#‘til death

[persephoneflowerpetals]

‘Til Death

Chapter 10: Three Little Words

Chapter 9: The Exes

Chapter 11: Last Chance (WIP)

It was about noon in Corinth. The sun was shining up in the bright blue sky as the birds sang their beautiful songs. Persephone sat in the field of freshly grown wild flowers of the Corinthian meadows, taking a much needed break as Thallo grazed on a grassy hill nearby.

Persephone had been working very hard recently to make sure she was bringing spring to the lands of Greece on time. Since she had wasted so much time crying and sleeping the day she ran into Minthe and Leuke, she was a bit behind schedule, so instead of moping around and worrying about Hades, she decided to put her time and energy into her work.

True, the goddess was still very heartbroken about her sudden realization that Hades probably didn’t love her, but she wasn’t going to let that stop her from doing her job. She’s certainly had a few crying spells here and there whenever she got to thinking about Hades, but she was a strong goddess. A broken heart wasn’t going to prevent her from bringing another beautiful spring. Thankfully, Hades hasn’t visited her in quite a while, so she’s had some time to think of how she could end things with him, even though she really, really didn’t want to. 

“You have to do this, Persephone. You can’t love a god that doesn’t love you. Just look at what happened with Narcissus and Echo.” she thought to herself as she watched the fluffy white clouds drift by in the sky.

Suddenly, Persephone heard the familiar sound of crackling flames, the smell of sulfur hitting her nose. She immediately sat up with a surprised gasp to see a cloud of smoke and flames appearing not too far away from her. 

“Oh, gods…not him! Not now! I can’t do this! I’m not ready!” she internally panicked as she stood up from the ground and brushed the grass and dirt off of her chiton.

There he was. Hades now stood before her in the flower field with his arms outstretched like he was ready for a hug, “Hey! Babe! It’s been a while! What’s shakin’, huh?” he greeted with a smile.

Persephone forced a smile as she avoided eye contact with him, looking everywhere but his face as she stayed put. She was so anxious, she felt like she could jump right out of her skin.

“Hey.” she replied softly, trying her best to stay calm and casual.

Hades could immediately tell something was off. Her facial expression, her body language, it was very unlike her. Normally, when he came to visit her he was greeted with an adorable smile, a big hug, and a kiss, but now, for some reason, Persephone refused to go near him. The goddess just stood there, practically glued to that spot in the flowery field as she anxiously stroked a lock of her hair.

The god dropped his arms to his side and raised his brow with suspicion, “You okay? You look like someone just pulled an arrow on you. What’s wrong?” he asked as he approached Persephone.

“I’m fine.” she answered quickly as she turned to walk away from him. Hades stopped in his tracks as he watched the goddess walk in the opposite direction.

“Something’s definitely up.” Hades thought as he started walking after her, trying to be mindful not to trample the flowers in the field.

“You’re obviously not fine because you’re walking away from me like I’m tryin‘ to sell ya chariot insurance. Seriously, what’s the deal? What’s goin’ on with you?” he asked.

“Nothing. I’m fine. I’m just…tired. That’s all.” Persephone lied as she made a beeline for the edge of the field where a row of tall shady trees sat. She then stopped at the trees and started sprouting bright green vines with little pink flowers onto the trees, keeping her back turned to him. She hoped that if he saw she was busy working, he would leave her alone.

Hades wasn’t buying it for a second, “You’re a terrible liar, y’know that? C’mon, just tell me what’s going on.” he said, finally catching up with Persephone by the trees. 

Persephone didn’t reply. She just busied herself by adding more little flowers to fill the empty spots of the vines she had made, still keeping her back turned to him. She was blatantly avoiding him at this point, but Hades was determined to get to the bottom of this.

“Hey,” Hades gently took her hand away from the tree so she’d focus on him for a moment. Persephone finally turned to look at him as he cupped her cheek with his other hand, turning her head a bit so they could be completely face to face, “…talk to me, babe. What’s wrong?”

Persephone placed her hand over his hand on her cheek as she gazed into his eyes that were filled with concern. For a split second, Persephone truly believed that he loved and cared for her, but then she was reminded of what Minthe had said to her before.

“Next thing you know, you’re being lured in by that charming smile and those amber eyes of his…you’re a ‘spring fling’ and nothing more.”

“Hades…I…” Persephone’s anxious expression turned to a pained and sorrowful one as she closed her eyes and gently squeezed his hand, slowly taking it away from her face. She so desperately wanted to avoid all of this and just run away and hide, but she couldn’t. She had to end it now or else she never will. She couldn’t let Hades break her heart…even though she felt as if she were already breaking it herself.

Persephone looked up at him with a tearful expression, his large gray-blue hands still gently holding hers, “I don’t…think we should see each other anymore.”

She closed her eyes again, shutting them tighter as tears began to fall down her face. Hades just stood there like a Greek statue, completely stunned and utterly baffled. He wondered if perhaps he had a little chunk of brimstone wedged in his ear and didn’t hear her correctly, “Wh…What?”

“I’m sorry. I just...I can’t…I…I’m so sorry.” Persephone softly wept as she struggled to find the right words to say. This was far too painful for her to bear and she just couldn’t face him any longer. She suddenly slipped her hands out of his as she dashed away from him.

“Persephone! Wait! Hold on! Let’s just talk about this!” Hades called out as he immediately started chasing after her.

Persephone could hear Hades running behind her and stopped for a short moment to use her powers to manifest herself away from him so he wouldn’t follow her.

“Persephone! Don’t —“ Hades reached out to try and grab her arm, but he was too late. Persephone had already disappeared in a swirl of small leaves in pastel pink flower petals, leaving Hades all alone in the middle of the flower field.

~X~X~X~X~

Pain and Panic sat on the floor of Hades’ throne room, a deck of playing cards (or the Ancient Greece equivalent of playing cards) placed between them as they each held a handful of cards. Since Hades was off visiting Persephone for the first time in a while, they figured they could use that spare time to relax and take it easy.

“I wonder how things are going with Hades and Persephone? He hasn’t seen her in like…forever.” Pain pondered as he grabbed a card from the deck.

As if on cue, Hades appeared in the throne room, in a red, fiery blaze. He was practically shaking with fury as he let out an enraged scream, his entire body engulfed in flames.

Pain and Panic jumped with a yelp, tossing their playing cards up in the air as they all became scattered on the floor. The imps cowered together in terror as Panic quickly hid behind Pain, “I don’t think it’s going well.” Panic whispered.

“I DON’T BELIEVE THIS!” Hades bellowed, “I’M GONE FOR A COUPLE OF WEEKS AND SHE BREAKS UP WITH ME!?”

“Wait…Persephone broke up with you?!” Pain asked with surprise, feeling a little more relaxed now that he knew he and Panic weren’t the source of Hades’ wrath (for once).

“But, w-why?! You two were so happy together! What happened?!” Panic questioned as he peeked out from behind his round partner in crime.

“I. DON’T. KNOW!” Hades shouted, the flames on his body flaring out with every word to emphasize his frustration.

The god went over to his throne to sit as his minions slowly and hesitantly approached him. He took a deep breath to calm himself down for a moment so he could think rationally.

“This is…this is insane. I mean, why would she break up with me? I didn’t even do anything! So, I haven’t seen her in a while, so what!? It’s not grounds for a break up! She knows we can’t see each other every day! I just can’t understand why she’d just dump me like that! Outta nowhere! She was just fine last time we met!” Hades ranted as he slumped over on his throne, resting his elbows on his knees, “This just doesn’t make any sense…something happened while I was gone. She must’ve talked to someone. There’s gotta be somebody else involved here.”

“Maybe she told her mom about you. Demeter’s not exactly your biggest fan. I don’t think she’d be too happy if she found out that you and Persephone were together.” Panic suggested.

“No, it wasn’t Demeter. If it was, she would’ve ripped my head off by now….no, somebody must’ve said something to Persephone that was enough to make her leave me…but who in the Underworld would have the nerve to —“ Hades paused for a moment before his expression began to harden.

“Minthe.”

Hades then arose from his throne with a scowl and made his way out of the throne room, “Don’t wait up for me, boys.” he said as he strode past them.

The imps watched him in confusion as he exited the room, “Where ya goin’, boss?” Pain asked curiously.

“I got some business to take care of. Need to pay a little visit to one of my old flames.”

~X~X~X~X~

Persephone ended up manifesting herself in the luscious garden of her temple near Athens. It was filled with gorgeous plants and flowers of all sizes and colors. There was a beautiful little pond covered with lily pads and lotus blossoms that sat in the middle of the garden with an ivory stone bench next to it. The goddess practically threw herself onto the bench as she sobbed into her arms.

“Why does this hurt so bad? Yes, I loved him, but he didn’t love me. It was only a matter of time before he would leave and break my heart. I had to do it. I should be happy he’s gone…and yet I feel so empty.” she wondered as she laid there crying on the bench.

“Persephone!” 

Out of nowhere, a familiar voice called out from across the garden. The spring goddess sat up on the bench and looked around. 

“Mother?”

Demeter finally spotted Persephone on the bench from across the pond and went over to her, “There you are! I’ve been looking all over Greece for you! Where have you —“ she began before noticing her daughter’s red, puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks.

“Persephone, cherry blossom. What’s the matter?” Demeter asked with concern as she sat down next to her daughter.

“It’s a long story….and honestly….I think if I tell you, you’ll hate me.” Persephone admitted as she pitifully sniffled and wiped her tears away from her eyes.

“No, sweet pea, I’d never hate you! You know you can tell me anything. Please, tell me what’s gotten you so upset.” Demeter asked as she manifested a handkerchief to help wipe Persephone’s tears away.

Persephone let out a shaky sigh then looked away from her mother, focusing her attention on a random spot on the ground. She knew she was going to have this conversation with her mother at some point, however, she imagined it would’ve been under better circumstances than this.

Persephone then proceeded to tell her mother about everything she’s been through since they last saw each other, all while keeping her eyes fixed on the ground, not wanting to see her mother’s facial expression as she confessed. She did her best to explain all of her thoughts and feelings she had as she spent time with Hades, wanting her mother to understand why she’s done the things she’s done.

“…so, after the picnic, he suggested we take a walk along the river, so we did…and we just…talked. After a while we got to the river bridge and the sun was setting. We stopped talking for a minute to just take in the pretty view. Then I looked at him while he was watching the water and I started getting that funny feeling I told you about before, like butterflies in my tummy…that’s when it finally hit me. I realized at that moment…I was in love with him. That whole time, all those weird feelings I got when I was around him, when he looked at me, when he complimented me, when he laughed, when he smiled…I…I loved him…..so I kissed him.”

Persephone squeezed her eyes shut as she felt her tears beginning to resurface. Not only was she scared of her mother’s reaction to this news, but it hurt to think back to the moment she fell for him now that they weren’t together anymore.

Demeter was quiet, trying to process all of this new information, but there was no indication that she was mad or upset, “How did Hades react?” she then asked calmly.

Persephone opened her eyes and looked towards her mother. She really expected Demeter to be fussing at her and scolding her for feeling such a way towards Hades. Her mother’s calm tone and demeanor after hearing her confession made Persephone feel a little less anxious about the conversation.

She took another deep breath to settle her nerves before explaining Hades’ reaction to her kiss and everything that transpired after that, from the moment she left the Underworld, to her recent meeting with his exes. Demeter stayed silent as she maintained her cool and calm disposition, listening intently to what her daughter had to say.

