Neon Gods

“Everyone is dressed to the nines, a rainbow of designer gowns and tuxes, flashes of horribly expensive jewels and finery. They create a sickening kaleidoscope as people move through the crowd, mingling and networking and dripping beautiful poison from painted-red lips. It reminds me of a fun-house mirror. Nothing in the reflection is quite what it seems, for all its supposed beauty.”

Persephone’s words here underline that beauty is not synonymous with safety or security—the “rainbow” of clothing is a “sickening kaleidoscope” not a source of joy or welcome fascination. The tension of “beautiful poison” suggests that what attracts may also kill, establishing that danger lurks everywhere. Persephone’s sharp commentary and observations cast awareness as a survival skill. The mirror analogy develops the theme of public persona versus private self: Persephone acts like those around her, but fears and despises them.

“I set Persephone on the counter and keep a hand on her shoulder to prevent her from taking a nosedive. She blinks big hazel eyes up at me, little shivers racking her body. ‘She called you Hades.’ ‘It’s my name.’ I pause. ‘Persephone.’ Hermes laughs and sets the wine bottles on the counter with a clink. She points at herself. ‘Hermes.’ She points at him. ‘Dionysus.’ Another laugh.”

Robert uses descriptions here to set up Hades’s role as a highly observant protector: He holds Persephone in place for her safety, not to capture her. He is drawn to her eyes, but he is just as concerned with her health. Hermes’s amusement contrasts to the seriousness of the moment, and Persephone’s realization—she makes a joke out of what would otherwise be profound. This establishes her role as comic relief, a more distant commentator on the political and social dynamics of the world Robert creates.

“A monster would have left me to my fate. He’s […] something else. He’s built lean and strong, and there are scars across his knuckles. A full beard and shoulder-length dark hair just lean in to the imposing presence he creates. His dark eyes are cold but not entirely unkind. He just looks as exasperated with me as he was with Hermes and Dionysus.”

The descriptions here underline the forbidden, and forbidding, nature of Persephone’s attraction to Hades. She realizes he is not a “monster” and makes note of his strength and “imposing presence” underlining that her fear may give way to attraction. She sees that she is an object of amusement and frustration, not a target of anger—underlining that part of her trusts him.

“My mother just effectively sold me in marriage to Zeus. A man who empirical facts paint not as the golden king, beloved by all, but as a bully who’s left a string of dead wives in his wake. And those are just his wives. Who knows how many women he’s victimized over the years?”

Persephone returns to her role of cynical observer, which establishes that she is recovering from her shock. Her use of the verb “sold” underlines that she feels like an object. She is not unique in this, however, as much of Zeus’s private power relies on brutalizing and harming women. This, too, is a contrast with his public image, and will come to contrast especially sharply with Hades’s insistence on free consent.

“The tabloids paint a picture of Persephone as a woman with more money than sense—the exact kind of person who’d jump at being married to a rich and powerful man like Zeus. That Persephone is nothing like the strong yet terrified person who fled across the bridge last night. Which one is real? Only time will tell.”

Robert uses Hades’s point of view to establish that both main characters are grappling with the tension between public personas and the authentic self. The constructed Persephone is vapid and shallow. Hades sees another woman—“strong, yet terrified,” underlining that he admires her for all that he barely knows her. His own cynicism about her may be countered with time, demonstrating that their love story is also a journey of discovery and correcting misconceptions.

“‘It certainly seems like you’ve spent a lot of time studying this Hades statue. Hardly the kind of man Demeter would want you chasing down.’ Just like that, something shutters in her eyes and her smile brightens to blinding levels. ‘What can I say? I’m an eternal disappointment as a daughter.’”

The ripostes here sets up Hades and Persephone as intellectual equals, eager to test one another’s wit and skills. Hades makes note of Persephone’s fascination with his image, casting it as a kind of rebellion. Persephone’s refusal to rise to the bait, presenting him with her calculated smile, underlines that she remains guarded. Her sarcastic comment asserts that she has always been her own person, not her mother’s puppet.

“Persephone blinks up at me, and for the first time since I met her last night, she looks completely real. Not the personification of a sunbeam. Not the scarily calm woman in over her head. Not even the perfect daughter of Demeter she plays for the public. Just a woman who enjoyed that kiss as much as I did. Or I’m projecting and this is just another one of her many masks. I can’t be sure, and because I can’t be sure, I take a third step back.”

Hades awakens Persephone’s genuine self with a kiss, a subtle indication that he may not be a traditional prince, but he will be key to her happy ending. He catalogs all her constructed selves carefully, noting that there are many layers to her. He is drawn to her, and hopeful their attraction is mutual. His choice to step back and not presume underlines his deep principles and respect for her agency.

