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Hades wasn't a patient man.
He had been many eons ago, but something had changed. Could have been any number of things in truth, but he couldn't point to any real reason why (or when, for that matter), he had become impatient. Out of all things, however, he was always most impatient when the days began to hit the single digits in how many were left until his wife returned.
He grew increasingly more impatient when the days turned to hours and it was every ounce of self control he had not to get on the train early. To hold her again, to touch her, to even smell the sunlight that radiated from her like an aura and filled every room she entered. How could he ever have been jealous of the sun, when his wife was brighter than the great orb of fire herself? How had he ever managed to be so lucky? It was a question that plagued him near constantly, always hovering in the back of his mind. The voices were quieter there nowadays, and he did everything he could to turn his mind elsewhere lest the three old women started dragging that doubt straight back in.
No, he did not doubt Persephone. He couldn't. She always came home. Even when every ounce of his person told him she was never coming back, she did. Whether out of loyalty or love or duty, he had never asked. Especially when they'd spent entire winters throwing harsh fights, too blinded and deaf to hear anyone or see anything other than their own interests. He reckoned that's where his patient nature had turned, somewhere in the midst of a harsh summer that caused him to go up too early, to drag her back down below before the six months was truly up.
Thankfully that was history. Bad history, but a reminder to never let things dissolve that far between them again.
Hades glanced at the clock on his desk, brows furrowing at the time. Had the hands moved backward? He reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose, rubbing at his eyes until little lights burst to life behind his lids. The agonizing wait of the last few hours until he could board the train to go and bring his wife back home were the worst to deal with. It was particularly trying, especially because usually the factories and mines were belching and screeching with activity and noise to fill the void. Now the town was silent, having settled into what was close to ‘night’ as one could get in the depths of the underworld. Part of the new scheduling done, his wife’s idea, so the workers could have breaks and as much of a normal life as possible. To his surprise, productivity had not decreased below decent levels. The ledgers still balanced. The underworld continued to function, and the souls were happier for it.
While she had been gone, he had shut down two of the factories and a third foundry to cool the realm back down. To find the balance - that was the ultimate goal. Balance. Rhythm. The underworld surely couldn’t go back to the way it had been at the beginning of their marriage, but it could at least be something she could look forward to returning to.
Which meant returning on time, with none of his bullshit of going up early. It was easier without those three women in the back of his mind near constantly, but the urge was still there at times. Damn the mortals and the harvest, he wanted her. Hades had nearly lost her because of it, he reminded himself when the urge became all consuming. It was still an absolute ache for her to be away those six months, to not be at his side. She had assured him it ached much the same for her - they’d been trying to remedy the distance by writing letters, and he had even ventured up top an evening or two to see her at the begrudging of his sister. For all Demeter still hated him, their relationship had become more tolerable than strained - if only for Persephone’s sake. Demeter had accepted Persephone’s happiness with him and while she still wasn’t thrilled at any part of it, had allowed them his sparse visits to help heal the fissures of their marriage.
They were trying.
Another glance at the clock. He nearly groaned.
Distraction had helped, for a while. Reading over her letters from the summer, before replacing them delicately in his desk drawer where he kept all the letters she had ever written him. A permanently bloomed carnation sat atop them, never wilting. His fingers brushed along the petals before he shut the drawer and was left with a vast emptiness on his desk. Much like the vast emptiness in his chest.
Soon, he reminded himself. Soon enough. She would be happy he had waited. If only she knew the damn agony it took to wait.
Standing, he loosened the cuffs of his sleeves and began to roll them up to tuck beneath the armbands. The window of his office overlooked a good portion of Hadestown. A few souls gathered here or there on corners or outside of the boarding houses. He knew most were resting, or congregating down at his wife’s not-so-secret bar. They knew their lady, their queen was returning. The girl, the songbird, had taken care of the bar in her absence, and no doubt they were readying for her arrival at that very moment. At least it was something to do - instead of pacing an office like a lovesick fool.
There was a sharp knock at the door that pulled his attention away.
“Enter.”
Much to his surprise it was Hermes who strolled in, suit freshly pressed and wearing his usual charming grin. He gave a mock flourish and bow that made the feathers on his sleeves shiver.
“I didn’t hear the train.” Hades rumbled in way of greeting.
“I am capable of comin’ and goin’ without you knowin’, uncle.” Hermes mused, used to Hades’ less than warm manner. Still didn’t deter him from larking about like he owned the place, stepping past the doorway and nudging it shut behind him.