“That’s how I ended up here…like this. Hades came by for a visit and I decided to do what was best, so…I broke up with him.” Persephone explained, her voice wobbly as she tried not to cry again. She then looked over at her mother who just looked back at her with sympathy. The spring goddess instantly broke down in tears as she hugged her.

“I’m so sorry, mother! You were right! I should’ve listened to you! I’m sorry I was so stupid to believe that he actually —“ she sobbed into her mother’s shoulder as Demeter held her close, gently patting her back to comfort her.

“Oh, sweet pea, no. You’re not stupid, don’t you ever say that about yourself.” Demeter said softly as she started to rub her back in little circles.

Persephone then pulled away from her mother to look at her, “But I was so foolish! I should’ve…I should’ve gone with you when you left the Underworld….and I should’ve told you all of this sooner. I’m so sorry. I just didn’t want to disappoint you even more than I already have...”

Demeter once again used the little handkerchief to wipe away Perspehone’s tears as she gently held her face, “Persephone, sweetheart, you’ve never disappointed me...and you don’t need to apologize for your feelings either.” she assured her before taking her hands to hold them in hers, looking her in the eyes.

“I know I’ve shown my distaste for Hades quite a bit in the past, and for good reason, but I can tell by the way you talk about him that you care about him very much. He obviously means a lot to you.”

Persephone nodded, “Yeah…he does.”

“And you still love him…don’t you?” Demeter asked.

Persephone’s lip quivered as she felt the hot tears return to her eyes, “Yes…and it hurts so much!” she wept as she embraced her mother once more.

Demeter felt just as heartbroken as her daughter was and she hated to see her so distraught. Her first instinct was to go straight to Hades and tear him apart both verbally and physically for hurting her Persephone like this, but she knew that wasn’t the wisest decision and that wasn’t going to fix anything at the moment. Right now, Persephone needed the love and comfort of her mother, so she just held her close as she consoled her and let her cry it out.

“I know, sweetheart. I know.”

Persephone finally calmed down after a few moments and let go of her mother as she took a few deep breaths. Demeter handed her the little handkerchief so she could wipe her eyes and blow her nose. Then she spoke, her voice sounding a little bit hoarse from all the crying, “Do you…Do you think I made the right choice? Breaking up with him?“ 

Demeter gave her a warm and sympathetic smile as she brushed a strand of Persephone’s hair behind her ear, “I wish I had an answer for you, honeybee.” she replied.

The spring goddess sighed. That wasn’t exactly the response she was looking for.

“But, you know, I did a lot of thinking after I left the Underworld….and you made me realize that I’ve been coddling you and your sister for far too long. You were the one who was right all along. You’re a grown goddess who can make her own decisions…and that includes the tough ones like these.” Demeter said.

Persephone was glad to hear that she was able help to mother become a little less protective of her and her little sister, but she still wished she could get some confirmation that she was correct in her decision to end things with Hades.

“I just don’t know if I made the right decision. I feel like I should’ve just talked it out with him, but at the same time I….I just don’t know if he truly loves me like I love him.” she mused as she stared at the ground again.

Demeter gave her another sympathetic smile as she lifted her daughter’s head by her chin, “Well, you know I’m no goddess of love, but I think if Hades truly loves you…you’ll know. Besides, he’d be crazy not to love you. You’re so sweet, and beautiful, and talented. Any deity would be lucky to have you. I know I’m very lucky to have you as my daughter.”

Persephone smiled as Demeter leaned over to kiss her forehead, then hugged her mother tightly, “I love you, mom.”

Demeter smiled as she hugged her back, “And I love you too, blossom. Very much.”

After a very sweet and tender moment, the mother and daughter separated. Demeter looked over at the stone sundial that stood across from the garden bench. It was pretty late in the afternoon, and it wouldn’t be too long before sundown.

“Oh, sugar cane! I forgot, I’m supposed to be at a spring harvest festival in Troy this evening.” Demeter said before looking over at Persephone, “But, if you’re still upset…”

The spring goddess smiled again, appreciative that she was willing to stay with her longer, “No, it’s okay. I actually feel a lot better now. You go ahead. Besides, I gotta get back to Corinth. I still have a lot of work to do and Thallo is probably wondering where I am.”

Demeter returned her smile as she brushed Persephone’s bangs away from her eyes a bit, “Alright. Well, don’t push yourself out there, sweetheart. Remember, it won’t kill those mortals if spring comes a little late.” she reminded her.

“I know. I won’t.” Persephone replied as Demeter kissed the top of her head. The harvest goddess then stood up from the bench to manifest a giant tulip from the ground, the bright red petals opening up so she could step inside.

“Mother?” Persephone called out before she could step into the large flower. Demeter stopped and looked back at her curiously.

“Thank you.”

Demeter smiled fondly, “There’s no need to thank me, dearest. I’m your mother. That’s what I’m here for.” she replied before stepping into the flower. She blew a quick kiss to Persephone before the petals of the tulip closed around her, the giant flower then retreating back into the ground.

Persephone closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, smelling the sweet scent of the flowers that surrounded her and feeling more refreshed now that she was able to get that off her chest. She then stood from the ivory bench, stretched her arms, and looked out at the beautiful view of the horizon from her temple’s garden before manifesting herself back to Corinth.

~X~X~X~X~

Back in the Athenian forest, Minthe and Leuke sat by the shimmering grotto, relishing in the bounty they received from Hecate. Minthe was reclining on a low hanging branch of a tree, a small, but hefty leather sachet full of gold drachma coins in her hand as Leuke sat by the water with her own little sachet of wealth sitting in her lap.

”10,000 drachma, each! Can you believe it!?“ Minthe happily raved from the branch as she grabbed a handful of coins from the sachet, watching them fall out of her hand and back into the sachet.

“I know! We’re probably the richest nymphs in Greece! What are you gonna buy?!” Leuke bubbled with an excited smile as she examined one of her drachma coins.

“I can’t decide! I’m either gonna go on a complete shopping spree at the agora or I’m gonna buy a brand new chariot with gold trim. If I play my cards right, I could probably convince the salesman to throw in some free stallions.” Minthe answered as she continued to admire her money, “What about you?”

Leuke cocked her head to the side, “I dunno. I kinda wanted to buy a grand palace.”

Minthe frowned and raised her brow at the idea, looking down at Leuke from the tree branch, “Leuke…you can’t buy a grand palace with 10,000 drachma.” 

“Oh...what about a penthouse palace?” Leuke asked as she looked up at Minthe. The green nymph just looked back down at her with an annoyed expression, “No, Leuke.”

“Okay…then I guess I’ll just buy some souvlaki or something.” Leuke decided with a shrug.

Minthe glanced at her in confusion, “Souvlaki? Seriously? You have 10,000 drachma and you just wanna buy souvlaki?”

Leuke looked at Minthe like she was stupid before replying, “With extra tzatziki sauce! Jeez, I’m not a cheapskate.”

Minthe sighed and rolled her eyes at her friend’s stupidity, “Leuke, I swear there are harpies smarter than you.” she retorted.

Leuke smiled at the comment, “Aww, tha—“ she paused, finally catching on to the insult, “Wait, hey!”

The oceanid looked as if she were about to start an argument with the other nymph, but before she even could speak, she was interrupted by another voice.

“So…you’re still at it, eh, Minthe?”

The nymphs recognized the voice in an instant and turned their heads to find their ex boyfriend, Hades, leaning against another nearby tree, an unamused frown on his face. Minthe smirked as she slid off of the tree branch with ease while Leuke stood from the ground.

“Hey, Hades. Long time no see.” Minthe greeted him flirtatiously as she casually stuffed her sachet of money down the top of her dress. 

Hades scowled at her as he bitterly returned her greeting, “Minthe.”

Leuke simply smiled and happily waved to Hades, “Hi, Hades!” she chirped.

Hades looked over at Leuke with a neutral expression, clearly not having as much animosity with her as he does with Minthe, “Hey, Leuke.” he casually replied.

Minthe sauntered over to Hades, swaying her hips as she smiled at him with half lidded eyes, “So, you finally came crawling back to me, huh? I knew you couldn’t stay away from me.” she purred as she ran a finger down the front of his chiton.

“Yeah, you wish.” Hades responded with annoyance as he backed away from the nymph while wiping off his chiton as if she had gotten it all dirty, “Listen, I’m not here to catch up and shoot the breeze, alright? So, let’s get straight to the point: What did you say to Persephone?” 

Minthe’s smirk quickly turned to a frown at the mention of the goddess' name and rolled her eyes as she crossed her arms, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Hades glared at her and clenched his fists, his hair turning red as his hands burst into flames, “Do not play dumb with me, Minthe. I’m not in the mood for games.”

“I’m serious, Hades. I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve never spoken to Persephone before in my life.“ she declared.

“Yeah, you have, silly! We talked to her just a few days ago, remember?” Leuke said as she approached Minthe and Hades, completely oblivious to the fact that her friend was trying to lie.

Minthe’s eyes widened as she whipped her head around to give Leuke an icy stare, “Shut up!” she hissed through her teeth.

“Great, so you dragged her into it too, huh?” Hades asked as he crossed his arms and nodded towards Leuke, “What did you two say to her?” he asked once again, shifting his glare between the pair of nymphs.

“We told her the truth.” Minthe answered with a shrug as she observed her nails nonchalantly, “We told her that she wasn’t good enough for you and you were way out of her league.”

“And that you smell!” Leuke added with an enthusiastic smile.

Minthe frowned as her brows furrowed, giving Leuke a look that screamed “just stop talking” while Hades just stared at her with confusion, his hair going back to its calm blue color as his hands stopped burning. Yes, he wanted details about the conversation they had with Persephone, but he wanted details that actually mattered. However, he knew Leuke wasn’t exactly the brightest star in the cosmos, so her pointless remark didn’t really surprise him.

Leuke believed that she had provided valuable information about their recent encounter with Persephone, but Minthe and Hades’ facial expressions said otherwise, “Well, we did. Oh yeah! We also told her to break up with you.” she admitted.

That was the kind of information Hades was looking for. However, this particular detail made him absolutely livid. He grimaced at the nymphs as his entire form shifted into his classic angry red color, his hair flaring wildly past his broad shoulders.

“So, let me get this straight. You two went out of your way to make Persephone feel like she didn’t deserve me, then you TELL HER TO BREAK UP WITH ME!?” the god yelled as his body burned fiercely.

Leuke hastily jumped behind Minthe to hide behind her, placing her hands on her shoulders as she peeked her head up a bit. Minthe was completely unphased by Hades' angry outburst and continued to check nails.

Hades took a deep breath to chill out, but his scorching crimson hair was a blatant indicator that he was still pretty upset, “Why?” he growled, trying to keep his temper so he could get more answers.

Leuke, not as frightened now that Hades was a little less fiery and irate, popped her head up from behind Minthe’s shoulders, “Because H–” she started to explain before Minthe threw her hand over her mouth to keep her from blabbing to Hades. 

Minthe gave Hades a smug and slightly mischievous smirk as she spoke, “Because she needed to face the facts. She’ll never be good enough for you. You deserve someone better. Someone like me.” she said as she tossed her long green hair back in an enticing manner, the lock of hair smacking Leuke in the face in the process.

Hades rolled his eyes at the suggestion as the green nymph continued, “I don’t know why you’re so worried about her, anyways. It’s not like you two were that serious. You never even told her you loved her.”

