Last Petal on the Rose and Other Stories

by Stephanie Rabig

  "I have to intimidate voyaging heroes somehow," Hades said, and she smiled.

  The expression still felt a little uncertain on her face; Tartarus had affected her more than she would've liked to admit. If he'd realized as much, he didn't say anything, but she was grateful that he hadn't taken her to meet any more heroes or other citizens as of yet. She didn't feel quite up to speaking to anyone else so soon.

  Then a series of yips turned her attention to the left, where four puppies barreled into the room. She stared at them in shock: each of them had three heads.

  Not the fourth one, she realized, taking a closer look. That one, the smallest one, had two. As she watched, the puppy spun to a halt, each head deciding to attack its tail at the same time. Each side yanked with such force that their heads immediately recoiled, bonking into each other and making the puppy stumble so hard that its legs went out from under it.

  "Come on," Hades said, scooping the puppy up. One head immediately started gnawing on his hand, while the other head tried to stretch up enough to sniff at his face. The other puppies swarmed his feet until he sat down.

  "Cerberus's puppies?" she asked. "So there's more than one—" Cerberuses? Cerberii?

  "Actually, no."

  Persephone didn't ask for further elaboration; Athena had sprung fully-formed from Zeus's skull, after all, and wood nymphs simply appeared in their trees. The traditional form of procreation was hardly the only one in existence.

  She sat down next to him, laughing when one of the puppies leaped into her lap, spinning in a circle, all three heads barking frantically. Its sibling wasted no time in joining it, and she did her best to pet both of them in turn as they tussled around.

  The one who was still charging around on the floor howled then, two heads starting and the third joining in belatedly. The other puppies quickly joined suit, save for the two headed one, who yipped in confusion. Hades tapped it gently on the nose to gain its attention, and then threw back his head and howled. The puppy tilted its heads in opposite directions, baffled for a few seconds before instinct kicked in and it howled as well.

  Persephone smiled softly and started to say something, but then a deafening bark had her looking up...and up. Cerberus barged into the room, still barking, its enormous red eyes narrowing at the sight of her.

  "Enough!" Hades said loudly, and Cerberus abruptly sat. The motion shook the floor.

  Persephone stared up at the enormous thing, not as frightened as she had been when staring into Tartarus, but admittedly frightened just the same. As the puppies ran to their mother, she slowly backed away and retreated to the throne, climbing up into it as it seemed to be the best place around to avoid getting accidentally stepped on.

  Hades got up, holding out his hand to Cerberus. She bumped his hand with her middle head almost hard enough to send him back down to the floor, and then focused her attention on her puppies, nuzzling each one in turn.

  "It's all right," Hades said, motioning her closer. "Come here."

  She gave him a skeptical look but finally stepped away from the throne, ready to run at a moment's notice. Not that she could flee fast enough to escape something that big...

  Approaching slowly, Persephone froze when the big dog growled, and she instinctively turned toward the nearest exit.

  "No, don't run," Hades said, catching hold of her arm. "She's just testing you."

  "Pretty sure I'm failing," she said, keeping her gaze lowered. If she looked straight at the giant and she considered that a challenge—

  "Just hold out your hand," he said quietly.

  She laughed nervously. "I'd like to keep both hands, thank you."

  "It's all right, I promise. Here." He took her hand, extending his arm to hold both their hands out to Cerberus. The dog stared at their hands for a long moment, gave them a sniff that Persephone would swear was derisive, and then flopped down on her side to nurse her puppies.

  "See?" Hades said. "Now she's used to you."

  "I'm glad?" Persephone said, watching the puppies clamber all over themselves and their mother. She glanced down at their still-entwined hands and, noticing her look, Hades quickly let go.

  She wanted to tell him that it was all right, that she hadn't minded, but the knowledge that she would only stumble over her own words kept her silent. Finally, she just decided to change the subject.

  "Can I meet Charon?"

