Suddenly, the doors burst open as Cerberus raced into the kitchen. He was followed by Typhon and Orthrus. None of them were prepared for the slippery tile. They lost their footing and crashed into each other, though they recovered quickly, trotting over to Persephone.
“Oh, look at you three!” she said, attempting to pet each one, struggling as they wiggled with excitement. “Did Auntie Hecate get ahold of you?”
They were wearing a set of red pajamas covered in little sailboats wrapped in Christmas lights. Very Greek and very festive. She had also traded out their collars for massive, red bows.
“Aren’t they handsome boys?” Hecate asked, appearing in the doorway.
“You know they are,” said Persephone. “I’m surprised you are only now pulling out the pajamas.”
It was Hecate’s annual tradition to dress the animals of the Underworld in matching jammies.
“I would have, but a certain god ruined my plans,” said Hecate, clearly still angry with Hermes, though at the reference, Persephone could not help feeling sad. She missed the God of Mischief and ached for his return. She hoped he was managing well enough. Hecate’s punishments could be quite rough.
“I’m off to dress the horses now,” Hecate announced.
“I think you mean chase the horses, Hecate,” Persephone said, amused, knowing the goddess struggled to get the horses to obey. She wasn’t sure if it was because Orphnaeus, Aethon, Nycteus, and Alastor disliked Hecate’s choice in holiday blankets, or they saw it as a game.
Either way, it was always amusing to watch.
“I have a plan this year,” said Hecate. “They won’t see it coming.”
Persephone wasn’t so sure about that, but she wasn’t going to dash the goddess’s dreams. With that, Hecate vanished, and in the quiet that followed, Lexa said, “What is that supposed to be?”
She was leaning over Ares’s sugar cookies.
“It’s a Fury,” he said, holding a pipe of red frosting.
“That’s supposed to be an angel.”
“Persephone said I could decorate however I wanted.”
“I can assure you that did not mean turning them into blood-covered monsters.”
“I can assure you, it does,” said Ares.
Persephone sighed and Aphrodite laughed. “The Fates are just trying to prepare you for what it will be like when the children are here.”
“I think what I need most right now is rest.”
Persephone manifested atop the golden hills of Elysium. It had been a while since she visited, at least six weeks, unable to gather the energy to teleport, but after her night with Hades, she felt well enough to go.
The fields remained untouched by snow, but Persephone could feel the chill air of the Underworld at her back, a stark contrast to the fresh, salty breeze ahead. The holidays did not touch Elysium, and for that, Persephone felt a little sad, but she knew it was for the best. The souls here were healing, and while Thanatos allowed them to be slowly introduced to new things, they were too fragile to experience the holidays all at once.
She looked down at the tray of diples she had brought, feeling conflicted. They were one of many treats she’d shared with Demeter when she was younger, no more important than any other. Still, she wondered if it was too much. She did not want to impede the goddess’s healing. She considered sending them away, but when she looked up, she saw her mother approaching and knew it was too late.
Her throat felt tight as she managed to smile, matching the turn of her mother’s lips.
After three years, Persephone still struggled to recognize Demeter. The version of her who had come to the Underworld was stripped of her burdens and her trauma, untouched by the things that had made her angry and rigid. This version was soft and sweet. It hurt to realize that this was who she could have been had things been different.
“But you would have been different too,” Hecate had said when Persephone had expressed her heartache. “And the world needed this version of you.”
She understood that. She also understood that Demeter still had the chance to exist as she was now in another life because of Elysium, but there was an irrational part of Persephone that wanted this nurturing mother, which is why she visited.
She started down the hill, golden wheat swaying around her, meeting Demeter in the middle. The goddess took Persephone’s hand, and she suppressed a shiver.
“Persephone!” Demeter said, her voice a stark contrast to her cold, clammy touch. “You should not be on your feet!”
“I am fine, Demeter,” she said with a smile she did not feel. “They say walking is good for the babies.”
