Rules: In a new post, show the last thing you wrote or drew then tag as many people as you like. Tagged by @mark-of-cygnus
Thank you for the tag! I just finished a micro fic, but I decided to let that stand on its own, instead, I’ll be sharing an Omake I just finished for the wonderful story of a writer I adore, link (https://archiveofourown.org/series/4024435). If you wanted to leave a comment on the AO3 version (or just prefer reading there), find that here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/89231406
I'm not sure who to tag here XD, but @the0bjectlesson and @heroichalfblood, I am calling you out! But for real, no pressure.
This place was a nightmare.
The air? Like poison, dragging everything living down into the muck. The servants? Positively hideous, not a single iota of life to them. The architecture? An inverted mirror of Olympus, made wretched by the sheer stench of rot and decay that wafted from every fixture. And perhaps most damning of all—it was completely unfit for raising children.
As Eileithyia sat across from Persephone, she vowed once more that she would punish that little bastard. Nico di Angelo… No woman he ever touched would be able to bear his seed, and that would just be the start!
The two goddess sat in silence, and Eileithyia was fine with that. Just because that demigod had threatened her into coming here (her, a goddess!) didn’t mean that she would demean herself by speaking first! If Persephone wanted an apology for the woman’s own lies, she could pry it out of Eileithyia’s mouth herself, and not send her fake son to do it for her.
…Not that Eileithyia wanted that, either. As elegant as Persephone looked, there were… rumors, of the things she’d done since becoming Queen of the Dead. Terrible things. Monstrous things. But, surely, those were just that. Just rumors.
The silence continued, Persephone lounging in her seat as though it might be a throne, one leg crossed over the other. Even compared to other goddesses, she was exceptionally beautiful, Eileithyia admitted grudgingly. Dark caramel curls half pinned up on one side, with a length of hippocampus hair prominently displayed and only further enhanced by a regal crown. Her chiton dress was simplistic, yet elegant, drawing the eye more to the beauty of the one wearing it than the dress itself. She was also rather tall, even while sitting, Eileithyia noted enviously, notable only because these forms were closest to what mortals might consider ‘natural’. All the while looking perfectly at ease in her environment, despite it nominally being just as antithetical to her nature in this season as it was to Eileithyia.
Eileithyia found that she couldn’t relax, the musty air of the underworld unmistakable and inescapable, even if the scent of flowers tried to bury it. Despite not wanting to touch anything more than she needed to, Eileithyia began to drum her fingers on the marble table. Persephone, for her part, simply smiled in response. Unbidden, a shiver ran down Eileithyia’s simulacrum of a spine at the sight of that smile, and her fingers returned to her side.
What finally broke the silence was the arrival of another of those ghastly bone servants, holding a tea set cast in fine china.
“Even here?” Eileithyia couldn’t resist muttering with disgust. She’d hoped Persephone’s garden would at least have proper servants.
“Oh?” Persephone asked, with that same spine chilling smile. “Is something wrong, guest?”
“A-ah, no.” She stammered out, the realization striking that her only protection in this forsaken place was Xenia. “That is, nothing is wrong, I was only expressing my— my surprise, yes, that you would be serving tea. I was given to understand that you preferred pomegranate wine?”
Persephone’s eyes took on a tinge of light, transforming her smile into something warm—and highlighting further the unsettling emptiness that had once sat there.
“You would be correct. However, I am given to understand that expectant mothers should avoid alcohol,” Persephone said, nodding towards Eileithyia’s permanent baby bump.
“Is that so?” Eileithyia asked, internally breathing a sigh of relief. “And where did you hear that?”
“In one of the mortal books I picked up. Becoming a new mother was quite unexpected for me, and I thought it best if myself and my husband brushed up on the… proper way to raise mortal children.”
“Ah, yes. Your… ‘son’,” Eileithyia muttered, disgust and disbelief flashing briefly across her features before she could contain it.
“N-no offense meant, of course.”
“Of course,” Persephone agreed, eyes once more empty and that smile on her lips. “Tea?”
“…Please,” Eileithyia accepted hesitantly.
Persephone gestured, and the servant poured them each a cup of a fragrant red tea. Persephone, of course, drank first, Eileithyia taking a delicate sip shortly after her host. It was rather delicious, sweet and almost fizzy on her tongue.