  As many stories as Persephone had heard about Hades, the ones she'd heard about Charon were sometimes even worse. Horrifying in appearance, she'd heard. A stingy, coldhearted creature that would deny even the most benevolent of mortals passage into the underworld if they couldn't pay him enough.

  The stories about his appearance were true, at least from what she could see. Most of his face was shadowed by his enormous hood, but his eyes were hollow sockets filled with fire, and he stood nearly nine feet tall. The oar he held in his hands was as gnarled as the hands themselves.

  But after Hades introduced her, he greeted her warmly, and spent the entire voyage down the River Styx chattering on quite amiably about the souls he'd escorted, about the memories he had of this place before it had grown quite so crowded, even about Cerberus's antics as a puppy.

  Once he steered the boat back to shore, Persephone bowed her head in gratitude, and thanked him for a fascinating tour.

  "You had a pleasant conversation with Charon, then?" Hades asked.

  She turned to him, unable to quite place the tone of his voice. "Yes."

  "What did you speak of?"

  "His time here, the things he's seen." She smiled. "He told me about when he took a brief vacation from his duties, only to end up with both of you racing to the River Lethe's bank to keep Cerberus from taking a drink."

  Hades didn't say anything in reply, and she furrowed her brow. "Were you unable to hear him?" Hades had been sitting at the other end of the boat, after all, while she'd been in the middle. "I'm sorry; it was rude to—"

  "There was nothing to hear, Persephone," he said, his voice quiet and...a little shaken? "I've seen him with his hood down. He doesn't have a mouth."

  *~*~*

  After that revelation, Persephone decided she needed to rest for a while.

  "Is... is there anywhere we can see the sun?" she asked.

  He nodded, and though he didn't touch her he walked very close beside her, as if he was afraid that at any moment her knees might give out.

  Honestly, she shared the fear.

  "The story he told, Cerberus trying to drink from the river..."

  "It happened," Hades said. "You were listening to him, Persephone. I'm just not sure how."

  She crossed her arms, unable to reason out exactly what had just happened or why. Then her heart calmed when she saw the unmistakable glow of sunlight, drifting down from a hole far, far above them.

  The sunlight wasn't the only thing making its way through; snowflakes fell as well. Persephone smiled and stood in the middle of the sunlight. Though it couldn't warm her face at this distance, it was still reassuring, the illumination helping clear her thoughts of worries about indecipherable means of communication and the depths of Tartarus.

  She watched as a snowflake fell onto the long sleeve of her dress, its sharp, well-defined corners slowly melting away.

  Snowflakes.

  Panic slammed into her. "Hades. It was summer when I descended. Has it been so much time?"

  "No," he said, hurrying to stand in the light beside her. "Autumn should not have arrived yet, let alone—"

  "Hermes!" Persephone yelled. In an instant, the God appeared, looking more than a little smug. "Explain," she snapped, gesturing up at the snowfall.

  "You should have come home when we first asked it," he said.

  "You did not ask. You ordered I be sent back."

  He sighed. "There's no need to make things so dramatic. Your mother is a little strict, I understand that—we all do—but it's only because she knows you need extra guidance. She loves you and she's grieving, Persephon
e. She's withdrawn all of her attention from the earth, allowing winter to fall."

  "Tell her I am fine," Persephone said. "She can bring back the summer."

  Hermes shook his head. "I fear the only thing that will settle her heart is your safe return." He tilted his head. "You are well? You've been down here for days now, you realize. That's more than enough time to get over whatever tantrum you were throwing. If that's what's going on?" He turned to Hades, some of his former bravado back. "Still pouting over your loss in the draw? Understandable to a point, really, but you should know that if you've hurt her, Zeus himself will—"

  His focus still on Hades, he didn't realize that Persephone had picked up a dead tree branch until she swung it at his chest. It collided hard and Hermes let out his breath on a pained 'oomph', stumbling back.