The god sneered at her accusation as he began to angrily flare up again, “Of course I –” he began to argue before he paused. His eyes widened and his shoulders slumped as he slowly cooled down completely, hair and all.

“Oh, gods…I never told her I loved her…” he said under his breath.

The god stared down at the ground. He couldn’t believe he never once told her that he loved her…not even after their first kiss. She’s told him countless times how much she loved him and how happy he made her, but he never returned the sentiment.

“No wonder she left…she thought I didn’t love her back. Gods, what’s wrong with me!? Why wouldn’t I tell her that!? Of course I love her! I’m crazy about her! Over the moon! I can’t get enough of her!” Hades thought.

“Why would you?” Minthe asked, “She’s not worthy of your love. Seriously, I don’t even know what you saw in that pink cow.” she scoffed.

The insult immediately broke Hades away from his thoughts. He sent a nasty look towards Minthe as she turned away from him to continue carelessly slandering the goddess.

“Really! I mean, she’s fat, she’s ugly, her fashion sense is just hideous, and she’s so gullible! I can’t believe she actually believed everything we told her! She’s so stupid!” the naiad laughed.

Hades was seething with anger as Minthe ranted. His whole body was burning hotter and brighter than the sun itself, but Minthe was completely unaware. However, Leuke was still facing Hades and could see that he was very agitated.

“M-M-Minthe…” Leuke stuttered as she trembled and slowly backed away from her friend and the furious god.

“I mean, gods, it’s no wonder she’s been single for like, a thousand years! She’s the most unattractive goddess on Olympus! Who would wanna date that big, pink –” Minthe jeered before she finally noticed the broiling heat hitting her back. She turned around to find Hades giving her the most intimidatingly venomous expression she’s ever seen. The nymph stood frozen in fear as Hades raised his inflamed arm.

“One more word…and I burn this place to the ground with you in it…capisce?” he threatened. 

Minthe silently nodded, looking at Hades like a frightened deer. Hades shook his arm to make his arms and the rest body stop burning, the hateful look still plastered on his face.

“Great. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to go clean up the mess that you two helped create,” Hades said as he turned to walk away from his petrified exes, “and just a suggestion: if you don’t wanna become permanent residents down under, eternal punishment included…” he stopped walking for a short moment to look back at the pair of nymphs. 

“Don’t ever let me catch you talking to or about Persephone again.” the god warned before continuing his retreat.

The nymphs stayed silent as they watched Hades leave until he stopped one last time, fully turning around to face them, his expression now looking more smug and sarcastic than angry and disgusted, “Oh, and uh, Minthe? You and me? Never gonna happen, babe. Seriously, you have got to get over me…sheesh.” he said as he shook his head before finally exiting the forest in a large burst of blue fire.

Minthe’s expression promptly switched from intimidated to frustrated as she ground her teeth together, “I AM OVER YOU!” she shrieked.

The fuming naiad turned around in a huff as she stomped away, “Ugh…shut up, Leuke!” she snapped.

“I didn’t even say anything!” Leuke exclaimed in defense.

Minthe swiftly looked back and glowered at her, “I know, but you were gonna say something and it was gonna be stupid!”

Leuke pouted as she crossed her arms, “I was not!” she shouted as Minthe continued storming away from her. She then looked down with a slightly guilty expression, “Okay, maybe it was gonna be a little stupid.” she admitted quietly before following Minthe.

[fentanylaced]

[numbuh424]

TW // Blood

Lawlight Week Day 5 - "Sharing Food / Cannibalism"

[abirdsnest]

[dandelionfool]

them!!

[faunandfloraas]

Changbin: You sure you don't want to bite him to death?

[aureatchi]

ᝰ𓂃⊹ ִֶָ SHE PAINTED THE HIGH RENAISSANCE ONTO HER BLANK CANVAS. . .ft. fyodor dostoevsky & dazai osamu

৻ꪆ RIASSUNTO. fata viam invenient...you attend a ball, fated to stumble upon two demons in disguise. you don't know whether it is for better or worse that you somehow already know them, all masqueraded as angels, regardless of how laughably far off that would be.

◞ OR ROME WAS TRULY THE PROMISED LAND, and you sought the art of chaos, rivalry, and seduction.

SERIES MASTERLIST. → ii. | PLAYLIST ♫. | wc. 9.6k+

৻ꪆ a/n. it’s FINALLY HERE !! get ready because there’s A LOT. i’ve poured sm heart into this so i hope you enjoy it as much as i do :) THANK YOU TO EVERYONE who was patient + reached out telling me how excited they are for this. this series is also my entry for @kentopedia’s love through the ages historical!au collab. thank u sm for putting this together <3

৻ꪆ info. fem!reader. renaissance!au. drama & romance. cursing. some suggestive parts. love triangle. arranged engagement. slowburn. lowk touch-starved. a lot of story buildup/complex character. suicide attempt from dazai. historical inaccuracies. bad poetry. religious imagery/symbolism.

— THE MONA LISA WASN’T REAL. And Vincenzo Peruggia was not, in fact, the person who stole the piece, contributing to the boom of its fame to the general public, but was planned in a way to frame him so that the origins of the painting would be a secret gossip only a group of the most successful artists knew about. 

The gendarmes were close. They were correct in assuming that another artist could’ve stolen the painting during the investigation. But they never suspected it could be the person the portrait was painted of herself—no, obviously not Francesco del Giocondo’s wife—but the original face who remained under the cover-up. 

An artist’s face, who later went under the alias of “Raphael” to conceal her contentious image and entanglements from the public eye—you. 

The crashing of ice-cold water on your skin amidst the summer air. The weight of your aspirations on your shoulders, and an unknown heart who vowed to drown you…

“My, miss, you’re already stirring up tons of drama, and you’ve only been here three days!” 

The past couple of months had felt like a dream. It almost seemed like yesterday when you packed your things into suitcases and moved to one of the most famous centers of the art world, Florence. 

Yet now, you entered through the gates of the ‘eternal city’ itself—Rome, a great privilege granted to you by the Pope himself. You almost cried when you received his invitation, commissioning you to paint the frescos in his private library. Of course, there were some strings pulled, like the person who recommended you…

“It’s all thanks to you, Ranpo,” you giggled mischievously. As the lead architect of the Vatican (but before that, your friend), he had told the Pope, “...she might as well become the best painter in all history. She may not be well known here in Rome, but say her name in Florence, and you’ll awaken the whole city. You’ll realize you’ve found a diamond among all the rubble. Trust me on this one; I’m never wrong.” 

“It was nothing,” Ranpo replied with a smug smile. “His Holiness, Fukuzawa never doubts my word.” He tapped his head with his forefinger and winked. “Not only does he recognize my talent in the arts, he also acknowledges my outstanding intellect! I’d be a detective in another life.” 

You chuckled before he continued. “The rest is all on you, princess. Again, you’re progressing quickly-” he pulled out a letter to summarize out loud. 

“-His Holiness was so impressed that he’s giving you the rest of the rooms to paint,” Ranpo said while you stared at him with widened eyes. “He…fired everyone else who was working on them. On top of that, he invites you to a ball happening in a couple of days to make an announcement on new projects. Other than you, he’s invited only the most influential artisans to attend alongside the aristocrats.” 

“No way!” You grabbed Ranpo’s hands in excitement. 

“Yes, way.” He let you spin him around on the pavement in eagerness, your long dress following along. “Though, I feel like you’re going to have to explain to him how you painted the library’s frescos so quickly.” 

Your turbulence of elation calmed. “Hm, you’re right. 

“I hope the question slips his mind.”

You hadn’t actually told Ranpo, but it always seemed like he would figure out everything about you anyway. There was one reason why you had become so famous in Florence. You created masterpieces in what felt like seconds—it was almost like you were granted the touch of creation itself. No one had ever seen you paint, so the mystery of how you were able to produce your portraits in mere weeks—sometimes days remained a mystery to the entire world, no matter how fast science progressed. 

You called it an ability. To be able to visualize—a mental image in your head you wanted to come to life in the form of a still painting on a canvas was what you did. You conjured the concept yourself, freezing daydream into textile. 

You weren’t sure why you possessed something supernatural, or perhaps there were other artists you didn’t know who could also do the same thing, but firstly, you kept it a secret—it seemed almost inhuman to hold such a power. Yet secondly, it was even more the reason to follow in your father’s footsteps. 

He, too, was a painter in the courts of Urbino and would’ve liked to become a famous artist as well. Now, that dream lived on through you—you had studied and trained under his teachers and other artists until you mastered their techniques from the foundations to geometry. Your father was no longer alive, but you were sure he’d be proud of you for getting this far. 

“Oh, one more thing,” Ranpo said.

“The two angels of art are going to be there.” The brunette closed his eyes and rested his arms behind his head as if he already knew the shocked expression awaiting your face. “Your inspirations. Osamu Dazai of Milan and your fiancé, Fyodor Dostoevsky of Florence.” 

“Pardon me, Fyodor?” 

…

A long time ago, your uncle—your now legal guardian—arranged your marriage to Fyodor Dostoevsky. However, the same would’ve happened even if your father had been in charge due to his family’s good societal position. 

It was just meant to be, you guessed. 

Coincidentally, Fyodor had also taken an interest in art the few times you two saw each other when you were younger, and you eventually saw him go on to become the most talented sculptor in Florence. 

However, your path of similarities ran cold after that. You hadn’t seen him in years, and you weren’t even close. You were obligated to write to each other once a month, but each message almost seemed like business transactions rather than love letters. Fyodor was too aloof a person despite being well-educated and polite—though he checked off every other box (and you were sure any other woman would want him), you realized you would never be able to connect with him. He was just not interested. 

You couldn’t do anything to change the engagement, but as long as there was no set wedding date to look (dread) forward to, you were content with life for now. 

You didn’t necessarily like Fyodor, nor did you go to Rome to finally pursue him, but you admired him from a different standpoint. 

He and Osamu Dazai were truly angels of art; even gods, if the Church was not one’s forte. Everyone across the country knew their names—patrons and civilians alike worshipped them at the feet. Even the powerful Medici family, sought by every artist to be commissioned, held close ties with both. 

Clientages saved their money to have the two paint for them, upcoming artists aspired and envied their success, ladies came with their names rolling off their tongues to the horror of their husbands’ faces—they were rumored to be devilishly handsome, too. Self-portraits of the prodigies were yet to be made, but you didn’t doubt it one bit. If Dazai was anything like Fyodor, he had to be fanciable too. 

They had the world and heavens as masterpieces in their hands; one could say their names traveled as far as the badlands. You arrived in Florence right after they departed for Rome, and you studied the creations left behind to figure out how they made crowds swoon and create such huge impressions on people.

And you found their pieces were indeed the pinnacle of the renascene summer. You silently made them your mentors, incorporating what was successful for them into your own works. 

…

“And you’ll be there, right, Ranpo?” 

“Of course, so don’t you worry your pretty head about a thing,” he tapped his head with a smile. “Though, I have some work to finish first, so I’ll leave thee to explore Rome.” 

“Don’t take the wrong wagon this time,” you giggled. Ranpo was late to meet you on your first day because he kept taking the wrong passenger coach to get to you. For some reason, he was knowledgeable at everything but navigating transportation. 

“I’m taking a horse this time,” Ranpo replied. 

