A/N: So new story because of a lovely anon who had an idea and didn't want to write it. So here we are. I love the myth of Hades and Persephone and with it being Hades and Persephone week over on tumblr this came about.

It's canon TVD up to 2x08 with Elijah pulling the stake out of his chest. Everything from that point on might not be taken as canon, some things will, some things won't be. That's the fun of diverging from canon.

Big thanks to Miranda for being my awesome beta and to cupcakemolotov for cheerleading me through this.

(And I'm still working on A Twist in my Story! I just need a break from AU AH after powering through The Prince and Me which was a birthday prezzie. But that shall get updated soon!)

she is the sunlight,
the sun is gone
trading yesterday

He had thought he'd known pain and despair before, having been surrounded by it for more years than he could fathom in the land that was his own. Death was a welcomed friend, one that walked along with him wherever he stepped, surrounded him with every breath he took, every glance he made. He'd long ago accepted it, overcame his annoyance with his brothers who'd taken the more cherished realms, leaving him to his darkness.

But then she'd come along and there had been light and love in his life. Laughter filled his realm, along with music, and a sense of happiness that he'd never felt before. It ebbed whenever she had to leave for her other duties but her smile when she came back to him helped ease that time apart.

Now she was gone, blotted out like the rest of the gods, one after the other and while for the rest he could do nothing, there had to be a way to bring her back. The world would tremble at his feet if there wasn't.

"Where is she?" he bellowed as he burst into the small home of the three Moirai, eyes narrowed as he took in the three hags, watching as they cut another string.

"We knew you'd come," Clotho mused, pulling out another string from her never ending supply and handing it over to her sister.

Lachesis smiled at him as she wrapped it around her hands, getting it to the exact length that was needed. "When you learned she didn't merit the same fate as you."

"Even if you should have known that already," Atropos tsked before cutting the latest thread.

Rage filled him at their words, working into the heart of him and if he could he would have ripped them in two for what they were saying. But nothing could break them apart, no weapon or even god hands could tear their limbs, leaving them far more powerful than any who had come before or would come after her.

"Yours," Clotho told him as she held up a new string with a grin before passing it to her sister.

He held his head high, not fearing them, but the string wouldn't break, the scissors twisting as they tried, refusing to let him follow his heart wherever she may have gone. They cackled, the laugh setting his teeth on edge before they disappeared, leaving him with nothing as more stars blotted out of the sky, the universe growing even darker.

It seemed the fates were forcing him to continue on with only darkness as his friend, the shade even worse than it'd been before his life had been touched by her light. There was no use in standing around and he vanished, appearing back in the palace room he'd shared with her only days ago. A new dress hung to the right, ready to be worn by his Queen.

He couldn't stand the sight and slashed it, tearing the fabric into pieces until it lay around him on the floor, before he fell to his knees to hold onto the scraps as he seethed for the injustice of it all.

He heard the footsteps and didn't bother to turn around, wondering who was foolish enough to disturb him there.

"I did something."

Hecate. Why did she live and his love die?

"I don't care." What did it matter what any of them did anymore?

"I loved her too."

He nearly lashed out at that, for her daring to speak of her love for Persephone as anything comparable to his own, but he didn't have it in him, knowing his dear wife would have hated him if he did. Even in death he couldn't hurt her like that.

"I saved her," the goddess continued, and he turned his gaze toward her, not quite believing until he saw the truth in her eyes. "As best I could."

He was on her in seconds, fingers biting into her arms, eyes flashing dangerously as he demanded she tell him every last detail. She told him everything, nothing left out, and the darkness that had been threatening to swallow him whole eased just a bit.

Hope was a powerful thing. It could destroy as easily as it could save or even rebuild; it could drive one mad.

"Do it," he demanded as he released his grip, gaze locked on her.

"Neither of you will remember a thing," Hecate reminded, her power flowing through her as she watched him. "Not until its time and you've accomplished what's needed to be done. I cannot say how long that will take."

