Chapter Text
It was a wild place, that tiny spit of rock in the midst of a raging, azure sea. High in the cloudless, blue sky, the rays of Helios’ sun bore down on the island with a relentless fervor. The sunlight seemed endless as it baked the earth, the only relief given to the land by the wind that blew endlessly over the craggy cliff sides, carrying with it a misty taste of salt and sea.
Sheer rock faces erupted from the blue water, the rolling hillsides above dotted with sandy grass and sage and scrub bushes that shuddered in the ever present wind.
Sitting amongst the wavering flora just a few precarious feet from the edge of the cliff, hidden from view, was a small child. She was of a tender age; one where budding adolescence was years away but her days of toddling were not far behind her. Long, ash blonde hair tangled in the wind. Her hazel eyes were focused on something that she held tightly in one hand that still carried traces of the sweet softness of a baby. Her little face was screwed into a mask of the utmost concentration, something that looked nearly comical for one so young to wear such an adult expression.
Her focus was unbroken. Even as seagulls squawked above her head, noisily squabbling over fish that one of their kind had swept up from the rocky shoreline below, the child remained intent on whatever task she was trying to accomplish with the object in her hand.
All at once, her frown turned into an expression of joy. She gasped in happy surprise and her body began to quake with unbound excitement.
“I did it!” She whispered in a way that a child believes they whisper; quiet to their own ears but more so a muffled shout to the ears of anyone else in the vicinity.
But the little girl had the presence of mind to know that she had to at least attempt a whisper, for deeds such as this needed to be done in secrecy, if they were to be done at all. Only the gulls flying around were to bear witness to her work.
Time passed by, unbeknownst to the girl, as she sat in her hiding spot. Her excitement grew and grew each minute that went by. The difficult task she had been trying to accomplish all morning was becoming as easy to her as breathing as she practiced over and over again, wishing to perfect her craft.
Until a voice came calling over the rocky, rugged hillside.
“Persephone! Persephone!”
The child whipped her head up and stared off in the direction where the call of her name had come from. Her focus was now completely broken.
“Persephone! Kore! Where are you?!”
At last, it dawned on her that the voice was panicked. Afraid. And that voice belonged to her mother. So deep in her own thoughts she had been, it took a few hazy moments before she emerged from the fog and realized what was going on around her.
Her focus turned to urgency. She did not want her mother to be afraid for her a second longer and she needed to let her know that all was well.
The little child jumped up from her hiding spot and raced through the brush to get to her mother. Bare feet made hardly a sound as they carried her over the grass. Her hand was curled into a fist, holding on to some small treasure as if her life depended on not dropping it.
“Mamma! I’m here!”
Her small voice carried on the wind, reaching the ears of the statuesque woman who waded through knee-high grass. Auburn hair was whipped into a frenzy by the wind with her head turning back and forth in search of her daughter. But the very moment that she heard the words of a voice so achingly familiar, the woman was filled with visible relief. Her shoulders relaxed as she let out a great exhale. She dropped to her knees and gathered up the child in her arms.
“Oh! My sweet Kore! I was so afraid—“
“You are always afraid, Mamma,” the girl muttered softly, betraying her youthful exasperation at her mother’s antics. But nonetheless, she melted into her mother’s touch, curling herself up into the safety of her bosom and enjoying the affection.
But Demeter mused darkly on what her daughter had said; an innocent observation, the source of many of her child’s frustrations, and yet oddly prophetic in a way that she hoped her child would never understand.
There would come a day when she would tell Persephone the story of the trials and tribulations that brought her into existence and Demeter hoped beyond hope that her daughter would never suffer the same way that she herself still did.
“I only want you to be safe.” Demeter whispered into the girl’s hair. Someday, she hoped that Persephone would understand why they lived the careful way that they did.
“Don’t worry!” She sang cheerilly. “I was fine. I was just practicing.”
Persephone had quickly moved on from the serious topic. Her childish impatience tugged at more important matters than lingering hugs and weighted words she could not comprehend.
Demeter did not truly hear what the little one had said. Grown up matters tugged at her and she responded with an impatience of her own. She pulled back from their embrace and fixed her child with a stern glare.
“Kore, you know better than to run away like that! The Nymphs are there to protect you! If I am not with you, then you must stay with them no matter what.”
Persephone did not appear to be too remorseful. She merely shrugged off her mother’s chastising and a bit of a smirk tugged at her lips, as if proud that she had given the Nymphs the slip.
“Well, I only wanted to practice and they wouldn’t let me! So, I had to come here and practice all by myself.”
Unrepentant, indeed.
Demeter had to bite her tongue to keep from letting her temper get the better of her. Clearly, she could not hold her daughter’s attention until she let the child speak her mind. The goddess took in a deep breath of air and let it out in an exasperated sigh.
“What did you want to practice?” Demeter asked with a poor attempt at concealing her impatience. But Persephone was not to be discouraged. Her face broke out into a smile, full of sunshine and pride, and she lifted her hand to her mother.
“Mamma, look what I can do!”
Demeter watched as her daughter’s fingers unfurled to reveal a sprig of dry sage sitting on her palm.
