I'ʟʟ sɪɴɢ ᴀ sᴏɴɢ...

ꕤ Independent PERSEPHONE from Anaïs Mitchell's Hadestown ꕥ Est. March, 2021 ꕤ AU / OC / Crossover friendly ꕥ Multi-Para to Novella length style ꕤ Private / Mutuals Only ꕥ Worshipped by Missa ꕤ She/Her ꕥ 21+ ꕤ Personals DO NOT interact ꕥ

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HE KNEW FULL WELL that Persephone had work to do, that she would likely keep working until late afternoon, early evening, but that didn’t matter.  Hades would wait for her as long as it took.  After all, what were a few hours to a god?

It wasn’t long before he saw the familiar figure of his wife heading back along the path.  She saw him after only a moment, and a bright smile spread across his face as she headed in his direction.  He put the basket he’d brought on the ground so he could catch her when she ran up to him, enfolding her into a tight embrace.

“I know, I know; it’s the middle of the summer, and you got work to do,” he said with a little laugh, lifting a hand to brush a soft curl away from her face.  "But there’s nothin’ that says I can’t come VISIT,“ Hades grinned.  "Thought you might want a little taste of home,” he added, indicating the basket at their feet.  "And I missed you.“  A fact that would be quite obvious, considering he was HERE.  Hades didn’t often leave the Underworld, but for Persephone, he would do anything.

OH-- THERE IS safety in his arms, in the way that he embraces her. Truthfully, Persephone had not realised just how truly lonely she had felt until she was enveloped in his arms, his scent and warmth overtaking her once again. There is the strangest urge to cry, suddenly, and she ignores it instead to laugh at his response -- pulling back as he does to better see his face.

"Mama ain't gonna be happy if she sees you," comes the quick reply, with a mischievous smile toying on her face. Honestly, her work for the day was done, and as he said -- there was nothing that said explicitly that he wasn't able to visit. The only thing that kept him down below was the fact that the Underworld could not run without him, to her knowledge. An evening wouldn't hurt anything or anyone.

🌿                                      𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞’𝐬  𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡  𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐬  a  smile  to  her  face  even  as  she  walks  away  —-  it’s  harmless,    she  means  nothing  mean  of  it,    and  andromeda  knows  better  than  to  think  that.    no,    maybe  it  was  something  their  mother  would  laugh  at,    but  the  blonde  has  no  experience  with  said  mother  to  confirm  or  deny  that  theory.    the  contact  on  her  wrist  gives  her  a  gentle  tug,    and  she  pauses  at  persephone’s  side,    leaning  slightly  on  the  arm  of  her  chair.    

     her  tone  is  uncharacteristically  serious,    and  long  since  has  the  smile  faded  from  her  lips.          “  there’s  a  difference  between  lovin’  and  bein’  loved.    i’m  always  the  one  loving,    and  it  hasn’t  been  given  back  since  .  .  .  ”          she  bites  her  tongue.    that  was  not  a  topic  to  be  discussed  with  the  queen  of  the  underworld,    not  even  if  they  were  blood  related.      (    the  thought  of  breaching  the  topic  sends  dizzying  shockwaves  through  her  :    grief  for  reliving  the  loss,    hope  for  some  inkling  of  a  chance  that  —–,    frustration  at  the  feeling  of  running  in  circles,    circles,    circles  —–    )      

   “  it’s  different  for  you.    the  one  you  love  is  gonna  live  forever  —  you  both  are.    i  don’t  have  that  luxury.    i’m  just  rippin’  my  heart  of  my  sleeve  and  hoping  it’ll  stick  somewhere.  ”          again.          “  i  dunno  how  much  more  i  can  take,    seph.  ”          a  pause  ;    andromeda  wonders  if  she  looks  as  broken  as  she  sounds.    she  summons  an  easy,  convincing  smile  in  it’s  place.          “  i’m  thinkin’  of  becomin’  a  self  -  proclaimed  hermit  and  fuckin’  off  to  my  farm  to  live  out  my  days  in  peace  an’  cross  my  fingers  that  no  monsters  find  vegetarians  appetizing.  ”

