[Greek Mythology] The Demons Under My Command - Chapter 63

The King of the Underworld and the Goddess of Spring

It has been an unknown number of years since Li Jia left. The Four Realms of the Divine Mountain have returned to their original state, the sun and moon replace each other, and everything is as calm as can be.

But some interesting things have happened within this tranquility. For example, Hades, the King of the Underworld, fell in love with Persephone, the Goddess of Spring. Cupid’s arrow finally struck this hard, venomous stone.

One vernal equinox, Persephone walked past the borders of the Underworld, her basket filled with irises.

A sudden shadow fell from the normally silent black stone walls.

He had originally intended to scare her away, but the moment he saw her, the man’s dark blue eyes reflected a color other than death for the first time.

That touch of spring, cutting through the haze of the Underworld, was like a small hammer, gently tapping his heart, which had been silent for millennia.

No one knew how this pursuit began.

At first, it was just a faint, lingering black mist that Persephone felt behind her whenever she scattered the spring buds in the Mortal Realm. Later, when she went to pick the first pomegranates in her garden, a string of crystalline black pearls would mysteriously appear on the branch.

And then later.

Wherever the Goddess of Spring’s skirt swept, the King of the Underworld’s black robe would silently follow, like a quiet shadow, yet instantly disappearing into the clouds when she turned around.

Initially, Persephone feared this cold and handsome man. She had heard the rumors about him—aloof, taciturn, the god who ruled over death.

Though a deity, he disdained mingling with the other gods, choosing not to live on the Divine Mountain or in the Mortal Realm.

He resided alone in the depths of the Netherworld, where even the ferryman of the River Lethe dared not speak too much to him.

Persephone was not without trying to hide. She hid the scent of spring in the ice crevices of the snow-capped mountains, but Hades sent his nether-butterflies, holding a never-wilting flower from the Underworld, to guard the crevices for an entire winter.

She deliberately went to the hottest desert at high noon in midsummer to sow seeds, only to find the sand dunes already paved with cool, black obsidian tiles. There was even one time, in a fit of pique, she hid in the Old Garden within a space-time rift.

But when she turned around, she saw Hades gently brushing away a speck of dust, not belonging to any realm, from her hair with his fingertip. His voice was lower than the waters of the River Lethe: “There is no spring here. You will be cold.”

Persephone looked at Hades’ suspended fingertip, and her heart was thrown into a sudden flurry of ripples, like a small stone tossed into a lake. She had intended to say, “I am not cold.”

But the words that came out were a soft inquiry: “How… how did you find this place?”

Hades was facing such a gentle question for the first time, and his voice became even softer than before: “The nether-butterflies can smell your presence. Even if you hide in a timeless rift, I can find you.”

He paused, then added, “I was afraid the dust here would scratch your skin. There is no sunlight here, and the irises you carry with you will wither.”

Persephone looked down at the flowers in her basket; the petals had indeed wilted slightly more than before.

She suddenly recalled a few days ago in the Valley of ktabor. In her effort to pick the highest flower, she missed her footing. Just as she was about to fall into the muddy pit beneath the tree, a black shadow suddenly swept out from behind the clouds. She didn’t see who it was, only feeling a gentle yet strong force support her waist, setting her securely on the ground.

When she looked back, only a few fragments of black cloth, carried by the wind, had fallen onto the petals.

At the time, she thought she was just imagining things, but now, recalling Hades’ words, her heart beat a little faster.

She thought of the rumors.

“You are clearly so averse to trouble…” Persephone looked up into his eyes, which clearly reflected her image: “Why are you still doing all of this?”

Hades was silent for a moment, as if organizing his thoughts.

He was never skilled at gentle words. Normally, his commands to his subordinates in the Underworld were always brief and cold.

But facing Persephone, he wanted to articulate his feelings clearly: “I used to think that death was eternal stillness, which was not so bad.”

“But since I saw you, I realized how dull stillness is without spring.”