“Why? Ain’t due up top for a few hours yet.”
“Thought I’d come see how you were holdin’ up.” Hermes turned, smoothing invisible wrinkles from his lapels. “And I have a message for you.”
“From who?”
“I said I got a message. Ain’t your damn secretary. Hold your drawers.” He made a great show of rummaging in his pockets, both outer and inner. Hades felt his ire growing, unused to having to deal with others during the tense, dragging hours that led up to Persephone’s return. Just before he opened his mouth to snap at him, Hermes produced a slim envelope and offered it out. Hades took it with a rumble of thanks.
While he broke the seal of the envelope, Hermes sat himself in one of the chairs near the desk and Hades internally groaned at the thought of having to put up with him for the next few hours until they departed on the train. His nephew was as bad at dominoes as he was, and he had removed the liquor from his office last winter when Persephone had admitted to giving up her heavy drinking.
He unfolded the small card inside, feeling his old heart jump a bit at the familiar writing inside.
Ela na me vreis.
It took his brain a moment to translate the writing, Persephone’s handwriting unmistakeable on the parchment.
Come and find me.
Hades narrowed his eyes, flipping the piece of paper over to see if there was anything else, but no. Just four words, nothing else. No inkling of what sort of game she seemed to be playing. An invitation to come early, perhaps? If so, he was more than ready - but Hermes made no move to get up. Hermes, who knew Hades was already on edge and missing his wife. He glanced up, and Hermes only arched a brow in response before raising his hands as if to say ‘don’t involve me’.
Then he felt it.
As king of the underworld, he was well aware of most aspects of his realm. Could feel any major changes or shifts, acknowledged when things were off. Granted he had ignored those feelings for the past however many decades, ignoring the misery of the underworld. The feeling now, however, was different. A rush of warmth up his spine as if invisible fingers were trailing up his back, sweeping onto his neck and beneath his collar. The brush of a lover, soft and gentle.
Persephone.
He could have sworn he’d heard her laughter, somewhere, in the back of his mind.
She was home. Granted he had no idea where, but she was home.
“I’ll hold down the fort.” Hermes called, but Hades was already headed out the door.
---
It hadn’t been easy, sneaking in. Oh, she knew the back way like, well, the back of her damn hand. She didn’t risk it, though. The dog would’ve given her away. In the end it had been Hermes to suggest the train, just quieter, and in truth she’d been surprised when Hades hadn’t been standing on the platform. The entire city had been quiet. Cool. That was new. She hadn’t had time to marvel on it, determined that she’d made it this far for her little mission that she wouldn’t let herself be found out because she’d been ogling something. Hermes had ventured off to deliver her message, so Persephone had set out for the wall.
Summer had gone by slow, painfully so. Getting visits had helped, the letters had helped, but the days where she wasn’t up to her elbows in dirt from reaping fields had passed at the pace of molasses. A nightmare of a time. Much as she loved the sun and flowers and everything the surface had to offer, it was only her second summer without being constantly intoxicated. A drink here or there, but nothing excessive that would deter her from her duties. It’d been damned miserable.
The wall loomed ahead; they were talking of dismantling the thing, hopefully sooner than later. There were too many cracks in it now, entire sections crumbling and overgrowing with a dark ivy that was slowly reclaiming the rock mined from the depths of the earth. Eventually the fields beyond would be revealed, the paths to the Elysian Fields and Isle of Blessed returned to use. Things were changing, slowly but surely. Persephone had accepted that.
She picked her way along the length of the wall, passing through one of the cracks large enough for her. The fields beyond were nearly dark, the only light coming from what lamps managed to shine over the top edge of the wall. The cracks were more visible on that side, illuminated when she turned back to look at the barrier of stone. These fields hadn’t seen light in a good while. Souls had roamed them once, freely. Unhindered. Happy in their afterlife. Then the city had sprung up, been walled off, and everyone had been crammed into working the mines and factories. The fields had been left abandoned, the grasses undisturbed. It wasn’t overgrown, thankfully, which made picking a path up one of the hills a bit easier than she’d predicted. She was working on a deadline; the minute Hades opened her letter, the spell would break, the veil lifted, and he’d be able to find her on sense alone. That had taken some doing - and some help from Hecate - to pull off.
As if on cue, she felt a cool shiver run the length of her spine and knew Hermes had reached him, that he’d seen her letter. She smiled, despite herself, and jogged the last few steps up the hill.
