by Lianyu Tan
“No.”
“Do not force my hand.”
Oh! The gall of her! “You do as you please, and you don’t care what I think!” Persephone said, raising her voice at last. “You took me here against my will—you took my maidenhead—you took my freedom! Don’t pretend I have a say in this!”
There were not enough loose objects nearby for Persephone’s needs, but she made do, grabbing an ornamental vase and throwing it at Hades, followed by a small hand mirror, then a bust of what looked to be Athena but might have been one of her acolytes, and finally, when she ran out of hard implements, every single cushion on the bed.
Tears blinded her eyes, but she was not surprised when Hades strode up to her and grabbed her wrists, crushing them in her grasp.
“If you wish to behave like a child, then I will treat you as one,” Hades said, her voice low and soft and dangerous. She advanced, forcing Persephone to retreat until the wall was at her back. Hades’ eyes softened, and she dropped one of Persephone’s hands, reaching up to trace the bruise on her neck.
Persephone turned her head and bit Hades’ thumb.
“Oh!” Hades said, recoiling.
And then Hades pushed her, and she landed on the bed, the frame squeaking with the impact.
Hades climbed in after her and grabbed her by her braid. She positioned Persephone over her knee and pulled Persephone’s chiton up to her waist, exposing her legs.
“Let go of me. You’re hurting!” Persephone said, reaching behind herself to swat at Hades’ hands.
Hades tightened her grip on the braid and used her other hand to pull down Persephone’s perizoma, down and off over her legs. She ran her hand over Persephone’s bare bottom and caressed her thighs.
“Don’t touch me,” Persephone said.
Hades adjusted her grip on Persephone’s hair, rolling her over for a moment so that she could look at her face. “You should know that I am not angry with you. And while I am disappointed in your choice of actions, this is not a punishment. I am only doing this because you need it.”
Persephone’s eyes burned with tears. “What do I—”
Hades rolled her over again so that she was lying face down over her lap. Hades released her braid and adjusted her chiton once more. The air was cold on Persephone’s bare skin, and she shivered.
She wasn’t prepared for the first slap, and so she yelped, arching her back. “How dare you!”
“This is for your own good.” Hades’ hand descended again onto her bare ass, harder this time. Persephone screamed, choking on her tears.
“Let me go!”
Hades continued to smack her as she talked, settling into a steady rhythm. “You should realize by now that I have no intention of doing any such thing. The sooner you accept that, the sooner you can begin to enjoy your new life.”
Persephone couldn’t remember the last time she’d been beaten. When she’d been a young child, perhaps, centuries ago.
“Stop, please. You’re hurting me.”
At first, each slap left an initial sting which soon faded away. But over time, as Hades continued to hit the same areas, Persephone’s flesh grew warm, and it felt like each strike was igniting a fire under her skin.
“There are many beautiful, wondrous things you have yet to discover here. I would not have condemned you to such a life if I had thought it would make you miserable forever. But you will have to find meaning for yourself.”
Persephone gave up on pleading. She pressed a fist to her mouth, trying not to scream, her tears dampening the blankets below her head. At some point, Hades repositioned her so that she could start smacking Persephone with her other hand.
Persephone clung to the bed frame, but the olive wood it was made from had been sourced from the underworld and therefore was useless to her. She tried to concentrate on her breathing, but every time Hades created a new burst of pain, it broke her concentration.
“Stop,” Persephone said. “Stop. Stop. Stop.”
“What did Kronos want from you?” Hades asked. She gave Persephone another bone-jarring smack, then paused.
Persephone rushed to fill the void of silence. “Nothing!” She screamed as Hades hit her again. “Freedom! Of course he wants—he wants to be free.”
Hades rolled her over. Persephone whimpered as the movement caused friction between her skin and Hades’ chiton.
“What did he offer you?”
“Nothing. Wait!” she said as Hades tensed her hand. “He said—he said he could help me. But I refused him.” Her eyes were wide and tear-filled, pleading with Hades to believe her. “I swear, by Athena’s virtue.”