He reached out and gently touched the irises in Persephone’s basket. The moment his fingertip touched the petals, the wilted flowers slowly unfurled: “I want you to leave an eternal spring for the Underworld.”

Persephone’s eyes suddenly welled up.

She had always thought his pursuit was driven by the King of the Underworld’s possessiveness, his habit of controlling everything.

But now she understood that his actions were clumsy attempts at affection.

A god who had lived for millennia, who only understood death, was learning for the first time to give all his tenderness to spring.

She gently lifted her basket, took a step forward, and moved closer to Hades.

The scent of spring emanated from her, brushing past Hades’ black robe, even warming the cold fabric slightly.

“Then you don’t have to hide next time.”

Persephone’s voice was smiling, like a spring breeze over a lake: “If you want to see spring, I can take you to see the canola fields in the Mortal Realm, or I can plant your favorite flowers all over the stone walls of the Underworld.”

Hades’ eyes suddenly lit up, like stars rising in a quiet, dark night.

He reached out and carefully grasped Persephone’s wrist. The warmth of his fingertip was warmer than she had imagined: “Truly?”

“Truly.”

Persephone nodded, seeing his rare look of anticipation, and couldn’t help but smile: “But, you are not allowed to scare me with black mist ever again.”

Hades immediately nodded, like an obedient child: “Alright, never again.”

Persephone looked at Hades’ earnest profile and suddenly felt that letting Death embrace Spring, and letting the aloof god learn tenderness, was an interesting endeavor.

What followed was the natural progression of acquaintance, understanding, and falling in love. Although Demeter was neither fully agreeable nor fond of this seemingly unapproachable “son-in-law-to-be,” Persephone loved him. Her daughter shyly and subtly told her: “Mother, I love him. The thought of being separated from him makes my heart profoundly lonely.”

Demeter was not unfamiliar with love, but the thought of Hades, who lived in the depths of the Netherworld and was always wrapped in cold air, made her frown.

She had seen him a few times—either he stood alone in a corner during the council of the gods, giving only a faint response even when Zeus spoke to him, or she would see him from afar, following Persephone like a silent shadow, exuding an aura of “do not approach.”

Could such a god truly protect her Spring?

“It’s not that I dislike him,” Demeter’s voice softened as she saw her daughter’s reddened eyes: “I’m just afraid he won’t cherish you, afraid you will be wronged in the Underworld.”

“He won’t, Mother.”

Persephone held her mother’s hand, her fingertips carrying the warmth of spring: “He just doesn’t know how to say sweet words, but his tenderness is all in his actions.”

Demeter looked at the light in her daughter’s eyes—a vibrant light nourished by love, like the most saturated new bud in spring.

She suddenly recalled how she, in her youth, had also felt her heart stir for someone.

Perhaps love has never been about how perfect the other person is, but about how much genuine sincerity they are willing to give you.

She gently patted her daughter’s hand, her tone carrying a hint of helplessness, yet also containing compromise: “Very well, you are grown now and have your own mind. But the next time he comes, he must properly tell me how he intends to treat you.”

“My daughter can only be a Queen.”

Demeter’s voice was not loud, but it was like a pebble dropped into a calm lake, causing Persephone’s face to instantly flush and making Hades, who was lurking outside the door hoping to secretly overhear a few words, stop in his tracks.

He had never considered the title of Queen. He only knew he had to give Persephone the best of everything in the Underworld.

But he had forgotten that she was the Goddess of Spring, Demeter’s cherished treasure, and deserved the most solemn treatment.

Persephone was momentarily stunned, then pulled on her mother’s sleeve, whispering: “Mother, I don’t care about titles…”

“I do.”

Demeter interrupted her, reaching out to gently stroke her daughter’s head, but her gaze was directed towards the door. Her voice held unquestionable firmness: “My daughter is the Spring that revives all things, not some dispensable shadow beside someone.”

“If she is to go to the Underworld, she should be the mistress of that place, the respected Queen, not an existence who secretly follows someone without even a formal title.”

