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That the sun would swing high in the sky, buttressed by the downward revolution of the moon - it was but only one of the sureties governing the charmed life of Andy, goddess of spring. By all means, she ought to have been quite content, but found herself plagued by restlessness. Her mother did not understand this, but Andy thought this likely due to the dynamism involved in the job of goddess of the harvest, constantly ushering in one season and sweeping away the previous one.
She loved her mother, she really did, but she did not see fit to trouble her with this knowledge. Elizabeth had an unfortunate habit of consulting her brother, Irving, whenever a problem besieged her consciousness. Andy preferred to steer clear of the King of the Gods whenever possible. He had never mistreated her, but she harboured an intense dislike towards him on account of how he saw fit to treat mortal women. Perhaps once or twice such a predisposition towards him had taken up accidental residence on her face, for she garnered the distinct impression he did not much care for her either.
***
It was a day like any other, and Andy had seen fit to set about gathering flowers in a nearby meadow. Unbeknownst to her, not one but two pairs of similarly immortal eyes beheld her as she did. One belonged to Irving, but Andy was only the secondary subject of his focus. The primary was another, one who rarely took a sojourn above ground. Neither woman noticed his presence, but it was with no uncertain degree of interest that he observed the older’s impenetrable gaze fixated on the younger. A flash of inspiration struck him, and a plan rapidly began to take shape in his mind. Forcing one of consummately sunny disposition - a veritable creature of light and an exasperating do-gooder to boot - into close proximity with the personification of darkness who had never been known to smile…why. He despised the latter with unparalleled vehemence, and the feeling was most assuredly mutual. Such an arrangement would surely infuriate the living hell out of her, and undoubtedly impede her in the course of her duties.
He just had to find a convenient moment.
***
Andy eventually straightened up as the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting the blooms around her in brilliant amber light. Her hands were full of the fruits of her labor, blossoms threatening to overspill in a brilliant cascade. Indeed, in what seemed no time at all a particularly exquisite stem - a white rose, which she had become utterly captivated by - slipped free of her clutches, and she idly bent down to retrieve it.
The second her hand brushed the delicate grass beneath her, the surrounding air seemed to shatter like glass with a deafening blow. Andy fell forward with the force of the blast onto her knees, only to see the very ground itself open up beneath her in the form of an almighty chasm, the meadow cleaved clean in two.
A goddess she may have been. Immune to the forces of gravity she was not.
The darkness swelled forth to meet her, to welcome her, to envelop her whole.
***
Time itself seemed to warp - she had been falling for what felt like forever, tumbling head over heels in powerless motion. Eventually, however, deep crimson light blinked into view, and she hit icy rocks with a sickening thud. No physical harm had - could - befall her, but it did not make the ungainly position in which she sprawled any less discomfiting.
A low murmur issued from the shadows. “That’s an unorthodox entrance.”
Rubbing her head and blinking in an endeavour to adjust her sight to the darkness, she could just about make out two women standing perhaps ten feet away from her.
“I’m sorry,” Andy said, voice a little roughened from the stale air. “Who are you? Where am I?”
One of them - redheaded and supremely bored-looking - rolled her eyes. “Emily. That’s - she gestured to the taller woman beside her, glacial and blonde - “Serena. Judges of souls. You are?”
“Andy. But why am I here?”
“Why here exactly, who is to say? This is not the typical entrance,” Serena said. While her voice was cool, it did not seem entirely unkind.
“Well, we haven’t all day,” Emily snipped. “Death? Cause of death? Step forward to determine your destination in the afterlife, please.”
“I’m not dead!” Andy protested.
“You’re here, aren’t you? Gods, these mortals get stupider and stupider every year.”
“I’m not - “
“ - hush. If you’re so reticent to tell us about how you died, then we’ll just have to skip the pleasantries and get right to it. Serena?”
The blonde stepped forward and raised her hands in Andy’s direction. She closed her eyes, then opened them, squinting a quizzical look descending over her pale features.
