For Real Friday: Unrequited Love

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On Wednesday I talked about how unrequited love is a great plot line when handled what is, in my opinion, right. Today, let’s talk about it handled wrong.

There’s this pervasive problem in the media today with love. And a major part of that issue is entitlement. Everyone loves a good underdog gets the girl/love hate/friend to lovers plot line, but the plot line becomes problematic when it’s so common people start to perceive it as the norm. Consequently, person A will like person B who does not like person A. Rather than taking a hint, person A gets frustrated that person B isn’t following the correct social script. They’re supposed to love them back. The hate is supposed to transform into love. If person A just does enough, says enough, changes enough, offers enough, surely person B will see their real value and love them back.

That’s a horrible place to be in for Person A. Believe me, as someone who has been person A in a friendship where I really, really, really, liked the guy and he just never saw me that way, it sucks. It’s a major blow to the self esteem, you find yourself wondering why you’re not good enough. You obsess, you over focus, and eventually, it can destroy what was a great friendship if you don’t get ahold of yourself and move the frick on.

But I’ve been person B too, and while being person A was devastating on an emotional level, being person B is terrifying because we are taught, above all things, to be nice. There’s not a nice way to tell someone you’re not interested when they aren’t listening and are super sure they can change your mind if they just do xyz.  Meanwhile, you’re living in fear that person A’s frustration will turn into outright resentment. People literally die because they didn’t like someone back. Stalking is a thing, largely due to this misconception that showing enough devotion will = Person B waking up one day and realizing they really did love person A all along. Friendships are ruined and people are left feeling used because of this pervasive myth in our media. Heck, as person B you start to doubt yourself because of that media. Shouldn’t you give person A a chance? Are you being mean or cold hearted by not going against the way you feel and just going with it? It’s a mind– you know what, I’m a YA author, so I’ll watch the language.

Anyway, the best thing person A and B can do for themselves is to remember that stories are the ultimate form of wish fulfillment. They reflect not just the way the world is but the way we want it to be. Of course in a perfect world, the person you love always figures out they love you back. But in the real world, loving someone does not equal them loving you. And that’s okay. They don’t have to. And the sooner both sides of the equation realize that, the happier all parties involved will be.

Way Back Wednesday: Unrequited Love

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In the myth, Venus and Adonis, Aphrodite, the literal goddess of love, can have anyone she wants. She picks Adonis (I never said exclusively), who in some versions of the myth doesn’t reciprocate her feelings. Unrequited love is a major trope in all media and it’s one of my favorites when done right. It’s not love/hate (which I also like). When unrequited love is played as love/hate is problematic for a lot of reasons, because it tends to evolve into stalker syndrome and as a viewer it’s hard to get behind. The reason love/hate works is that both players in the trope eventually realize they’re compatible. If one realizes it and the other keeps hating, it tips the balance into a really unhealthy portrayal of a crush.

It works best when the two are friends who you can almost see working. And it works absolutely best when the friendship isn’t resented with  friend zone nonsense. When both characters involved really value the friendship but one of them wants more, it works. And the best example of this I’ve ever seen is in Doctor Who.

“I spent a lot of time with you thinking I was second best, but you know what? I am good… Right then. Bye.  Because the thing is, it’s like my friend Vicky. She lived with this bloke—student housing, five of them all packed in. And this bloke was called Sean. And she loved him. She did. She completely adored him. Spent all day long talking about him… He never looked at her twice. I mean he liked her. That was it. And she wasted years pining after him. Years of her life. ‘Cause while he was around she never looked at anyone else. And I told her, I always said to her, time and time again, I said, ‘Get out.’ So this is me, getting out.”

This is one of the best versions of unrequited love I’ve seen done because it, at least in the end, showed so much respect to both characters involved. I still really wish they hadn’t pursued this plot line with Martha, because it just wasn’t fair. Viewers were going to hate the new companion immediately, no matter who she was because the Doctor and Rose had such an epic thing going for so long. To then give her a crush on him instead of say, jumping straight to Donna and THEN doing Martha, was a disservice to the character because it fueled fan hate. But out of context, if you watch these episodes after a period of grieving for Rose, this was handled amazingly well.