“‘You’re more than welcome to her when I’m through with her, but we both know what games I like to play. She’ll hardly be the unsullied princess you’re panting after.’ The words taste foul in my mouth, but it doesn’t matter. Persephone agreed the goal is to twist the knife. Playing this verbal game of chicken with Zeus is only part of it.”

In this moment, the reader sees Hades’s calculated persona as a cold, unfeeling ruler, employed for the purposes of alienating Zeus. He presents Persephone as an “unsullied princess” underlining her value as an object of desire, not her personhood. His private dismay at this assures the reader that he is still the man Persephone has grown to know—and that he disparages her here with her full knowledge and cooperation, in service of a broader goal.

“We’re truly doing this, and once we go through that door, he might honor my safe word, but at the end of the day, I have no way of knowing. Two days ago, Hades was little more than a faded myth that might have been a man a few generations ago. Now, he’s all too real. In the end, I have to trust my instincts, which means trusting Hades. ‘Pomegranate.’”

Persephone’s anxiety here establishes her vulnerability not only as the submissive partner, but in her new life circumstances. Her choice of safe word—the fruit that bound her mythical counterpart to the Underworld—reworks the myth to give her more agency, since she chooses voluntarily and is not tricked in any sense. She relies on her instincts, rather than her assumptions, underscoring that her new life means relying on aspects of herself she usually keeps hidden or avoids.

“‘So you sit there and preside over this den of iniquity and indulge your desires in a way that gives everyone watching a shiver of fear and a story to whisper.’ ‘Yes.’ Something strange in his voice makes me turn to look at him. Hades is staring at me like I’m a puzzle he’s dying to put together.”

For the first time, Persephone voices her observations of Olympus and its power dynamics aloud, demonstrating that she trusts Hades with her opinions, if not yet with her heart. She understands that he uses sex to craft his image and meet his needs, in a tone of respect, not disgust. His reaction, taking her in as if she is a “puzzle” demonstrates their growing attraction and his interest in her personally as much as her body.

“I lean down until my lips brush the shell of his ear. ‘Take what’s yours, Hades. I want you to.’ ‘You aren’t a princess. You’re a fucking siren.’”

Persephone whispers to Hades, indicating that their kink scene relies on private confessions as well as public displays. She calls herself “his” accepting the performance fully, owning it as part of her desires. His response, to cast her as a “siren” a temptress out of myth, underlines that he accepts her sexuality as part of her authentic self, that he sees her in a new way.

“‘I have no interest in keeping Zeus happy.’ She gives her sunshine smile. ‘Do be a dear and give Aphrodite my regards. She’s been managing Zeus this long. I’m sure she’s more than capable of managing him a bit longer.’ That kills Eros’s smile. He looks at her like he’s never seen her before.”

Persephone’s words here are a public declaration of some of her real opinions. She openly admits to despising Zeus, and Hades sees her smile as a kind of weapon to bely her words. Her casual insult to Aphrodite shocks Eros, allowing Robert to suggest that the kink scene has liberated Persephone in more ways than one.

“‘I’m going to have you, little siren. In every position, in every way.’ I don’t know if he’s talking to me or talking to himself, but I don’t care. I grip the headboard hard and fight to stay still. ‘Then take me.’ An echo of what I said to him on the throne, but it means something different now. I can’t pretend I want this solely for the benefit of our mutual reputations. No, I just want him.”

The dialogue here, including Hades’s use of Persephone’s new nickname, showcases that their public sex has brought a new authenticity to their private interactions. Their mutual desire here takes place without an audience, without politics. Persephone admits to herself that this has nothing to do with “reputation”—for the moment they are merely a couple lost in their attraction, assuring the reader that the performance was not without its genuine elements.

“Once again, she’s entirely too perceptive. Strangely enough, I don’t mind elaborating. ‘This is just a small portion of the population in the lower city, but I like seeing people here going about their business. It’s normal.’ She unwraps her gyro. ‘Because they’re safe.’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Because you make them safe.’” 

Hades’s uncharacteristic openness here reveals the growing trust he feels for Persephone, and his willingness to disregard old habits. Persephone credits him specifically, seeing the lower city as the world he shapes. She shares his pride in his work, underlining that they truly have shared values.

“I can’t heal this man’s scars, not internal or external, but surely I can help in some small way? ‘You’re beautiful to me. The scars are part of that, part of you. They’re a mark of everything you’ve survived, of how strong you are. That fucker tried to kill you as a child and you survived him. You’re going to beat him, Hades. You will.’ He gives me a ghost of a smile. ‘I don’t want to beat him. I want him dead.’”

