Valentine.

Meddle About

For the full experience, please enjoy with the music provided. 

Over the course of the next month, I had developed a steady routine of spending mornings chatting with Violetta as she completed various housework, afternoons sprawling and frolicking under the warm blood-sun, and evenings dining with my husband. Conversation was always fond and plentiful, so long as I respected the boundaries and didn't bring up anything family or past-related.

Speaking of boundaries, things had definitely gotten a bit...heated up around the palace. There's no secret there was a subtle spark and attraction between the two of us. It never led anywhere though. And despite being married, we somehow never slept in the same bed. On regular occasion, I'd catch him watching me intently, and on good days I'd stare back wondering what was going through his mind. Wondering why it never escalated into anything... like there was some unspoken rule. Some line we were both too afraid to cross yet too bold not to dance along.

Today, I lounge with my back against a tall oak-tree, basking and reading under the breezy summer day. As I sit with my book, I catch glance of him through the wondrously grandiose tinted windows. He shamelessly stares straight at me- unflinching and unmoving as he takes a long, slow sip from his mug. His eyes are hooded, and his free hand is tucked into his pocket. We lock gazes as he lowers the mug, slowly licking his lips.

As if on cue, the sun suddenly feels 20 degrees warmer than it had before and I swallow, using my book to fan myself. Man, I really needed to find a less...distracting spot to enjoy my afternoons. A roguish smirk perverses its way onto his hooded features and his glowing red pupils pulse in mischief before he turns and ever-so-leisurely saunters away.

Later that night at dinner, we sit across from each other as per usual. Our meals have been set up in their customary, intricate arrangement with dishes laden with all sorts of meats, cheeses, and desserts. In the middle lies a huge platter topped with every possible fruit you could imagine. Every possible fruit that is, with the exception of pomegranates. I had noticed they were somehow never served, despite it being the most abundantly grown crop in the underworld. More mysteries for later, I usher inwardly as I turn my attention back to my husband.

As I move to grab an apple, my arm accidentally collides with my goblet, spilling its contents all over my plate and completely drenching the front of my gown.

"Clumsy, are we?" he jeers playfully as his eyes slowly begin to morph.

I peer into his now fiery gaze, noticing how his once storm-grey hue has almost been completely overtaken by a blazing scarlet. Just as they'd done again today, earlier in the gardens. Thinking about it now, his eyes seemed to do that quite occasionally...switch colors. Seemingly for no consistent reason that I could decipher. Yet again, another mystery. But this one, piqued my curiosity a bit more than the pomegranates.

"Your eyes. Why do they do that?" I ask curiously.

"Do what?" he taunts tilting his head and feigning innocence. His eyes pulsate once more as he smirks down at me sultrily. He is shamelessly mocking me, and it was making me feel...warm. Warm in ways that felt very inappropriate for the dinner table.

As soon as the thought transpires my brain, his smirk slowly drops, and his hooded gaze grows serious-the playful smirk gone. "Don't you wanna go get that cleaned up?" he breathes jerking his chin, his gaze briefly flittering down to my chest before coming back up to meet mine.

"But you haven't answered my question" I retort, purposely dropping the cloth I had intended to use to dry the front of my dress. Smirking in turn, I cock my head at him, playfully challenging him.

He studies me for a moment, no doubt contemplating my defiance. Finally, after a bit of a prolonged silence, he answers. "They change with my mood."

I nod slowly, refusing to talk until he elaborates. He senses this and continues. "There are usually two triggering circumstances. When I get very, very angry..." he pauses eyeing my soaked chest once again.

"And the second?" I prod raising a brow.

At this his teasing smirk slowly returns as he leans in, his eyes pulsing a third time as if in agreement. He entwines his fingers and rests his elbows on the dining table.

"The second trigger, is when I think things..."

My brows furrow as he continues.

"...Unholy things that would make you want to run to the devil himself to confess your sins" whispers Hades, biting his lower lip. An intense heat creeps to my cheeks and I feel seconds away from internally imploding. The pressure is too much for me and I can sense my core churning like an ice machine.

"I will go ahead and excuse myself now...I need to change." I croak clearing my throat, my flushed face no doubt completely betraying me. His smile spreads as he leans back into his parlor chair. "Yeah. You do that."

He watches amused as I scurry out of the dining room as fast as I can, almost tripping over my robes in my bothered frenzy.