“What else did he want?”
Persephone ran through the conversation in her mind. “For his conditions to be improved.”
Hades scoffed. “When one is a tyrannical despot, one must suffer the consequences.”
“He has suffered for many a year.”
“More than your lifetime.”
“When I close my eyes,” Persephone said, “I can still see the pit, the darkness that swallows the light. I can feel the cold. I—”
Hades gathered her in her arms, and Persephone buried her head against Hades’ chest, tears running down her cheeks.
“It was too soon for you to see that place. My tasks for you are not randomly constructed; they are designed to introduce you to your new domain in the correct order.” Hades took a breath. “Do you not understand how precious you are? How fragile? We may be immortal, but we can still suffer.”
Suffer, like Hades was forcing her to suffer?
Hades’ heartbeat was steady and even. She wasn’t even breathing hard. She wasn’t angry, just as she’d said, so why did she have to hurt Persephone so much?
“I want to go home,” Persephone said. She shifted, pulling back. Hades wasn’t looking at her. She reached out and placed her hand on Hades’ cheek, turning Hades to face her. “I want to go home.”
Hades covered Persephone’s hand with her own and kissed the tips of Persephone’s fingers. “You are trying my patience.”
Persephone snatched her hand away. Hades pressed her down to the bed and bit at the hollow of her neck, re-marking the bruise that had started to fade.
Persephone made a choked sound at the back of her throat.
Hades abruptly released her and left the bed. She closed the shutters, then snapped her fingers. As one, the candles winked out, plunging the room into darkness. The burnt-out scent of wax filled the air.
When Hades returned, every inch of her skin was uncovered. She kissed Persephone’s tear-stained face and pressed herself against her, pinning her to the bed.
Persephone could hear her own heartbeat like a pounding drum within her temples. Her breath came quick and short as Hades’ hands roamed over her body, raising Persephone’s chiton as high as it would go to expose her breasts. It was easier to be with her when she didn’t have to look at her face, didn’t have to remember who was doing this to her.
Persephone’s first thought had been wrong. Hades wasn’t completely nude. She was wearing that awful thing again, the degenerate thing Persephone could not bear to name, this time strapped to her thigh instead of being worn like an undergarment. It pressed against Persephone’s hip, cold and dead, and she shrieked.
“No need to be frightened,” Hades murmured. She shifted so her back was against the bed head and pulled Persephone on top of her, facing her. She reached around and loosened the tie that held Persephone’s braid, then ran her fingers through her hair.
In the dark, her hands were warm and gentle, but Persephone couldn’t forget how they had felt before—hard and merciless. “I want to go—” Persephone began.
Hades pressed her fingers against Persephone’s lips. “No more of that tonight.” She reached down between Persephone’s legs, making her flinch. “Did you enjoy being over my knee?” Hades asked.
“No!”
“Liar.”
Hades grabbed her by the hips, lifted her up and pla
ced her back down, impaling Persephone on her phallus.
Persephone whimpered and bit back a curse. She had cried so much already that night, but new tears rolled down her cheeks.
“Shh. You can accept this.”
No, she couldn’t. She would never stop fighting, never stop seeking her freedom.
“Shh, Persephone. Do not cry, dearest.” Hades kissed her cheeks, twice on each side. Her fingers traced down Persephone’s spine, her hand resting on the small of Persephone’s back to keep her in place.
This was still new, this sensation of being split open, of her inner walls stretching to accommodate a foreign invader. Persephone froze, her mouth open in a silent cry, and then Hades moved, and the phallus moved with her.
Persephone gasped, placing her palms on Hades’ chest to brace herself. She clamped her eyes shut, pressing her lips together. She wouldn’t make another sound. She wouldn’t give her the satisfaction—
“Move with me,” Hades said, her voice husky with desire.