“Even worse! You better not fall off!” 

There was a tailor you had been recommended to by your aunt before you departed. You decided to head to his shop first to find a dress to wear for the evening. 

“Good day, my lady,” the couturier said with a kind smile. “I have multiple options of gowns for you tonight. Please do take your time selecting.”

“Gramercy,” you replied with a smile in turn. Your measurements had been sent to him a few weeks ago, so that you wouldn’t have to wait for your garments to be made. 

He brought out at least four cioppas. You didn’t even care to figure out how many in total because among all the regal reds, greens, and royal blues stood out a silk, off-white dress with gold accents. Your eyes were immediately drawn in, though you couldn’t put your finger on why. It wasn’t the most showy in the bunch, but that didn’t matter to you. It was like a rare gem among common stones—though you would need a good eye to really appreciate its uniqueness. 

You ran your fingertips across the fabric, closely observing its craftsmanship. You became fascinated with the opulent designs on the flowy skirt and the long sleeves. You guessed that if you didn’t take it, you’d instead dream of it for the rest of your days in regret and freeze it in one of your paintings for eternity.

“I think I’ll try this one first.” 

Your first choice proved worthwhile when you tried on the gown in the separate dressing room. You exchanged the simple front-laced bodice and plain cotton attire for the new, elegant piece sewn just for you. The fabric hugged and complimented your curves in all the right places, creating the most flattering look as you turned in front of the mirror. 

You imagined yourself with your hair styled and matching jewelry to accompany it—you felt like a princess. Perhaps this confidence was the only thing that would help you get through the ball this evening and perhaps your entire time here. You hadn’t been around so much aristocracy in years—though you grew up privileged, you preferred to live humbly and simply focus on your hobby (and you spared your change on those in need). You were lovely yourself, no doubt, and maybe that’s why you charmed many people of different social classes as you grew more popular. 

You studied yourself through the mirror again, and it was like the polarity of your dresses reflected the fate of this new chapter of life set against the one you left behind.

The weight of your aspirations on your shoulders and an unknown heart that vowed to drown you…you suddenly felt cold. You rushed to get out of the room. 

“It’s perfect on you,” the tailor said, unable to disguise his awe when you asked him for his opinion and to ensure all the sizing was correct. You nodded in curiosity when he asked, “Now, would you like to know the inspiration behind the dress?” You always looked forward to seeing how your tailors incorporated your personality and family style into their design. 

“It’s a play on a singular topic,” he said. 

“Angels. A dual purpose signifying both the type of art you create and how you give off an entrancing allure—they will be curious about your enigmatic yet enchanting importance. That will be your statement tonight among the darker colors.” 

The earlier thought of comparing your two inspirations to angels came to mind. You decided right then—you found no need to try on any of the others. 

“I’ll have this one sent for me tonight,” you said. “Thank you again.”

Rome was alive and busy with action at every corner you turned. You strolled down the streets with no set destination, admiring the liveliness of the city. There were markets and shops everywhere and merchants with all sorts of foreign goods. 

You discovered a ruella at the corner of one street, and the door was widely opened. You peered in to see a group of women inside, probably discussing various intellectual topics. 

You decided to go inside and socialize, having nothing better to do. As you stepped into the salon, they all turned to greet you. 

“Good day, miss,” a few of them said. 

“Oh, aren’t you the Florentine artist?” one of them asked. She moved to the side so you’d have a spot to sit.

I got recognized, you thought, and you couldn’t hide your smile. 

“My husband was there awhile back,” she continued as you sat beside her. “He couldn’t stop talking about how enamored he was with your style and was sure you’d make it here next. Looks like he was correct!” 

“I’m very flattered,” you responded, a warm tint in your cheeks. 

“Did you recently arrive?” she asked. “I hope your journey here went smoothly.” 

“Yes, it went alright!” you said. “The weather wasn’t too bad, and I enjoyed the views on the way. I even passed by some lakes…” 

You felt it again. A shiver ran down your spine. The crashing of ice-cold water on your skin that stood perpendicular to summer’s balmy weather. The intense feeling to stay alive—to save yourself and the soul you did not know…

Your journey had gone smoothly up until you passed by one of the lakes near Rome. It had been a peaceful day, and your coach driver suggested that you look outside. You lifted the curtain and were received with one of nature’s blessings—verdant grass and plants that thrived around clear blue waters. 

You could’ve painted it if you remembered the sight. You truly could have if the memory of the scene wasn’t tainted by what you saw seconds after. 

“Hey, is that a person?” you asked your driver, squinting your eyes—unblemished, untouched picture shattering in your head. The land on one side of the lake was vastly elevated, creating a cliff on that end, and a figure stood in the distance.

A moment passed. 

“…Yes, my lady.” 

Your eyes weren’t betraying you—there was a man dangerously close to the cliff’s ledge, and you weren’t born yesterday to not know what he was thinking of doing. 

“Stop the wagon,” you said, a slip of panic in your tone. Your driver looked back at you hesitantly, but you ordered once again. 

“Please stop the wagon. Don’t come after me. And don’t tell anyone about this.” 

The horses carrying you came to a halt, and you rushed out of the chaise. You weren’t sure what had gotten into you at that moment—there was a random person you happened to catch making more than a terrible decision, why get involved—but you couldn’t stop now as it was like your legs were carrying you themselves. You immediately took off east towards the cliff. It would take you a few minutes until you got to the man. 

What would you even tell him? Would you try to talk him out of it? Gaslight him into stepping away from the edge? Offer to paint him a custom piece for free?—“Oh, I’m actually a famous artist in the country, I can paint you whatever you wish. But I can’t really do that if you kill yourself.” You dashed past grass and rocks as you hurried up the hill.

You would definitely have to change once you got back—the bottom of your dress was already soiled, and you were sweating.

Splash!

Your face was struck in complete horror at the loud sound. You peered over the edge to see huge ripples cascading across the surface of the lake. 

Oh shit! 

You ran back down and then towards the shore. You thanked God that you weren’t using any heavy layers under your dress that day and prayed you weren’t going to end up killing yourself as well. You knew how to swim, but the man was far from the bank. 

Am I really going to do this? 

This might’ve been the most spontaneous thing I’ve done. And the worst.

You liked to think that if you saved him, you would be rewarded in some other way. A good Samaritan—you thought. It had to be worth it. You couldn’t die before your new life even began. 

You submerged yourself into what felt like frozen water, your clothing suddenly feeling uncomfortable around you. Still, you wasted no time swimming toward the man who jumped in. 

He was already sinking—of course, this lake has to be deep. You immediately grabbed onto his waist when you got to him, but not before you took a good look at his face. He was probably of the working class because he only wore a simple white shirt. You also noticed he was covered by an absurd amount of bandages. Soft waves of brunette hair framed the man’s profile, and he looked far more content and at peace than he should’ve been. In any other situation, you would’ve thought he was taking a pleasant nap by the way his eyes were closed, and his lips were slightly parted. 

You’d never seen anyone so pretty underwater. If you hadn’t seen him as a human above land, you would’ve thought he was a mermaid or some other foreign creature. 

Your thoughts and observations were interrupted when you realized you couldn’t hold your breath any longer. Trying not to panic anymore, you first tried to drag the two of you up above the water, but you weren’t strong enough to battle the weight of it against the two of you. 

You would have to swim to shore and didn’t know if you had enough air to return. 

Well, I need to make it work anyway, you thought. You wouldn’t let this mysterious guy you didn’t know cut off everything you wanted to pursue. 

You took ahold of one of the man’s loose arms and, with determination, tried to propel yourself the way you came from, kicking your legs through the water. You were more than correct in assuming it would be complicated—the energy in your body drained quickly. 

You were only halfway from where you started when you accidentally choked. But that caused you to completely seize up—water poured into your lungs like open floodgates, and you were unable to breathe. You tried to push yourself up to get air, but you were already too weak to carry even yourself.

The weight of your aspirations on your shoulders and trying to save an unknown heart that had led to you drown—you wondered if he was still alive. He would have to be resuscitated at this point, and you realized, you too. If anyone came in time to save you, that was. You shouldn’t have had ordered your driver to not follow after you. Or rushed into the lake unprepared. 

Or involve yourself with this man. It was his decision to jump off the cliff…and now you had tied his own weight onto your life. Maybe it was all too heavy to carr—

“I’m happy to hear,” the woman replied, oblivious to and interrupting the encounter you were replaying in your head. “I wish you the most success here.” 

“Thank you,” you replied. “You are very kind.” 

“I am a bit nervous,” you whispered. “I’ll be meeting His Holiness for the first time and other artists. Do I even compare to them?” 

It was evening now. You had spent the last couple of hours preparing for the ball after exploring town—you had on the classy cream-colored dress you selected earlier from the tailor, accompanied by a couple of necklaces. Your hair was put up in a complex style and fastened by a few pieces of jewelry. 

Your mind utterly conflicted with your appearance, though. Your thoughts were in chaotic peril—you tried to hide the fact that you had been pacing around your room in anxiousness right up until Ranpo picked you up. 

“Thou art second to none, miss,” Ranpo replied with a wink and a tight squeeze of your hand. It had only half the same effect as his bear hugs the viridescent-eyed would give you when you weren’t in public, but it was enough. “There’s no reason to be nervous. You fascinated him long ago—you might’ve even been his favorite if I wasn’t here!” 

“Maybe so.” You giggled at his lighthearted smugness. “Well then, let’s get going.”

Ranpo nodded and led you through the large doors of the ballroom. Immediately, you were greeted with the celestial light from the chandeliers contrasting the dark evening sky outside. 

Your eyes drifted in awe among the artigiani and aristocratici of Rome. It was almost chimerical—you hardly remembered you were still holding Ranpo’s hand. The scene looked like it came straight out of a painting. 

“Appealing so far?” Ranpo asked, guiding you down the stairwell. “Can it stand against the Florentine carnivals?” 

You slowly nodded, still focused on the liveliness surrounding you. “It feels divine.” It was more prestigious than any event you’d been to so far—most likely because this was held in one of the Pope’s courts itself. 

“You haven’t even experienced it yet,” Ranpo laughed before leading you into the waltzing crowd. “Shall we dance?”

You and Ranpo followed the movements of the other couples. When you were sure of the pattern of the steps, your eyes wandered again to admire the setting. Everyone was dressed to the nines—although, as your tailor said, they all wore darker colors. You pretended to not notice the looks you received from strangers—however, they were not insulting. They were out of captivation and marvel.

Multiple pieces of artwork were hung around the hall, too, and you wondered if the chosen artists who created them were here now. You considered if they knew of your name too, just as you recognized theirs. 

However, your heart almost stopped when you were reminded of a completely different topic. Ranpo noticed a moment of shock flash through your eyes but did not proceed to question you. (Thankfully, he knew when you would prefer him not to be nosy.) 

You saw the back of a man’s head dressed in pure white—his brunette hair in slightly messy, soft waves. 

There is no way. 

However, you could not confirm your suspicions because he approached a lady in a beautiful, deep red gown to ask for a dance. His face and figure became completely hidden as he waltzed with her at the opposite side of the room. 

“See someone you know?” you heard Ranpo ask. 

Of course he didn’t need to be nosy, because he figured out everything about you anyway. 

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” you responded quietly, still trying to get a glimpse of him, but before you could say anything more, a guard standing next to the entrance silenced the entire crowd. 

“Enter, His Holiness, Fukuzawa!” 