“Do you find it to your liking?” Persephone asked, an air of almost amusement to her tone. It confused Eileithyia, but she nodded. Persephone chuckled. “Wonderful. Not many can appreciate the subtleties of Rheum rhaponticum, especially in tea. Of course, this particular variant comes from my own garden.”
“Thank you for sharing it with me,” Eileithyia said politely, taking another sip.
“Think nothing of it,” Persephone said, waving a hand dismissively, a warm smile on her lips. “It is only what a guest like you deserves.”
The none too subtle reminder that Eileithyia was a guest set her shoulders at ease. Well, as at ease as they could be in this place. While they sipped their tea, the two chatted on light topics, and Eileithyia found her worries easing. Persephone might have been a false mother, but the rumors of her being as terrible as her husband must have been just that, rumor.
Honestly, why she had ever believed such tales she would never know—who had ever heard of a goddess (of flowers of all things) punishing an Underworld Judge by chaining him upside down from the ceiling and lashing at his form until his ghostly ichor stained a white Persian rug fluorescent blue? It was absurd.
As Eileithyia drank the last of her tea, she grudgingly decided to simply get this over with so she could leave—and if it also helped her avoid an unpleasant punishment from Styx, all the better.
“I am certain you are aware of my reason for being here?” Eileithyia began, barely resisting the urge to grind her teeth as she remembered the sheer humiliation that bastard child had put her through.
“Oh? Was this not a simple visit? You will have to forgive me, news can travel so slowly, at times,” Persephone replied, fingers dancing along the rim of her tea cup as she let a small smirk touch her lips.
Eileithyia stopped resisting, her jaw clenching tight as she nearly ground her teeth to dust. As infuriating as her s—
Eileithyia took a breath, forcing herself to calm. They were not mother and son, no matter how similar they might appear. A false bond was no substitute for true motherhood, and Eileithyia refused to acknowledge their claim. The boy was a bastard, and Persephone was simply an upstart goddess trying to ride his coattails for recognition. It made her want to—oh. Oh, Eileithyia suppressed a smirk, that could work.
“I can certainly imagine so, in a place like this,” Eileithyia said airily. “It concerns some rumors that are circling about you and your ‘son’. All nonsense, I am quite certain. Still, it would be remiss of me to not ‘clear the air’ as it were.”
Persephone’s smirk flattened into a blank mask, and Eileithyia smiled.
“They say that you have tied yourself to Hades’ spawn’s rising star. That you have even claimed him as your own.”
“I would mind your tongue, Eileithyia,” Persephone stated flatly, eyes dark and threatening. Eileithyia let out a light giggle.
“I was only repeating what I had heard,” Eileithyia said with a triumphant smirk. “Still, I did repeat some of it, so I do apologize.”
And with those words, the noose of her Oath slipped off her neck.
Across from her, Persephone stared her down, face carved as though from stone and eyes glinting maliciously. Eileithyia would admit, it was incredibly frightening, like being stared down by Zeus himself. Even so, so long as she didn’t break Xenia herself, Persephone would have no option for recourse. And once Eileithyia left, she’d be back on Olympus and Persephone would be stuck in this dreary place.
The thought of Persephone, stuck in the Underworld, unable to leave or further spread her lies about having a ‘son’, brought a grin to Eileithyia’s face. So, she couldn’t resist twisting the knife, just a little.
“The boy seemed quite upset, though?” Eileithyia mused aloud, pouring herself another cup of tea. “Very attached to you, of course, but I imagine any demigod would be, especially when his true mother was killed. I suppose it is even rather fortunate for you…”
“Fortunate for me? My, whatever are you implying,” Persephone said, warning in her tone. Eileithyia’s false heart raced in her chest, hiding a smirk behind her fresh cup of tea as Persephone took the bait.
“That he doesn’t remember her at all,” Eileithyia replied. “No one to compare you to, no one to contest your claim, no one to get in the way… I scarcely believe you could have done better if you had planned it.”
