. The brunet blinked a few times, processing the statement.

“No, I… I don’t suppose I do,” he gave. “They seem to be the peak of your interests, though. Do you mind teaching me about them some day? Unless you’d rather talk about yourself, or just not meet with me again. I understand if the last option is the case.” Tom mulled it over before nodded in agreement.

“I will both teach you about greek mythology and myself in exchange that you stop picking flowers and tell me why you were picking them in the first place. I would… also like your name.” The mortal seemed surprised that the latter agreed to seeing him again, but quickly broke out of his trance.

“Oh! Sorry, how rude of me. My name is… Thorfrid. Some call me Tord. I come here to find solidity from many people, really. I shouldn’t get too descriptive with the reasoning, but I suppose their hatred isn’t unaccountable for.” A sigh left the human’s mouth and the goddess considered reevaluating a human’s life’s merits. If an entire group hated this seemingly sweet boy, did 'Thorfrid' do something wrong, or was the entire group cruel? “As for the flowers... “ Tord trailed off, staring into his basket. A far away look was etched into his expression, catching the goddess off guard. “I wouldn’t say I’m the most oblivious person towards the gods and goddesses of greek times, but I certainly don’t know that much.” As the brunet talked, his hands started working, weaving the stems of the flowers in a circular shape.
“The goddess Persephone… A beautiful child of Zeus and Demeter that found Hades’ underground world and waltzed into his life, unwavering from threats sent from even Zeus, himself… That’s impressive. I wanted to use these flowers to ask her for guidance, even though Athena would have been the more obvious choice.” That was true, the goddess found herself thinking. “Athena, goddess of wisdom, being paired up against the goddess of Spring, Persephone. An odd choice, to choose Persephone over the other, don’t you think?” Tord hummed in thought, continuing when he didn’t offer to answer back.
“I just thought… If he can handle being married to Hades, he could probably lend me a hand- if he really did exist.” He laughed to himself at the last comment while leaving Tom to feel conflicted. Of course he existed. He was standing right in front of the lad. Still, he bit his tongue on the matter. It would be interesting to hear what the boy had in his thoughts without actually breaking into them. “It’d be a shame if he didn’t actually exist, though,” he said, sighing into his words. “It's been told that they’re very pretty. He probably is if he bares flowers as a symbol, or even a wreath of flowers on his head.” After finishing his monologue, he flushed in embarrassment as the brunet looked down at the two finished flower wreaths. Tord handed the unnamed stranger one sheepishly.
“His symbol, one of them, at least, as I've mentioned, is a wreath made of flowers. Sorry, my hands seem to have a mind of its own when it comes to crafting.” A pause from conversation was given as Tom accepted the crown, placing it on top of his spiked up, leaning towards the back at a slant, hair. “Oh! Pardon me, where are my manors! May I ask of you for your name in return?”

“Hmm… Perhaps, when the time is right, I will tell you it, but for now, you may call me Tom.”

》 to be continued