“I’m having trouble stripping the soul from the body here, Emily.”
“What on earth do you mean?”
Andy sighed. “Yes, that might be quite hard to do.”
Emily narrowed her eyes. “And why is that, exactly?”
Andy stepped forward and smiled, extending one hand. “Andy, Goddess of Spring.”
The slack-jawed fish expression did the two women’s appearances no favors. Serena shakily took her hand. Emily stared at it as if it would poison her.
“I’m sorry?” Emily spluttered.
“What business do you possibly have here?” Serena asked, flabbergasted.
“I’m not sure,” Andy replied. “One moment I was picking flowers” - she plucked a stray few out of her hair, having somehow survived the journey down - “and the next the ground was splitting under me and I landed here.”
“No, no, no!” Emily whined. “I was just about to finally have a peaceful day, and then you have to come on tumbling down and ruin it! She’s going to go mad!”
Andy did not think it wise to ask who ‘she’ was.
Serena placed a placating hand on Emily’s forearm. “It’s alright. We can’t judge her or send her anywhere, so there's no additional work on our part.”
The redhead breathed heavily through her nose. Then she steeled herself and shrieked so loudly the cavernous rocks around them shook.
“NIGEL!”
In what seemed like mere seconds, a bald-headed man clad in a resplendent tunic and carrying a barge-pole emerged into the scarlet light.
“Well, well, well. Whatever have we here?”
Emily attempted to speak, but the words seemed stuck in her throat. Serena pointed at Andy.
“Andy has just dropped through the ground and ended up before us. She doesn’t know why, we don’t know why, no one knows anything and now she’s your problem.”
He cast a discerning, enigmatic eye over her. “Delightful. Goddess of Spring, if I’m not mistaken?”
“That’s right, yes.” The relief that washed over her upon someone here recognising her was, frankly, embarrassing. And entirely unbefitting of a goddess.
“I’m Nigel. Ferryman of Hades and general bitch-in-chief to the chief of the underworld, despite the fact that Emily would rather like to lay claim to that title.”
“Lovely to meet you,” Andy said weakly.
“That’s a new one. I normally get fainting women and men in denial of their mortality. Not exactly the most positive of receptions. Now, I’m afraid you’re going to have to come with me.”
She blinked. “Where?”
“This little situation - “ he waved an arm airily around him - “is beyond my pay grade. You’ll see.”
She thought it best not to ask, and obediently followed him into the dark, leaving the hushed whispers of Emily and Serena behind.
***
It was fortunate Andy was not prone to seasickness, as the journey across the River Styx was by no means a calm one. She learnt quickly it was best not to look over the side into the depths. Finally, two enormous fiery gates came into view. Despite having never seen it before, she recognised them immediately as the gates of Hades.
Stepping gingerly off the ferry, the ground was rocky but not unpleasant beneath her feet. She did not have long to register this, however, as an enormous mountain of fur resoundingly knocked her clean off them.
“Patricia!” Nigel shouted sternly.
The weight lifted, and Andy cracked her eyes open to take in a huge three-headed dog. She supposed to mortal eyes such a sight would have been terrifying. But as the head on the left barked happily, the one on the right panted and the middle one sniffed and then licked the top of her scalp, a small part of her could not help but feel slightly charmed.
“My goodness,” the ferryman muttered. “If I hadn’t believed you to be an immortal before, I certainly would now. She’s never taken to anyone like that.”
“Uh…I’m glad?” Andy shrugged - or at least tried to. It was hard to do with two heavy paws pressing her into the ground.
“Oh, get off her, you.”
To her surprise, Patricia complied, even if she whined as she did so.
***
Hades itself was every bit as nightmarish as Andy had been told as a child.
“You’re sure there’s no way for me just to…go back?”
“I’m afraid not,” Nigel replied. “Not before I’ve cleared it with her majesty first.”
Oh, Gods. Surely not…
***
“Final destination,” Nigel murmured.