Hades’ heart warmed instantly outside the door.

He had always thought Demeter was full of contempt for him, but he hadn’t expected the mother’s pickiness and worry to be entirely for her daughter’s respectability.

He took a deep breath, pushed open the ajar door, and walked step by step to Demeter, bowing slightly.

This was the first time in a thousand years he had bowed to a god other than Nyx.

“You are right.”

Hades’ voice was deeper than usual, yet carried an unprecedented sincerity: “I never considered the matter of the title. It was my oversight. But to me, Persephone is not a shadow; she is the light that illuminates the Underworld.”

“I will marry her with the highest ceremony of the Underworld, making her the rightful Queen of the Underworld, ensuring that all creatures of the Underworld respect and protect her.”

“I promise you, from this day forward, Persephone’s wish is my wish, Hades’. Should anyone dare to harm her in the slightest, they will be an enemy to my Underworld.”

Demeter looked at the sincerity in his eyes and then at her daughter’s quietly clasped hands. Her last remaining concern finally dissipated.

“Enough,” Demeter sighed, her tone softening: “Since you understand her preciousness, I will no longer object. But there is one thing.”

“Persephone cannot live without spring. From the vernal equinox to the autumnal equinox each year, you must let her return to the Palamedes Fields for a few months to let her see the flower seas of the Mortal Realm, or she will become bored.”

Hades immediately nodded, like a knight receiving an order: “I promise you. I will personally send her back, and I will personally come to receive her return.”

Persephone watched her mother and Hades reach an agreement. She walked to Hades’ side and gently held his hand. The warmth from his fingertips reassured her.

Hades turned his head, and the two exchanged a smile.

He finally didn’t have to be a silent shadow anymore. He could finally openly hold her hand and see the spring of all four realms.

In the days that followed, the Four Realms of the Divine Mountain became lively. The gods of Olympus, upon hearing that the King of the Underworld was marrying the Goddess of Spring, sent their congratulatory gifts.

Zeus occasionally glimpsed Persephone’s beauty, and his heart itched with the desire to possess her, but someone was quicker than him.

Hera, the Goddess of Marriage, personally registered Hades and Persephone’s marriage. Persephone was the initiator of the marriage, and Hades was recorded as the God-Husband.

Hades stood nearby, his dark blue eyes filled with pride. When glancing at the marriage record, he specifically confirmed the two words, “God-Husband.”

He never cared about titles or status. As long as he could firmly hold Persephone’s hand and make her the sole mistress of the Underworld, it didn’t matter what register he was placed in.

“We apologize for troubling you, coming so late in the evening to register our marriage,” Persephone said apologetically to the woman before her. The woman smiled and raised her hand to rub the top of Persephone’s head: “In a way, you are my goddaughter. It is a mother’s duty to help her children.”

“You and Hades have registered your marriage. From now on, no one can intervene between you, unless they wish to challenge the divine authority of the Goddess of Marriage.”

Hades’ gaze instantly turned cold, and he tightened his grip on Persephone’s hand.

He naturally knew Zeus’s character—lecherous and lawless. Now that he saw Persephone’s radiant beauty, he would certainly harbor ill intentions.

Fortunately, Hera acted quickly, using the divine authority of the Goddess of Marriage to seal their union. Should anyone dare to challenge this marriage, they would be fighting the divine punishment of the Divine Mountain, which even Zeus would not lightly provoke.

Hera looked at the couple leaning on each other and said with satisfaction: “With Hades protecting you, I am at ease. In the future, in the Underworld, you are both the Queen of the Underworld and the Goddess of Spring protected by the Divine Mountain. No one would dare to mistreat you.”

“Thank you, Hera.”

Hades was about to say more, but Hera interrupted: “Consider this as my payment for setting the light.”

A segment about the eternal legend of Death and Spring was added to the golden divine script on the marriage certificate.

In the years that followed, love and commitment finally became the most moving scenery.

Support [Greek Mythology] The Demons Under My Command