FOR A MOMENT, she thinks that Andromeda may finally confess something of her lost love, but the girl cuts herself off -- whether due to pain or something else, something darker that prevents her from speaking of it, she cannot be sure. Wishes she would, though, wishes there were something she could do. Power over flowers ain't never been much help, but power over the dead certainly could, and she knew that if Andromeda ever asked, oh -- she would break so many rules just to make the girl happy, would pay for it herself too. Her baby sister deserved that much, didn't she? Weren't her fault she was born into the world that she was, no baby ever asked to be born like them.

She has no chance to pipe up again, before Annie points out that her own love will live forever -- and anything she had to say, any placating encouragement suddenly feels so phony on her tongue. Despite their... rather tumultuous relationship, she had a point. Persephone had never needed to worry about losing her man over something like death. Other things, of course -- other women, for one. Maria remained a painful topic to this day, because while Hades had come back to her, always came back to her, he'd still wandered to her. Still, ain't the same, and she doesn't dare say none of it.

Just as quickly, Andromeda is making a joke again -- trying to play off everything she's just said, the way she so often does. Without much thought, Persephone reaches out and pulls Annie down to lay her head on her shoulder, stroking fingers lovingly through her hair. It's a motherly gesture, one she knows Annie likely hasn't gotten from their mother. "I know this ain't gonna sound any good... know you'll think I'm just tryin' to make you feel better, and it's gonna sound real hollow compared to how you feel. But... life, and death... sister, that's part of what makes mortal love so beautiful. Painful. Oh, so painful... but... when you live forever, love... can lose it's meaning. You take things for granted. Mortality means that you gotta take all those little moments, and you gotta hold 'em tight. I see lovers separated by death too much, an' they always say... if I had a second more, a minute more."

Her hand moves down to squeeze Andromeda's shoulder, holding her close still. "You had love, an' I know you don't wanna talk 'bout it, ain't never gonna make you. But you had it, and that don't mean it's gone. Just... means you have a choice. You can move on, give your heart out again. Risk heartache again, but risk gaining love again. Or... live your life on your lonesome. Choice is yours. Gods know I ain't gonna judge you, either way. But..."

He doesn’t know what to expect from this. She’s inebriated and there’s a fierceness in her eyes that makes him wonder if she’s about to rip him to shreds. When he was living, he would never just stand there and take it but now… Well, if she wishes to, he knows full well he’ll allow it. It’s not even the fact that she’s his queen or that he’s contractually obligated to be here and to serve. It’s not even really about fear of retribution toward his beloved. The truth is, there’s no fight in him now. He had loved the war because he was good at it, because that was his element, but he had chosen Troy as his fight for Patroclus. He could’ve waited, lived a longer life, chosen any war, but at too high a cost. Either a life without his love or at the cost of Patroclus breaking an oath. Neither were acceptable. But without him, the fire in Achilles’ eyes as died, and had while he was still breathing.

He’s surprised when the queen instead seems to compose herself and respects his desperate request. He lets out a breath he doesn’t need, a quiet exhale of relief. He doesn’t begrudge her asking, exactly, but he’s not sure how much more he could talk about it and keep it together. This is his job and he agreed to do it, and it’s worth all the suffering it entails knowing Patroclus is somewhere better. But he can’t do it if he has to hash out the details of his pain. His grip relaxes on his spear and his stance eases, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. Somehow, he seems to have passed her test, though he’s not sure why she wanted to know to begin with.

She continues to speak and it leaves him frowning just a hair in confusion. He opens his mouth, not sure he heard her correctly, but he must have. She’s asking him to join her for a drink? Or was ordering him, more like. Why else throw in the word obey?