Fire raged all around the immense, mighty antechamber they entered. Rocks rose up in the centre, and at the very top was carved an ostentatious throne.
“Explain,” came a soft whisper - practically a hiss.
Andy shivered. A silver-haired goddess - sharp-featured and luminescent, clad in inky black robes from which tendrils of crimson smoke rose - loomed over her - for she was a goddess. Miranda, goddess of death, who reigned over the underworld with an iron fist. By all accounts, she was a consummate workaholic who scarcely ever left the place. Not that she was minded to - her rivalry with Irv was legendary, and she was reviled by gods and mortals alike (though Andy suspected the latter was mostly due to her infamous rejection of prayers and sacrifices as means of appeasement).
“Well, Nigel? You know how I love to be kept waiting. Who is this sad little creature, and why have you disturbed me with her presence?”
Remarkably, Nigel remained unfazed. “Terribly sorry about this, Miranda, but it’s not every day Elizabeth’s daughter and Irving’s niece drops clean through the earth into the underworld.”
Miranda blinked, and refocused her gaze on Andy with double the intensity.
“And she is capable of speech, I presume?”
It was not a question addressed to Nigel. Andy steeled herself, and was proud that when she spoke her voice did not shake one bit.
“Yes. I’m Andy.”
Miranda’s nose crinkled up in distaste. “Andy is your name? Lord knows I have my disagreements with your mother, but does she really have such poor taste?”
“Hey!” Andy replied indignantly. “It’s Andrea, if you must know, but no one calls me that.”
“Ahn-drey-ah. Far more fitting for one of your…station.”
In what could only be described as a fit of insanity, Andy produced a single flower - the last flower remaining, the white rose, almost the same shade as Miranda’s hair, petals still remarkably intact - from her own hair. Then - despite Nigel’s sharp inhale - she proceeded to walk to the very edge of the rock on which the throne was carved, and lay it down at Miranda’s feet.
“And just what is this?”
“I know you’re not receptive to offerings, but think of it as more of a gesture.”
“A gesture?” Her voice was noticeably quieter.
“Of peace. I come in it. I’m not entirely sure why I’m here, but I wish you no ill.”
The older woman snorted. “Oh, do you? What harm do you possibly think you could cause me?”
“That’s not what I meant,” Andy whispered.
“Do you know the meaning of such a flower?”
Did she know the meaning? She bit back the retort that not knowing would be akin to Miranda being unacquainted with fire. She was the goddess of spring, after all.
“I intend it to mean a sincere apology for the disturbance I have caused you.”
Miranda sniffed.
“We shall see.”
“Um,” Andy said awkwardly, “I was wondering how exactly I might, um…”
“Do speak at a less hurried pace.”
“ - how I might get back.”
A laugh. Sharp and bitter. “Who exactly gave you the impression that you would be going back?”
Andy felt her eyes widen to saucers. “But - but - you can’t! You can’t keep me here! It’s spring!”
“And? Andrea, daughter of sainted Elizabeth and niece of blessed Irving” - she spat his name out as if it were diseased - “I think you will find I can do whatever I so please.”
(Except for live in the light, Andy thought to herself.)
Plastering a tremulous smile across her face, she nodded - just once. “In that case, how can I be of help?”
It was the turn for blue eyes to dilate. “Help? Whatever do you mean?”
More confidently now, perhaps on account of the other woman’s perceptible confusion, Andy crossed her arms.
“There’s no point in me just sitting around and doing nothing. And if I can’t go back, I may as well make myself useful.”
Nigel shook his head in despair at the exchange playing out before him. He had never seen Miranda quite so flummoxed.
“I shall prepare a list of tasks I expect you to complete.”
If that wasn’t a capitulation and a half, he mused.
Andy nodded again, more enthusiastically this time.
“Anything else, Miranda?”
“No. That’s all.”
***
“I'm surprised at you.”
“Do be more vague.”
“Keeping her here! A complete fish out of water.”