Persephone froze stock still, and Eileithyia grinned. Only for a moment, though, as what little warmth remaining in the air vanished without a trace. Eileithyia felt a chill race across her whole form, letting out an undignified yelp as the stone cracked open, the sound of it like thunder. Eileithyia watched, trembling in her seat, as black vines grew through those cracks, rapidly filling every available space, flowers of dozens of shapes and sizes dotting every last one. The flowers themselves were hideous things, the scent of rot and decay clinging to them, each more strangely shaped than the last. Finally, the outgrowth of plant life came to a halt, only the two of them and the table itself clear of Persephone’s ominous black creations.
Perhaps, Eileithyia thought to herself, just perhaps, she’d taken it a step too far. But still, Persephone had held to Xenia, and so long as Eileithyia asked to leave this very moment, Persephone would have to let her go—
And as soon as that thought crossed Eileithyia’s mind and she made to speak, it all vanished. The vines, the flowers, the cracks in the stone, all cleared away like nothing had happened at all. Eileithyia blinked, taken aback, before a gasp left her lips as she turned to look at Persephone once more… slumped in her chair, her head hanging low, looking absolutely miserable.
“Did you think I did not know that?” Persephone whispered, voice desolate. “Did you think I do not wonder, every day, what it would be like if he could remember her? Would I have him at all, if she were still here?”
Despite herself, Eileithyia found she was pitying the other goddess. Which quickly led to guilt for what she’d done.
The anger she’d felt, the humiliation she’d endured, the spite she’d used to fuel her vitriol, they all became harder to cling onto as her guilt grew. Eileithyia had only done what she’d believed was right, defending her domain from one who wished to benefit from the title of ‘mother’ without any of the work. Instead, she was finding it more and more difficult to believe that Persephone wasn’t everything she had said she was—the new mother, to a young boy. The exact being she existed to help, and she had… treated her with nothing but scorn.
As Persephone sat, listless and despondent, Eileithyia found herself wishing that she could stop her past self from saying something so cruel. Eileithyia had always prided herself on only turning her cruelty onto the deserving, reserving her kindness, dignity, and grace for any and all mothers...
If she were wrong, if Nico truly was her son then… oh, what a mess.
“I, I am certain it would make no difference,” Eileithyia offered sympathetically, wincing when Persephone didn’t even look her way to acknowledge the response. “Even if it were so, you could have done as Hera attempted—”
"It would not change a single thing," Persephone cut her off, head finally rising to show ever-so-slightly wet eyes shining with purpose. "I would never do such a thing. I am not only his mother when he can see me, I am always his mother. And I would know."
Ah, Eileithyia thought to herself, slumping in her own seat, she truly is his mother. Persephone—no, Lady Persephone, she had never said anything that wasn’t the truth, had she? And what did that make her, she wondered? A close-minded fool, just like her son had said. Eileithyia chuckled. Well then, there was only one solution, wasn’t there?
Eileithyia rose from her chair—then bowed her head to the floor as much as her body was able.
“From the bottom of my heart, I regret every word I spoke. He is your son, and I sincerely apologize for ever believing otherwise.”
From one mother to another, this was the only way Eileithyia could ask for forgiveness.
Eileithyia stayed bowed for a long moment, but not once was she tempted to rise. This was the least she could do, to repay an offense to one that she should have been supporting. What good was she, as a goddess, if she couldn’t do at least that much? And her son—well, he was still a brat, but she found it easier to forgive his humiliation—he was just protective of his mother, and how could she fault him for that? She’d already cursed him to never have a child with a woman, but she’d reduce it to just until he was an adult.
“…You may rise,” Lady Persephone said at last. Eileithyia rose as bidden, heart in her throat—relief flooding through her as she took in the forgiving smile on Lady Persephone’s face.
“I do believe it is I who should apologize. I must have startled you with that, outburst. It can be rather difficult, when I am here,” Lady Persephone added, looking apologetic as she gestured for Eileithyia to return to her seat.
“Thank you, but it is unnecessary,” Eileithyia said, shaking her head as she sat down once more. “I took things much too far myself.”
“As I said, you have said nothing I had not considered myself, before. It is not easy, or simple, being a mother. Especially to such a bright, willful boy,” Lady Persephone finished with a light chuckle and a fond smile. “At the least, let me refresh our tea with something a bit warmer.”
