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"Show yourselves!" The determined prince strode through the gleaming, white field, hands resolutely balled into fists. "Come out. I know you're waiting!"
Ominous laughter filled the air. Skilled combat veterans popped out of snowbanks, peered around icy, leafless bushes. Hoods and thick scarves obscured their faces.
"At last. The real boss fight. Get used to second place, Father."
The group's ringleader stepped forward. "Same stakes as last time. First one to surrender..." they paused for dramatic effect, "...is a wet loincloth!"
"I might be a lot of things, but I am not that."
"You're dead, Zagreus!"
"You know," he stated grimly, "I walked here from Tartarus. There's very little I haven't seen or endured. If you think you can scare me back down the Styx, you've got another thing coming."
His foes loomed closer, with murder in their eyes. Zag stood his ground, unflinching...
And dashed wildly as the mortal children pelted him with snowballs.
"...They're playing in it." Demeter glared at her scrying pool. A short, sharp huff escaped her lips. "I made that snow to destroy mortalkind, and those... Those rascals are playing in it!" As an afterthought, she leaned toward the water and snapped, "Give 'em hell, young sprout."
The goddess had never liked war games. As visions of Hyperion danced in her head, she couldn't tell wrestling from brutal dismemberment. She'd find some ignorant village kid, locked in "combat" with her Kore, and lose her mind. Force them apart and scold herself hoarse.
Stop that right now! It's not proper!
But Mother, didn't you fight the Titans during-
Don't talk back to me!
She'd bubble-wrapped her child. Pushed her toward gentle field work, and gave her soft dolls to play with. Barred her from hunting or battle training or anything that seemed "angry." Faked a smile through the death of her mortal father. Always at the ready with a crisp "That's not nice, Kore."
But watching the "boss fight" unfold below her, Demeter saw they were laughing. Everyone laughed!
Even the boy who had a snowball explode in his face.
Even the girl with drenched mittens, hands stiff and awkward as she lobbed a projectile.
Even Zagreus, who had someone clinging to his waist, stuffing snow down his chiton.
Imagine, feeling secure enough to play against everyone... You're more well-adjusted than I am, grandson.
Children looked different since she'd let the snow melt. No more sick, shivering lumps curled up in frigid beds. These kids moved around. Short legs and thick, clunky snow boots, tromping through sludge and dead grass. Fat-cheeked faces poking out of fur-lined hoods, bright eyes dancing over homemade scarves. Their noses were runny and red with cold. They looked like they should have been suffering.
But here were these weird little mortals, playing in Demeter's snow. Enjoying her snow. She watched, transfixed.
Perhaps that's where I went wrong with her. If I'd let her run wild like that, given her an outlet like that...
"Urrgh..." Zag lurched unsteadily. "Think I'm done for the day."
"Forfeit!"
"We win!"
"You're a wet loincloth!"
"I'm dying, you jerks."
They joked, but the two tallest offered their shoulders. Helped him find a tree to lean on. He glanced at the girl with drenched mittens, and summoned his bloodstone. It glowed with the warmth of life.
"Hold this. It'll help with the cold."
"Thanks, Zag."
"I know mortals don't get an extra set of fingers."
Demeter had an idea. Thoughtless, really. Something she would've tried as a dumb, hopeful teenager. She reached out, noting the frost on her arms. How it sparkled. She'd dismissed it as the mark of her grief. Hadn't thought to admire it.
She concentrated her godly power over that field, over her grandson and his friends. Froze in place. What if they hated it?
"I'm gonna build a snowman tomorrow," one of the boys said to Zagreus. "I'll make it so huge, I'll try and get it taller than my house!"
"That... urk... sounds incredible..."
"If you get past Hades before it melts, you should knock it down with us!"
"I do love knocking things down."
Now or never.
She opened her hands, and threw down her biggest, softest flakes. Tumbling gently, drifting side to side on the breeze.
"Look!" Someone pointed at the sky, jumping eagerly. "It's snowing, it's snowing, it's snowing!"
Tiny arms and tongues shot out to catch her creations. Bright peals of laughter filled the crisp winter air.
"Looks like good packing snow. I'm making a fort."
"Ooh, I'll get my brother to take me sledding!"
"It's beautiful..."
The goddess felt warm, with a strange pressure behind her eyes.
Demeter had looked down on mortals. Brushed off their prayers as posturing. Their devotion as a ploy to save their own frostbitten skins.
Now, she'd seen snow angels. The warm light of the hearth. The shared coats, the strong chopping firewood for the weak. Perhaps she'd judged their species too quickly.
Her grandson didn't look so good. "I... I have to go now..."
"Bye, Zag!" chorused the children as he melted into red liquid.
"I'll... defeat... you yet!"
"Come play again next winter."
Only children would react so calmly to the fated Curse of the Styx. They went back to sharing their beloved cold-weather activities, and dancing in the snow. Her snow.
"They're playing in it..." She bit back a giggle. (A giggle?! Demeter hadn't laughed in... Since before Kronos!) "Well, your kind is nothing if not inventive. Still, you could catch cold in this weather. Try and get home to your parents by nightfall."