The air seemed to leave the room, for she couldn’t breathe, much less move. There had to be a magic key, some secret incantation she could say to unlock Hades’ heart and make her stop, but whatever it was, Persephone lacked the wiles to know.
Hades flexed her thigh impatiently, and Persephone whimpered.
The sooner she did as Hades requested, the sooner this would be over.
Locking her arms around Hades’ neck for balance, she moved, only a little at first, rising up from her knees and settling back down again. She heard Hades sigh in the darkness.
“Here,” Hades said. She took one of Persephone’s hands and guided it in between her splayed legs.
Persephone knew the mechanics of how this worked by now, but she had never touched anyone like this before. Hades was wet and warm; so very warm. And when Persephone’s fingertips slid over her clit, Hades groaned, the sound filled with need.
“Is this—should I—”
“Yes,” Hades said and shifted, grinding against Persephone’s hand.
Persephone pressed two fingers inside of Hades, surprised by how it felt. She was so warm and tight and yet so open for her. When she moved her fingers, rubbing her thumb over Hades’ clit, she heard the hitch in Hades’ breath, felt her muscles squeezing. She wanted to see her face. What did she look like when Persephone was inside her?
Hades kissed her neck and moved her thigh, one hand pulling on Persephone’s hip to guide her movement. “Don’t stop.” She grabbed Persephone’s free hand, entangling it with her own, and kissed her on the mouth. She tasted of grapes from Thera. The room smelled of sex. Hades no longer had to encourage Persephone to ride her; Persephone’s body had settled into its own rhythm, without her being quite conscious of it happening.
“This is—” Persephone gasped. “I—”
“Don’t you dare stop.”
She wasn’t sure who came first in the end. Hades bore down on Persephone’s fingers, her thighs crushing Persephone’s hand in place. Hades kissed her, again and again, as Persephone rode out the last dregs of her climax.
The silence afterward seemed deafening. Persephone’s heart fluttered in her chest, and she was breathing hard, a bead of sweat rolling down her spine. By Artemis, she needed this thing out of her. She climbed off of Hades, rolling to the other side of the bed in a daze.
She felt Hades stand up and heard the sound of running water. Hades returned with a damp washcloth. She wiped Persephone’s hand and then between her legs.
“I can do that myself,” Persephone said.
“Really? You seem exanimate right now.”
She supposed it was true. All the fight had left her, at least for the moment.
Hades climbed into bed and kissed the back of her neck. Her arms encircled Persephone’s waist, pulling her close.
“I wish you wouldn’t hold me so tightly.”
“Is that so?” Hades didn’t loosen her grip. Her fingers traced circles on Persephone’s skin.
“Hades?”
“Yes?”
“You didn’t do anything to Xenia, did you? She counseled me not to go, but I ignored her.”
Hades’ hand stilled. “Do you care for her?”
Was that a note of jealousy? “I’ve only just met her. But she has been kind to me.”
“As you say; I have no quarrel with her.”
Persephone closed her eyes in relief. Her limbs felt heavy, but her head felt effervescent, her thoughts impossible to hold. Was this what marriage meant? She had been wed for just two nights, but already she felt like she was becoming someone else when Hades was around her.
“Good night, my lady wife,” Hades said.
“Good night, m—Hades.”
She heard Hades’ breathing deepen and slow. She lay awake for some time, her thoughts churning in endless circles.
13
Lessons
In the days that followed, Persephone held a salon to properly receive her wedding gifts. Though she lacked the exuberance expected of a new bride, she took pains to banish the sullen creature she’d been at her wedding feast. She had no wish to offend potential allies any more than she already had. Hades had made it clear she answered to no one; Persephone would not hold Hades’ subjects accountable for their queen’s behavior.
Persephone grew, if not fond, then at least accustomed to Hades’ attentions, though she told herself she misliked them.
Everything about Hades was a contradiction: her cold gaze and warm hands; her hardened heart and tender words. So perhaps it was no surprise that Persephone learned to both dread and hunger for the night, when Hades’ touch would set her body aflame.
