best laid plans; a hades/persephone mythfic
(AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is another in my series of "mythfics", to borrow the term from my darling etzyofi. In order to fully appreciate these, be sure to look at the casting picspams.)
CAST:
best laid plans, a hades/persephone mythfic, pg
(written for anonymous)
a serious conversation in an empty park.
No matter how gentle he tried to be, it seemed he was forever bruising her. Perhaps her mother was right-he was too fundamentally hard and unchangeable, she too soft and bright; he was like an ice-hot iron that could only scorch and cause pain. (1,831 words)
“Darling, must you grump so?”
He looked over at his wife, who walked evenly beside him with her soft pale hand nestled in the crook of his elbow, and did his best to smile. It came out more grimace than grin, and the corners of her pink mouth turned down further in displeasure.
“What is it?” she demanded plaintively, tightening her grip on his arm. “What’s plaguing you?”
“You know how I am, Persephone,” he said. “Dour and unpleasant.”
“Not always. Not with me. It was so beautiful when we started out. Now it’s all gone grey and chilly.” She shivered slightly for emphasis as the wind whipped past, sending an eddy of leaves around their feet. The clouds rolling in overhead, the distant hollow echo of thunder, the smell of rain that dampened the air-a storm was on its way. Soon this quiet little park would be loud with the drumming of raindrops and the crack of lightning. They had a few minutes, perhaps half an hour at most before they’d have to run for cover. “Please, Hades. We promised we’d be more open with each other.”
They had come to a small playground, recently abandoned by families none too keen to be caught in a downpour. He hesitated, tempted to push on and deflect her inquisitive questions. But when he looked down at her, face turned up to his and blamelessly sweet, eyes like pale sapphires and rosy hair loose over her shoulders, he found he couldn’t brush her off so easily.
He pulled away gently and sank into one of the emptied swings with a sigh. The chains creaked with his weight, and he rocked back on his heels and looked down at the hands he’d clasped together in his lap. “You know I would give you anything within my power, if it would only make you happy.”
“I know that,” she said. The wind blew her hair into her eyes, and she held up a hand to draw it back. Her husband, always so dark and towering-a statuesque figure that could be grim and overbearing-had never looked so small and withdrawn. His shoulders were hunched, his arms drawn close, black head bowed as he swung slightly to and fro. There was a resignation in the way he sat, as if in thwarted defeat, and it unsettled her. “Hades, if I’ve done something wrong, if I’ve asked for too much-”
“No,” he said sharply, looking up with a glint of fire in his peregrine eyes. “You’ve done nothing wrong.” His cheeks flushed with shame, that he should make her think such a thing. No matter how gentle he tried to be, it seemed he was forever bruising her. Perhaps her mother was right-he was too fundamentally hard and unchangeable, she too soft and bright; he was like an ice-hot iron that could only scorch and cause pain. It was an eternal struggle to be better than he was, for her. Hours of therapy and introspection were so easily set-back by a single thoughtless moment.
“Then what is it?” She stepped closer, her red heels sinking into the woodchips and mud.
“I am afraid.”
He said it quietly but it resounded like a thunderclap in her ears. She felt her heart stutter beneath lungs abruptly breathless. She reached out and took hold of the swing’s chains in hands that shook tremulously. He met her eyes and his face flashed with instant regret. In the next second he had cupped her face with his warm hands.
“Why?” she whispered even as he said, “I am sorry, I am so sorry.” Their lips met on their words’ exhalations, a firm and fast reassurance and apology.
“I didn’t want to frighten you,” he murmured. “Tartarus, can I do nothing right?”
“…I wanted honesty,” she said. “I don’t want you to feel as if you must bottle things up or hide your feelings from me. I just… I wasn’t expecting…” How to say that he was her strength and support, the shield she could lean on when the world became too ugly or overpowering? How to tell him that seeing him frightened made her feel naked and powerless? How to explain that without making him feel even guiltier or more obligated to put on a stern front? She did not want him to make himself a robot, or an emotionless guard. It was past time for her to stand on her own feet and be her own strength. Already he gave more than he should, sacrificed much of himself in order to meet her demands and whims.
