Dance with the Devil

“If you stop dancing,” the man- Hades- warned, “you will fall through, and I will not help you.”

Persephone clung to his shoulders, nails nearly digging in as she kept her eyes screwed shut in her fear. Demeter always told her that to look in the Lord of the Underworld’s eyes meant a loss of will, and Perse knew what the man wanted. He wanted her to be his queen, but she didn’t want that. She didn’t want to live in this land of fire and helpless, punished souls.

“You cannot truly want me as your bride if you are willing to let me fall to disaster,” Persephone told and yelped as her foot skipped along the floor. It dipped for a moment before she could pull it away from the hole in the floor. “This is unfair, this dance.”

The lord hummed. “If you only opened your eyes, perhaps it would be fairer.”

She swallowed, shaking her head. The risk of accidentally looking at him was too great- or so she thought until her foot skidded clumsily against the floor again. Persephone’s eyes flew open on instinct to catch herself this time. Her elbows bent as her chest fell into Hades’ own.

A soft plea escaped her lips as she stared at their moving feet, the only place where a floor existed. Where Hades led, flooring appeared- just enough that he and Persephone could step, but beyond it? Edges leading to pits that seemed endless. For the souls seeking light from the bottom, the stretch to the top was easy, and they even began grasping Perse’s ankles, trying to pull her down with them, trying to devour her. It all made her keep her feet in movement with her partner’s.

Partner. Hades was no partner.

“I could never be yours,” she spit at the dark lord as she removed her cheek from his chest from her near-fall.