Mornings were easier, as she usually woke alone with the other side of the bed grown cold. But a few weeks into her captivity, she was startled to find Hades sitting at her writing desk, dressed with her hair braided and coiffed, scribbling furiously.
Persephone clutched the covers to her chest as she watched the light playing on the muscles in Hades’ neck. Before she could lie back down and pretend to be asleep, Hades turned.
“You’re awake. Good.” Hades tapped the end of her stylus against her lips as she watched Persephone. A stray curl had escaped her braid and lay across her cheek, framing her face. “Did you sleep well?”
Persephone nodded. She shifted uncomfortably under the covers, aware of her nudity.
“I left you a list of things to work through today. There will be time left in the afternoon for you to do as you please, but only on the condition that you have finished your assigned tasks.” Hades tossed a small wax-covered tablet to Persephone.
She caught it, careful to hold the edges as not to smear the imprint. She knew that much, at least.
“I know it sounds tedious,” Hades said, walking to her dressing area. She flung a chlamys over her shoulders, fastening it at the side. “But you will have to learn this sooner or later, and I would prefer sooner.”
Ought she to say something? Persephone felt as though an invisible fist were squeezing her heart. “Hades...”
“What is it, my dove? I am aware the hour is later than ideal. I think I can be forgiven, given the circumstances.”
“Hades, I... I can’t read.”
Hades paused in the motion of adjusting her hair and turned to stare at Persephone. Her expression of shock might have been comical in other circumstances. “Why not?” she asked.
What sort of question was that? “I guess I... just never learned.”
“But then how could you help Demeter forecast the harvest and track the planting of each field?”
“I know my sums,” Persephone shot back, blushing. Her ignorance was not blasphemous, unlike her lack of filial piety. When was the last time she’d even thought about Demeter? Surely she had to be regretting her harsh words and harsher sentence by now. Had she even noticed that Persephone was missing? Would she be searching for her?
“Be that as it may, your mother has done you a great disservice.” Hades glanced at the t
ablet lying atop the coverlet. “No, this simply will not do.” She gnawed at her bottom lip. “I had hoped—never mind. I shall find you a tutor to assess your scholastic development, or lack thereof, and we will progress from there.”
It could be an opportune thing, Persephone supposed. A tutor might be easier to elude, as opposed to Xenia, who smothered her, or Hades, who... “I’ll do my best.”
“I know you will.” Hades placed a hand on Persephone’s cheek and kissed her. “Now, I really must go.”
Once Hades left, Persephone crawled out of bed and used Hades’ bathing chamber before dressing herself.
As if on cue, a serving girl knocked on the door, bringing in Persephone’s breakfast. After she’d eaten, the same girl helped her dress her hair, adorning it with a curved metal band.
“Where is Xenia?” Persephone asked.
“It’s her day off for the month, mistress,” the girl said.
Persephone bit her lip to hide a smile. Xenia was gone, and Hades was preoccupied. Perhaps fortune was finally turning in her favor.
“Are you ready to go to the library?” the girl asked. “Your teacher will be waiting.”
Hades had found her a tutor so quickly? Some of her mirth evaporated. “Yes, I suppose.”
When the girl had said ‘library,’ Persephone had pictured a room no bigger than a courtyard. But what they called the library could have housed as many as twenty families. Every wall was filled with scroll racks, and more racks stood in straight lines, as far as the eye could see. In between were writing tables, lounges, and seating areas for reading. There was little natural light to be had, the area lit artificially—not by torches or candles but by something that glowed like fireflies caught behind glass. The rooms smelled of papyrus and carbon ink.
“You shelved me beside Straton? That hack! I demand you move my work to somewhere more accessible.”
A short, somewhat rotund man was harassing a spotty-faced boy. The boy had several scrolls under his arm and strained to balance his cargo while surreptitiously backing away.
If the boy was to be her tutor, Persephone thought it would be a simple thing to intimidate him into doing her bidding. But she was not to be so fortunate.
