An Introduction

He was watching her again.

Watching as an errant breeze caused her thick, fair hair to be blown away from her elegant neck, blue eyes flashing with mirth in the sun which bathed the entire meadow in which she sat. Her olive skin was glowing with beauty and perfection. Just as she always had been, at least to him.

He watched as her head arched backwards, her face transformed by laughter, and imagined that it was he himself who had made her laugh this way. That it was he who had made her happy, and that it was he that she loved. It was a fantasy which had plagued his mind lately, ever since he first caught a glimpse of the beautiful woman (though still technically a girl, she was a goddess, and beautiful, and therefore a woman in his eyes), and as much as he tried to point out to himself the absurdity that a woman like her would ever, nay could ever love a man such as himself, he could not quench the flicker of hope in his heart. This hope told him that she was different. That she was a goddess, for goodness sake, and would not care about the frivolities which gripped the women of earth; their obsession with the handsome, the dashing, the heroes, the Zeus's of the human realm. She would not mind that he was not pleasant to look at, that he had a terrible temper and a cynical nature. She would see through this, she would see the man he used to be, and she would love him all the more for his hardships.

"ARGH!" He tore himself away from the window with an agonised cry and began pacing the chamber, disgusted with himself for being so weak. This was so foreign to him, these feelings, this hope. For so many years he had ruled over his world, allowing no mercy to the fools he dealt with, giving full reign to his crueller, sadistic streaks. He took pleasure in the suffering of mortals, laughing when they tried to plead with him, when they told him that there had been a mistake, that they were good people really.

He paused in his pacing beside a basin of water, studying his own reflection, looking for reassurance that he was still himself, that she had not permanently changed him, although he felt sure that she must have. At first he was surprised, there was the same long nose, bent from being broken in a long ago battle, there were the same stern eyes, glaring back at him with anger and confusion. The same thin lips, contorted into the same snarl. The same thin black hair falling into his face. Where then, had she made her mark? For he was certain that she had changed him somehow, and was not willing to admit that it was merely on the inside that she had altered him, in his heart and in his throat (for he could not seem to breathe as he looked at her). But wait, there, a softening in the brow, the angry frown lines just slightly less pronounced, and the snarl slightly less vicious. For a second he felt a flash of joy that he had found her, somebody who could accept him as he was, who could love him as he was, who could make him the man he was, but the fantasy passed quickly and reality sunk in.

A bellow passed through his lips as he swung his fist down, cracking the basin in two with the impact. NO, he would not let her do this to him. Goddess she may be, but she was still a woman, and he had learnt long ago that he could not trust their kind. He would not allow himself to be weakened, to be distracted. He had work to do! Mortals to punish, souls to damn and torture, lives to ruin! A growl sounded deep in his throat; he was a god and he would not allow himself to care for her.

He was Hades and he did not love her.

'Your beauty will be your curse', her mother had once told her in a fit of tears, when she was but a child, and as she sat in the meadow, laughing with the flowers and the nymphs, she thought of this warning from long ago. She picked up her mirror from the floor, and stared into its depths. Blue eyes stared back, framed by long, thick, dark lashes, and she examined her full, rosy cheeks before curving the corner of her plump lips into a smile; "but you are no curse, are you, dear face?" she murmured to herself, and then threw back her head, laughing. She was talking to herself, to her own face, how ridiculous! She sighed and lay back, enjoying the feel of the sun on her face and of the cool breeze, although it insisted on catching strands of her white blonde hair and depositing them in her mouth.

But that was the least of her worries right now, she remembered with a frown. Who was he, she wondered. Was he handsome? The last had not been, nor the one before that. "Why must I get married anyway?" she had asked her father last time he had tried to introduce her to a man (king, god, prince, farmer, they were all the same to her- all men, united by a common love of her beauty, her charm). Her father had looked confused, and merely answered, "for you must be a queen, and beauty such as yours is a powerful weapon". She had not understood fully, and he had laughed at her, but the facts remained the same, she must marry for her father, and nobody refuses the King of gods, not even she, who refused all others.

Well, nobody except her mother, she mused, for her mother had refused her father from the start, not wishing her daughter to be married so soon, for so poor a reason as power. But what did she know, she thought, suddenly angry. Her mother had always been jealous of the men flocking after Persephone, always paranoid that Zeus would prefer her daughter to herself. And now she did not wish power for her daughter either, she did not want her daughter to be the queen she deserved to be. Demeter had grown bitter in recent months, and retreated to the realm of humans, refusing to see Zeus, Persephone, or any others she used to love and cherish. Her loss, Persephone thought spitefully, I shall have to take this kingdom for my own, and show her that beauty and power is not a curse, but a gift to be exploited. Giggling to herself at this thought, the young maiden jumped up from where she had been lying, and ran off towards the top of the mountain to visit her father, chattering nymphs trailing after her.