Martha really had a thing for the Doctor and he didn’t think of her as more than a friend. Maybe it was timing (he’d just lost Rose), but more likely through no fault of Martha at all, he wouldn’t have ever felt this way about her and it was okay. He didn’t have to like her like that for their relationship to have value. She managed without him reciprocating, it was never central to the plot and she had her own life and identity outside of the doomed crush.

Can you think of any other times the media handled unrequited love exceptionally well?

Mythology Monday: Adonis

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Audiobook Cover

Audiobook Cover

Looking at him set my heart racing. He was perfect. His golden features shone like the sun. A rakish grin lit up his face, and his unbuttoned shirt billowed in the wind, revealing an impressive six-pack.

“Thank you, wind,” Melissa whispered beside me.

Bobbing my head up and down in agreement, I admired the model. Wow! Wait a minute, what in the hell was I doing gawking at a demigod like a deranged nymph? I snapped out of it and straightened up, tossed my hair behind my shoulder, and turned on my charm full blast before striding across the beach.

I felt the weight of everyone’s eyes on me and reveled in the reverence of their slack-jawed expressions. This was more like it.

“Come with me.” I didn’t wait for Adonis to acknowledge the order, but turned on my heel, confident he would follow.

He didn’t.

I turned, pouring more charm into my gaze. “Come. With. Me.”

“Why?” he asked, completely unaffected by my charm.

“Because I said so,” I sputtered, bewildered by his indifference.

He raised an eyebrow. “You seem to have a rather high opinion of yourself, so I’ll try to break this to you gently.” Leaning toward me, he put a hand on my shoulder and stage whispered, “You aren’t as impressive as you think you are.”

Melissa giggled. Adonis looked up as if noticing her for the first time, easy grin faltering. “Can I give you some advice, or are you so brainwashed by this thing you can’t understand me?”

Melissa giggled again. “I’m not charmed, if that’s what you’re asking.” She blinked and looked around at the other models and photographers. They stared back at her, expressions blank.

“They won’t remember this conversation,” I assured her.

Adonis narrowed his eyes. “Stop charming them.”

“It’s for their own good,” Melissa murmured. “If they tell anyone about this or mention the gods—”

“They aren’t stupid!” Adonis snapped. “Unlike you, hanging around these creatures willingly. If you were smart you’d stay away because whatever they’ve promised you isn’t worth it.”

“Excuse me?” I demanded.

Melissa grinned at Adonis as if she’d discovered the one person in the whole of creation who felt the same way she did. “I don’t like them either, but you may want to listen to this one. She’s trying to save your life.”

“Come along, Melissa. He’s not worth the effort.”

“Save me from what?”

I smirked at Adonis and opened my mouth to tell him off, but Melissa spoke first.

“Zeus is killing off all his kids, including demigods.”

“What makes you so sure Zeus is my father?”

“You have charm,” I interrupted. “Not controlled of course, but charm only comes from Zeus.”

“Is that why he’s immune to you?” Melissa asked in an undertone.

I shook my head. “That happens every now and then, random fluke of the fates. The gods can’t touch him.”

Melissa’s eyebrows shot up. She started to say something, but I cut her off with a glare.

The look on Adonis’ face told me his parentage was news to him. That wasn’t uncommon. Most demigods knew they were demigods. It was obvious to anyone in the know thanks to their distinctive physical features, but few knew which god spawned them. Gods were fond of disguises.

“I thought Zeus was dead.”

“Not yet.” I gave him a dark smile. “But I’m sure he’ll be around to explain soon enough. Bye now.”

I flounced off, dragging Melissa behind me.

“Wait!” he called.

I turned, feigning indifference. “Yes?”

He hesitated and looked at Melissa. “Can I trust you?”

“Me?” She drew back in surprise.

He smiled at her. “Well, I know I can’t trust her.”