With that, another servant came with a new teapot, swapping out their cups and vanishing from sight in no time at all. Efficient work, Eileithyia admitted. Perhaps that was the upside to immortal servants without the pesky personality quirks of dryads or nymphs?
“This one is quite delicious as well,” Eileithyia praised after taking her first sip of the new brew.
“Something a bit more medicinal, with less caffeine content for one with your more, delicate constitution,” Lady Persephone replied with a soft smile.
“Thank you for that, not many take into consideration my… condition,” Eileithyia replied, chuckling lightly.
“It is no trouble. I am glad to see that my time was well spent,” Lady Persephone said, before her smile drooped and her expression filled with melancholy. “It feels as though we have so little of it, these days. Especially to spend with our children…”
Eileithyia said nothing. What could she say, truly? This war was not one that she, a minor goddess without even a Roman form, would be able to affect. But sometimes, she knew, all a mother needed was for someone to listen. At length, Lady Persephone spoke again.
“It is rather silly, is it not?" She asked. "I am his mother, a goddess, and yet with this war coming, and myself and my husband needing to keep our distance… I have never felt so powerless.” She chuckled, but it was a laugh empty of humor. “How I envy you. Without a Roman persona, you aren’t torn as we will be. When I became a mother, no one ever stopped by to tell me what I was supposed to do… and now that I have finally found my footing, I have to leave him on his own.”
Lady Persephone’s words hung in the air for a long moment, the atmosphere heavy, until Eileithyia could take it no longer.
“Well, if it would ease your worry, I suppose I could keep an eye out for that son of yours,” Eileithyia offered, tone weaker than she intended it to be. Luckily, Lady Persephone didn’t seem to notice, her eyes sparkling merrily as a bright smile settled on her face.
“Thank you, Eileithyia, truly.”
Eileithyia felt her cheeks heat in a flush, and she took a long drink of her tea to gather herself. Her cheeks still faintly pink, she cleared her throat and said firmly:
“It is only my duty, Lady Persephone—”
“Please,” Lady Persephone interrupted with a warm expression. “No need for such formalities among friends.”
Eileithyia blinked, her blush returning.
“F-friends?” She stammered out, quickly pouring herself another cup of tea as a distraction. “That is, I am certain someone of your position has no need for a friendship with—”
“With someone who promised to look out for my son?” Lady—no, Persephone interrupted with a tender smile. “Eileithyia—No, Ei, there is no one I would rather call friend.”
Persephone waved Eileithyia off with a wide smile, and as the ever-pregnant goddess stepped onto Charon’s boat, she turned back to her castle—and her smile took on amused tilt.
Truly, she hadn’t been expecting much of a challenge from such a lower ranking goddess, but she was so blind to manipulation it was almost pitiable. She hadn’t even asked about consuming tea that Persephone had heavily implied was brewed in the Underworld—not that it truly was. Even her son had known better when he had first arrived, and he’d had less than a year’s worth of memories to call his own. Still, it always paid to have friends in even the most unlikely of places, and even if Eileithyia never managed to help her son, Persephone would find some method to put her to use. That was the nature of their world, after all.
Persephone’s smirk faded, twisting into a pained grimace.
Undoubtedly, it was the nature of their world… but it wasn’t the one she wanted for her son. Motherhood had made her soft, she supposed. Soft enough that her poisoned tea was swapped out for an antidote the moment Eileithyia had apologized. The old Persephone, she would have let a lesser goddess like Eileithyia suffer the pain and torment… but she wanted more than that, for her son.
It was ridiculous and impulsive, Persephone knew. Not everyone could be saved, no matter her power or allies. Not everyone could be forgiven. Not everyone could be, or even wished to be, redeemed. And yet… she had no intention of leaving that kind of example for him.
She certainly did not want her son to give every being he met on his travels an opportunity to change—the very idea was absurd, and such a thing would only leave him hurting. But, she did want him to see the part of her that gave others a chance to change. And Persephone couldn’t say if that desire came about from his presence in her life driving her to be better… or if it was just the fear of seeing a look of disappointment in his eyes. Perhaps…
“Delectable tea, or deadly poison…” Persephone trailed off, summoning a rhubarb leaf between elegant fingers. “Well, the difference lies in the dosage.”