You immediately turned around, and once more was someone dressed in white—the Pope, Yukichi Fukuzawa. You glanced at Ranpo, who gave you a nod of reassurance before politely applauding with everyone else. 

“Thank you for attending this event today,” Fukuzawa started. “Our city has made much progress due to the collaboration and contribution of our artists, so I would like to take tonight to celebrate all of them. Ultimately, I want to reveal the next upcoming project.” 

After a few more words, everyone applauded again, and the party resumed activity. You and Ranpo moved away from the dance, him deciding it was finally time to do the thing you were dreading. 

“Look over there.” Ranpo urged his head towards two men in conversation standing a few feet away. 

If the ballroom really represented the heavens, surely these two were the angels. Even without Ranpo telling you, you knew them to be Osamu Dazai and Fyodor Dostoevsky, standing side by side, white suits further proving their empyreal position.

But your eyes widened, and if you hadn’t been careful, your jaw would’ve dropped, too. Obviously, you recognized Fyodor—tall, jet-black hair—handsome and intimidating as ever, but you didn’t dwell on him for too long. Your eyes quickly scanned the room in search of a woman from earlier with dark curls, dressed in deep red, and when you found her, she was no longer dancing with the brunette dressed in white. 

You looked back at the man beside Fyodor.

It’s him. 

And as if hell—fate, whatever wanted to taunt you further, Osamu Dazai noticed you and Ranpo first, pausing his share of thoughts with the ravenette. You locked eyes with him, and you immediately became embarrassed. 

What the hell? First, one of them is my fiancé, whom I don’t even say a word to, and then the second is…him? 

Perhaps we shall meet again, were the brunette’s words to you by that lake. You truly didn’t believe him then, but it wasn’t the first time you choked on your assumptions. 

In a split second, you pulled Ranpo out of sight. “Ranpo,” you pleaded. “I can’t meet them now!” Your fingers hastily ran through your hair, making sure everything was in place. “I’m not even sure what to say-”

“You’ll have to rip off the bandage sooner or later,” he said, tugging on you. “And I say the sooner, the better! I’ll introduce you to them!” You felt even more displaced at the fact that he offered to introduce you to your own fiancé. However, before you could even object (or say, “Ranpo, somehow I already fucking know both of them!”), he dragged you back—toward the two painters. 

“Good evening, my lords,” Ranpo said as you approached them. 

You didn’t miss how Dazai’s face lit up in a curt smile. Meanwhile, Fyodor had on a neutral expression—probably the only appearance you ever saw him wear. 

“Good evening, Edogawa, the darling of His Holiness,” Fyodor said, the slightest spite in his tone. He did not glance at you at all. 

“Still as cold-hearted as ever, Il Divino-Painter,” Ranpo replied with a chuckle, but it was apparent that he did not like the man.

“I am a sculptor,” Fyodor corrected, a bogus smile still plastered on his face. 

“Don’t mind him,” Dazai said, patting your friend’s shoulder. “He’s just jealous you’re in charge of planning out the entire Vatican palace. And also at the fact His Holiness had to force him into a suit!” When Fyodor gave him a look, Dazai turned to you. 

He had eyes of the sunset, paving the way of something between hell and earth—though in a perfect world, it should’ve been the other way around because he looked as if he had just come down from heaven. You felt your cheeks warm and an uncertain feeling in your stomach. 

“Good evening, my lady,” Dazai said, knocking you out of your reverie. You blushed again as he knelt to take your hand and kiss it, bowing before you—the single minute felt longer than nox itself.

Was this the same man you met at the lake a few days ago? 

He was the artist you admired all along? 

“Apologies for not greeting you first,” he continued as he stood up. “I did see you earlier. How could anyone not notice the angel of Florence who creates masterpieces in days, especially when she looks like one tonight?” You became even more flustered by his sweet words. 

He was familiar with my name all along.

“Ah, so you already recognize her?” Ranpo asked. 

“Of course I do!” You suddenly tensed—half expecting him to reveal your previous encounter with him that you did not want anyone else to know. (If Ranpo knew, you hoped he would keep his mouth shut for your sake.) It would cause too much trouble if someone decided to spread it, and even worse if your uncle found out. He was very strict on image.

But to your relief, he did not. 

“I am very fond of your style, my lady,” Dazai said, resting his hand under his chin. “Madonna del Granduca,” one of your paintings. “You capture human sentiment and emotion so well, even in the most simplistic pieces.” 

Finally, you were able to respond to one of his compliments without becoming a mess. “Thank you.” 

“...And sfumato, your technique,” Fyodor added. “Perhaps you like her style so much because she takes it from you.” 

It was only now Fyodor finally acknowledged you. 

He may just be the son of Nyx. His intentions were tucked away behind amethyst eyes, slumbering in the peaceful twilight he allowed mercy to while all else was caught up in chaotic darkness. Maybe no one else noticed that—if anyone did, Fyodor would not be as beloved as he was now—but you did. You saw through the three strands of malice that laced his following words. 

“Good evening,” he said softly. He kneeled in front of you with your hand, tormenting you with eye contact.

“It’s an honor to see you again, miss. Though I must ask, was Florence not enough? 

“Is grasping originality so tough?

“Are you here to copy more artistic concepts to boost your own depictions of seraph?” 

He delivered a deadly kiss to your hand before you could respond, and before he could see the puzzlement on your face. 

“Excuse me?” 

But you did not falter before him as he stood back up. He did not intimidate you. 

“I’m flattered.” 

For once, the slightest sign of curiosity seeped onto Fyodor’s face.

You gave him a poisonous smile of your own. 

“Sfumato—the blending of colors to create smooth transitions between them,” you explained, giving a nod toward Dazai. “I’m honored that you immersed yourself so much with my painting that you could observe such a detail.”

Ranpo pretended to look around the hall as if he wasn’t paying attention to what was happening, while Dazai couldn’t keep a snort from escaping his throat. 

You kept your eyes fixed on your fiancé’s violet gaze, trying to figure out whether or not you’d be dead after the night was over. Actually—he seemed like the type that could seduce someone into death. Stygian black hair framed against his pallid complexion—ethereal, no doubt, yet you would not be surprised if he turned out to be the Grim Reaper’s right-hand man. (And you were supposed to marry him!)

“I’m here because His Holiness summoned me to paint the frescos in his house. I feel that if he sensed plagiarism in my work, he would’ve not trusted me with this project. 

“What about you, my lord?” 

There was a pause; he was thinking. 

“I am simply searching for something important,” he replied. “An inspiration, if you want to call it. I need it to complete a piece I have been working on.”

“And you’re sure you can find it here?” 

“You can find anything in the promised land, solnyshka.”

The foreign word rolled off of his tongue like honey. He dressed his voice to sound like a lullaby, and you remembered why you thought of him as an angel before he decided to insult you. 

What a juxtaposition. 

“What did you say?” 

“Did you not hear me?” 

He wasn’t going to tell you what he said, nor what he meant in entirety. “Nevermind. I did. Good luck trying to find it.” 

…

“May I have this next dance, my lady?” 

The charming brunette extended his left hand out to you. You had become irritated with Fyodor after his apparent distaste for you—So this is how you treat me after years of not seeing each other? You thought you could at least try becoming acquainted with him to make your inevitable fate a bit easier for both of you, but it seemed like that wasn’t happening anytime soon. You left the conversation at the nearest opportunity and moved to the other side of the room, unaware that your other dilemma was following you. 

“Lord Dazai?” 

You noticed something new about him as he stood in front of you. Those sunset orbs also harbored a concept as far as the sun. There was something distant in them that felt like half of his mind was immersed somewhere else. You wondered where. 

“I don’t like Dostoevsky at all either,” Dazai chuckled. “Even though tonight’s given me another rival on my list, I like you way more.” 

“Don’t speak so soon,” you scoffed. “You’re going to hate me when I take all your customers.” 

“I don’t think I could ever hate you, bella.” You frowned at his attempt to flirt. “And besides, many of them are very loyal to me.” 

You hesitantly took Dazai’s hand as he led you to the floor, joining the circle of couples who had already lined up to dance the almaine. 

“I’m still annoyed with you,” you said quietly as the two of you lightly skipped across the floor on your toes, never breaking eye contact with his tawny eyes. That same look was there—it was like he was thinking of everything and nothing all at once. “I’m only agreeing to this so I could boost my status. You just caught me off guard back there. That’s why I acted nice.”

He dramatically pretended he was offended. 

“Why, tesora?” Dazai took both of your hands. You circled around each other gracefully before reversing to step in the other direction. “I saved you! If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t be dancing here tonight and finally knowing the name of the poor soul who jumped into the lake!” 

“If it weren’t for you, I also wouldn’t have nearly drowned, idiota,” you glared. 

“Keyword: nearly!” 

You continued sulking at him while the dance went on, ignoring the rest of his defensive sentences and the friendly endearments he added to the end of them. 

“Ow!” 

Dazai had stepped on your foot during another turn. 

“What was that for?” you asked, silently observing how he made sure he did not catch your dress along too, so it would not ruin. 

“Hm? What do you mean?” Dazai spun you again; this time, he stepped on your other foot. 

“Lor- Dazai!” You disliked how much fun he was having with this. Now, he wore a mischievous gleam in his eyes that coupled an unmistakable, playful grin. 

He spun you one last time, and this time, you purposely stepped on his foot. 

“Hey—why did you do that!?” he pouted. 

“Thou did it first,” you replied dryly. “You’re a bad dancer, my lord. You can’t even keep up with the slow ballroom almain.” 

He smirked as the number concluded, and then he brought you to the center of the floor. 

You looked around to see at least half of the couples moving off, either to watch or go elsewhere. 

“Let’s see if you can keep up with this one,” he chuckled lowly. 

“What dance is this?” you asked.

“A galliard. The La Volta.” 

Your lips slightly parted to say something, but you didn’t know what. 

It made sense now why so many chose not to participate in this one. The La Volta was a bit obscene—first, the women were lifted up in springs and jumps, even though that was usually improper. It was also very fast—it would require skill to do it comfortably, especially with the long, heavy gowns you wore. 

Finally, it required close contact between the couples, which was…scandalous. Like a forbidden fruit. 

You had never danced it before. Nor had you planned to. You were engaged, after all.

I bet noone in this room, but Fyodor himself and Ranpo even know we’re to marry, though, you thought to yourself, even though you shouldn’t even be considering excuses. …And he probably couldn’t even care less.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Dazai said, a bit more seriously, leaving it up to your decision, but his eyes alleged something else. Like he was pleading to let you indulge. 

The forbidden fruit and its serpent. Why was this man always tempting you to things that could sabotage your name? It was as if his heart vowed to drown you to doom…

“No, I’ll do it,” you decided. 

…yet you had let him, again and again. The descendants of Eve never learned. 

“They call you the Renaissance Man, my lord? I’ll steal your title when I show everyone I can do more than paint…and outdo you in dance.” 

“Dance is a form of art, too, y’know,” Dazai smiled before he parted from you. “How about instead, you think of it like we’re creating our own special piece together.” 

“Competition,” you disagreed in one word, curtsying before him as the drums cued.

“Collaboration,” he bowed. 

You two rose, and a new tension was ignited in the room. Your eyes locked with his again, but this time more determined—more passionate, as you gracefully swept to the left while the brunette the opposite way. You continued that movement while also gravitating closer. 