~@~

Okay, so remember in Iron Queen when I said Adonis was inbred to the extreme? There’s actually mythological basis for that. Adonis’ family tree is a bit messed up. His line starts with Galatia (as in Pygmalion’s statue) and continues to his mother Myrrha, who managed to piss Aphrodite off by not worshiping her enough. Aphrodite cursed Mryrrha by giving Myrrha the hots for her father. Myrrha tricked her father and seduced him with the help of her nanny (seriously, don’t ask for details).

Her dad freaked out, and tried to have her killed, but Myrrha fled and was turned into a Myrrh tree by some sympathetic gods. Why the gods were so convinced life as a tree was preferable to death is a mystery for another day. Anyway, nine months later, Adonis popped up beneath the tree either by way of an arrow, boars tusks, or tree labor with helpful nymphs. Aphrodite immediately fell for the infant, possibly thanks to Cupid. She handed Adonis off to Persephone for safe keeping, but Persephone ended up falling in love with him too. The women went to Zeus so he could settle the dispute, and Zeus declared that Adonis spend four months wherever he want, four months with Aphrodite, and four months with Persephone every year.

Most myths agree that Adonis spent eight months with Aphrodite, but some (mostly Shakespeare) contend that he was ambivalent to her attentions, preferring the joy of hunting and killing things to the company of the goddess who got his mother turned into a tree.

One day, while hunting, he was gutted by a wild boar that was possibly sent by Ares out of jealously, or by Artemis for revenge for Aphrodite getting one of her worshipers killed, or by Apollo for sheer randomness. Aphrodite cradled Adonis in her lap as he died and flowers (anemone to be precise) sprang up where his body rested. His blood is also believed to turn the Adonis river red every year.

For Real Friday: War and Fiction

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War is often a glorified concept. That’s not unique to our culture. As long as there have been stories there have been tales of battlefield heroes. The stories make the battles sound exciting and paint clear heroes and villains. Those stories are used to gain support and of course to recruit more men.

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The problem is that war isn’t that simple. Nothing is black and white and the cost of that battlefield excitement is high. Soldiers come home traumatized if they come back at all. The causes fought for have more to do with politics than honor, and the people with the loudest voices on the subject never have to see the front lines.

But of course I’m coming from a very privileged position on the topic. I’ve never been in a situation where a war needed to be fought to stop horrible things from happening to me. The wars in my lifetime have been wars on concepts or fought far away amongst other people. I don’t see the price on either side, I hear about it. I hear about the soldiers coming home with PTSD, every now and then I catch horrible images on the news, but for the most part, I go about my life blissfully unaware of the horrors in the world around me. My glimpses behind the curtain are limited to documentaries, the news, and fiction.

Books like the Hunger Games or pretty much anything by Walter Dean Myers paint pictures without the rose colored glasses of glorification. It’s amazing and terrifying how much fiction can shape our perception on things we have no experience with. Can you think of ways fiction has been used to paint pictures of war?

Way Back Wednesday: Ares

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Ares only popped up in two shows I watched as a child. Hercules and Xena. He was awesome. Enjoy this clip.

Mythology Monday: Ares

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The doorbell rang, and since no one else moved to get it, I turned and pulled the door open. A man wearing a black leather jacket stood on the porch.

Not just any man. Tall. Dark. Handsome. And a god. Nice. I stood speechless, captivated by his fiery eyes. He seemed equally stunned and let out a low whistle.

“Got to say,” he murmured in a voice almost too low to hear. “I’m liking the newer models.”

“And just who the hell are you?”

He shot me a rakish grin. “Ares.”

God of war. Bloodshed, screams, battle cries. People dying by the thousands. A wooden horse. Fire. Blackened bodies. Sick and wounded soldiers with melting faces. The images came too fast. Too overwhelming. I tore my gaze away from him and stepped back, stumbling in my haste. He stepped forward and grabbed my arm, steadying me.

“That was stupid of me, I’m sorry.” He sounded like he meant it. “It’s been a long time since I’ve met a new deity. I should have let you guess.”

“Everything all right here?” Adonis’ voice came from somewhere over my left shoulder.

