“I did not settle,” Hades said while pointing for emphasis. His outburst came quickly and immediately after Hera suggested it, before it was drowned in the rest of Hera's rationale. Settling implied that Hades had this long goddess list where order mattered, and Persephone's name was at the very bottom, but Hades chose her anyway, because the other names were too hard to pronounce. It wasn't like that. Persephone's was the only name that made the list, and a list with only one name on it wasn't a list, it was only a name. Encountering Ilithyia would not have changed that.
Linking birth and death was only elegant to someone who wasn't either Birth or Death. Hades was not sure how much he could enjoy the company of a goddess who he knew spent all of her time creating future work for him. If Hades had married Ilithyia, how would she cope knowing that she simultaneously did and undid all of her own designs? Wouldn't that create a void? A bitter sort of frustrating futility? Being in charge of one was hard enough. But both? That kind of divisiveness and responsibility was enough to drive anyone mad.
Persephone was a goddess of spring. Spring was about reawakening. What seemed dead became alive again. Death and birth were completely separate things. Death and rebirth, however, there was a link there. A rather beautiful, hopeful, sort of a link there.
But Hades bit his tongue. He'd let her keep the poetic idea about the bookend elegance. The way Hera had linked her arm in his, and the way she was looking at him with those ox eyes of hers made it impossible for him to stay annoyed with her. He hated that she had that kind of power. It was annoying.
But then Hera started talking about how things really were, and Hades wished she was still talking about the way she thought things should have been. That had been speculation. Speculation was safe. This was personal. Questions like these were knives disguised in wool. No one had really asked how he felt about the arrangement. Even Hades didn't ask. He didn't want those answers. He didn't like those questions. They made him tired behind the eyes, like he hadn't slept or even stopped in years.
Hades had vowed to take good care of Seph. Demeter was just her mother. She didn't have to. Mothers could be as selfish, and as cruel, and as selective and as passive aggressive as they wanted with no repercussions, and Hades couldn't do a thing about it. For nine months out of the year, Hades couldn't do a thing about anything.
And then after the months of the agonizing waiting with the tapping, and the gnashing, and the throwing and the pacing, one day there she would be. Standing straight and mordant at the gate like she had always been there, and Hades had always just missed her. And then she would look at him, dead-fish-eyed, and Hades would remember what he'd spent nine months forgetting. Persephone did not love him. There was a good chance she never would. Three months was just short enough that she didn't need to. For three months, she would look at him like that, and for nine months, he'd go crazy looking at empty spaces instead of her. Hades probably deserved it. He'd gone about things the wrong way. But Demeter's way hadn't been right either. And what did she deserve? A generous yearly vacation plan. It must be nice for her. To get to stop every once in awhile.
Was Hades happy? It depended on Hera's definition. After a moment, he was finally able to meet Hera's eyes.