Hades had not been meant for the glittering limelight and the wholesome world of apple pies and flower arrangements; it was outside of his nature to attend awards galas and meet nice with nosy reporters. But he suffered it all for her, because she was equally ill-suited for the darkness of a smoky club or the sharp smiles of the self-destructive artists. He gave more because he had taken all once upon a time; their life now was a sort of penance for him. She was not naïve enough to be blind to that. And while he could find joy in her, and knew moments of contentment or peace, she knew how difficult it was for him. How it would always be difficult for him. And the guilt that came with the acknowledgement threatened to bring her to her knees just as assuredly as his blunt and simple confession almost had.
“Why are you afraid?” Persephone managed to say in a voice steady and calm.
He paused, but her hand pressed against his, still hot against her cheek, and he swallowed before answering. “Eris will not submit calmly. It will come to war, however Zeus confronts her. Now that we are partly mortal, now that we are so tied to this earth and its people… I am afraid because I may not have the power to protect you here. The gates to my old kingdom were closed by the Pact-we could not even escape to that dark security. I’m afraid because I cannot see a safe future for us. And…”
“And?” she pressed, a penitent demanding the full lash. She was willing to bleed if only to show him that he was not alone, that they were united in this, and that he did not have to hold this pain by himself. She would be strong for him.
“I know how badly you want a child,” he said softly, startling her with the unexpected. “I… I never thought I would be capable of being a father, of helping to create a life, but you have made me hope that… With you, Persephone, all things could be possible. With you I would be willing to try, but that this threat hangs over us. How could we bring another life into this world when our own are so precarious now?”
“Is this what has made you dwell so?” Persephone gasped, flashing back to the previous night. Lying snugly in their bed, her legs hooked over his, breathing in the clean scent of his soap and aftershave as she buried her face in his chest. She had twisted a lock of his hair around one finger as she drowsily whispered that perhaps they could try for a baby finally-next month she would be finished with the filming of her show for the year, and there would be four months free of obligation. It would be no hard thing to reorganize her schedule for a few more months beyond that. She would be happy to have such an excuse for an extended break, happy to finally experience that magic that had always been outside her purview. Perhaps they could even quit the Lito for a time, go and live somewhere distant and quiet, and be their own family away from the madness of the others. “Wouldn’t it be nice,” she had said just before sleep claimed her. “To have a child with your eyes and my smile?”
“How can we look to a future when our present is so turbulent?” He gazed around at the playground, its emptiness only serving to echo his own fears. “How could we bring a life into all of this?”
“Mortals do it every day,” Persephone said. “And their lives are far more tenuous than ours. Love, you speak as if failure is a foregone conclusion. As if Eris will certainly win if it comes to a fight. We outnumber her by more than tenfold-the family’s power combined is greater than any she has managed to steal.”
“I know what it is to fail. The pain of that fall, how it can seethe and bitter your heart. I… understand Eris. Better than anyone else can, I think. I know how it can drive a body to extremes, to violence and rage. And that’s part of why I’m so afraid. I know how far she will go, to have her revenge. And now-now.” He stood, arm tight around her waist as he kissed her. “I have so much to lose. It scares me so damn much. The thought of losing you is like being cast out, the freezing pain of darkness after the gold of Olympus.”
“Isn’t that all the more reason to fight? To plan for a future? Eris may want her revenge, but we want so much more than that-we have a better reason to succeed, and that gives us even more strength, a greater purpose. We can’t let her win. So we won’t.”
“You say it as if it were that simple-”
“It is! Hades, I love you. I love the life we have now, out in the light, where there are flowers and oceans and people. I want to have a baby, and set goals, and go on vacations. I want to dream about what will be tomorrow or the day after. You’re afraid-I’m afraid, too. And that’s all right. There’s a very good reason to be afraid. But we can’t let that fear dictate what we do. I’d rather act out of love than fear.”
The thunder crashed directly overhead but neither moved, too caught up in the thrumming of their hearts and the adrenaline in their veins to pay much heed to the rain that began to soak through their clothes. Drops glittered crystalline in her hair, turned her dewy as a freshly blossomed flower. The expression on her face had robbed him of breath, let alone words, and he could only stare at her in awed wonder. Her beauty would never cease to dazzle him; with her, his eyes would always be trying to adjust themselves to her light.
“The storm’s coming closer,” she said over the thunder. “We should go home.”