Closer, until he was finally able to lay hands on your waist. 

“Look up, miss,” Dazai softly reminded you. “Too flustered that you’ve forgotten etiquette?” 

You didn’t even realize your eyes chased down to where he was holding you—no man had touched anywhere near your corset before. You felt nervous; it was supposed to be so wrong, so why did his hold feel so right? As if his fingers were always supposed to be wrapped around you, the final touches to a masterpiece of intimacy. 

You were falling for it—the serpent’s art of seduction. This wasn’t supposed to be a collaboration. 

“What happened to your confidence?” Dazai teased, whispering in your ear; you felt his breath tickling your skin.

Your eyes drifted back to his in embarrassment, but you couldn’t give your rival the entertainment of winning against you in something you proposed. Fighting against your nerves, you wrapped one of your arms around Dazai’s broad shoulder.

“Shut up.”

He lifted you by the hips to aid as you lept and turned around him, his left thigh pushing you upward, and that same nervous excitement returned to your stomach. It was as if pools conjoining both everything and oblivion at once lay physically on you. His gaze resembled hands—he caressed your shoulders; he traced your face like he wanted to paint every angle of you. 

He was gentle with his actual hold on you, too; Dazai carried you as delicately as the brush strokes he made on canvas. He carefully set you down with ease after every jump while still treating you like a porcelain doll, and there you made the mistake of wandering your eyes down to his lips, lightly parted—you realized this was the second closest time this man had come near enough to kiss you. 

His body was so warm, he could pull you flush against him if he wanted to. His breath was minty, the coolness of his mouth addicting, and if Eden smelled heavenly too, he had truly just slithered down, carrying the sweet, earthly scent along with him. All your senses were overloaded by the man standing before you like alcohol; you wondered if you’d even end up home by the end of the night. 

“You’re enjoying this way more than to simply boost thy status.” 

In that moment, you snapped out of your haze of dopamine, and the music faded into a new routine. You also realized that an entire audience had been watching you. That was not ideal. 

You scooted back right after Dazai released his hold on you, looking down in coyness. “Maybe I’m just a good actor.” 

“You’re a terrible one,” he chuckled, following you out of the crowd. “You can’t even look at me to sell your lie!” 

You glared at the brunette once more. “I don’t have to look at you to tell you the truth.” 

“So cold-hearted,” he sighed. “Even after a dance to loosen you up. Guess I need to work harder to ask you out.”

“For what, a double suicide?” You once again recalled some other things he had said during your weird, fated meet at the lake. 

“Exactly! You remember!” 

“Well, sorry, that’s not happening,” you responded. “Go find some other lady to ask. I’m sure you do this all the time anyway.”

Because how did he touch you so perfectly? How did he dim out every other person in the room to make it seem like it was just you two?

He paused. “No, I don’t. You’re the first person I danced this galliard with. You realize we were even in skill, right?” 

“Didn’t seem like it. And I don’t understand why you chose me.”

“You fascinate me, angel of Florence,” Dazai said. “You did save me in a way. Sure, we’re rivals. But one day, I’ll paint you myself. 

“You’re too beautiful to not.” 

…

“I hope you all have had a lovely night,” Fukuzawa spoke over the room. “To conclude the gathering, I would like to announce what the Vatican’s next project will be.” 

Artists all around you waited in anticipation, for good reason. You and Dazai looked at each other too. You’d already experienced it for yourself—a commission from the Pope himself guaranteed immediate, enormous success (and money; your job from him was your biggest pay so far). Whatever he proposed required another artist, and it could be anyone in the room. 

“The Sistine Chapel,” Fukuzawa said. “The large crack that has formed along the ceiling is to be repaired in the upcoming year.” 

There were a few chatters after that. The chapel was insanely impressive—the interior of the large building was covered in stunning frescos by some of the great artists who had come before you. Even though the Pope hadn’t even said what the job was to be, anyone working on things concerning it would have to be just as good as its predecessors. 

“Along with reparations, its panels shall be painted.” 

There were a few gasps from the patrons. Was that even possible? How could someone even paint the ceiling without it being taken off of the roof? And it was so large, too, like a mega-sized canvas. 

It was unheard of. 

“I have already selected the person I would like to work on this,” Fukuzawa continued. There was silence again. 

“It’s probably Dostoevsky,” Dazai said to you. 

Fyodor? “Why do you think so?” you asked. 

“He completely stole the spotlight with that statue of David he finished this year,” he dryly chuckled. “Well deserved, I’m afraid. You saw it too when you were in Florence, did you?” 

“Yeah,” you replied. You had to acknowledge how impressive it was for yourself. It was like the man turned hard stone into pliable clay. 

“But that’s sculpting, not painting.” 

“Oh? Do you think you’d be a better candidate?” 

He was smiling again. “No, I never said that,” you scoffed. “I was going to say maybe you’d have a chance-”

“Fyodor Dostoevsky,” Fukuzawa said.

Oh.

You paused, scanning the room to see where he was. 

He was on the other side, intently making his way to the Pope. 

“I request you to paint the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel.” 

Fyodor stood in front of him and then bowed. 

“...I offer my sincerest gramercy for this opportunity, Your Holiness,” the artist said.

There was a pause.

“…I would like to discuss the rest of what this entails in private.” 

Your brows furrowed. That was almost a bit…rude. Sure, he hadn’t declined the offer, but for whatever reason, he also didn’t accept it. 

“Very well,” Fukuzawa replied without a change in his tone. “I adjourn this party. Bonam noctem.”

There was a final applause for him and the city’s next project, and then everyone began filing out. 

However, you and Dazai stayed in place until Ranpo suddenly tugged on your arm. 

“There you are! Let’s go!” 

“W-Where?” you asked as he started to drag you away. 

“Goodnight!” you heard Dazai say before disappearing into the crowd. His small smile remained in your memory, and a part of you wished you could give him a proper goodbye.

“To eavesdrop, duh,” Ranpo replied as he sifted you through everyone moving the opposite way. “Don’t you also want to hear what Fyodor has to say?” 

“I don’t understand why he didn’t just accept the proposal,” you said. “Anyone else would do it in a heartbeat!” You were sort of jealous; that job was given to someone so ungrateful! If you were the one who recieved it, you would’ve put your entire effort into transforming the ceilings right away. 

“I don’t know how he’s so beloved,” Ranpo continued. “Not even His Holiness likes him that much; he just doesn’t show bias when choosing people to paint his architecture. Did you know Fyodor was supposed to produce his tomb?” 

“What happened with that? I thought it was being worked on by a few other artists.” 

“He kept clashing with His Holiness about it,” he said. “Until the plans got so messed up, Fyodor called it a ‘tragedy’ and left Rome for a while. Quite literally abandoned it.” 

What an asshole! Especially in front of His Holiness!

“I don’t like him at all,” Ranpo squeezed your arm. It had become quite apparent to you that Ranpo admired Fukuzawa—not just because he was his so-called favorite or because he was the Pope, but something else. You had seen them together during the party earlier, and you were reminded of father and son. “He has a nasty ego, and I can’t figure out his intentions. I feel off every time I meet with him.” 

“Intentions? For what?” 

“Don’t be stupid, miss,” Ranpo said. “He told you himself, he’s here for something. It’s just so annoying! He hides it all behind those stupid, purple eyes…” 

You approached the entrance to a hallway at the very back of the room, and you heard two familiar voices outside. 

“...I carve marble, not paint.” 

“You discredit your skill with a brush too much.”

“Your Holiness, we had very different views during the last commission you gave me,” you overheard Fyodor say. “I simply don’t want to cause another commotion with this.” 

You only peeked through the large doorway to hear more clearly, but Ranpo continued walking right in as if they wouldn’t notice. 

“R-Ranpo!” you whispered harshly.

Immediately, Fukuzawa and Fyodor looked at you both, and you scrambled behind Ranpo. 

“I’m so sorry, Your Holiness,” you replied, accidentally locking eyes with Fyodor, who looked at you unfazed as if he had already noticed you two a mile away. You couldn’t even think of an excuse to explain what you were doing there, but then Fukuzawa resumed the conversation without a care. 

“I see then,” he replied and then gave it some thought. “I felt you were the only one who was fit for the matter, but perhaps I could just hand it to-” 

Fukuzawa looked at you, and Fyodor looked at him before looking at you. 

“Ah, what I said was just a concern,” Fyodor interrupted to your dismay. “I’ll accept your commission on one condition.” 

The three of you waited. 

“On the contract, it shall be stated that noone shall view the inside of the Chapel until it is completed,” Fyodor stated. “Including yourself, Your Highness.” 

He thought for another moment. 

“Very well, Fyodor. It will be arranged.” 

What a rat!

It had been a few weeks since that eventful ball. You had started work on painting the rooms in the Pope’s chambers—there were sketches of concepts scattered all over your desk. Coupled with your thoughts—thoughts reliving all the situations you were thrown into that night. 

You hadn’t seen the two angels since then. Well…would you even call them that anymore?

Knock, knock, knock!

“Hey! Let me in!” You heard Ranpo’s voice from outside your house. You were still half-asleep, trying to make breakfast, but you immediately rushed to open the door. 

“Ranpo!” You were startled. “What are you doing here so early?” 

“Stop complaining. You’re going to love this.” 

He stuck his hand into his pocket and then revealed a set of shiny keys. 

“Sitting in my palm are the keys to the Sistine Chapel.”

“No way.” It was like the sight fully awakened you, like caffeine. “Ranpo…how?!” 

“Hmph!” He shook his head. “You underestimate me so much when you quite literally depend on me!” When you laughed, he continued. “Lord Fyodor’s on a business trip until next week. Do with that info as you wish.” 

“You’re a genius,” you replied with a mischievous grin as he threw you the keys. 

“Of course I am! I despise him, but I’m too lazy to mess with him right now, so I’ll just leave it up to you. After all, he didn’t want to do it initially because he thought you set it up.” 

“By me?” you asked, shocked. “He hates painting so much that he thought I had a hand in it? Imagine giving away the Sistine Chapel.”

He was really something else. Was dead set on declining the offer right until His Holiness debated giving it to me…

…

Ranpo sat at the dining table eating the remaining tarts left over while you finished washing the dishes in the kitchen after your meal. Your move had gone smoothly, and you were pleased with the home you created for yourself—the windows in front of the sink were opened, letting air and the sounds of nature in as you looked outside. 

“His Holiness instructed me to paint over the previous works in the Palace when I first walked inside because he deemed what I could produce more important than what was already up there,” you told him with your own dash of pride. You couldn’t contain the bright smile that flashed on your face. 

“Just as I suspected,” he replied, pleased. 

“...But social-wise, I think I dug a hole for myself.” 

“Definitely!” Ranpo said with no hesitation, popping another dessert into his mouth. He already knew what you were going to talk about. You gave him a look before sighing, realizing that he probably was right.

“A few days ago, I overheard people in the salons saying that…I have a special thing going on with Lord Dazai. It’s not true! I don’t know why he was being so friendly with me!” 

You hadn’t even seen him after that night. Maybe you were a little disappointed, but you should’ve seen that coming anyway. He was known as a charmer, but he hadn’t committed to anyone. And regardless, you were to marry Fyodor one day. 

Ugh, Fyodor.

“And you were friendly to him in return,” Ranpo replied. “You could’ve shrugged him off like normal rivals do. But it looked like you were completely enraptured with him.” 

