Demeter: The Goddess of Harvest and Heartbreak | The Immortal Gazette
The Immortal Gazette studio was, per usual, a spectacle of barely controlled madness. Papers fluttered through the air, enchanted quills scribbled on their own, and somewhere in the background, a teapot poured itself into a cup that wasn’t there yet.
Alice, looking thoroughly entertained, twirled a spoon between her fingers. “Alright, my delightful chaos-makers, today’s tragic-yet-powerful feature is none other than Demeter, the goddess of agriculture, fertility, and the original overprotective mother.”
Loki leaned back in his chair, smirking. “Ah, Demeter. The moodiest of the Olympians. One bad day, and the entire world starves.”
Rumple snorted. “I mean, she is the goddess of the harvest. If she’s pissed off, everyone’s eating air.”
Alice grinned. “And oh, was she pissed off. But let’s start at the beginning. Demeter was a Titan’s daughter, one of the Olympian Twelve, and the patron of crops, farmers, and everything blooming. Mortals loved her—because, well, if they didn’t, they’d starve.”
Loki smirked. “A little divine dependency never hurt.”
Alice rolled her eyes. “Now, Demeter had a favorite—her beloved daughter, Persephone. And, unlike most of the gods who barely acknowledged their kids, Demeter actually adored hers. She and Persephone were inseparable.”
Rumple muttered, “Oh, yeah. That lasted.”
Alice sighed dramatically. “Enter Hades, lord of the underworld. One day, Persephone was minding her own business, picking flowers, when the ground literally cracked open, and Hades himself rode up in his chariot of darkness and just—”
Loki smirked. “—yoink?”
Alice pointed at him. “Exactly. Kidnapped. Straight down into the underworld, just like that.”
Rumple snickered. “No hey, would you like to go on a date? Just grab-and-go romance.”
Alice grinned. “Hades was nothing if not efficient.”
Loki tilted his head. “And Demeter…?”
Alice smirked. “Oh, she lost her godly mind.”
Rumple chuckled. “I’m assuming ‘mild concern’ wasn’t her reaction.”
Alice scoffed. “Mild concern?! No, dear, she went full apocalyptic rage mode. She searched the entire world for Persephone, refused to let anything grow, and basically put all of humanity on a forced famine until she got some answers.”
Loki let out a low whistle. “So the seasons died with her mood?”
Alice nodded. “Exactly. She was so grief-stricken that winter was born.”
Rumple smirked. “Mortals: starving to death.”
Alice, mimicking Demeter: ‘Where is my daughter?!’
Loki grinned. “Did anyone bother to tell her Hades had Persephone?”
Alice rolled her eyes. “Oh, eventually. But only because Helios, the sun god, finally broke and told her what happened. And oh, did she march straight to Olympus and demand Zeus fix it.”
Rumple laughed. “Zeus, the great problem solver.”
Alice smirked. “Oh, you know Zeus—master of responsibility. He basically shrugged and went, ‘Well, Hades is my brother, and, uh… he really likes her, sooooo…’”
Loki shook his head. “Zeus. The king of Olympus, and yet somehow the least useful in any crisis.”
Alice nodded. “So Demeter wasn’t having it. She refused to let the world bloom again until she got Persephone back. Mortals were literally dropping, and finally, Zeus caved.”
Rumple raised an eyebrow. “Let me guess—Hades didn’t just hand her over.”
Alice grinned. “Oh no. Hades played it smart. Before letting Persephone go, he offered her a single pomegranate seed.”
Loki’s smirk deepened. “Ah. The oldest trick in the underworld.”
Alice nodded. “Exactly. If you eat food from the underworld, you’re bound to it. Persephone ate the seed—whether by trickery or by choice, that’s a whole other debate—but either way, it meant she could never fully leave.”
Rumple sighed. “And so the deal was struck.”
Alice raised her cup. “Half the year, Persephone stays with her mother, and the world blooms. The other half, she returns to Hades, and Demeter, in her grief, plunges the world into cold. And that, my dears, is why we have seasons.”
Loki leaned back, thoughtful. “So, Demeter lost the thing she loved most, and the world suffers with her, year after year.”
Alice smirked. “Heartbreak woven into nature itself.”
Rumple huffed. “A little dramatic, don’t you think?”
Alice grinned. “Oh, but isn’t all of mythology?”
And with that, another Immortal Gazette edition wrapped—filled with gods, grief, and a goddess whose sorrow still shapes the world.
🖋️✨📜🖤
