Books About Persephone And Hades Novels & Stories

Lukas leaned in and breathed in my ear, "They are Hades and his mate, Persephone." I felt my breath hitch. Even though I guessed it but knowing it was true made it feel real. Hades was clad in all-white suit with a rose on his lapel. I was expecting him to have a long white beard, but he looked youthful with his brunette hair slicked back and clean-shaven face. Persephone, on the other hand, was breathtaking with her white lace gown and her long blonde hair parted in one side. "Ahh, Lukas!" Hades cried out, wrapping his arms around Lukas and tugging him closer.

I bowed my head as I stood, helping Ismene-Eirene up. “You are welcome. And don’t fret. I am Hades, so I rarely leave the Underworld for anything but business. So, unless there will be souls to collect, we’ll be here ruling our domain and doting on our daughter.” Anicetus nodded. Persephone called for a servant to lead us to our rooms. “Have a good night,” Persephone said, gently lifting Chara from her bassinet. “Good night Lord Hades, Lady Persephone, and Lady Chara. Thank you for your hospitality.” Ismene-Eirene bowed her head.

"You are the kindest thing That ever happened to me, Even if that isn't How our tale is told. When everyone else told me I was Destined to be a forgotten nymph That nurtured flowers and turned Meadows gold, You saw that the ichor that resides in me Demanded its own throne. You showed me how a love like ours Can turn even the darkest, coldest realm Into the happiest of HOME." Persephone to Hades .. .. **Unknown Person's POV:**

A woman leaned close to them, smiling softly as she smoothed my son’s hair. The boy was Eren, the child I had nearly given up half my life force to bring into the world. The woman was not me. I was Persephone, goddess of spring, queen of the Underworld, and Hades’s wife under every sacred law. Not long after, Nympha posted her own update on the social feed. In the illustration, my mother’s pomegranate brooch lay beside a small charm of laurel and asphodel, clumsily woven by a child’s hands. Beneath it, she wrote: