Hades and Persephone

Chapter 28: Tired

He absentmindedly smoothed her yellow hair of its tangles as he slowly read through the crate of scrolls behind him. Fewer and fewer of them came in without the hint of ice sealing them shut. Fewer and fewer furies returned with their load of souls unharmed. Fewer and fewer scrolls came in at all.

It was becoming harder and harder to hide the surface from Persephone.

She shifted in her sleep, silently tucking her feet closer to her body. Hades hadn't realized her head was resting where it was—on his stomach—until her breathing matched his own.

He threw another scroll at the growing pile in the corner; all waiting to be stamped with the same judgment. Disasters brought both the best and the worst of humanity. The one's untouched by ice were often killed for the sake of survival.

Or perhaps it was greed disguised as such.

"Another war?" Persephone asked. If she hadn't just spoken he would have thought her still asleep. Hades hadn't realized he swore aloud until then.

"Of a kind." She frowned at that, knowing the answer was purposefully vague. "Don't worry," he sighed. "It will be over before you know it. Things will go back to normal soon."

"Normal?" Her frown was audible now, a tinge of worry matching it.

"A new normal for you. Normal for most others." He rubbed circles onto her back until she settled back to sleep.

Persephone was always tired. Always just enough energy to eat, if they were lucky a short walk. He always read to her, always held her, always stood by as she slept in case anything like that first night happened again.

She just was not used to it—the underworld. Before a guest, now it was a new home. She would grow stronger, more aware. That was what he knew would happen. Of course, he was also so sure she was the demon that had dug so many scars. If that was true as well, what a strange thing it was to make peace with it.

Somewhere in his worries Hades' mind simply went blank, refusing to form any other thought or image or word other than blissful sleep.

Octavian cracked open the door to Lord Hades' room as silently as he could. The old wood creaked on its hinges. He stopped midway to simply watch the two sleep so peacefully. The crate propped up between his hip and doorway reminded him to return to work. Yet, it was good to see something close to contentment. Even if he knew it wouldn't last.

"Hey, Octavian," Persephone whispered.

"I'm sorry, my Lady, did I wake you?"

"Isn't your fault. I think I've caught up on sleep for the next century," she chuckled. "Is that more scrolls?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes. Lord Hades asked me to bring the last of them."

Her brows furrowed at that. Was Hades actually caught up?

Octavian placed them quietly on the floor beside Persephone so she could easily reach them. "Can I bring you anything else?"

"No. Thank you, though." He left without another word.

The goddess sat up, cradling her head from through the throbbing pain. Hades shifted his breathing but otherwise didn't react to her movements.

One scroll, two, three, five, ten—ten. Why were there so few? The first one was rather short. Almost all entries were empty or had a slash through them.

Starvation.

The next only slightly longer. The edge of a letter seemed off, slightly raised, but when she went to touch it, it only smudged the ink under her thumb.

Starvation.

Four more were the same.

Starvation.

Starvation.

Starvation.

Starvation.

And the sixth—why was it stuck? Persephone pulled at the ends, the clasp in the center that held it together, dug her fingers into the edges between the parchment to try to pry them apart. Between the papercuts and the embarrassment-turned-anger that only came with being defeated by paper, Persephone almost entirely missed the frost encasing the edge of it. And at her touch, it simply melted.

Hypothermia.

It wasn't Winter.

Persephone glanced over at Hades sleeping peacefully. She was already sitting up without disturbing him.

Standing sent a wave of dizziness through her and grabbing the bedpost only helped so much. A few moments she stood simply waiting for the spell to pass before taking her first tentative step.

Then another.

And another.

And another.

She smiled realizing she was walking without someone supporting her. Then she collapsed under her own weight, thankfully beside the pile of scrolls Hades had been throwing in the corner.

Persephone grabbed one at random and ripped it open, skipping to cause of death.

Starvation.

She reached for another.

Starvation.

Another.

Murder—self-survival.

Murder—self-defense.

Frostbite.

All the rest were like that; only a brief mention of cold if any at all.

His office was only next door. It was not too far.

On wobbly legs, she hobbled to the nearest wall to use it as an extra support. The door leading out of his room squeaked slightly, still partially open, while the door to his office remained shut completely.

Pulling it open made a horrible groan—far louder than anything a door should have been capable of. There was something in her that refused to wake up Hades other than fear. Then she saw that the loud groan wasn't just her paranoia of waking him.

Perhaps if it had just been a layering of snow she could have simply gone back to bed and dealt with it when she was healed. Or a layer of frost and she'd thaw it another time.

Everything in Hades' office looked like it had been carved from a glacier. It could have shattered at the wrong touch.

Another scroll fell from the void above the desk, it sliding from frozen stack to floor until finally, it stopped at her feet. It's seal unbroken, but ice slowly crept across it like a virus.

Hellen N.

Female

Smoted by Demeter.

"Hades?" She called.