At the top was a great tree. Old, beautiful and gnarled, with leaves that looked almost silver in the little amount of light that reached this far from above the wall. She set the basket on her arm down, dragging the blanket off it and spreading it along the ground on a flat patch of land, a softer spot of grass away from the roots. A bottle of wine. Glasses. She’d even thought to bring a lantern, lighting it with a snap of her fingers and letting the glow cast long shadows as she hung it from one of the lower hanging branches.
It was damn romantic, if she didn’t say so herself.
Persephone refused the urge to crack open the wine, instead running her hands along the front of her dress. It was a deep, emerald green not unlike her usual fare - one of Hades’ favorites. She hadn’t worn it in centuries and was grateful it still fit after being stuffed in the back of a closet (granted, being a god meant she could make some slight alterations, but that had been unneeded). She kicked away her shoes, glad she’d gone without tights if only because the grass beneath her soles felt like home.
She smiled. And waited.
Not surprisingly, it was only a few minutes before she saw the shadows shift around one of the cracks in the wall; the lights blotted out for a moment - someone passing through. The hair on the back of her neck and her arms stood on end, and for a moment she felt almost nervous before she reminded herself things were better. They’d become better at talking, better at communicating. Already things had improved - three cycles ago she never would have done something like this. She’d still be up top, drinking in the last of the summertime sun (and the last of the alcohol in her bottle), trying to extend her time above as much as possible. Persephone had finally started looking forward to returning to Hadestown, returning down below. Returning to her husband. To home.
Her breath caught as Hades stepped into the pool of light cast by the lantern, and she smiled.
“You’re early.” He murmured, and she nearly laughed.
“I missed ya.”
He crossed to her in three steps, wrapped her in his arms and held her tight. Persephone pressed her face to his chest for a moment, inhaling that scent she found so familiar and comforting. A wave of relief washed over her then, before Hades dipped his head to kiss her. Every ounce of grief at her absence poured into it, Persephone welcomed it. His fingers wound into her hair. When air was needed it was Persephone who drew away, but pressed their foreheads together in an intimate gesture. Her hand came up to cup his cheek as she caught her breath, freshly shaved stubble pricking at her fingers like little thorns.
“Hi.” She whispered, and he chuckled quietly.
“Hi.” He glanced behind her. “Picnic?”
“I know you don’t eat dinner when you’re waitin’ on lil ol’ me. Figured we might as well share it.” She drew away, but caught his hand and tugged him toward the blanket. “And, well, happy anniversary.”
“Anniversary?”
“I reckon. I realised we ain’t celebrated it in a while. And not like we’ve had one by normal standards. But the day I came down here, you married me. In that garden up there. I don’t remember the exact day, but we always celebrated it on the autumn solstice when I came home.” She lifted a should in a shrug, kneeling down onto the blanket. Hades hesitated (Persephone was sure he’d never had a damn picnic before in his many eons of living) before he settled carefully beside her. Another kiss.
“Happy anniversary, then.” He said after a moment, and Persephone’s smile only blossomed. He seemed unable to stop touching her - her hair, her arm, smoothing across the fabric of her dress when he noticed it. Vaguely she wondered how difficult of a time he was having not laying her down on the blanket and reminding her good and well of their marriage up in the garden.
“I brought wine. Good stuff. Hermes don’t know, but I figured he wouldn’t mind.” She busied herself opening the bottle, pouring them each a glass. The lantern above cast his face in illuminating rays to let her admire him, her mighty man. No more wrinkles that winter, while she’d been gone. That was good. Meant he wasn’t driving his nose to the grindstone with work. Or worrying as much. She felt like they’d both aged decades in the time they’d been fighting.
“You’ve thought of everything.” He remarked, and Persephone settled against his side with a delighted hum.
“Most things.” She agreed. “Now tell me what’s been goin’ on in our realm.”
---
Wine and conversation flowed in equal amounts. Hades told her what she had missed down below, and his heart skipped a beat like a foolish schoolboy's every time she smiled at something he said. She liked these changes. He'd have been a damn liar if it didn't make him preen just a bit under her softened gaze - he'd wanted that look when he first built up Hadestown and the wall. This was better, he decided. He'd level entire realms if it meant seeing that smile brighter than any sun. He pressed a kiss to her vibrant curls that still smelled of pollen and lavender. The last vestiges of summer clung to her still, giving him a taste of above without so much strain.