“Yes,” he said, sweeping her up into his arms. “Let’s go home. We can come back tomorrow, for a proper walk. Or the day after.”
CAST:
best laid plans, a hades/persephone mythfic, pg
(written for anonymous)
a serious conversation in an empty park.
No matter how gentle he tried to be, it seemed he was forever bruising her. Perhaps her mother was right-he was too fundamentally hard and unchangeable, she too soft and bright; he was like an ice-hot iron that could only scorch and cause pain. (1,831 words)
“Darling, must you grump so?”
He looked over at his wife, who walked evenly beside him with her soft pale hand nestled in the crook of his elbow, and did his best to smile. It came out more grimace than grin, and the corners of her pink mouth turned down further in displeasure.
“What is it?” she demanded plaintively, tightening her grip on his arm. “What’s plaguing you?”
“You know how I am, Persephone,” he said. “Dour and unpleasant.”
“Not always. Not with me. It was so beautiful when we started out. Now it’s all gone grey and chilly.” She shivered slightly for emphasis as the wind whipped past, sending an eddy of leaves around their feet. The clouds rolling in overhead, the distant hollow echo of thunder, the smell of rain that dampened the air-a storm was on its way. Soon this quiet little park would be loud with the drumming of raindrops and the crack of lightning. They had a few minutes, perhaps half an hour at most before they’d have to run for cover. “Please, Hades. We promised we’d be more open with each other.”
They had come to a small playground, recently abandoned by families none too keen to be caught in a downpour. He hesitated, tempted to push on and deflect her inquisitive questions. But when he looked down at her, face turned up to his and blamelessly sweet, eyes like pale sapphires and rosy hair loose over her shoulders, he found he couldn’t brush her off so easily.
He pulled away gently and sank into one of the emptied swings with a sigh. The chains creaked with his weight, and he rocked back on his heels and looked down at the hands he’d clasped together in his lap. “You know I would give you anything within my power, if it would only make you happy.”
“I know that,” she said. The wind blew her hair into her eyes, and she held up a hand to draw it back. Her husband, always so dark and towering-a statuesque figure that could be grim and overbearing-had never looked so small and withdrawn. His shoulders were hunched, his arms drawn close, black head bowed as he swung slightly to and fro. There was a resignation in the way he sat, as if in thwarted defeat, and it unsettled her. “Hades, if I’ve done something wrong, if I’ve asked for too much-”
“No,” he said sharply, looking up with a glint of fire in his peregrine eyes. “You’ve done nothing wrong.” His cheeks flushed with shame, that he should make her think such a thing. No matter how gentle he tried to be, it seemed he was forever bruising her. Perhaps her mother was right-he was too fundamentally hard and unchangeable, she too soft and bright; he was like an ice-hot iron that could only scorch and cause pain. It was an eternal struggle to be better than he was, for her. Hours of therapy and introspection were so easily set-back by a single thoughtless moment.
“Then what is it?” She stepped closer, her red heels sinking into the woodchips and mud.
“I am afraid.”
He said it quietly but it resounded like a thunderclap in her ears. She felt her heart stutter beneath lungs abruptly breathless. She reached out and took hold of the swing’s chains in hands that shook tremulously. He met her eyes and his face flashed with instant regret. In the next second he had cupped her face with his warm hands.
“Why?” she whispered even as he said, “I am sorry, I am so sorry.” Their lips met on their words’ exhalations, a firm and fast reassurance and apology.
“I didn’t want to frighten you,” he murmured. “Tartarus, can I do nothing right?”
“…I wanted honesty,” she said. “I don’t want you to feel as if you must bottle things up or hide your feelings from me. I just… I wasn’t expecting…” How to say that he was her strength and support, the shield she could lean on when the world became too ugly or overpowering? How to tell him that seeing him frightened made her feel naked and powerless? How to explain that without making him feel even guiltier or more obligated to put on a stern front? She did not want him to make himself a robot, or an emotionless guard. It was past time for her to stand on her own feet and be her own strength. Already he gave more than he should, sacrificed much of himself in order to meet her demands and whims.