Persephone’s question betrays her growing love for Hades—she wants to keep him safe, to assure him of his worth, to repay his vulnerability in kind. Her words, calling him beautiful, rather than rejecting him as he has feared, demonstrates that she sees his suffering and his rivalry with Zeus as something to honor. His own words, the violent declaration of intent, establish that Hades may find himself choosing between vengeance and love.

“When I was with partners in the past, I was the dominant one, the responsible party who designed the scenes and ran them. I like that role, like having others submit to me, but I didn’t realize how tired I am until Persephone offers me the tiniest of considerations.”

Here, Robert establishes that Persephone is offering Hades a partnership he has not known before, establishing their deep compatibility. He admits that constant leadership is a drain, underlining that it is solitude, as much as dominance, that saps his energy. His gratitude to Persephone underlines that their partnership is truly one of equals, where she eases his burdens without demanding he fundamentally change.

“My voice is hoarse when I finally pull forth words. Not ones that will keep her with me. I might love her—fuck, the very idea makes me light-headed—but if I tell her, it will change things. It’s a trap I won’t spring. ‘Leave me a piece of you, little siren. Name the pups.’”

Hades is clearly overcome with emotion here, torn between his emotional longing and sense of deeper obligation. He refuses to use emotions as a weapon, as a means to maintain power or control. He asks for what he can—a memory that will stay with him—underlining the depth of his devotion without openly professing it.

“Hades seems to stare down each and every person present. ‘Be sure, when you go running back to your high-rises and glamorous lives in the upper city, that you’re telling the full truth of what happened here tonight. She’s mine.’ His hand tightens ever so briefly around mine. ‘And I’m hers.’”

In this moment, Hades is in total command of both the audience and himself, insisting they recast their image of him. He contrasts the glamour of the upper city with his own life, but demands they not equate luxury with power, or rely on old myths and gossip. Instead, he claims a new public identity as Persephone’s partner, with her as his equal.

“He wouldn’t have laid out an alternate future in which we were different people if he wasn’t feeling the same. He wouldn’t call me love. It’s too late to worry about it now. I have to set it aside. One does not swim with sharks unless they’re able to focus fully on not losing a limb in the process.”

Here, Robert demonstrates the contrast between emotional authenticity and the demands of Olympian politics. Persephone dreams of Hades and his honest care for her, but it is a distraction from her wider purpose. The world she is in now is more dangerous, one where she “swims with sharks” and fights for survival, one where love is a liability.

“I narrow my eyes. ‘You don’t get to control him.’ ‘Of course not. But perception is everything. If the rest of Olympus thinks that Hades is in my back pocket, it will boost my power exponentially.’”

The exchange here demonstrates how Persephone’s relationship with her mother has changed—Demeter is not the only one making demands. Persephone fights for Hades’s freedom even as she lets go of her former dreams of escape. Demeter reminds Persephone that her goal is always power through persuasion and argument, as much as brute force. Her new image as Hades’s ally suits her purposes, which is as close as she can come to arguing that she is trustworthy.

“I can’t kill him. I won’t. I just need to get enough space between us so I can move, so I can think. I shove him back. ‘Why did you kill my father?’ The bastard laughs. He fucking laughs. ‘He deserved to suffer.’”

This scene demonstrates how much Hades has changed through association with Persephone. He is no longer driven entirely by anger, desperate to prevent himself from committing open murder, to maintain his rationality. He demands answers for his emotional pain rather than lash out. Zeus, in contrast, is mocking and cruel, refusing to consider his adversary human.

“‘See that you do. They’ll never find the body.’ She examines her gloved hand. ‘Pigs are very efficient creatures, you know. They’re practically nature’s garbage disposal.’ Fuck, this woman is just as terrifying as her daughter.”

The interplay between Hades and Demeter sets up a new vision for Olympus, one where women are no longer subordinate or fearful. Instead, Demeter intimidates Hades, casual and effortless in her threats. Pigs were a traditional sacrifice to the goddess, which allows Robert to use the myth to add to her version’s power and import.

“‘My knight in sunshine armor, riding in to save me from the press.’ ‘Yes, well, you’re not the only one who likes to play hero.’ I give his hand another squeeze.”

Hades’s words here demonstrate the new equity between him and Persephone, and his respect for her skills. Her “sunshine armor” is in his service, not just her own, and he welcomes it because he knows her true self lies beneath. Her rejoinder reminds him that she, too, can be a protector, and that she has no more hesitation about publicly showing affection between them.