They emptied the bottle between them, and ate at the fresh meats and cheeses and fruits she had brought from up above. He would admit wholeheartedly the harvests from up top could never be replicated down below, the food just tasted better. Sweeter. He explained the changes still being made, the ones he wanted her opinions on. She, in turn, filled him of how the summer had gone. Granted Hades cared very little for the realm above, but listened because it was such a large part of Persephone's life. The same old nonsense from their relatives up the mountain, the same dull existence of the mortals on the earth. He was half distracted when she spoke, memorizing every inch of her features like she might disappear at any moment. Looking for any minor changes he might have missed in the past six months.
No, she was still the stunning, sun kissed beauty he had married. Hades would never fully understand how or why Fate had brought them together. How it was their love that made the world turn, and how they had nearly lost each other to walls and wine. The Fates were not bringing them back together, though. No, Hades knew that was all his doing, and Persephone's. Building their own fate and future on the foundations they had been neglecting. Much like a sturdy wall, their love couldn't exist on the uneven, rocky surface they'd started with. So they'd leveled it all and started again. Better foundation, better structure.
Currently, however, Hades was very much fighting every urge in him to gather his wife in his arms and make up for the past six months apart. He did not need gifts or picnics in celebration - just her. Always her. He watched as she drained her glass, tongue darting out to catch a droplet from her stained lips. Those honey colored eyes settled on him, and he couldn't stand it any longer. He leaned forward and caught her mouth with his own, softer than their kiss before. She gave a soft hum, her hand splaying across his chest. Hades took it as further encouragement and gathered her up and dragged her into his lap.
Persephone laughed and the realm seemed brightened by it before he kissed her again. Her fingers tugged at the collar of his shirt, tugging him impossibly closer. He could devour her, he thought dimly as her tongue slipped into his mouth tasting of wine and sweet summer fruit. He nearly groaned as she shifted to straddling him, dress riding up her thighs as her weight settled. Gods above and below, he was already hard - a fact she could clearly notice, judging by the delighted fire in her gaze.
"Six months." He reminded her in a low rumble, and she only grinned again.
"My man. So eager."
"Says the wife who is clearly attempting to seduce me."
"Tryin'? Darlin', I'd consider this succeedin'."
She tilted her hips and he swore quietly. His suit pants were already tight enough and she was not helping. His hands settled tightly at her waist, a warning. His temptress of a wife. Beautiful and dangerous and a damned tease. And she knew it, too. Their years of fighting meant they hadn't been intimate together and while that particular dry spell had ended last winter, they still had lost time to make up for. If the realm wouldn't descend into absolute chaos without it's king, Hades would have been more than content to trap her in bed for a few days to remind her what a goddess she was, what she meant to him. Rememorize every inch of her frame - though he was certain he had not forgotten in their lapse of sharing a bed together. Persephone had been branded in his mind and on his heart since that first day in the garden.
He moved to kiss her again, but she put a finger to his lips to stop him. He frowned, confusion and frustration probably plain as day on his face judging by her amused expression.
"Not yet." She murmured, and shifted off his lap - and took her warmth with her. He felt like the breath had been stolen from his lungs and Hades had to fight the urge to follow her across the blanket.
"Everything alright?" He asked after a moment, watching her settle on the far edge of the blanket.
"Yeah. I just - I got somethin' to show you and I wanna do it before you get me too distracted."
"There is very little i want to see other than that dress off, lover."
"Hold your horses, husband. I been workin' on this. You'll like it. I hope."
Shifting to try and find some comfort in the tightness of his trousers, he gave a noncommittal hum of acknowledgement. She gave a sly grin over her shoulder; she knew exactly what she was doing, teasing him, and oh he was going to make her pay for it later in all the best ways possible.
Hades watched as those fingers recently in his hair moved to touch the earth beyond the edge of the blanket. There was a shift in the air, in the ground, and Persephone closed her eyes. Her brow furrowed like she was focusing on something real hard.
Something shifted in the meadow grasses, and nearest to her he could see a few sprouts shoot up from the ground and unfurl with strange looking buds on the ends, and leaves that looked far too delicate for anything in the underworld. More rose from the dark soil, beyond the edge of the lantern's light and disappearing into the darkness beyond. He opened his mouth, thought better of it, and snapped it shut. All the better, because as the buds of the strange looking plants began to blossom, a soft aura of light began to emit from them. A silvery-blue light that radiated from the petals themselves. He'd never seen anything like them, the beautiful blossoms extending fully; the brightest of them bloomed close to Persephone, but she had covered the meadow as far as the eye could see in little pinpoints of light.