Her heart dropped to her knees. Nothing good ever came after Persephone became interested in fiddling around with plants.
Before she could speak another word, Persephone’s face screwed up in concentration. And in an instant, that small piece of sage lengthened and grew, turning from a dry piece of dying plant and into the most beautiful, fluffy, pink rose that Demeter had ever laid eyes on.
So breathtaking was the rose that Demeter, for a breath of second, forgot that she needed to be angry with Persephone for breaking the rules. She even felt tiny prickles of pride that her daughter could create such a perfectly crafted rose. How could a child of barely four years turn a dead twig into a rose so beautiful, not even the most accomplished artist could recreate it?
But that sense of pride lasted only for a moment. Frustration took over. Demeter snatched the flower out of Persephone’s hand and then grabbed her daughter by the wrist.
“How many times do I have to tell you? Do not use your gifts!”
And with that, she moved to the edge of the cliff, readying herself to toss the rose into the roiling sea far below. As she moved, dragging her child behind her, Demeter caught a glimpse of the expression that was drawn across Persephone’s face.
Tears swam in her hazel eyes and her cheeks were bright red, flushed with sadness and shame. Her lips had fallen from that mischievous grin and into a wobbly line that threatened to burst into full on weeping.
Demeter stopped in her tracks and all the ire that had fueled her was quickly snuffed out, leaving behind a smoldering ruin of regret.
Persephone had been so proud of her hard work. She had only wanted to share in her accomplishment with the one who should have been the most happy for her.
And Demeter reacted only with temper.
Guilt swept over her in a flood. Demeter knelt to the ground, hand still holding the immaculate creation of her daughter’s gifts, and drew her child to her side. The girl was hiccuping as she tried her very best to hold back her cries.
Demeter’s heart wrenched inside of her chest.
This world was such a cruel place. Had the very reason that she lived on this remote island was to protect her daughter from such cruelty? Demeter had fled the life of Olympus and all of its inhabitants to keep her daughter’s innocence intact. Her life was worthy of being protected. Remorse started to eat away at her; she had shown her own child a glimpse of unkindness when she sought to create a world for her that was only kindness.
“Little Kore… your trick was wonderful.” Demeter muttered, trying to replace the tension with tenderness. “I cannot believe that you made this. It is beautiful, my child. But you must remember what I have always told you. You cannot use your gifts so out in the open, if it is even wise to use them at all. It is important that you do not attract attention to yourself. Do you understand?”
Persephone nodded but those tears still remained swimming in her eyes. That was a mantra she had been told ever since babyhood. And yet, Demeter could not help but wonder if the message could ever reach through to that child. All stubbornness and independence and pride while Demeter had worked relentlessly to keep her quiet and demure and obedient.
Because already, there were whispers on the wind, carrying tales of an unknown goddess to the ears of Olympus. The Nymphs that Demeter employed to spy on the others would report back to her and say that the rumors were swirling around, many of them speaking of the existence of a daughter belonging to Demeter.
Already, they spoke about the child’s beauty and how she might rival Aphrodite one day. Already, they talked about who would be the one to find her and steal her heart. Already, they forced her child into a role as a part of their world. Their cruel world that did nothing but take and destroy and harm.
But the rumors remained only rumors; nobody knew if the mysterious daughter of Demeter was real or not. Apparently, this gossip was quite a delightful topic for the Olympians to ponder over, far-fetched theories sprinkled with bits of truth that had somehow escaped the island.
And Demeter wanted to do all that she could to make certain that nobody ever knew for certain if the rumors were true or not. In that moment, Demeter could feel her heart harden as her resolve became even stronger than ever to make sure that her child was kept far, far from Olympus and the destructive antics of the Immortals.
Tomorrow, the sun would rise again and it would be a fresh day with a new start. Hopefully, Persephone would remember this lesson and she would learn that it was too risky to practice her gifts.
Or as Demeter saw it, her curses. The incredible gifts that had been bestowed on her since birth, were constant reminders of the child’s powerful heritage—and what she feared could be their ultimate undoing.
She prayed to no immortal in particular that this wild streak in her child would be softened as the years went on, and that forbidding her powers would make her interest in them fade away.
Demeter took the flower whose fate had nearly been to drown in the waves. Her hands gently wove the stem through her child’s soft hair.
The dusty hues of the rose blended perfectly with the ash blonde strands. Her hazel eyes, the only feature that Demeter shared with her daughter, were glimmering with a careful happiness, glad that her mother had at last accepted her gift.
“This child will surely grow to be more beautiful than Aphrodite…” Demeter mused to herself, keeping that thought hidden in the safety of her mind, lest the goddess in question came down and punished her for such sacrilege.
As much as Demeter loathed to admit it, those rumors about her daughter were woven with truth. And it made her even more determined to keep her away from eyes that would want to exploit her beauty.
She stood to her feet and took her daughter’s hand in hers, this time with kindness. As it should have always been. Demeter turned her head to the west, where their humble abode was tucked away in a grove of cypress trees.
Demeter decided that they would stay there for a few days, hiding within their refuge.
Just the two of them. As it forever would be.
She tugged at her child’s hand to encourage her to make their way through the sea of grass.
“It is time to go home, Kore.”