(Yes, Nigel thought, yes, that was the most diplomatic way to put it. 'It’ being the notion that Andy was a living relentless reminder of everything Miranda was not and could never be, beloved by all and everything she touched.)
“Her…extended tenure in Hades is bound to infuriate Irving. Which, as you well know, is a tremendous motivator of mine.”
The sceptical manner in which Nigel looked at her was immensely displeasing. Miranda privately resolved never to tell him (indeed, tell anyone) about her rare venture to behold what was going on overground. The aim had be to identify opportunities to get one over on Irving, perhaps hasten the demise of a mortal he’d taken a liking to - they’d prefer to be down here away from him in any case, given his method of ingratiating himself involved no notion of consent - and had entirely inadvertently alighted upon Andrea in the meadow. Why she had become so fixated on the girl (if only for a short moment) was a tremendously troubling mystery.
But no matter.
With the sheer gravity and volume of assignments she had instructed Andrea to complete, all across the underworld, it would be a miracle if she saw the girl again in the next hundred years or more.
***
“What the - “ Irv looked around him. As far as the eye could see, the earth was barren. Trees were bare, the grass dead, rivers dried up to nary a drop. The scene was one of complete desolation, and it was obvious that famine would soon come. And that would not do at all.
He found Elizabeth not far from where he had landed, staring viciously at a few stray plants which withered under her gaze.
“Elizabeth! What is the meaning of this?”
The woman turned to glare daggers at him. “My daughter is the meaning of this. She’s missing. I’ve searched everywhere and yet there remains no sign of her.”
He shifted from one foot to another. “I believe she is in the underworld.”
(Technically, he did not think himself to be lying.)
“The underworld? Why? How could she do this to me?”
Irv sighed. He was hardly about to confess as to the real reason. But there was always someone convenient to blame, and with a snap of his fingers he summoned his messenger.
“Oh, wow,” Christian said, characteristically stupidly.
“Yes, yes, save your profound observations,” Irv snapped. “I’ve a task for you. Go down to Hades and see if you can find Andy. Then report back to me about what’s going on there with her.”
“The underworld?” Christian squeaked.
“Are you deaf? Go!”
And go he did.
***
Andy may not have been in her element by a long shot, but that did not mean she would put anything save her very best efforts into fulfilling the tasks she had been assigned. Emily’s litany of insults were becoming less and less frequent, and Serena and Nigel had taken to spouting identically slack-jawed expressions on their faces.
This was because she had completed the list in a mere three weeks (and not the century or so Miranda had expected), and done so while smiling throughout in what began as a show of defiance, but quickly blossomed into something bordering enjoyment amid such productivity.
The rivers were clean, errant rocks cleared away, and the towering gates had been polished to utter perfection, gleaming proudly in the unnatural underground light.
The finishing touch had been the delivery of wine to Miranda, and the fact she had seen fit to hold it close to the omnipresent flames to warm it had provoked an utterly perplexed look to fall over the ruler’s features.
“You knew I liked it scalding?”
“Well, I’ve finished sorting everything else around here to your tastes, so it was just a literal extension of that.”
“You have been…watching me?”
“It's hard not to.”
Why on earth had she said that? Andy steeled herself for the inevitable onslaught of verbal castigation. Instead, Miranda’s eyebrows shot up and she inclined her head as if Andy was a particularly difficult puzzle she had as of yet been unable to solve.
“And you have completed the tasks?”
“That she has,” Nigel confirmed. Both women jumped at his previously undetected presence making itself known. Andy heartily thanked her reflexes as she instinctively thrust her arm forward to prevent the wine spillage from marring Miranda’s dress.
“My goodness,” Miranda murmured, frowning in a way which did not feel negative at all to Andy, “you are wasted up there.”
She swallowed. On the one hand, that implied Miranda was even more loath to let her go than before. On the other, she felt a traitorous twinge of relief at the woman wanting her to stay for a reason that was not annoying her family members. Why she cared so for Miranda’s opinion of her was a question she was unsure if she desired the answer to, or cared much to interrogate.