  "Get out!" she screamed. "And do not dare return!"

  Wild-eyed, Hermes darted away from her before she could swing again.

  "You're not in your right mind," he babbled. "You're clearly—"

  "I am here of my own free will! Do you understand?"

  He nodded frantically, then blinked out of sight.

  Breathing hard, Persephone dropped the branch. "Winged bastard," she muttered. "Next time I'll fetch Artemis's arrows; see how he likes..."

  She trailed off at a most unexpected sound, and turned to see that Hades was doubled over laughing.

  *~*~*

  Over the next days, Hades had his duties to attend to and so Persephone largely spent time on her own...walking through the Elysian Fields, playing catch with Cerberus, wading in the rivers that were safe to actually touch.

  She also spoke with Charon, and on several occasions accompanied him and his vessels full of new souls on their journey down the River Styx.

  All the while, she tried not to think about what was happening above.

  Surely once her mother realized that her ploy wouldn't work, she would bring back the summer.

  But she didn't have the courage to go back to the opening and make sure.

  In truth, even if she still saw the snow falling down, she wasn't sure it would be enough to make her go back.

  Persephone knew it was awful of her, to put her own feelings above the very safety of her mortals, but...she hadn't realized how constantly on edge, how miserable, she had been up on Olympus until she'd seen that something different was possible.

  Perhaps she should go back up just for a short time. Reassure her mother that everything was all right.

  Because, of course, Demeter would listen.

  She looked down at the pink dress that Demeter had instructed her to sew. Concentrating, she did away with two of the layers of ruffles, but didn't yet dare to change the color or the cut of the thing. Though she knew her mother couldn't see her, she could still imagine her disappointment in clear detail.

  She was already down here. Was that not rebellion enough?

  "Are you all right?"

  She jumped at the sound of Hades's voice close behind her, and turned to see him holding up his hands in apology.

  "I'm sorry," he said. "I was—"

  "It's all right," she said. "And yes, I'm fine, I just..." She sighed. "Thinking about mother."

  "Do you wish to return home?"

  "No," she said quickly, and then realized how presumptuous that might be. She had been an unintended guest for weeks now, after all. "Unless you wish me to go."

  "No," he said, just as quickly, and that drew out a smile. Then she thought of what might happen if her mother's ire escalated, if Zeus got involved, and her smile disappeared.

  "I have to tell you something," she admitted. "The reason...I'm not down here because my mother has a suitor in mind. I—Zeus began to pursue me. I ran."

  "That...that was a good decision," he said. "Even my brother tends to hesitate when it comes to this realm." He hesitated. "Would your mother not defend you?"

  "My mother loves Zeus," Persephone said. "She would be honored that he took an interest in me. It would be everything she's been working toward." The words were horrid to say, but they also lifted a weight from her heart, and she couldn't help but continue on. "Ever since I was old enough to understand, my mother has loathed that Zeus will turn to every dryad and nymph and mortal, but never her. She eventually decided that she worked too hard with the earth, got too filthy, to truly be attractive to him. So I..." She gestured down at her dress. "Aphrodite can attract anyone. Mother was certain if I just acted and dressed enough like her, eventually..."

  "I'm sorry, Persephone."

  "But you understand, now," Persephone said. "It's an affront to Zeus that I escaped here. If he decides to act—"

  "Then he'll have made a grave mistake."

  *~*~*

  Though she contacted Hermes a day later and told him again that she was here voluntarily, that everything was fine, when she checked the opening it was to see snow still steadily falling.

  *~*~*

  "Persephone?"

  "Yes?" she asked, looking up from the clear water. She'd been sitting on the bank of one of the Elysian Fields's rivers for over an hour now, her feet submerged in the water.

  Hades was standing next to her now, holding what looked like a bundle of shimmering fabric. She frowned in confusion and got to her feet. He shook out the fabric, revealing a slender, ankle-length dress in a color that shifted between plum and the deep red of pomegranates. There wasn't a frill, bow, or ruffle anywhere to be seen.