“And if it wasn’t? What would you do about it, half breed?” When Adonis didn’t reply, Ares smirked. “Yeah, I thought so.”

He moved past me and stalked into the room. Everyone fell silent. I stood, staring at the open door, too stunned to turn and investigate the silence behind me. All those dying people . . .

Adonis moved between me and the door, breaking my gaze. He studied my face. “Hey, what happened?”

Behind me, Ares and Athena started arguing. I couldn’t focus on the words. I just kept seeing the bodies, the blood, and the death.

“Aphrodite?”

I shook my head to clear it. What was I doing standing here in shock over the death of a few . . . million . . . humans? Humans died, it happened. War was great for gods. There’s no beating wartime worship. Fear and desperation gave it a potency that was hard to replicate in the day to day goings on of the typical human life.

But their faces . . .

“Aphrodite?” Adonis touched my shoulder. “Are you okay?”

I pulled away from him, temper flaring. “What do you care?”

Spinning on my heel, I stalked off. Stupid humans and their stupid wars and their stupid lies and fake concern. And stupid me, for giving a damn about any of them.

~@~

I’m moving on from the mythology I researched for the Persephone trilogy for just a bit because I’ve been doing a ton of research for the next trilogy and I’m just so excited about everything I’m learning that I can’t wait to share it.

So in my writing, Ares just made his first appearance in Aphrodite’s trilogy and I got stuck. I had a firm grip on him when I wrote his character in the third Persephone book, but Aphrodite’s books are full of cocky, arrogant, pretty boys with hearts of gold, and I needed something to keep Ares from blending in.

So I re-read the scenes with him in Iron Queen, and looked over all my research to see if I could find his character again. At some point, I really need to do a short story about the road trip Aphrodite, Ares, and Hephaestus went on at the end of book three.

Anyway, when it comes to mythology, there is surprisingly little on Ares. He’s mentioned in a ton of myths, but he doesn’t star in many. He’s just always there, on the periphery, throwing a temper tantrum.

Ares is one of the few children born to Zeus AND Hera. Well, actually Ovid said he was conceived when Hera touched a flower, but he’s largely ignored on that point. He’s the god of war, but he’s not the ONLY god of War. His sister, Athena is a goddess of war, but she’s more about wisdom and battle strategy. His other sister, Eris invokes war, calls it into being, and Zeus was actually a god of war to the extent that he directed it’s course. Ares wasn’t THE god of war, he was the god of the love of war. The brutality of battle, the primal rage that fuels the fire. He’s never cared who was fighting who, and rarely took sides. He’d go back and forth for fun.

He loves the fight.

But when it comes to actually fighting, he kind of sucks. There’s very few myths that actually feature him winning. During the Gigantomachy, Ares was imprisoned in an bronze jar for thirteen months by the giants Otis and Ephialtes. Hermes found out and told Artemis who pulled off the earliest version of the “hey boys, look at me,” trick, and distracted the giants by offering herself to one of the brothers. The other got jealous, and the two fought and killed each other while Artemis helped Ares escape.

He fought with Athena, a lot. And lost. A lot. She wounded him with a spear during the Trojan War, then threw a boulder at him, then struck him with a sword later just for kicks.

Zeus hated him, but in my book that’s a badge of honor. Zeus seriously insulted him in the Iliad, saying:
“Then looking at him darkly Zeus who gathers the clouds spoke to him:
‘Do not sit beside me and whine, you double-faced liar.
To me you are the most hateful of all gods who hold Olympos.
Forever quarrelling is dear to your heart, wars and battles.”

Ares slept around, a lot, but there’s no accounts (I can find) that he was violent about it. His Roman equivalent possibly raped Rhea Silvus as she slept, impregnating her with the founders of Rome, Romulus and Remus. But according to Livy she was raped by an unknown man, but “declared Mars to be the father of her illegitimate offspring, either because she really imagined it to be the case, or because it was less discreditable to have committed such an offense with a god.” The reason I’m inclined to agree with Livy, is because it is so out of character for Ares to rape. He killed rapists. When one of Poseidon’s sons attempted to rape one of Ares’ daughters, Ares killed him. Violently.