“Um,” she said, “thank you? That’s very kind of you to say.”
If she had thought Miranda had appeared bemused before…
“That may very well be the first time someone has applied that descriptor to me.”
“That’s a shame.”
Then:
“You may explore at your own liberty, if the urge so strikes. You have yet to exhibit any behavior which would justify my distrust in you.”
Miranda had emphatically not given her permission to act on any urges towards displays of gratitude, and so Andy suppressed that which could be described as a spontaneous desire to hug her.
***
Resolving to make good use of her newfound free time, Andy sought to traverse paths she had not yet seen. Eventually, she came to halt before the base of an enormous subterranean cliff. Craning her neck to take in the very top of the ceiling, she spotted an unexpected sight. The start of harvest shoots littering the space, roots upon thick roots, criss-crossing and forcing their way up through the ceiling to start their winding pilgrimage into the air far above.
“What are you looking at?” came Serena’s voice behind her. Andy jumped.
“Just - those. Up there.”
“Oh, yes. The crops and blessing of each year’s harvest originate here, below the earth. Miranda ensures that.”
“I didn’t know that. I thought - “
“ - not many do. It’s not like they’d believe her if she did say it, after all. Whoever would believe the sovereign of death could care at all for that which sustains life?”
The judge’s words stuck with her for many hours after. She could not seem to dislodge the thought that she and Miranda had more in common than she had previously assumed. Twin pangs of sympathy for the woman and anger at how she was misunderstood duelled for dominance within her, reconciling themselves in a low warm ache of puzzling warmth directed at one so infamously cold.
***
It ought to have been unsurprising that Andy would encounter new faces with every passing day. The place was famously crowded, after all. This did not prevent a definitive embarrassment sweeping over her upon making Cara’s acquaintance. She really should have met the woman who prepared the food for the immortal residents of Hades before now, after all. But she knew the rules around consuming food in the underworld, so had not partaken herself. At least, that was the weak justification for why she had met her quite so far into her stay. Cara herself did not seem particularly bothered by this fact, and dismissed Andy’s sincerely - if somewhat awkwardly - offered apologies with a thoroughly welcome warmth.
She did, however, graciously accept Andy’s offer to distribute her preparations among those for whom they were intended, save for Miranda, who was apparently as particular about her culinary routines as she was everything else. And so when she returned from bestowing dinner upon Nigel, Emily, and Serena, the natural course of enquiry was to ask if she could give the ample leftovers to Patricia.
“Patricia?” Cara asked.
“Well, yes,” Andy said. “Why not? I know she generally seeks out her own food, but it might be nice for her to sample this sometime.”
“She’ll let you get close enough to give it to her?” the other woman asked dubiously.
“That silly overgrown puppy lets me get close enough to pet her everyday, so I’m fairly sure she would, yes,” Andy replied.
“My, my. That is…unusual.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” She said it earnestly. She meant it. “She’s no harm, really. It’s a shame people aren’t nicer to her.”
Cara looked, in short, flabbergasted. Had she been thinking rationally, Andy would have supposed this was a reasonable reaction. She was ninety per cent certain Patricia would have attempted to tear anyone else’s head off had they attempted to lay a hand on her.
“Now, I could say the same thing about Miranda herself.”
“Could you now?” Cara arched an eyebrow.
“Yes. Apart from the whole keeping me hostage thing, which I’m led to believe isn’t really personal towards me, she’s been nothing but hospitable. I only found out the other day that the quarters Nigel had showed me to had been prepared specifically on her orders.”
“I’m not surprised,” Cara said. “Miranda is tremendously hospitable to the dead, so it makes sense that she would extend that to a guest here.”
“Why have I never been told this?”
“Because mortals who can speak to this do not return from this place, and your education was provided by those with a vested interest in painting her in a negative light. Unlike your uncle, she does not torment mortals for the fun of it, nor does she lure them into nefarious traps for her own personal gain. She simply rules with standards.”
