The last chapter - kind of bittersweet I guess.

Six months is a mere blink in the lives of the gods.

Once Hades had thought time meant nothing. Now, six months would make up the measure of his happiness. For half of immortality, he would live and breathe with joy, and the other half he would return to the grey monotony of his previous existence. Cursed, he would think in the darkest moments – he was cursed to a half-life. Every slowly passing day, he tormented himself with glimpses of his beloved by courtesy of Hecate's magic. From time to time he watched the suffering of the souls and wondered what they knew of pain. What did they know of agony when they were dead and released? Eventually they would return to dust, while he was forced to live on in a cursed half-eternity of stolen shards of joy.

Dark brooding was not new for Hades. To the enormous relief of his underlings, their Lord had returned to an approximation of his usual self. He held court, oversaw the judgement of the dead and managed his realm as he always had. Things returned to normal, which was how the Underworld liked things to be. Perhaps he was unnecessarily cruel from time to time, and ate very little, but outwardly he exuded the confidence and dark power that was recognised by all as normality. Yet those who had the dubious honour of truly knowing Hades could see the cracks in his expression, the wistful, far away glaze of his black eyes and knew that he longed for the day when Persephone would take her place in the empty throne by his side.

In a very separate universe, Persephone could not return to what had once been normal. How could she, when all around her was the same but what lay in her soul was changed forever? Her mother had tried to pretend that all was the same for the months they were together, and for Demeter's sake the Goddess of Spring allowed her mother to delude herself into believing it was so. Neither goddess mentioned Hades, or Olympus, or anything that would remind Demeter that Persephone was married and would eventually leave her mother again.

"Dance with me, my flower," Demeter would ask, and Persephone would laugh and skip and smile sweetly to pan pipes.

The brightness and vibrancy returned to the gardens in the presence of Persephone's life force. The Goddess of Spring flourished in her rightful place in the world, truly happy to be in the sunlight and to enjoy the simple things that were denied in the Underworld. She glowed while rediscovering the chattering of birds, the strength of the wind, the gentle murmur of a stream, and the infinite wonder of life with all its miracles and cruelties. Every moment was beautiful. A weaker goddess would have wept at being so torn between lives, but Persephone had instead gained a new appreciation for every second of her immortality. Whether with the mother who held her tight and promised to keep her a child forever, or with the husband whose obsessive adoration fuelled her desire for danger and excitement, she would be alive. And time meant everything.

Each month Persephone would write a letter to Hades, renewing a promise of all her heart and soul, encasing the message in an enchanted red rose. This she set in the stream, which carried it many miles until, at a certain point, it met the River Acheron. From there her message was carried deep underground and picked up by Underworld gatekeepers, who delivered it with haste to Hades' palace. The Lord of the Underworld treated every message as priceless, reading and re-reading each one until he knew every word backwards. As the awaited day drew near, he ordered that green banners be hung in the halls. Flowers from Persephone's grove were tended and placed at the foot of her throne, which Hades would often gaze on when he was sure no-one else was watching.

The days were full of events, yet each drew on forever without end for him. Even though he had waited four thousand years for her, those six months had been far too long.

One anxious, chilly autumn day, right outside a nameless cave entrance in Italy, gathered a group of dark creatures. The summer had been especially long, but the autumn had come as this day had drawn near. Demeter's sadness was slowly beginning to show in the world again. The pattern of the seasons, it seemed, would never be the same again.

Three centaurs, a group of gorgons, Thanatos and Hades awaited the return of the Queen. Although his expression would never belie the flaming of his soul, Hades could barely contain the anticipation within at the prospect of holding Persephone once more. The breath of the Overworld slapped against his cheek and ruffled his greasy dark hair, brushed for the occasion.

"My lord…"

Thanatos' invasive slimy voice made the Lord of the Underworld tear his gaze from the crest of the grassy hill he had been watching for over an hour.

"Yes, Thanatos?" he replied impatiently.

"I've been wondering," came the inevitable request. "Would you ever consider inviting the Goddess Hestia to the palace again? It is only, I believe we started something while she was here at your wedding, and I would deeply enjoy continuing what was started."

Truly disgusted, Hades reigned in his irritation. Hestia's reasons for leading Thanatos on during his wedding celebrations was beyond his understanding. She deserved better. Yet, Persephone probably deserved better, he thought, and he was not about to even consider giving her up.

"Hestia is very busy," Hades said shortly.

"Yes, of course she is," Thanatos muttered, embarrassed and more than a little bit disappointed. "Forgive me, my lord. I did not think."

The God of Death slinked back towards the comforting shade provided by a rocky overhang. Underworld creatures do not tolerate the brightness of the Overworld for long. Living things and light disgust them beyond measure. Hades, however, was born in the Overworld, despite having grown accustomed to the realm of the dead. Perhaps that was why he chose his consort from among the living, although nothing about his infatuation with Persephone had ever made sense.

Just then, a horn sounded from beyond the rise.

Hades tensed, full of anticipation but loathe to show it. The centaurs snorted and pawed the soil.

The Queen of the Underworld rode over the hill on the back of a regal white mare, flanked by attendants and her mother. Her red hair spiralled down her back in shining curls, and her face was bright and glowing with light and joy. A blue dress, the colour of the sky, hung loosely from her shoulders, and trailed on the grass alongside her horse's hooves. On seeing Hades and his entourage, a welcome wave of nervous love filled her belly. Nothing existed but the dark energy of his eyes, which had been missing from her gaze for too long. Until that moment, she had been unsure, but right then Persephone knew the truth.

Slipping from the saddle, not waiting for her attendants to speak or bid her farewell, the Goddess of Spring dashed to Hades and allowed him to sweep her into the saddle in front of him.

"I missed you," she whispered, and although he did not say a word, she felt relief radiate from him.

Demeter watched her daughter from a miserable distance as she whispered quietly to her husband and he cruelly stole her light away from the world again. The cold winds would blow, she decided harshly, until her precious daughter was returned to her. The world would mourn with her until Persephone returned in spring, and then rejoice and celebrate the return of warmth and life.

Neither Hades nor Persephone noticed Demeter's grief. He possessively wrapped her in his cloak, bringing his horse about to dive within the earth and away from the sickening light of the living. The sky turned grey, and rain threatened to fall, but neither of them noticed.

They were swallowed once more by the darkness, and Persephone closed her eyes, knowing she had no reason to fear.