"I don't care how long it will take," he muttered. Not if it meant Persephone would breathe the same air as him again, not if it meant he'd see her sweet smile and the light dancing in her eyes. "I'll wait as long as I need to."

"There's no guarantees," she pointed out, hesitating slightly. "You'll be born mortal." So many things could go wrong if he took this chance. He might never even make it past the first few years of a human life. "You'll never be as you now are." No longer a god but not tied to the fates either.

"It will give her a chance at her living again." And that was all he needed.

Pain rippled through him, tearing into every fibre of his being and ripping him apart until there was nothing left.

Somewhere the fates cried out in anger at the thwarting of their carefully crafted plans, the world blotting out into an all consuming darkness before it was set aflame, life renewing in a different way than before.

It took years, more than Hecate could have ever imagined, but with a cry he greeted the new world, seemingly wailing at all that had come to pass before then.

On that day the third son of Mikael and Esther breathed his first breath, a god almost renewed.

Klaus wondered if the sensation of a sword being thrust into his gut, leaving him to bleed out slowly as he watched the rest of his siblings slain in front of him, would ever truly leave him. It'd only been a few days since his parents had killed and brought them back to life, making the lot of them into something more powerful, more dangerous than the werewolves in the next village. His mother had meant for them to survive where Henrik had not, to be able to take care of themselves where she'd been unable to protect them, but it seemed the darkness in her magic had created something even she could not have foreseen.

He'd seen her troubled looks as she watched them now, gaze following them as they butchered the entire werewolf population of the village-leaving no man, woman or child alive. The bloodlust hadn't been something that Esther had anticipated and the fear ran rampant in their own village, worry that they would meet the same fate as their neighbors.

Except Tatia didn't fear them, she seemed to covet the attention from Elijah and he even more, desperate for the protection that they could now offer. Even now he knew she was off with his older brother as the sky finally began to darken.

It would be the first full moon without the wolves roaming about. There would be no need to hide away in the caves, to cower in fear that one of the mangy beasts would tear them apart.

"Where are you going?" Esther asked as he started off toward the woods.

"A walk." For his little brother who hadn't made it. He would take it all in and then tell Henrik all about it when he visited where his ashes had scattered into the wind.

"Niklaus," there was a warning to her tone that he ignored, continuing his trek.

He didn't make it far though, body twisting, bones beginning to break. Klaus screamed out in agony, dropping to his knees as his body contorted, a second set of fangs breaking through his gums, eyes flashing yellow.

"Oh god no," Esther gasped from behind him before there was yelling that he couldn't quite make out, only knew that Mikael has stepped into the fray and was shouting at his mother.

Pain reverberated through his body, skin and muscle shifting and stretching, bones cracking to form into new ways. Vaguely he could hear the insults that his father was throwing at him, could almost make out Rebekah's frightened cry, Elijah's gasp of denial as their mother sobbed. But everything was pushed aside as his mind was ripped apart.

Memories of a forgotten time split through him, filling his very soul with images, thoughts, and feelings that were tearing the very fiber of him apart. It was too much for his fragile human brain to handle and he blacked out, not knowing what was happening with his body as the memories continued to bombard him.

The darkness of the reign of the Titans. The war. His brothers and sisters. Doling out the realms. And then more darkness as he settled into his reign as King of the Underworld. Darkness predominated the memories, wrapped him in a blanket of never ending loneliness even as he was surrounded by the dead and those loyal to him. Betrayals and lovers, friends and enemies ghosted through him, slipping through his fingers as he remembered each and every one of them.

Until her smile.

He watched her dance in the fields, daisies popping up wherever her feet touched as the sunshine seemed to glisten in her hair. The loneliness seemed to ebb, the darkness that had been a blanket of despair for him no longer felt heavy on his shoulders.

Love bloomed, her laughter echoing through the halls of his palace. He remembered the slide of her body against his, the slip of her hand in his as she pulled him through the corridors to show him a new surprise. Watched as she doled out fair judgement on new souls, showing compassion sometimes and a coldness that rivaled his own with others.

And then she was gone.

