“Extremely.” Mount Olympus, what had they created? Their child would be more powerful than most, and she could kill an entire pantheon if she wanted.
He looked down at his daughter again and inhaled a ragged breath. What were they going to do with a girl like her? It was good that she had been born in the Underworld, he supposed. At least in this way he knew she would be safe.
Thanatos had told him they would need to find a new bed for the baby. But this was his daughter, and he’d just gotten her. Hades couldn’t stand to have her sleeping far from his side.
So as the child yawned, he placed her in the center of his own bed where they could cuddle her later. Together.
His daughter yawned a second time, then snuggled into the covers like she knew exactly what was expected of her. Sleep. Relax. Let her mother and father connect after the trials of the day.
He turned toward Persephone, then joined her at the tub, shaking his head. “The children of gods are strange. I had forgotten that.”
“She doesn’t act like a mortal child, does she?” Persephone leaned over the edge of the tub to look at their daughter before leaning back into the water. “I haven’t heard her make a peep yet. She doesn’t talk at all.”
“She will when she’s ready.” He knelt beside the tub and swirled his fingers in the red water. “I’m sure what she says will surprise us. Have you seen the power in her eyes?”
“Like Hecate. Uncomfortable power that makes me shiver a bit, but the kind of power I’d want her to have so she can protect herself. In case she ever needs to.”
He couldn’t imagine her ever needing to protect herself, but stranger things had happened. He reached forward and cupped her face. “Was it horrible?”
“No,” she shook her head. “It wasn’t pleasurable, but it was an experience. I don’t think I want to do it again.”
He couldn’t imagine that she would. He coiled one of her curls around his finger and let it drop onto her shoulder. “Neither of us need to worry about that, my love. I never told you, but I’ve always thought I was barren. I’ve never fathered children with anyone other than you, and I cannot help but think this was fate.”
Persephone set her hand on his forearm, stroking the skin there with a reassuring rhythm. “I think the same. But we can’t keep calling our daughter “her”. Perhaps we should give her a name."
A name? He should have thought of that. He’d been thinking it was a boy this entire time, so he’d thought of strong names that would reflect the power of a son. Now, he was gifted a daughter.
And she was far more powerful than any dream he’d thought up for a son. She was more rare and her magic could put a mark on her head for the rest of time. She was, without a doubt, a rarity that he was infinitely thankful for. One that would worry him forever.
He glanced behind him. He noted her dark hair and how pale her skin was, almost as though she had been born for this realm of the dead.
“What about Melinoë?” he asked.
The name meant having the pallor of death, or perhaps it could be argued that it referenced the dark color of her hair. No matter what the word meant, however, he felt it resonate in his chest. That was his daughter’s name. She could be called nothing else.
Persephone let out a soft sigh, and he knew she agreed. “Yes, Melinoë, that’s the perfect name.”
Melinoë.
He could get used to calling her that. Maybe he would start whispering it in her ear while she slept, so she would know that was her name.
Persephone stood from her bath, water sleuthing down her body. As he looked, he realized he wasn’t used to seeing her without the belly, although it had only gone down a little. Her image in his mind had been of a woman rounded with child for so long, to see her body slowly changing back into its goddess like self was strange. Uncomfortable almost, considering how much he’d adored the motherly version of her.
She stepped out of the tub and held out her hand for a towel. After all she’d done, and the gift she’d given him, Persephone would not towel herself off.
Hades stood, his back feeling like it creaked as he snagged a towel on his