On a sunny morning, Persephone walked through the forest and with every step she took, wild flowers would spring from the earth. The blooms would wiggle up between her toes and tickle her feet. She picked them, intending to give them to her mother when she returned to Mount Olympus. She was young still, just sixteen, but her beauty could not be compared. The animals of the forest even followed her to admire her splendor.

As she reached up to pick a blossom from the pomegranate tree, Persephone felt a tremble in the ground. She looked around her, and did not discover anything out of the ordinary.

The world opened up into a great black pit beside her; she scrambled back from the edge, which threatened to swallow her up. She fell back on her rear end in the velvety green grass and watched the chariot that sprung from the hole.

The driver was a stranger to her but she felt as if she'd seen him before, perhaps in a fairy tale. She knew for certain that he was a God, like her mother Demeter. He carried darkness on his back, and wore a crown of sharp black iron. He was not of Olympus.

The winged horse drawing the ebony chariot stopped on the grass, and it withered and died under the great beast's hooves. The God descended from his chariot, and the grass became charcoal beneath his armored boots.

"I don't think you belong here," Persephone said, getting up from the ground.

"You're correct." He watched her, obviously trying to hide his urge to gather her in his arms and take her back with him. "You're even prettier in person," he said.

"Who are you?" She eyed him cautiously. He wore heavy metal armor and a torn hole-ridden black cape. She had never seen a belt with a skull for decoration like the one he wore around his waist.

"I am Hades; God of the Underworld." He started to circle her. His straight silver hair was almost a match in length for her wavy red locks.

"And why are you here?" she asked.

"I have been alone for a very long time." He didn't take his eyes off of her.

"So you're lonely?"

"Very lonely." He reached a cool hand for hers but she withdrew before he could make contact.

"I should be going home," she said, slightly intimidated.

"I didn't mean to frighten you." He stopped circling, apologetic. "You're the first living body I've seen in years."

Her heart hammered in her chest, and she shivered with excitement. She had never met a stranger without her mother's escort; she had never met a stranger with such a striking face.

She wet her lips, visibly shaking, and reached out her hand to let him touch it. He took it in his; they were cold and dry. She jolted back slightly in surprise. He brought her palm to his chilled lips. He shifted his gaze to her, red-eyed gaze meeting her enamored expression.

"Persephone, come back with me."

Dazed, she gave him a look of confusion, and slowly tried to draw back her hand. He tightened his grip.

"I would like to take you home with me and make you my wife," he said.

She stared, studying the desperation in his eyes and contemplated the suddenness and surprise of the proposal from a stranger. At that moment, she was not thinking about the darkness of the Underworld or the prospects that she may never return to see the sunlight again. She only felt pity upon his loneliness and an urge to fix this broken God.

She leaned forward, into his ethereal cloud of gloom and laid a warm kiss from supple lips on his icy cheek. "I will come with you," she said, her voice mellifluous to his lonesome ears.

"I'm very glad you will," he said and gathered her in his arm, up off of the ground like a damsel in distress, and kissed her opulent lips. He carried her into the chariot and they departed from the land of the living.

Once they had reached the depths of the Underworld, Persephone felt her skin paling and her eyelids growing heavy. She tucked herself under Hades' arm. She regretted her choice already, hearing the whispers of the dead, feeling their hands reaching for her and turning to a breeze that brushed like a faint breeze on her skin.

"Hades, will I ever return?"

"You are my wife now; I will never willingly let you go."

Persephone bit her lip to hold back tears; she would miss her mother, and Mount Olympus. Persephone may never see sunlight again, and so she weeps, her tears dropping into the river Styx and blooming into red pomegranate flowers on the surface.