The coldness of the darkness enveloped him again, the fates cackles igniting rage from deep within.

He remembered the despair at knowing he was supposed to go on with only the memory of her laughter, of her touch and love.

Hecate's words rang deep within him then, reminding him of who he was and what she'd sacrificed to bring about a second coming of the goddess they'd both loved. Telling him all he had to do so his dear Persephone would remember who she was when he did find her.

Klaus woke with a splitting headache, his head an absolute mess and for a moment he wondered if he was going crazy. The images he'd experienced made no sense and yet at the same time were too real, too right to have been a lie. There was a deep urge to push it all aside, to bury all he'd learned and not to try and come to grips with it, but the laughter remained, her sweet scent filled the air around him, and he wanted to sink his fingers into the softness of her curls again.

Persephone.

He wouldn't forget her, he couldn't.

"You're no son of mine," Mikael spat and it was only then that Klaus realized he was bound to a tree.

No, he wasn't. The breaking of his bones on a full moon signified only one thing and Esther's troubled gaze when he'd set out to leave suddenly made sense. He looked over at the woman he'd called mother-though she was still, wasn't she? Mother to this incarnation of him. Better than Rhea perhaps. Klaus remembered Esther's soft touch, her soothing words as she put him to sleep and it mixed with Rhea's firm but once loving voice before it had all gone to hell.

"I'd think you'd be happy for the knowledge that I wasn't actually one of your whelps," Klaus bit out. Mikael had always seen him as the weakest of his brood. Shouldn't it have been a relief to know he actually hadn't had part in his birth.

"Do it, Esther," Mikael ordered before stepping back.

"Do what, Mother?" Klaus demanded as Esther stepped forward, wondering what plan the two had apparently concocted.

He didn't like the pity in her eyes, but it was the fear that had him knowing this would not end well for him. "None of you was meant to be more powerful than the other," Esther murmured and then pain sliced through him again as she started to chant.

Tatia was brought out a moment later, crying for release, as Mikael threw her to the ground in front of them. Another from the village was there and Klaus could see the crazed look for blood that he'd seen in his siblings' eyes when they'd first turned. A ring of fire enveloped the three of them, a final one circling around Esther as she continued her chanting.

The fire died off in sections, creating a path as she went into each one, slicing open the vampires hand for blood, cutting Tatia's throat for more, and then she headed to Klaus, slicing his arm to let some of his blood trickle into the cup she held.

"It's for your own good," Esther murmured as she stroked his cheek before Mikael stepped back into the picture, forcing Klaus' mouth to stay open as Esther poured the liquid down his throat.

It took a moment for Klaus to realize what she was doing, locking the werewolf half of him away, preventing him from living in completion. He screamed out, not for the pain that coursed through his body, but because Hecate had warned that he would need for both dualities to be in play in order to revive Persephone. If his wolf was locked away then his blood would be meaningless when he did find her.

He thrashed against the ropes, tried to spit out the blood, but he'd swallowed enough already and felt the power of his wolf stripped from him, locked just out of his reach. His rage bellowed out of his mouth, the urge to smite the two standing in front of him overwhelming. Hecate's words rang in his ears about how he'd no longer be a god or have those abilities at his disposal.

He remembered being powerless at Mikael's hands as a child, remembered the times Esther had turned her back to his pain and suffering, and Klaus vowed that even if he was no longer a god that he would not be powerless in the face of the two of them ever again.

Mikael walked away, leaving Esther with him and the dead that surrounded them. "I am sorry," she murmured after a few moments and Klaus let himself look defeated, hid the rage that bubbled inside of him ready to burst out at any minute.

The ropes were cut free and he allowed his body to drop to the ground, let her think him weak and frail as she helped him to his feet. The monster in him waited for the opportunity to attack. After all, Esther was a witch and far too powerful to take on headfirst without knocking her off her game.

"Why, mother?" he asked, something he'd wanted to ask his other father once. The one who'd wanted only power and for the world to tremble at his feet. Kronus, much like Mikael in that regard.

"It was never supposed to come to this," Esther sighed as she helped him to lean against the tree.