High on a mountain, a tall muscled man lounged in a golden throne. His perfect face was surrounded by a halo of white-blonde hair, the exact same as that of Persephone's, but his ice-blue eyes held a steely glint which his daughter's could never possess.

Zeus was a proud man. He had a beautiful daughter, a beautiful kingdom; he was worshipped by millions, and had control of the world. And yet he was not happy, for she had left him.

He had had many wives before her, and would have many now that she was gone and yet he could not seem to forget her parting words; "you will regret this, Zeus". No, it was not that she was gone which had discontented him so (for he had not loved her, merely wanted her for power and beauty, for they were all he understood), but that he was sure that she knew something that Zeus didn't, and she had refused to tell him. It infuriated him, and had he his way, she would have been tortured until she spoke, wife or no, goddess or not. For nobody denied Zeus. Alas, he could not find her, and did not have the time to search for her, busy as he was with his plans for his daughter, Persephone.

He would be lying if he said that he had not been tempted to keep the girl for himself, for her beauty was rivalled by none other, and her innocent charm knew no bounds. But tempting as it had been, he knew an opportunity when he saw it. His plan had been simple to start, sell her to the highest bidder, be it god, king or peasant. He who could impress the god king would win his daughter. However, he had forgotten how wilful the girl was, and she had refused all offers as of yet. This one was too ugly, this too shy, this other did not appreciate her beauty fully. And so it went on, until he was thoroughly sick of his own daughter and was beginning to believe that his wife had been right, for he was indeed regretting his decision to marry off his daughter. She was making him look like a fool; she thought herself his equal, and that had to be changed, he fumed. He was not her father, he was her king. He had allowed this to go on long enough.

Just then, an idea struck his mind, and a smile tugged on his lips. She was making him look like a fool, just as Demeter had. And though he could not punish Demeter, his daughter was well within his reach. Of course, he had promised her a husband with power, and he could not deny her that. His slight smile transformed into a nasty grin, and a chuckle slipped through perfect, white teeth. Oh no, he would not deny her that, in fact, perhaps he would give her to the one man with almost as much power as he, himself, had, the one man who embodied all that the girl hated in a man, the anti-thesis of her idea of a husband.

After all, who better to marry his daughter than his brother?

Deep in a forest, a mare the colour of wheat ran. It was all she had done lately. She had run through canyons, over mountains, across deserts, and swum through seas. She passed all forms of animals, all types of people, all number of gods, but she stopped, or even slowed, for no-one. Not even her beloved could sway her from her course.

Actually, especially not her beloved. The surrounding wildlife scattered as she let out an enormous whinny (had she been in human form, this outburst would perhaps have instead been in the shape of a few choice swear words. Her husband. Why had he not listened to her? She knew her daughter, and she knew her husband. It was only natural that she knew exactly what would happen if they carried on with this ridiculous plan. And after all of her careful protections.

She had tried, ever since she saw him staring that first time they met to keep her daughter away from the king of the underworld. He, just as any other man Persephone had ever met, had fallen in love in an instant. And yet, unlike most other men (who were easily dealt with), Hades was powerful. If he wanted Persephone, he would have her. And she had a horrible vision of Zeus helping his brother to get his prize.

Prize. She snorted again, hooves pounding the ground, crushing anything that was unfortunate enough to find itself in her path. Prize. As though somebody was holding a competition and her daughter was to be given away as the trophy. Of course, she had no doubt that that was exactly what Zeus saw it as. Persephone was a way to power for him, after all.

The nagging guilt which had been eating away at her heart ever since she had fled from the mountain of the gods, and taken refuge in the human world, suddenly flared. She should be back there, protecting her daughter, saving her from this fate. But fate was the optimum word here, and although Demeter was by no means a Seer, she would be a fool not to have seen the hands of fate caressing Persephone ever since she had been a babe in her mother's arms. No, there was nothing that Demeter could do here, nothing but run, run and grieve and wait for news.

And so, she lowered her head, and galloped forwards, and anyone lucky enough to see her would notice the tears flying from the horse's eyes and hitting her flanks, where they soaked into the fur, becoming a part of the goddess once more. It would not do to leave any evidence of her passing behind, for if Zeus caught her, nothing, and no-one would be able to save her.

But this waiting! This not knowing, it was eating her heart, and the guilt of abandoning her flesh and blood doubled. She had to do something. And, just like that, she made up her mind. She would follow Hades footsteps and watch. But this time, she would be watching him, and waiting for her time.

Had anybody been watching, they would have been bewildered at the sight of the galloping mare suddenly stopping, a wild look in her eyes, before sprouting wings and setting off into the air.

A/N: This is my first time publishing anything on here, so please be nice (no flames, please :)), and I will be posting regularly, so yeah, I hope you're enjoy the story :)