He loved Aphrodite, and by all accounts, actually loved her, not just…well, you know. He and Aphrodite get a bad rep for their affair, but here’s the thing. Ares and Aphrodite were already an item when Aphrodite was given to Hephaestus as a prize/blackmail reward. But more on that later. Once, while Ares and Aphrodite were having sex in one of Hephaestus’ temples, they were spotted by the sun god, Helios and ratted them out. Hephaestus trapped the two in a net, and the two naked gods were put on display for the rest of the gods to see. The two were super embarrassed, and Ares’ son who was supposed to be playing look-out got turned into a rooster. Cause you know, roosters always announce the sun’s arrival. Haha.

He’s been a very fun character to write.

For Real Fridays: Be Careful What You Consume

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Sometimes the fears that make their way into our stories aren’t all that subtle. Take the magical food or drinks that make the consumers feel wonderful but have severe consequences trope. There’s not a lot of hidden meaning there, it’s pretty much out in the open. Poison is a thing. It’s been used to kill people, but the trope is never about murder. The people don’t die. Not at first.

It’s about losing yourself. Trapping yourself. Becoming addicted. Finding yourself somehow changed by this thing you unknowingly or naively consumed. There are more than a few substances in this world that can produce euphoria upon consumption and regret the next day. Be careful taking them. It’s not worth falling down that rabbit hole.

And should you find yourself at a strange revelry, banquet, or you know, just a regular old party, watch your drinks. Be careful what you take or what you eat. Just be careful out there. There’s truth in stories. And sometimes that kernel of truth is a lot scarier than fiction.

Way Back Wednesday: Magical Foods and Drinks

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“We must not look at goblin men,
We must not buy their fruits:
Who knows upon what soil they fed
Their hungry thirsty roots?”

Foods with magical properties is hardly unique to Greek mythology. Most mythologies have some kind of forbidden food that has a less than desirable impact on humans. Here’s a few examples from my childhood.

The Moorchild by Eloise McGraw

This book was the first time I’d heard of fairy food, magical food that trapped humans within the fairy realm (very Persephone) or caused them to starve to death by making all human food forever taste like dust. The Moorchild was an amazing book. Everyone should read it.

Tithe by Holly Black

And because I literally cannot think about the Moorchild without marveling at the wonderful job Holly Black did modernizing the concept of Changelings for the YA set, Tithe comes next in this list. Fairy Food in Tithe is either a trick or something that makes humans very very sick. Magical properties vary.

The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S Lewis

I mention the Moorchild as the first time I’d heard of magical food because while I read Narnia first, the concept didn’t click. I thought the witch just cast a spell, not that the Turkish Delights were actually magic, which, I mean, I wasn’t far off. Magical food also comes up later in the series with the forbidden fruit.

Spirited Away

This really plays the trope more on the Persephone level (eating the food can trap you in the spirit realm) but later in the movie when Chihiro is offered the food instead of taking it, it helps her. So with that food the intent matters as much as the consumption.

Lord of the Rings

Elf Bread. It’s filling and super helpful. It’s basically ambrosia without terrible side effects.

Food has an interesting place in our stories. It’s a basic necessity to live but most of the time if we include food or drink in a story, there’s a very specific reason. Nine times out of ten, it’s not a good one. Can you think of any magical food I may have missed?

The Island Cover reveal

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The Island cover art

“Exploring a remote island can sometimes get you into trouble.

Especially when you stumble upon a cave and awaken two demons.”

I’m excited to be among the first to post the cover for the paranormal horror novel, The Island by Clarissa Johal. About THE ISLAND:

Emma Keller’s estranged grandmother has been missing for seven years. Emma journeys to her grandmother’s private island with the task of readying it for sale. Local rumors say it’s cursed, but she dismisses them as superstition. While there, she unearths a hidden cave, and is visited by two men soon after. Itu is well-spoken, though he hides his face in shadow. The other is more of a worry; with skin of alabaster, Thim’s feral presence sets her on edge. Emma discovers the island has a dark past. The two men aren’t human, but awakened demons…and they have their sights set on her.