Andy blinked. Miranda was not generally the inspiration for complimentary language. Frankly, it endeared Cara to her further. It also provided much food for thought. With that, she left to conduct dirty plate retrieval and delivery.
***
“The last time I counted, Andrea, there were only three other individuals for whom Cara cooks. Do enlighten me as to why you are carrying another?”
That was odd. Both Miranda seeming genuinely interested as to the answer she sought from Andy, and the incongruously hopeful expression which had taken up what Andy was all but sure was unauthorised residence on her face. But whatever could Miranda be hopeful for? Who did she wish to have partaken in the food?
“Patricia. I asked Cara if I could take the leftovers to her. I thought she’d enjoy them. As a treat.”
The hope flashed away as quickly as it had emerged, but it was replaced with incomprehension.
“Treat? For Patricia? Are you quite mad, Andrea? She’d attempt to maul you, surely?”
They both knew Andy was incapable of coming to actual physical harm. The demonstration of concern, even if wrapped up in a semi-insult - it made her heart leap anyway.
“Patty? No, never. She’s had plenty of chances to do that. Part of my morning routine is giving her pets, making sure there isn’t anything stuck in her teeth which might annoy her, that sort of thing.
Miranda’s mouth opened ever so slightly, then closed again.
“You,” she said slowly, “you are caring for my pet.”
“I don’t mean to be impudent, Miranda, I really don’t, but as far as I can tell she likes me. And I’m quite fond of her myself.”
“Patricia hates everyone.” A frisson of pride at so completely throwing the other woman off her metaphorical balance coursed through Andy. “And everyone hates her.”
The pride shrivelled, replaced by distinct sadness.
“Well, maybe that’s why. If all she’s ever known being irrationally disliked her and judged on first sight, based on prior lore and gossip, then I don’t blame her for assuming the worst of people in general. Maybe someone just needed to give her a chance.”
An extended silence stretched between them. It was not one precipitated on hostility. Rather, Miranda seemed to have been temporarily rendered incapable of speech, although why Andy’s words would have affected her so…
“Patricia is generally a sufficient judge of character,” Miranda eventually murmured. “I am thankful that someone has finally seen fit to treat her with the decency she deserves.”
“Cara said you have standards. Well, I do too,
“You are an unusual individual, Andrea. Might I suggest you extend these standards of yours to calling Patricia by literally anything save that hideous diminutive you deployed earlier?”
Where her boldness sprung from was a mystery. But as Andy turned to leave, she threw one last grin over her shoulder.
“Oh, I don’t know. She likes being called Patty.”
***
Indeed, ‘standards’ amounted to a concept which occupied much of Andy’s consciousness over the next few days. She wondered if Miranda’s slow thawing towards her might be hastened via the medium of visual alteration. Of course, she could not seek such counsel from the woman herself.
“Nigel?”
“Hmm?”
“I still look like I fell through a meadow. A little help?”
He had been perhaps suspiciously eager to assist her.
Hence the next time she saw the ruler of the underworld, she was clad in long black leather boots and a dark, flowing embroidered cape. Miranda had looked. Then looked some more. For an inordinate time. Finally:
“Acceptable,” she breathed.
The word was not infused with its typical degree of the sardonic. No, not at all. If it had been anyone else - quite literally anyone else at all - it could have quite reasonably been interpreted as conveying attraction. But Miranda was a notorious bachelorette, something exceptionally rare among the Gods, so that couldn’t possibly be right.
***
“Uh, boss?”
“What is it?”
Christian gulped. The news he had to impart was not going to be received well.
“They - Miranda and Andy - they’re getting along.”
“They’re what?”
“Andy’s running around like a drunken sycophant, Miranda’s not insulting her anymore, and the ferryman’s decked her out in positively Hades-approved uniform.”
Irv’s nostrils flared. First his scheme had resulted in just about anything worth looking at that wasn’t women on the earth dying, then he had to deal with Elizabeth’s histrionics, and now it transpired that none of it had even been worth it? His abduction had brought his most fervent enemy…contentment?
