September 22, 2010
Titanomachy.
Demeter stood on the shore and watched as the world went all to hell. The titanic battle (No pun intended, she thought wryly) raged, too close for comfort, as she fought her own subtler battle against the magic-wrought infertility of the fields.
“It’s like the whole world’s coming apart at the seams,” she muttered.
“Well, considering how many titans and monsters were chained under rocks or turned into landforms, that’s not far off.”
Demeter deliberately didn’t turn to look. “Well, well. It’s been a while, daughter.”
Persephone came to a halt beside her mother. “Still refusing to call me by name?”
“I gave you a perfectly good one-”
“That really doesn’t fit me anymore. Exhibit A: your grandson.”
Demeter snorted. “Okay, point. What are you doing up here, anyway? You haven’t been up for years, not since you tricked your father into reneging on his bargain.”
“I didn’t trick him, really,” Persephone said. “More like it just became really, really clear to him that I wasn’t some little maiden who ought to be leashed to Mother.”
“Still bitter?” Persephone said nothing. Demeter, suddenly angry, turned on her. “Damn you, Kore! You’re my daughter. My daughter. I am your mother, and I deserved to at least know what the hell was going on!”
“Like you’d have let me go my own way anyway.”
“Maybe not. You were still young, no matter how world-wise and sophisticated you thought you were. Cunning as all hell, granted, but dammit, there was a reason I named you Kore, and it had nothing to do with any prurient interest in your sex life!”
Persephone just looked at her.
Demeter seethed. “I didn’t name you Maiden. I named you Daughter, because I had no other name to call you. You had no powers, Kore. You were the most undifferentiated deity I’d ever seen – and I’ve midwifed many a birth.” Demeter took a deep breath, uncertain.
“She also named you Puppet. For much the same reason.” Both women turned to find Amphitrite resting her chin on the sea cliffs. “I just came to see how things were going.”
Mother and daughter looked at each other. Demeter felt for the seeds and cursed. In her inattention, they’d failed.
All of them.
Amphitrite, looking grim, slipped beneath the waves with nary a splash.
Demeter sighed. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” she said to her daughter.
“I am the queen of the underworld,” Persephone replied, turning a pomegranate over in her hands. Demeter hadn’t noticed it before.
“I suppose you are.” She looked at her daughter, really looked at her, for what seemed like the first time. Maybe it is, she thought to herself. She drew her startled daughter into a hug. “Lack of a power usually leads to mortality, or failure to thrive,” Demeter said softly. “But what the Fates withheld from you, you went and took, and look at you now. I’m proud of you, Persephone.” Reluctantly, Demeter let her go.
Persephone stepped back, nodded uncomfortably, and slipped back into the underworld like ghosts do – somehow unseen, even when stared at. Unconsciously, Demeter took a step forward -
- And her foot nudged something. Bemused, Demeter picked up the pomegranate … and paused. The weight was off.
Peeling off the rind, she gasped. Inside weren’t the fleshy, ruby-red seeds she’d expected, but a whole array of grains, all practically glowing with vitality.
“Where did she -”
Writing on the inner rind caught Demeter’s eye. There, in her daughter’s haphazard chickenscratch, it said, “All buried things are Mine.”
It would later be said that the battle was won in that moment, for the Titans, hearing Demeter’s joyous, amused laugh, assumed they’d been led to a trap, and fled in fear.