Enraptured?! He was completely enraptured with me! However, you couldn’t describe to Ranpo how exactly he was—how the brunette’s eyes pleaded with yours to follow him into the eventide, how he made you feel like the only person that existed in the large crowd of people…maybe Ranpo would have his point proven.

“Well, other than that, I’ve got thee settled in Rome well enough. I’ll be here for the rest of the unwise decisions you’re going to make, but from here on out is on you, princess.” 

“Thanks, Ranpo,” you sarcastically replied. “Seriously? Unwise decisions? Rome is just different from everywhere I’ve been to before. I’m learning.” 

“Exactly, there are arts of everything,” he said. “Thou better grasp them quick or fall behind.” 

Dance. 

Deceit.

Dreams. 

Only a few you had discovered so far. 

“You fascinate me, angel of Florence. You did save me in a way.”

You couldn’t even grasp,

Dazai.

You didn’t know how long you were out. All sense of time was lost when you gained consciousness again, and you realized you had been washed up on land. 

Did God stay true to your pleas? Did an angel really come down to rescue you?

That was certainly what it seemed like in the first few seconds because you were blinded by light when you opened your eyes. You heard insects buzzing off in the distance and maybe even a bird chirping as you lay on lush grass. Perhaps you were in heaven instead, and this was your first taste of peaceful paradise. 

But all was ruined when your eyes finally focused, and a face obstructed your view. (Why was he always ruining your flawless moments?) He hovered on top of you, and the first thing you became aware of was that his mouth was dangerously close to yours. 

You immediately coughed—out of both shock and the need to. Lake water gushed out of your mouth, causing you to sit up without warning. The brunette was flung off of you, landing harshly on his bottom.

“Ow!”

You paid no mind to him as you coughed again. And again. 

When all the water was finally out of your lungs, you looked at him in utter confusion.

“Why the puzzled look?” he asked as if he wasn’t the one who was drowning and you weren’t the one saving him (and less importantly, it hadn’t looked like he was about to kiss you).

Now he sat beside you, almost perfectly fine if it weren’t for his clothes that were soaked. 

“But…you—we were drowning?” You turned to see if anyone else was in the distance because who was it that saved both of you? 

“Yeah, I was drowning,” the man replied, and you now noticed the honey color of his eyes that had been shielded behind closed eyelids and pretty eyelashes earlier. “And this time, it almost worked! Until you decided to rescue me!” 

“Um, what?” You asked sharply, even more bewildered at the way he tried to make your efforts sound negative. 

“At first, I thought maybe thou were a lovely lady who wanted to commit double suicide with me! But I realized that wasn’t the case when you started fighting to get some air…” 

“Are you crazy?” you asked, not caring whether you were speaking impolitely or not. “Double suicide? Why else would I dive into a cold lake to join a stranger? And you were aware of what was happening all along?” 

“Maybe! Women have done a lot to try to get close to me.” You didn’t believe him. “And, well, yeah! Obviously, I couldn’t continue because of two things. The first was you because I couldn’t let an innocent involved be harmed along with me! I had to save you, of course.” 

You became even more irritated. “You wouldn’t have had to if you didn’t pretend you were drowning! I had to use all my strength to rescue you, y’know! I could’ve died as well!” 

“But you didn’t!” the brunette replied. “There was no way I was going to let someone so beautiful drown.”

You scowled at him before you stood up. “You’re ridiculous. What’s your second reason?” 

“Drowning in a lake ended up becoming uncomfortable.” You wanted to punch him in the face—uncomfortable was an obvious understatement. “I didn’t like the feeling of suffocation that set in, so I just decided to give up.” 

“It didn’t even look like you had any air left in you,” you muttered, facing your back towards him, remembering his placid expression earlier. “How were you conscious if you weren’t even holding your breath?” 

“Party trick,” he responded, and when you dared to glance back, he wore a smug grin. 

“Oh…are you leaving me then?” he asked as you started walking away, saying no more. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” you scoffed, not stopping. “I’m completely soaked, and I don’t know about you, but I have important things to get to.” 

You heard a chuckle from him. “Is that so?” he asked. His voice was getting farther, meaning he was no longer following you. “Where are you headed?” 

“Rome.” 

“I live there. Perhaps we shall meet again. And then, I could ask you—properly—if you would like to commit a double suicide with me.” 

“I doubt it,” you replied, assured you were never going to see this man whose face looked kissed by Aphrodite herself again. Perhaps you would’ve found him handsome if he was in a less disheveled state. 

As if you did not already. 

“Why do you seem so sure? Anything can happen.” He chuckled once again. 

Well, I am a painter, and you don’t look like someone who would even have an eye for art, is what you wanted to say. But you didn’t want to open more doors to curiosity and stay there even longer. 

“Maybe you’re right,” you stopped. “Okay, then.

“If you think you’re going to see me again, can you promise to not kill yourself until then? Until I agree to you?” 

You figured you would just give him some hope so that your efforts to save him would not be in vain. If he would actually keep your word, anyway. 

When you turned around, the brunette was still standing on the shore, and he had a smile on his face. 

He really did carry the setting sun in his gaze. It was still midday, but the man’s soul seemed to prefer the softer shades of light that appeared just before the cool shades of night. 

And you felt his eyes tenderly cupping your face, even though you were feet away from each other. You weren’t sure if you were so lost that you were imagining things—but he looked at you as if he’d known you a hundred lifetimes, longing to touch your soul once again. 

“I pinkie promise,” he said. 

You thought that finally ended the conversation, but he asked one more thing. 

“Your name?” he asked. 

“Do you really need it?” It was unlikely, but you didn’t know if he would recognize your name. You didn’t want to risk anyone knowing about this encounter. 

“I saved you,” he said. “I almost thought you were done for. You still weren’t breathing when I performed chest compressions, so I had to—” 

“Okay, stop right there!” you interrupted, becoming flustered. You didn’t need to hear the rest. You imagined the stranger’s mouth on yours—trying to give you oxygen, of course, but his mouth on yours regardless. 

You told him your name. “Don’t bother with yours. I’ll figure it out if we run into each other again.” 

His grin was smug. “Fare thee well, mia belladonna.

“Until we meet again.” 

…

“You can find anything in the promised land, solnyshka.”

ur man of choice (or both if u’d like) dances with u during the ball if u rb; reblogs are incredibly cherished; they are what support me the most. <3

WE DID ITT !! i hope this was decent, tbh i’m rly nervous HAHA ᡣ𐭩 dazai rly got most of the love here, but i promise there’s waay more to come.

+ check THIS FOR EXTRA INFO/LORE, it’s cool ;) comment on the masterlist to be added to the tagslist !! & ilu if you made it this far, thank you so so much for reading ᰔ

TERMS & DEFINITIONS:

CIOPPA - outermost layer of a dress

RUELLA - salons/social gatherings

ALMAINE - slow court dance; GALLIARD - fast court dance (in the renaissance)

TRANSLATIONS: (not all bcz they wanna be mysterious)

gramercy - “thank you”

artigiani; aristocratici - artisans; aristocrats (italian)

bonam noctem - “good night” (latin)

© AUREATCHI 2024. no reposts or translations. do not steal. support banner + animated line divider by cafekitsune. header + series dividers mine; DO NOT SAVE.

[asumofwords]

Modern!Dark!Aemond - Divorce AU - Oneshot

Til Death Do Us Part

SUMMARY: You and Aemond had been married for years, but he was not the man you thought he was. Discovering his affair with his secretary Alys Rivers, you had decided that enough was enough. You packed up your things in secret and left, leaving divorce papers on the table, and booked a one way ticket out of the country.

What will happen when Aemond goes to the ends of the earth to find you and make you his again?

WARNINGS: This fic is 18+. Readers discretion is advised. She/her pronouns, stalking, abuse, toxic relationships, infidelity, divorce, NONCON, manipulation, gaslighting, marriage, rough sex, choking, hitting, punching, yandere, obsessive behaviour, possessive behaviour, forced orgasm, violence, daddy kink, dacryphilia, head injury.

PAIRINGS: Modern!Dark!Aemond x reader

Word count: 10.2k

NOTES: Well, well, well.... Here we are. You have all been so feral waiting for this to drop and I am honestly so excited to see you all crawling about in my walls after. Probably shouldn't have to say this by now but will for new folks, READ THE TAGS, this is a DARK!FIC. There is no fluff or happiness lmao. This has been so fucking fun to write hehehe.... Anyway.... Without further adieu... Enjoy ;) <3

The soft hissing of the kettle took you away from the book you had been reading, nestled against one of the many windows in the small cottage you now owned.

Taking the kettle from the stove, you poured the boiled water over your tea leaves, watching the herbal mix swirl in the strainer. 

The soft aroma of chamomile and peppermint wafted from the cup and you inhaled deeply, leaning against the kitchen bench as you waited for it to steep, no use going back to your book nook until the tea was ready to take with you. 

The leaves from the pine trees in the forest outside had turned a deep green, the cold chill of winter having rolled through the valley of the quaint village you lived in early this year. Condensation rose from earth as the sun heated the mildew on the grass, the smokey illusion seeping from the forest floor.

It was different to the city. No more were the days of craning your head up to look at the crawling skyline of buildings, the sound of traffic, or yelling of people on the street. No more did you hear cars blare their horns or music, or the melodic sounds of people chattering in the late hours of the night or fights between lovers from apartments surrounding.

Now, the most noise you heard was the occasional storm that rolled through the valley, or the deer that wondered the pasture at the back of your property. 

You could remember the first night you heard them, such a different and unfamiliar screeching that had set your hair on edge, eyes darting about to each window and front door as you raced around the house to make sure they were locked. 

They always were. 

You were meticulous that way. Always vigilant, always ready. 

But in reality, you shouldn’t still be on edge.

It had been months since you left.

Almost an entire year since you packed your things and left the papers and your ring on the table for him to find. And what’s more, there would be no way for him to find you out here. 

Not that he would even try.

You hoped.

It wasn’t as if you didn’t love him, or loved him; the lines were still blurred there. But Aemond had broken you in ways you never knew he could.

The lies, the secrecy, and then, her. 

You remembered when you had first met Alys; a work event Aemond brought you along to. The pretty wife and happy family image did wonders for his company and the press, so he often brought you along on his arm, smiles and grins for the cameras, whispers of starting a family or trying for one, until you were out of view. 

But that time had been different. 

That time, something had changed. 

You had known about Alys Rivers for a while, a new hire going months back. A woman from no notable name, nor background, a start up of her own, worked hard to get where she was, or at least, that’s what you had first thought when Aemond had described her to you; his new secretary hire. 

An older woman, not one a wife would usually find as a threat.

It’s almost always the younger ones. Older men seeking out their youth between the thighs of a barely twenty-something, whilst their wives are none the wiser, or perhaps knowing and too resigned to care, birthing them children at home as their marriage dissolves into nothing but a loveless legal contract.

But this was different.

She hadn’t come to introduce herself at first, not at all, and that’s what you found the strangest.

Alys Rivers, a few inches taller than you, with pale skin and bright green eyes, had stood in the far end of the hired venue, sipping a glass of red wine, perfectly manicured maroon nails tapping on the glass, whilst she tucked an ebony strand of hair behind her ear. 

You had felt the heat of her gaze immediately, your eyes meeting hers, and yet, she didn’t look away, didn’t smile softly, walk over and introduce herself as any other woman would have. She just stared. Right into your very soul. It had sent shivers down your spine, and you knew, in that moment, that something was wrong. 