Excerpt from THE ISLAND:

She was jarred awake by a cry. The vestiges of her nightmare dissipated as she orientated herself. Nightmare. Emma let out a sigh of relief. The cry sounded again. A distant sound, high and wailing. A baby’s cry. Her heart quickened. Good god, surely that can’t be a baby?

The fire in the stove had burned down, its embers lending a glow to the living room. Emma looked out the front window. The yard was still. She unlocked the door and opened it a crack. The cry drifted in with the breeze, faint but unmistakable. She ran through her mind what possible bird or animal could make the sound and came up with nothing. Characteristically, the island was blanketed with silence, almost like a vacuum. She stood, uncertain. After several minutes, the sound started again—the unmistakable high wail of a baby. She slipped on her boots and parka.

Fog trailed like cobwebs in her wake. The mournful cry threaded through the trees and came from the direction of the house ruins. In spite of a growing anxiety at what she’d find, she quickened her pace. If that is a baby, it’s still alive, and I need to get to it. If it’s not a baby… She blocked out the possibilities of what else it could be.

She approached the ruins and the sound stopped. Her heart raced. I know it was coming from here. The area held an unnatural heaviness. A branch cracked behind her and she turned with a start. Something dark darted through the trees.

“Hello?” Her voice sounded muffled in the fog. Emma’s attention snapped to the left. The dark figure ducked out of sight. She took one step backward, and fled.

Heavy footsteps echoed from behind as she plunged through the trees. They were catching up with her. Emma pushed herself to run faster, terrified she’d lose her footing on the uneven ground. The cabin loomed large, a haven in the thick fog. Stumbling across the cabin’s porch, she hurdled through the door and slammed it shut, locking it.

Emma rooted her feet to keep from running around in circles. Straining to hear, she was greeted with eerie silence. Several moments passed before the baby’s cry started again. And this time, it sounded from right outside the door.

***

THE ISLAND Buy Links:

Amazon

Barnes and Noble

 About the Author:

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Clarissa Johal is the author of paranormal novels, THE ISLAND, VOICES, STRUCK, and BETWEEN. When she’s not listening to the ghosts in her head, she’s dancing, taking pictures of gargoyles, or swinging from a trapeze. She shares her life with her husband, two daughters, and every stray animal that darkens their doorstep.

Find Clarissa Online:

 Author Website       Blog

Facebook   Twitter      Goodreads

Amazon Author Page    Pinterest

Mythology Monday: Ambrosia

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“Mmm . . . this is sweet. What is it?” I took a longer sip.

“Yours? Sparkling white grape juice.” He grinned. “Did I mention that I’m afraid of your mother?”

I rolled my eyes and finished the glass. It didn’t taste like any grape juice I’d ever had, but that wasn’t surprising. Everything in the Underworld had a richer flavor. Hades made his way around the room, greeting the souls between dances. I stayed close, keeping an eye on the ballroom for any demigods. When another glass found its way into my hand I smiled. I could get used to having servants.

The next time Hades invited me to dance a grin stretched across my face. My teeth felt tingly, and all the dancing was making me dizzy. As he led me through the simple motions I gave him an appraising look.

“You look nice tonight.”

Surprise flitted across Hades’ face. “Thank you. You look lovely as well.”

“I always kind of figured you’d be ugly.”

Hades blinked. “Excuse me?”

I giggled. “Well, you know, in books and movies you’re always, like, deformed or something crazy. You know, like a reflection of your soul?”

“Ah, I take it you mean my ugly and deformed soul?” Hades kept his voice light. He held me at arm’s length and gave me a quick once-over. I felt a ping of power pulse through me.

“No. That’s not what I meant.” I touched my hand to my forehead, trying to make sense of my jumbled thoughts. “I don’t think you or your soul is ugly. You’re actually pretty hot.”

Hades raised an eyebrow. “I see. Not so fast.” Hades intercepted a champagne glass from a tall Lethian and studied the liquid carefully. After a cautious sniff he took a small sip, and his eyes widened.

“Something wrong?”