"No, it wasn't," Klaus murmured and before she could even breathe he had her pressed against the tree, one hand locked around her neck, squeezing as the other pressed against her chest, nails biting into her skin right where her heart lay underneath.

A half hour later she lay dead at his feet, the knowledge of how to break the curse she'd lay upon him swirling around his mind. Klaus turned back to look at Tatia, the brunette's eyes still open wide with fear even if she'd never breathe again. He needed to memorize this face, to keep it locked in his memory until he came across it again. It'd be a key ingredient whenever her doppelganger turned up again.

Klaus had no clue when that would be but he would search the world over until he found her so he could undo what Esther had done.

Rebekah's scream echoed through the clearing as she stepped into it, Elijah on her heels. Klaus turned toward his siblings. It'd be so easy to walk away from them now, to continue on alone, but he'd done that for eons once before, sequestered himself to a realm where no one else ventured, rarely seeing his siblings.

He did not want to live that existence again.

"Father killed her."

"I have the photographs," the witch told him and Klaus grinned, whirling around on the chair to hold out his hand toward Greta.

She licked her lips as she bounded toward him with the apparent evidence of a doppelganger finally existing in the world again. Technically there were two out there, but Katherine hardly counted any longer considering she'd ruined all of his carefully crafted plans five hundred years ago. Running from him through the centuries, always looking over her shoulder and fearing his imminent presence, seemed a fitting punishment.

Klaus took the small stack of images one of members of his network had managed to procure. He flipped idly through them, noting Tatia's eyes and hair, the same curve of her lips on the brunette in the various pictures.

"Her name is Elena Gilbert," Greta drawled out, as she perched herself on the desk he was sitting at.

He ignored her for the moment, stopping on a photo of Elena with another girl with blonde hair. He couldn't see the girl's face, but her hair invoked memories of another, of one he'd never stop searching for. He flipped to the next and the world seemed to cease moving as he stared down at the photograph.

He knew this face, he knew those eyes and that smile like he knew the back of his own hand.

"Persephone," he whispered, too low for Greta to make out as his fingers drifted over the young woman's face.

A thousand years and he'd never caught a whiff of her being born, never glimpsed a sight of her in any of the places he'd gone. Her likeness was all wrong in the statutes just as his had been. None of the renderings of the gods true to how they had actually looked and that had cut deeply at times when he'd wanted to have something of hers to hold onto beyond memories of a forgotten eon.

But she was alive.

She was real.

And she was right where he needed her to be, beside the doppelganger who would he needed to help restore his beautiful queen's memories.

"Where is she?" Klaus demanded, finally paying attention to Greta again.

"Mystic Falls, Virginia," she told him and Klaus laughed.

Of course she would be in the town where his own childhood home had once lay. Did she dance across the fields where he used to play? Run through the forests that he'd hunted in, where he'd cradled Henrik in his arms as the boy died? Where his mother had ripped him apart and put a damper on carefully crafted plans?

He dismissed Greta, ignoring the witch's pout as he continued to stare at the photograph.

"Soon love," he murmured before pocketing this small link to his heart.

He hadn't lied to Elijah all those years ago when he'd told him that they did not feel, they did not care. Five centuries and he'd not glimpsed his reborn wife once, his heart becoming steel in her absence, frozen like it'd been before she'd entered his world.

But just as she'd managed to do in a field, the mere glimpse of her in a photograph was enough to chip away at that exterior, to ignite the spark he'd almost given up on.

He'd lost her once though, endured the agony of being parted from her a thousand years already, he would not endure doing so ever again. God help anyone who got in his way.

It seemed that he had plans to make and a ritual to speed up.

A thousand miles away Caroline Forbes woke in her bed enveloped by a feeling of darkness and couldn't quite shake the chills that ran down her spine as she tried to fall back asleep. The worst part was that as it settled into her bones it almost felt like home, a sense of completeness that she wanted to wrap herself in forever, but it disappeared almost as soon as it had set in, leaving her feeling utterly alone.