“Fear him?” he repeats, surprised at the word. “No. He and I… have a mutual understanding.” And he doesn’t think it would be broken over something like this. Achilles must respect the house, and the queen is certainly part of that. He answers to them, and she can’t supersede her husband’s authority to him, but this doesn’t fall in that realm. “I will join you, majesty, certainly.” Though why him, he can’t fathom. He wonders if it’s perhaps because he is the only other non-Chthonic being in this house, her husband aside. He does not originate from darkness. Or perhaps it is simply because he cannot refuse. Or maybe there’s more to it. Why doesn’t really matter, he supposes. He follows his queen, keeping his grip on his spear as they go. He only relents when she bids him to sit, and gently leans the weapon against the wall by the door before he does so. He watches Persephone, his eyes piercing and calculating. What could she possibly want from him? He almost asks if she’s well, but bites his tongue instead. Disrespect to the human kings from his life was one thing, as they needed him and he could afford to be condescending. He doesn’t think the same rules apply, and not all royalty takes it kindly when their supposed lessers speak first, so he waits, back rod-straight, and does his best not to fidget.

SHE SEES RELIEF in him at her relenting, and does not entirely know how she wishes to interpret it. She has to suppose that he is as confused by her actions as she is, her nature being as unpredictable as a storm. She feigns as if she is careless, as if she does not know the effect her moods can have on those around her, but Persephone is not truly so blind to it all. No matter how she may wish she could be.

He denies fearing her husband, and that draws a bemused smile to her expression, something far brighter than she had shown him thus far. "Oh, no? No... That certainly makes you unique, then... now doesn't it?" There were a great many denizens of the Underworld who feared him, a few who even believed that the Queen did, as well. Those who spent any time around the pair knew better -- but she is surprised, at the openness with which Achilles admits his lack of fear. The urge to press on this mutual understanding rises, but vanishes just as quickly. Truth be told, she wishes not to speak on her husband any more than she must, this night.

There was a reason she was awake at this hour, and drinking, and alone.

At last, he accepts her invitation -- whether he sees it as such or an order, she isn't certain, nor does she much care -- and she gestures loosely for him to follow her. If she had known his curiosity as to why she had asked him, she would have no doubt spun him some sweet nonsense. Some lie about a reminder of warmth, a companion who was less grave than the rest. The truth was, she was lonely, and Achilles was one of few who she knew would not deny her request. Others lingered at this hour, of course. A great many who knew better than to get involved with the Queen when she was in one of her moods, and more still who simply avoided getting involved with her to avoid drawing Hades' ire. She doubts, of course, that he was as possessive of her as once he had been -- doubts if he wants to see her anymore than she wishes to see him, these days. But memory lingers of earlier days, and some things were not so easily forgotten.

She sets about once Achilles has taken his seat, moving to select a bottle with care before seeking out a pair of glasses. The items are set on the table one at a time, her motions a little too fluid for someone who could barely walk only minutes earlier.

Her gaze never lifts from what she's doing, uncorking the bottle and pouring two healthy sized glasses, as she speaks once more, "Your eyes are enough to pierce armor, Achilles. Speak your mind, and if not that, then speak at all. I cannot deal with silence tonight. This is why I seek out company." And the glass is pushed forward towards him, dark eyes finally lifting to settle on his own. She watches him a moment, something almost challenging lingering there before she looks back down, moving to sit across from him before taking her glass and raising it in a mock display of 'cheers.'

SUNKISSED SKIN AND a smile bright 'nough to rival the sunshine itself -- she's shed off the furs and darkness in exchange for her crown and daylight. Those who know the Queen below would not recognise the Lady above: for gone is the Lady of the Underground, the Iron Queen, replaced instead by Kore, by the spring-bringer, by Persephone.

@kingofshades​ asked: ‘ why are you bleeding? ’

𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 // not accepting !!

HANDS STAINED GOLD clutch at the wound on her calf, not enough to be any real cause for alarm but certainly more than enough to hurt. Perhaps it is that pain that has her narrowing her eyes at her husband's choice of words, despite the concern that she can plainly see on his face. "Well, you know, it's the darnedest thing, Hades -- just woke up this morning and thought, you know, just seems like the thing to do."