I jumped at the sound of Thanatos’ voice. I hadn’t realized he was behind me.

“Somehow Persephone was given ambrosia instead of grape juice,” Hades replied.

Thanatos raised an eyebrow. “How much did she drink?”

“Is this a god thing?” I asked, growing annoyed. “Talking about people like they aren’t standing right there? What’s ambrosia? Some kind of poison?” The thought should have alarmed me, but I found it very difficult to care at the moment. Everyone looked so nice, and the music was so pretty.

“It’s just a divine drink,” Hades assured me. “It’s not poisonous. Well, not in the traditional sense of the word.”

“Do you think someone gave it to me on purpose?”

Hades frowned. “I can’t imagine what purpose it would serve. It was probably just a mix-up, but Thanatos, would you mind interviewing the Lethians who were in charge of our drinks?”

“Sure. Did you want me to take her to her rooms?”

Hades stared at me, considering. “Do you drink? In the living realm, I mean?”

I shook my head. “I’m boring. Mom always asks me to promise her not to drink anytime I go out.”

“Demeter does that?” Hades sounded surprised.

Thanatos let out a low whistle and shook his head.

My mouth dropped open. I couldn’t lie. My mom wasn’t lax. She didn’t trust me. She just knew if I promised not to drink, I physically wouldn’t be able to do it.

“That bitch!”

Thanatos snorted, and Hades raised an eyebrow.

“Water for her.” He motioned to a Lethian for a refill.

When our glasses arrived, Hades tested my drink before passing it to me. “I’ve got her, Thanatos. Go on.”

Thanatos studied me, looking so serious that I giggled. “Hades, she’ll only embarrass herself. Let me get her out of the—”

“She is right here and she doesn’t want to go back to her room. She wants to dance and have fun.”

“Yes, Thanatos, you’re being rude.” Hades’ lips twitched as though he was suppressing a grin. “See to the Lethians.”

“I really don’t think—”

“What exactly are you worried about?” Hades asked.

“You’re a lot taller than Thanatos,” I observed.

Thanatos met Hades’ eyes with an unreadable expression on his face. “If someone got close enough to switch her drink—”

“To what end?”

“Compromise her judgment? Lower her guard? Should I go on? She’s vulnerable.”

“She is right here,” I grumbled.

“Yes, you are.” Hades grinned. “I need you to stay with me until you’re safe in your room. Would you be willing to do that?”

“Sure.”

Hades gave Thanatos a look. “Satisfied?”

Thanatos made a noncommittal noise and signaled a Lethian from the crowd.

Hades shook his head when Thanatos disappeared into the crowd. “He worries too much.”

“You’re not worried?”

Something flickered in Hades’ eyes but it was gone before I could interpret it. “It was probably an innocent mistake. But still . . . I’d rather not have you out of my sight.” He held out his hand. “Still want to dance?”

Time passed in a blur of color and light. People laughed and danced around us, the spinning arcs of the skirts making me dizzy.

“I can’t dance another step.” I giggled, clinging to Hades so I wouldn’t trip and fall.

“Let’s get some air.” Hades led me out of the ballroom. The party was scattered all across the Underworld, but we found privacy in the grove of trees. The trees stretched into the sky, their branches arching and spilling over, sheltering us from view of any of the other souls wandering the Underworld.

“You’re trying to stop me from making a scene.” I stepped away from him into the center of the clearing. I spun around, holding my arms out. “Whoa.” I stopped mid-spin, waiting for the clearing to do the same.

“You should probably eat something.” Hades caught my hand. “Think of something, anything at all.”

I imagined pomegranate seeds and a plastic baggy full of them appeared in my free hand. I put six seeds in my mouth. An owl hooted in the distance.

Hades laughed. “You’re going to need more than that. What’s your favorite type of bread?”

“I’m a goddess. Do I have to worry about hangovers?”

“Your metabolism will change when you come into your powers. As far as alcohol is concerned, right now you’re a human.” He suppressed a grin. “Ambrosia gets even gods drunk, so you’re in trouble.”