Almost like -
"Stars. I got a skyful." Persephone's eyes opened then, looking quite proud of herself. "You ain't able to see the stars up top. So I brought 'em down here."
Oh. Oh.
---
She was worried he didn't like it. Panicked. It was part of her gift, bringing a taste of up top to the one below who never asked her to. Shades asked her all the time, to bring things from above to their little hole in the earth. But Hades? Never. Not once. Sure, she brought marmalade or little trinkets here or there, but nothing to this caliber. It wasn't a physical or material sort of thing - the flowers would fade, eventually. But she had learned from her man sometimes the best things weren't permanent. She looked out across the field of little flowers and their radiant auras. It had taken her half the summer to develop and create. Something that would bloom in shadows and darkness and thrive.
She hadn't named them yet, but she'd wanted to show them off.
Chewing the inside of her cheek, she looked back at Hades - who was marveling at the veritable night sky she had created. His gaze snapped to her and she felt herself being marveled at too; it was rare that Hades ever saw her in her full godly glory, in her element of bringing life to the world.
"You're amazing." He murmured, and she crossed the blanket back toward him. "This is . . . you're amazing."
"So you said." Persephone mused, and moved to pick her abandoned wine glass up. Hades caught her wrist, however, pulling her back toward him to claim another kiss. She melted instantly, chuckling quietly.
"Let me lay you down in your bed of stars." He said quietly, half muffled against her mouth. Her answer was to deepen the kiss, teeth grazing his bottom lip. The gesture of the glowing flowers had clearly had a profound effect on her man - she was very glad she'd given up the idea of a traditional anniversary gift, then. Warmth curled low in her belly as his hand ran the length of her thigh, beneath the hem of her dress.
"I missed you." He trailed kisses along her exposed collar, and Persephone felt her skin flush with a rush of need and desire. As if she wasn't already hot under the collar - had been since she'd spotted him. They had time to make up for from their seasons of fighting, after all. Her resolve was shattered now, and she only tilted her head to expose the freckled skin of her neck to encourage his kisses up the column of her throat to the sensitive place beneath her ear. She squirmed almost immediately when his teeth grazed the skin there, and the hand at her waist tightened. It was his turn to chuckle.
"Tease." She accused in a voice thick with desire.
"Only for you."
His fingers brushed along her collar, dipping into the hollow of her throat; she felt something cold as ice against her skin trailing after his touch, almost liquid like. While she couldn't see what he was doing, she understood when the soft weight of a delicate chain settled around her neck. He withdrew his hand and Persephone looked down - he had molded a necklace there, that much was obvious. The delicate and small pendants strung along in gold and gems were in a swirling pattern that reminded her of flowers. Or stars. Both. Her fingers traced the edge of the pendants, the stones set into it shining as bright as the flowers she had created.
"So you can always carry your stars, even in the day." He said lowly. "Happy anniversary."
For no particular reason, she felt a burning in her eyes that took all effort to hold back. She swallowed thickly before she leaned forward to kiss him slow and gentle and soft, pouring every ounce of gratitude and adoration she could. Those steady, calloused hands reached up to tangle again in her hair, her dress, anywhere he could reach. Fire ran the length of her veins, burning and hot. Her heart felt like it was beating at the pace of a hummingbird's wings, as if it might fly right out of her chest.
One of those strong arms wrapped around her waist to lay her down; her hands tugged on his suspenders to pull him with her. His frame covered hers, but it wasn't enough - too much fabric in the way for her liking. Six months was a long damned time and his visits hadn't afforded them much time to be together like this - she needed him like a desert needed water. Nimble fingers pulled at his shirt and threatened to pop the buttons, but he was faster and caught her fingers with a free hand.
"Not yet." He echoed her earlier words straight back, and Persephone knew she'd come to get them. She gave a half stubborn whine and the asshole had the audacity to chuckle. Persephone huffed, but he wasn't making her wait, it seemed. Satisfied she wasn't going to tear into his clothes, he released her hand to dip his fingers beneath the hem of her dress. The fabric slid up across her bare legs, bunching at her hips until she arched herself off the ground so he could remove it.
"Ain't fair I'm the only one bein' undressed." She remarked dryly as he tugged the dress up over her chest and head with more wriggling from her. He laid it gently across the top of the picnic basket all careful like.
"You'll get your fun later. You did all this work for me, though. Seems like I should show my appreciation."
"Hades, you don't -"
"I want to, lover. Let me love my wife."