  "I'm not sure if it will fit you exactly, but of course if not you can adjust it," he said, when she just silently stared. "Demosthenes was more than happy to work on the project, so if this one isn't to your liking—" He cut off abruptly when she flung herself into his arms.

  "It's beautiful," she murmured. "Thank you so much."

  "You're welcome." Hades gave her an awkward pat on the back, and she grinned and took a step back. With a bit of focus on her part, he suddenly found himself holding her pink dress, while the other now clung to her skin.

  "An improvement?" she asked, her smile taking on a different tone as she watched the emotions shift across his face. "Or should I put the other back on?"

  In response, he tossed the pink dress to the side, and Persephone laughed as it started to float away down the river.

  "Well," she said, even as he took a step towards her. "I should go thank Demosthenes as well for this beautiful gift." She turned and began to walk away, resisting the urge to look behind her.

  Her unexpected descent had thrown things off a little for both of them, made them clearly unsure of where they each now stood. But there would come a day when he would return her teasing in kind again, when he wouldn't stand there and watch her walk away.

  She hoped it would come soon.

  *~*~*

  In her dream, Persephone walked across the Elysian Fields as they wilted.

  She crouched down and tried to grow a tree; a bush; even something as simple as more grass. Nothing would take hold.

  Before she could rise to her feet again, masses upon masses of souls were upon her, begging her for help, asking what was wrong.

  "I don't know," she said, forcing the words out through her tears. "I don't know."

  "You have to know," one man said. "You brought it here."

  "No. No, I didn't, I swear, I—"

  Then the dying ground began to crack beneath her feet, the darkness of Tartarus glaring up from the jagged wounds in the earth.

  "Let go, let go," she pleaded. She had to get out of here, had to get back; the cracks were opening wider now and one was so dangerously close to her feet. "Let go!"

  Instead they pushed her forward, her heels making useless furrows in the ground.

  As she plummeted, Persephone opened her eyes.

  Once again, she found herself staring down into the darkness. She was standing on the edge of the Tartarus pit.

  Her immediate panic—had she walked in her sleep? Had spirits truly carried her here?—was offset by the sound coming from the
pit. It was a litany of voices, a mournful, lonely cry, and something in her heart responded to it.

  Poor things. They just needed companionship, like every other living thing. Surely it wouldn't hurt to visit with them, only for a moment or two.

  Just before she could take the final step forward, something grabbed her around the waist and hauled her back. Furious, she hit and kicked at whatever she could reach.

  Then, without the emptiness of the pit flooding her eyes, she came back to herself.

  "What...?" she whispered, and Hades sighed and slowly sat down, bringing her with him. She grabbed at the arm that was still around her waist, but didn't try to rake it with her nails this time. Instead she held on, reassuring herself that he was actually there; that she hadn't truly followed through with such a suicidal impulse.

  "How did I get here?"

  "You walked," he said, his free hand stroking her hair, as though he needed reassurance just as much as she did. "I came here a few hours ago...sometimes they get restless down there, and start calling. I talk to them for a while, and eventually they settle. No one else has ever been able to hear them."

  "I didn't know what was happening. I had a nightmare, and when I woke up I was standing..." She trailed off, squeezing her eyes shut.

  "I'm sorry," Hades said. "I should have offered long before now. Various nymphs and demigods owe me favors on the surface; they'll shield you from Zeus and your mother's sight. You need not stay in this place just because it terrifies the others."

  It took her a moment to fully realize what he was saying, what he must have been thinking ever since her confession days ago. "No," she said, clasping the hand at her waist in both of hers. "I'm not...Hades, I'm not here because this place scares the others. It's because I know I'm safe here."

  "Just as you were safe five minutes ago?"

  "I have encountered far worse threats on the surface," she said. "I know you wouldn't allow any harm to come to me, not if it's within your power to prevent it."