❛THEY WOULD TELL YOU OF A KING WHO STOLE ME HELPLESS FROM MY SUNSHINE GARDEN.❜
They won't tell you about the woman who came to him sublime, lily eyes and lily lips. A king does not ask permission from his prize, but she, oh she, she knelt, kissing m...
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VALE OF MOURNING, THE UNDERWORLD.
HADES
THE NEXT MIST SOAKED MORNING SAW PERSEPHONE DISTRACTED, RED EYED, AND SLIGHTLY OUT OF HER DELICATE WITS.
It was perhaps only a gentle, rose skinned touch of insanity - but the bloodshot eyes that graced her face also stained it with the bruised indigo hollowness of insomnia. She hadn't been able to sleep, that much was very clear. Something about her terrifying eyes flicked at my senses, making me wonder if she knew how terrible - and by that I meant eerily devastating - she looked.
The gaze of hungry, reeling death stayed in her eyes as we crossed the Acheron, the Cocytus, the Phlegethon. Even the wails of the dead could not chase the cobwebs away from her stained eyes.
"This is the Vale of Mourning," I pointed out a golden dappled peak to her in the distance. She looked at it pointedly astride a sleek black stallion of her own, before that sharp gaze of hers pierced my own like a shard of rugged glass.
Ah, now this I loved. Playing hard to get, hmm. The woman was a challenge, and one I gladly welcomed.
"The mountains' roots run infinite miles deep into the ground like a withered god - and between them sleeps the valley where the dead weep and dance. They call it the Lugentes Campi, the valley filled with souls who lost their lives for unrequited love," I muttered further, watching her for any signs of interest.
"Why was the shade crying the other day?" she asked, ignoring completely all my efforts to get her to notice the beauty of the valley. The question raised a flame of impatience in me - why did she want to concern herself with matters clearly out of her reach? I kept her safe from those miseries of my duty, and she dug deeper and deeper in.
"Which shade?" I feigned ignorance.
Her eyes flashed a brilliant green, making her look dreadfully, terribly beautiful. Something about her was like a fanged serpent, eager to bite and draw blood while feeding you venom. Lusts I would no doubt give in to wherever they concerned her.
"Don't lie," she gritted her teeth. "That woman. That day you showed me the Styx."
"She was scared of Thanatos. Many shades are, they all are scared of death, Persephone. Aren't you?"
"I told you before, you don't scare me," she glared at me. "Do you really have to make death that hard for them? Besides the pain they feel on separation from their loved ones?"
"Death is death," I snapped at her. "It is not my duty to wipe their tears, nor is it to hold their hand every time Thanatos takes their life. My responsibility is to make sure I guard their souls safely."
"Why did she die?"
"What...?"
"Why did she die? How did she die, Hades?" she asked again, her voice deadly but quiet.
