Persephone IV: lacuna

"You're not ready to have a relationship with me." She was filled with a great sense of calm certainty and peace as she spoke the words that summed up months of bewilderment. The room filled with the rich silence, rippling against the walls. What was she doing here then? "You want a lover not a partner," she said into the silence. Could she do that? After everything that had happened, all the words that had been spoken, all the joys and desires, could she be only bawdy with no vision?
Persephone had taken to wandering the subterranean spaces, discovering shifting patches of filtered light mysteriously reflected underground. As the sun drove its way across the sky, packs of photons glanced from surface to surface and on, leaving shaking pools of brightness that moved through the roots and crevices. The beams were like a cord tying the shadow realm to its brighter cousin, and if they could be followed through caves and chasms would show a way out of Hel.
Since the night Hades had spent unconscious in Persephone's bed, there had been a shift. Persephone was aware of how little Hades moved toward her, or with her. Want to go for a walk in the light of the full moon reflected in the river? she would ask. No, he had said, I'm tired. Let's go walking in the roots of the forest, she'd said. No, I'm too busy. I'm excited to meet your neighbour, your mother, she had told him. Look, he had responded, don't pressure me about my family or our relationship; live in the moment.
But at that moment she had been excited to know him, his family, his life, and wanted to share hers. The light of that feeling dimmed as time passed, the feeling of connection grew narrower and narrower. It was as though he was content with her to simply fill a space near him, and anything more than that was an annoyance.
It was one of these days that the words were spoken, creating a space where anything was possible: new beginnings, endings, anything. And in that silence, Persephone thought: Here I am, I wouldn't be here for nothing, would I? He says he loves me so it must be true. There is no one else, I love him, why not stay and see if one day he can love me more like he says he will be able?
It seems like we're both ambivalent about this relationship, said Hades, interrupting her thoughts. Shock rang through Persephone. She was anything but ambivalent. She had made a conscious decision to follow her heart and stay despite the dangers of the beast, the complications of raising children and Hades' hiding heart. The seed of doubt now grew, coming to a head in a tight bud on the edge of blossom. But she wasn't ambivalent; she decided again she would wait and show him that she was there and loved him.
Let's build a garden, she said, remembering all the discussions they'd had about the sanctity of food. It's a lot of work and I have so many other tasks, he said, sliding away from her, besides, there's not enough light here. But what else was worth the effort, she wondered. Persephone looked out to where some mysteriously reflected sun was shining on a patch of ground near the house. Look, she said, turning to Hades, but he had gone.