I sat down on the cool grass. “Have you ever eaten one of these? They’re delicious.” I offered him a seed, and he took it, sitting down beside me.

“I’ve tried everything. I was there when your mom came up with this one.” He leaned back, studying the sky.

I followed his gaze. The sky was empty, faintly glowing with the same soft light that filled the Underworld. It was never quite dark here, but never bright enough for my tastes. “You guys really need to get a moon.” I tilted my head back further. “Where are the stars?”

“This is the Underworld. The sky is just a decoration.”

“Stars are pretty.”

“Stars are tragic.” Hades turned to face me. “Most of the stars are nothing but reminders of love gone horribly wrong, or men challenging the gods.”

“I thought they were gas giants.”

Hades waved his hand. “Semantics. The constellations they form are nothing but sad stories. Why would anyone want to have a constant reminder of tragedy hanging above their head?”

I thought about that for a minute, studying the blank sky. “Did you play a part in any of those tragedies?”

He met my eyes and something in them set my heart beating uncomfortably hard. “No.”

I smiled. “You’re nothing like I pictured you.”

“Yeah, let’s not go down this road again. If you start talking about how my hair should be on fire, or how evil I should be, I might take Thanatos’ advice.”

“You’re not evil.”

“You don’t think so?” Hades asked, studying my face. “After what I did to you?”

“You saved me.”

“I could have handled it better. I could have taken a second to think, found some way that wouldn’t tie you to me.” He hesitated. “But when I saw you, there was just something about you . . . ” He trailed off and looked at the sky. “Maybe I didn’t want to find another way. What if I wasn’t just impulsive, what if I was selfish? What kind of a person does that make me?”

I burst out laughing. “Do you always over-think things so much? You saved my life. That’s about as selfless as it gets. Being down here isn’t convenient, and being married is a little weird, but it’s just a few months. It’s not like you get anything out of this, and I’ve been such a brat about it.” I shook my head, enjoying the wave of dizziness that accompanied the motion. “Thank you, Hades. For everything. Really.” I leaned over and kissed his cheek, giggling at the surprised look on his face. “I owe you, big time.”

“I don’t think you understand.” He reached toward me. I blinked when he brushed a strand of my hair behind my ear. “It’s not just a few—”

“Hey, Hades! Persephone!” Cassandra called. She laughed when she found the grove. “Oops, hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“Of course not.” Hades stood, brushed himself off, and extended his hand. I lay frozen, hand touching my face where the ghost of his fingers had brushed against my skin.

“Persephone.” His voice was gentle. I looked up and grabbed his hand. “We should get back to the party.”

~@~

Ambrosia was the divine drink (and sometimes food and sometimes perfume for Aphrodite) of the gods. It is sometimes used interchangeably with Nectar, a divine drink. Other times Nectar is the drink and ambrosia is the food. Other times Nectar is the food and Ambrosia is the drink. For my purposes, Ambrosia is the “golden Nectar of the gods.” Persephone drinks a glass in book one, and it gets her very, very drunk very, very fast. In my series it’s the only drink that can actually get gods drunk, and the impact it has on humans is even more pronounced.

Depending on the myth, Ambrosia is either created by the earth in a sort of atmospheric offering to the gods and carried to Olympus by pretty gods, or Ambrosia was a nymph who was assaulted and turned into a grape vine to escape.

In mythology, the drink could turn mortals immortal, heal, and restore youth. It could also keep corpses fresh and life like for all time. Demigods drank it on occasion with no side effects, but the food/drink/perfume was jealously guarded from mortals. Tantalus was sent to a special place in hell because he tried to steal it. More on that in an upcoming Mythology Monday.

That’s not to say that Ambrosia was never given to mortals, just not without a gods approval. Achilles was anointed with Ambrosia (except his heel) in some versions of the myth, and Psyche was annointed with Ambrosia at her wedding so she could marry Cupid.

Liquids like Ambrosia pop up in all kinds of lore. I use it more like fairy wine. There are references to ambrosia on Egyptian statues of Anubis. “I am death…I eat ambrosia and drink blood.” Creepy much?