Hades had not been meant for the glittering limelight and the wholesome world of apple pies and flower arrangements; it was outside of his nature to attend awards galas and meet nice with nosy reporters. But he suffered it all for her, because she was equally ill-suited for the darkness of a smoky club or the sharp smiles of the self-destructive artists. He gave more because he had taken all once upon a time; their life now was a sort of penance for him. She was not naïve enough to be blind to that. And while he could find joy in her, and knew moments of contentment or peace, she knew how difficult it was for him. How it would always be difficult for him. And the guilt that came with the acknowledgement threatened to bring her to her knees just as assuredly as his blunt and simple confession almost had.
“Why are you afraid?” Persephone managed to say in a voice steady and calm.
He paused, but her hand pressed against his, still hot against her cheek, and he swallowed before answering. “Eris will not submit calmly. It will come to war, however Zeus confronts her. Now that we are partly mortal, now that we are so tied to this earth and its people… I am afraid because I may not have the power to protect you here. The gates to my old kingdom were closed by the Pact-we could not even escape to that dark security. I’m afraid because I cannot see a safe future for us. And…”
“And?” she pressed, a penitent demanding the full lash. She was willing to bleed if only to show him that he was not alone, that they were united in this, and that he did not have to hold this pain by himself. She would be strong for him.
“I know how badly you want a child,” he said softly, startling her with the unexpected. “I… I never thought I would be capable of being a father, of helping to create a life, but you have made me hope that… With you, Persephone, all things could be possible. With you I would be willing to try, but that this threat hangs over us. How could we bring another life into this world when our own are so precarious now?”
“Is this what has made you dwell so?” Persephone gasped, flashing back to the previous night. Lying snugly in their bed, her legs hooked over his, breathing in the clean scent of his soap and aftershave as she buried her face in his chest. She had twisted a lock of his hair around one finger as she drowsily whispered that perhaps they could try for a baby finally-next month she would be finished with the filming of her show for the year, and there would be four months free of obligation. It would be no hard thing to reorganize her schedule for a few more months beyond that. She would be happy to have such an excuse for an extended break, happy to finally experience that magic that had always been outside her purview. Perhaps they could even quit the Lito for a time, go and live somewhere distant and quiet, and be their own family away from the madness of the others. “Wouldn’t it be nice,” she had said just before sleep claimed her. “To have a child with your eyes and my smile?”
“How can we look to a future when our present is so turbulent?” He gazed around at the playground, its emptiness only serving to echo his own fears. “How could we bring a life into all of this?”
“Mortals do it every day,” Persephone said. “And their lives are far more tenuous than ours. Love, you speak as if failure is a foregone conclusion. As if Eris will certainly win if it comes to a fight. We outnumber her by more than tenfold-the family’s power combined is greater than any she has managed to steal.”
“I know what it is to fail. The pain of that fall, how it can seethe and bitter your heart. I… understand Eris. Better than anyone else can, I think. I know how it can drive a body to extremes, to violence and rage. And that’s part of why I’m so afraid. I know how far she will go, to have her revenge. And now-now.” He stood, arm tight around her waist as he kissed her. “I have so much to lose. It scares me so damn much. The thought of losing you is like being cast out, the freezing pain of darkness after the gold of Olympus.”
“Isn’t that all the more reason to fight? To plan for a future? Eris may want her revenge, but we want so much more than that-we have a better reason to succeed, and that gives us even more strength, a greater purpose. We can’t let her win. So we won’t.”
“You say it as if it were that simple-”
“It is! Hades, I love you. I love the life we have now, out in the light, where there are flowers and oceans and people. I want to have a baby, and set goals, and go on vacations. I want to dream about what will be tomorrow or the day after. You’re afraid-I’m afraid, too. And that’s all right. There’s a very good reason to be afraid. But we can’t let that fear dictate what we do. I’d rather act out of love than fear.”
The thunder crashed directly overhead but neither moved, too caught up in the thrumming of their hearts and the adrenaline in their veins to pay much heed to the rain that began to soak through their clothes. Drops glittered crystalline in her hair, turned her dewy as a freshly blossomed flower. The expression on her face had robbed him of breath, let alone words, and he could only stare at her in awed wonder. Her beauty would never cease to dazzle him; with her, his eyes would always be trying to adjust themselves to her light.
“The storm’s coming closer,” she said over the thunder. “We should go home.”
“Yes,” he said, sweeping her up into his arms. “Let’s go home. We can come back tomorrow, for a proper walk. Or the day after.”