The day was new and warm-the days were always warm-and the air smelled of sprouts and ripe peaches. Most gods did not count their years-what would be the point in counting forever? (c) My life was simple and idyllic, though astonishingly empty, before. In this, in the beginning, I was my mother’s daughter, and the earth cradled me as its own child. I could play with the pups of wolves or tigers, could climb the tallest trees, could eat any poisonous fruit I touched, and nothing would ever harm me. Hera’s daughter was Hebe, Aphrodite’s daughter was Harmonia, and Demeter’s daughter was Persephone. I was a new evolution, part of a generation of young gods and goddesses created not from foam or other mysterious means but through the power of their immortal mothers. Her face closed up, and she made me say it, too, that I would be queen of all the gods, far surpassing my competitors in beauty and influence and charm. Each time she spoke the words, my heart panged, and I changed the subject, showed her a hive of particularly fat bees, or the lining of a gull’s nest, made perfect by its silver feathers. “You will be queen,” she said, over and over, and I almost believed it, but I did not want it. (c)Įverything my mother touched turned golden, came to life, and I was in awe of her. To be fair, she loved the people as much as they loved her. One never remained at the peak of popularity for long, but my mother didn’t worry. Hestia was beloved, and then Hermes, and then Ares, and then the next god or goddess in a long history of mortal fickleness. In the Greece of long ago, gods rose and fell in prominence according to the whims of the people. Here it is, or as close as I can tell it. I am Persephone, and my story must begin with the truth. And none of it is true, or is so fragmented that the truth is nothing more than a shadow, malformed. Forever I will be known as the girl who was stolen away to be the wife of Hades, lord of all the dead. The stories told by fires, the myth of my kidnap and my rape, are all that remain of me. I have forfeited my inheritance, my birthright. Really, it's not very statistically probable to have only gay gals around. All the satisfying relationships are sapphic (F-F), which is sort of refreshing and eye-roll-inducing, at the same time.
Warning: male figures get thoroughly villainized and punished beyond measure here. Best for lovers of all things of Ancient Greece.
The PTSD heroes forever.ĭefinitely underrated. Cerberus the cuddly! The dead rebellious.
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