His plans could simply not be allowed to backfire. Well, if the girl’s presence was bringing Miranda pleasure, then she would have to return. At least then he would strike two birds with one stone - causing Miranda distress, and stopping nature from continuing to be neglected.
“Well, what are you waiting for, boy?” he barked. “Go and retrieve her!”
“Yes, boss.”
“And hurry! If she’s eaten anything down there then it’ll be too late. She’ll be stuck there forever.”
“Going, going!”
***
It had taken some convincing, but eventually Cara had capitulated to Andy’s request to deliver Miranda’s dinner herself. Such an acquiescence may have had something to do with the younger woman’s insistence on helping with the cooking. She had picked up a few techniques prior to her stay in Hades with which Cara was not familiar, and reasoned that novelty might hold some appeal.
***
“This is for me?” Miranda sounded incredulous.
“Don’t you want it? I thought you might like it.”
“It looks…different.”
“Well, yes. I’ve been telling Cara about new ways to prepare things - from overground, I mean. I think that’s why she let me bring it to you, to be honest.”
“So you have charmed Cara too?”
Almost immediately, Andy was treated to her first ever sight of Miranda suffering from what looked suspiciously like a blush at her accidental use of the word ‘too’. She hadn’t realised the other woman was even capable of such a thing, and was all too happy to stand corrected.
For Miranda’s own part, she was plagued not just with embarrassing awareness of her verbal slip, but the insufferable consciousness of that damned white rose, impeccably magically preserved, nestled in a glass jar under her throne. She imagined it to be growing up invisibly around her, smothering her with the scent of its petals.
“Sit,” she said. “No, not at my feet. Up here.”
“On - on your - throne?”
“The seat is spacious enough.”
The girl settled down next to her. The distance between them was objectively very small, but felt far larger. She forced herself not to close it.
“You must miss food,” Miranda murmured. “Even if you do not need it.”
Andy shrugged.
“You are aware, I presume, of the consequences of partaking in that served here?”
The younger woman nodded. “Nigel told me.”
Miranda made to say something more, but was interrupted by a wholly uncharacteristically dishevelled Nigel and Serena.
“Miranda!”
“Pray tell what is so pressing that you see fit to interrupt my meal?”
“Irving’s henchman,” Serena gasped.
“The one with the stupid little winged sandals,” Nigel added. “He’s attempting to cross the Styx as we speak.”
“Emily’s fighting him off with the barge-pole, but I don’t know how long that’ll hold.”
Miranda’s fists and lips were clenched so tightly they appeared white.
“And just what is his intention in invading my realm?”
“Her.” Serena pointed at Andy. “Irving wants her back above ground. The henchman says he was responsible for sending her down here in the first place.”
Miranda rose. “You two will assist Emily in apprehending him. Now.”
True to form, they readily obeyed and fled.
She turned back to Andy.
“So it seems your little dalliance down here is coming to an end.” Her voice was low and flat. Andy disliked it immediately, and was surprised at the vehemence of her instinctual reaction.
Furrowing her brow, she asked, “so you’re just going to…hand me over? To him?”
Miranda bit her lip. “I had assumed you would jump at the chance.” She gazed down and twisted the many rings adorning her hands in agitation.
Andy looked at the meal before them, a riot of color topped with pomegranate seeds, the archetypal food of Hades. She had been raised to view such a thing as emblematic of the very worst of the world. And yet she had been treated better here than she had elsewhere, given freedom to roam and unburdened by notions of compulsory duty and others as the architects of her existence. The realisation that Miranda - Miranda, of all people - had inspired (and continued to inspire) a fondness in her she had not previously known was an intense one, and all the more real for its vivacity.
“And if you were wrong? If I stayed?”
A bolt of shock seemed to hit the other woman’s frame.
“Why would you wish to?”
She may as well tell the truth. She’d never lied to Miranda, after all, and had no intention of changing that in what might well be their final conversation.