She releases her calf to show him the wound, a jagged cut a few inches in length. "I caught myself on a piece of metal out in the courtyard. Wasn't payin' attention." Wasn't as if there was any reason for it to have been there, but she knew better than to hope for reason in Hades. And then, before he can get too huffy over her response, she thrusts her leg out in his direction. "Ask stupid questions, Hades. Now, gimme a hand."

@stygicniron​ asked: ‘ ❤️ ’

send me a ‘ ❤️ ’ for my muse to say something they love about your muse ! // accepting !!

HER LIPS POUT slightly in thought, knowing that the immediate answer that she simply loves him will likely not be appreciated, nor sufficient. Finally, she makes a loose, sweeping motion with her hand, "I love how much of your father that I see in you -- and how much I don't. I love that you are your own, and ours. That you belong here, with your father and I, and that you can see the Underworld for what it is..." A hand moves to twist at the golden band on her finger thoughtfully, "I love that you are my son, Nico."

@calledkore liked.

“i know a thing or two about absentee fathers.”   zeus said simply, a strange change of pace from the conversation they had been having only a few minutes prior.    “do you ever wonder after him?  or want to know who he is?”   the question was devoid of any emotion, eyes trained on the sky above them, unreadable.   “i know i did.  but let me tell you this, persephone – sometimes the truth is worse than the uncertainty.”

@poseidonsn​ asked: ❤️ sends this to be chaotic 🤧

send me a ‘ ❤️ ’ for my muse to say something they love about your muse ! // accepting !!

THE LOOK SHE casts in the young demigod's direction is distinctly tired, but those who know what to look for will see the hints of amusement lingering within the expression. While she and the young Percy Jackson may not have been well acquainted, she had heard plenty of his exploits -- both from the likes of those in Olympus and from her own husband.

"Seems to me trouble just goes 'round followin' you, boy." And then, with a laugh, "I love that you're quick-witted enough to outsmart the laws of the Underworld... but I would not recommend trying such a thing again."

'Course, she doubted much if he would have reason to -- seemed the boy had made good friends with her son, and that was enough to earn him some leeway... or at the very least, the knowledge of certain back doors and secrets.

@kingofshades​ asked: ❤️ (shhh; I'm in bed)

send me a ‘ ❤️ ’ for my muse to say something they love about your muse ! // accepting !!

A BREATH OF laughter passes her lips, accompanied by the slow shake of her head. Really, all this time and he still needed to hear her confess these things? A part of her thought to scold him for so blatantly wanting a boost to his ego, but she brushes that thought aside and indulges him. Just this once.

"Love that you're a strong leader, a good leader. Love that you're kind to the people down here, even if they might not go seein' in that way all the time. I love how you ain't got half a clue how to play dominoes, but you keep playing it with me anyhow. I love how you taste like iron on my tongue, how your hands fit perfectly to mine. Love that you saw the girl who was behind everythin' my mama made me out to be... I love you, you old fool."

@bckbtr​ asked: ❤️

send me a ‘ ❤️ ’ for my muse to say something they love about your muse ! // accepting !!

SHE THINKS TO lie, and say nothing -- but she has never been a very good liar, and the fact remains that for all the wrong that the boy had done in his life, he was not entirely wicked, not entirely cruel. And most certainly, not entirely at fault.

"That despite everything, there is... kindness in your soul." Her tone is soft, speaking to the boy not as a queen to a shade, but as a mother to a child. While it would not be her that would judge his soul in the end, she could only think to show him kindness in return, now. "That in the end, you made the right choice."

@appleyed​ asked: ❤️🥺

send me a ‘ ❤️ ’ for my muse to say something they love about your muse ! // accepting !!

OF HER SISTERS ( and she had plenty ) Andromeda had to be the one she was closest with, and so it amused her to need to express any of that love aloud. "I love that you're trouble--" and she nudges her side lightly as she teases, "Love the bits of myself and mama that I see in you, and a whole lot of the things that are just you. Love the way you light up when you see an animal, whether it's something cute like a bunny or as unusual as my hellhound. I love that despite everything, Annie, you're still kind."