“As much as I adore the sunlight, I find that I like the company of those down here rather more than I do up there.”
“Those down here?”
The tone in which Miranda posed those words was identical to that in which she had asked Andy why she was carrying an additional plate. Now, however, Andy understood - she hoped she was correct - the underlying reason for Miranda’s own hope.
Well, taking the direct route affection-wise had worked with Patricia. Even if the warmth she felt towards both was very, very different in quality.
“I could say Nigel, Emily, Serena, Patty and Cara. But while that’s true, I’m mainly referring to you.”
The ruler’s entire frame seized up. Ever so cautiously, Andy moved her hand to cover Miranda’s.
How queer. She had always imagined - and she finally admitted to herself that yes, she had imagined, and far more - that were she to touch Miranda’s skin, she would find it cool. Yet it was as warm as her own, and awfully soft.
“What would you do? What would you be?”
“Whatever you would have me do or be.”
Miranda did not think she had ever felt true nerves in her life, and yet such a conviction no longer held true. But Andrea had been consistently, admirably brave, and she reasoned that she owed her reciprocation.
“What about a queen?”
Those chocolate eyes, swimming in incomprehension. She could have stared at them for days in perfect contentment.
“A queen?” Andrea whispered. “But that would - no one gets made a queen! Even when they marry, that simply tends to lead to vicious fighting and rampant unfaithfulness. They don’t get called - even when Irv married Jacqueline she just became his wife, his consort -”
“ - Really, Andrea. When have I ever been known to copy Irving in anything?”
Oh, what she would do, what indignities she would subject herself to, just to look upon such a beam.
And then Andrea lifted their now intertwined hands, lowering them to the plate and scooping up a handful of pomegranate seeds. The whole time, Miranda genuinely did not intend to hold her breath, but found she was quite unable to do anything but.
One.
Two.
Three.
Miranda found herself utterly captivated by how the dark juice stained Andrea’s lips.
Four.
Five.
Six.
Miranda’s hand shot out and stilled Andrea’s movements.
“Stop.”
The look in Andrea’s eye was one of profound confusion. “Why?”
A deep inhale. “I wish for you to stay - ardently, truly - but I could not contemplate subjecting you to such an existence as I myself lead. Not constantly. Not irrevocably. You relish the sunlight, the flowers, the life - you said it yourself. I must confess I saw you - only once - in the meadow. It was a rare event indeed that I left Hades, and yet your countenance was alive in such a way I could not stand to take away now, for I could not look anywhere else. I have no children, but I could not bear for you to irreversibly cast out any potential of you seeing your mother again, despite our differences. Who am I to encourage you to relinquish that freedom of movement - such a finite choice?”
It was in that moment that Andy underwent a profound epiphany. All her life she had been subject to her mother’s expectations and commandments, governed by Irv’s advice, her movements monitored and every concern she voiced relayed to other people. Now, however - this was the first time she had been given explicit, autonomous choice over her own destiny. And what Miranda said did hold a kernel of truth - she longed to see the sun again, but she also longed to spend time where she presently was.
“Six seeds,” she whispered. “Half the year.”
Miranda smiled, and it was simultaneously joyful and the very first one she had engaged in what was likely many centuries.
“Half the year it is, then.”
***
Thus Andy split her time across both worlds, but she abhorred the prospect of leaving Miranda in isolation upon the twist of spring.
Fortunately, most laws of mortals were not applicable to the laws of Gods, and it took less than one cycle of the seasons for Andy to determine her wish, a wish Miranda gladly and joyfully acceded to.
So from Miranda came Cassidy, and Andy beget Caroline, and they were twins, the perfect mix of light and dark. Unlike their mothers, they could come and go between the worlds above and below as they pleased, and even in the times where one remained underground where the other explored above, no one member of the quartet was ever alone. And whenever those above returned down below, they always brought with them a white rose, which no longer sat underneath Miranda’s throne, but was lovingly tucked behind her ear instead.
FIN