Off.

Aemond had done his rounds with his private investors, higher employees, friends, if you could call them that, and press alike, all whilst you stuck by his side, smiling pretty and responding with shallow answers that didn’t give too much or too little for them to talk about later. 

You hated those stuffy events, men and women alike always trying to get closer to you in order to get to Aemond, who was a fortress to begin with. Some people often commented or made joking remarks at how surprised they were that you had married him. That you had managed to thaw the Ice Man himself, that he was even capable of such things, and you would always laugh and make jokes back in good nature, smile never reaching your eyes. 

But really, he was amazing when you were first married. Doting, loving, loyal, and always there, though that was sometimes overbearing. There was of course the little things, the teeny red flags that you ignored more often than not, rose tinted glasses and all that, but you had been young and in love and crazy about him, and he had been the same about you.

But as the years rolled by, and the two of you grew, you also both changed. The business expanded rapidly with the death of his father Viserys, and Aemond became more preoccupied with that legacy, most of the empire being passed along to him, and not his older brother Aegon, who had no desire to work and would rather live off his inherited wealth with drugs and weekend benders surrounded by lusty women. Occasionally men too.

And then when Alys came into the picture, it was like a switch had been flicked.

As though the Aemond you had thought you knew, never existed at all.

Alys had sauntered her way over half way through the event to introduce herself, all saccharine smile with razor sharp teeth that looked ready to sink into your flesh. She was polite, pleasant, overly pleasant, too sweet, too complimentary, and it felt off. Like an overripe peach, or wine that had been left open for a week too long. 

Your husband had been stiff at your side, hand flexing around the tumbler of whiskey the entire time she stood beside him, too close to be friendly, and most certainly far too close for a boss and his secretary. And really, you should have listened to your instincts then and there, for they screamed that something was amiss. 

But Aemond had a way of getting into your head, making you believe every word he said, push away your own instincts, and question yourself over, and over.

And that’s what you had done.

Questioned yourself, over and over. 

Yet one day, something in the back of your head nagged at you too loudly. Aemond had not answering his personal number, calls you could understand, but usually he responded to his texts. But that day he hadn't. And so you called the office, where he spent most of his time these days, which had become a frustrating new normal, as was the depletion of your small weekends away, romantic dinners, spontaneous days out together.

The marriage felt stagnant, stale, and you knew in your gut the true reason for it. His desk had rang for too many rings too long. And when Alys had finally answered, she sounded rushed, caught unawares, awkward.

That was all it had took. 

You had asked if he had his lunch yet, that you were nearby in the city and wondering if you should drop by, knowing that he had been spending later evenings in the office ‘working’, or weekend trips away to Harrenhal for business there, his secretary tagging along. 

Alys informed you that he had just ate, but the way she said it was with that same overly sweetness that set your brain afire. 

It was almost smug. 

And so, without even hesitating, like you had for months on end, you picked up your keys and left, heading straight to his office.

Your heart had raced the entire time you drove there, weaving through traffic, just knowing, knowing, something, deep in your gut was not right.

And you were right. 

Because there they were, caught like two deers in the headlights as you had swung the door open, Alys, seated on his desk, skirt pushed up to her hips, one shoe lost to the floor as Aemond thrusted into her parted legs.

They hadn’t even heard you at first.

But she saw you.

And she had smiled.

You will always remember his face. 

He had turned and looked at you with shock at first, but then it turned to anger, as though you were at fault for this, as though you had ruined his fun, as though you should have known better, scar on his cheek crinkling with the sneer he threw your way.

You left in a flurry of hot tears, immediately calling your lawyer.

You drove straight to your best friend Sara’s house, and crashed at hers for the week, ignoring the constant buzz of calls and texts, and yes, even emails from your husband. Aemond in his desperation to reach out to you, even drove to Sara’s house, demanding if you were there. You had hid in the bathroom, holding your breath in the tub, shaking with anger and heartbreak and fighting the urge to go out there, to yell at him, scream at him, or more dangerous still, forgive him.

Then you were gone, speaking to your solicitor to get everything set into motion, friends loyally supporting your decision. You left the divorce papers on the dining room table, packed your bags and left whilst he was at the office, giving him no chance to manipulate you into staying, no chance for argument, and no chance for your heart to win over, taking your essentials and sentimental possessions with you.

You stood in your home, looking at everything inside, at all the memories that you shared in there. From when you had first looked at the house, to buying it, to Aemond's insistence on christening every single surface in the house to make it yours, all giggles and smiles, pleasure and joy.

But gone were those days, gone was the joy and the giggles, the pleasure and the smiles, and so with shaky fingers, you ripped off your wedding ring, finger feeling bare in its absence as you left it atop the pages. 

At first you were just hoping to get some space to clear your head and not be manipulated by your husbands lies and very convincing words again. You knew that if you gave him a chance, you would be stuck. You knew that if he pleaded, if he begged, if he smiled with his signature smirk, it would be your downfall. He knew you far too intimately now. He knew how to get you to bend to his will. So you booked the nearest ticket you could and raced to the airport, not once looking back.

You had just landed in Paris when you turned your phone back on, watching the screen as it lit up, where you were immediately bombarded with multiple missed calls from him and a barrage of texts that became more, and more aggressive as time went on. 

It was your fault really, to poke the dragon the way you had.

And yet you still did it, answering one of his frantic calls to hear the cool and icy tone of Aemond, barely keeping it together on the other end. 

“Where are you?” He had asked, voice deep and quiet, small growl on the end; a tell tale sign that he was furious. 

The airport was loud around you, people moving to their next gates, or stopping to move to the small cafes to eat, others continuing onwards towards the baggage claim to collect their luggage. 

“It's none of your business.” You had responded, tone clipped, irritation and anger surging through you at his audacity to even be mad.

“I think it’s plenty my business. You’re my wife.”

“Not anymore. Have your solicitor talk to mine. Sign the papers, Aemond.”

You heard him breathe heavily into the speaker, “If you think for one fucking second that I’m going to-“

You pressed the red button on your phone and hung up on him, shoving your phone into your back pocket as you moved lazily through the queue to get through customs. 

By the time you had gotten out the other end, you checked your phone again. 

There was only one text on the screen that had sent panic blaring through your mind. 

‘See you soon.’

You hadn’t planned to run, you hadn’t even planned to leave the country indefinitely, you just needed an out, but Aemond’s aggression had extended it, triggering your flight instincts. You didn’t believe that he would hurt you, but this new anger had frightened you. This new Aemond frightened you.

But Aemond Targaryen’s anger was not new to you either, his possessiveness was not new, and at one point you had even found it endearing. But after years of being married to what you thought was the man of your dreams, the other shoe dropped, and the true man was revealed. 

So you made quick work of it, going to an international bank, taking every single cent out of your combined account.

You knew he wouldn’t struggle financially from such a loss, having another seperate offshore account, or two, or five if you were really counting. Not to mention his inheritance which sat in a vault in Budapest.

Comes with being descended from royalty.

But in the end, you knew you needed every dollar if you were going to get away from him and make it stick.

So you got a new passport, ID, and hitchhiked your way across several countries until you finally settled, finding a cottage, nestled in the woods, a solid thirty minute drive from town, buying it from the local farmer in cash. No contract. No deed. Just cash and his silence. 

And that’s where you had been ever since.

You took your tea to the window, settling against the nook, pillows and blankets strewn all over as you curled inside. You looked out at the trees, the sun slowly setting for the day. 

It was cold in your cottage, not too cold, but cold enough. Winter had come early that year, and you had used more logs of wood for the fire than you had thought you would have needed. 

It was strange, to be so far away from the life you used to live. To be so removed from the world. But in some ways it was good. You had no social media, having deactivated every single one you had, and you also had barely any use of your phone unless you turned on the broadband, which was shaky at best and if it was windy, the reception would cut out.

The only people you really spoke to anymore was the people who lived in the town just a ways away, and Sara, who called every Sunday like clockwork, well actually like clockwork, you needed to turn the broadband on for Skype to work on the laptop you had taken with you.

In the almost year you had been gone, you had taught yourself how to make your own clothes, pickle and preserve foods, and even became quite handy at baking the odd loaf of bread here and there. The farmers whose cottage it was previously had left his belongings behind, taking only his clothes and things of memory with him.

There were books almost everywhere, the old man having been an avid reader, and amongst the books had been one on horticulture, and so slowly but surely, you had grown your own self sustaining vegetable patch. It wasn’t perfect, but it prevented you from going into town too often, and also allowed you to not seek employment just yet.

That would come later when Sara would tell you that Aemond would sign the papers. 

But every Sunday was the same.

“Any news?” You asked her that morning, Sara had frowned, pixelated to hell, but the frown still evident on your screen.

“Nope. Nothing. The asshole won’t sign them still. Solicitor can’t even find him to talk.”

You sighed, wiping hands down your face angrily. 

Why was he doing this?

Why wouldn’t he just let you go?

Something about it made your skin crawl. 

Those messages, those calls. 

The ‘See you soon’ text. 

Something had snapped in Aemond, and you didn’t like it one bit. 

Your only consolation was that you were far away with a new name, new life, hidden amongst rolling green hills and large forests.

“How’s Cregan?” You changed the subject, and Sara had given you an update on everyones lives, her brothers first, and his new girlfriend. Then to all your other friends who you longed to see again. 

But not yet, you just needed a little more time and for your husband to agree to the divorce. 

When the sun had lowered in the sky, you moved to turn the lights in the house on, throwing some logs into the fire and lighting them with a match. You made sure to thank the Gods for solar panels. 

The warmth of the fire heated up the small cottage quickly, and you made quick work of reheating a lamb soup you made a few days earlier, crisp homemade bread on the side with butter from a nearby dairy farmer.

It was hearty and warm, and filled you up, having a soporific affect on you. You had a glass of red wine as a treat afterwards, bought from the local markets and found yourself sinking deeper into fatigue. 

It was a routine of sort, wake, eat, read, work on the garden or house, eat, drink, sleep. It was comfortable, and it eased much of your worries, always keeping busy. You didn’t realise how stressed and anxious the life you used to live made you.

The week went by, much the same. 

The same routine. 

The same walls, and floors, and rooms. 

Same window nook, and cups of tea, and warming your hands by the fire.

By the time Saturday rolled by, you had been elated, excited even, to get out and look at the homemade wares and farm grown produce. To see the people you had grown to care about and make as your quiet friends. Still at arms length of course with your fake new life, but you let them in more than you had intended to. 

It was never a large market, merely the other people who lived in or around the tiny town. But it was cozy, sweet, and some faces were more familiar than others. You looked forward to seeing them all and catching up on their weeks, especially an older lady named Lucy, who crocheted and knitted some of the most wonderful things. She had kind grey eyes, and would always insist on you taking something from her for free.

Today was no different.

“You make this most difficult, hen.” The grey haired woman frowned, coming round the side of her small stall to shove a large, grey knitted jumper into your arms, the same colour as her eyes.

You shook your head, “Lucy, please, at least let me give you some money for it.” Grabbing the soft wool that was pressed against your chest.

The older lady smirked, hands up in the air in submission, “It’s too late,” Her voice was thick with a Scottish accent, “You best be taking that, girly. It’ll be a cold winter that comes round this year, I feel it in my bones already.”

You sighed, “Then let me give you some money for it, and you can buy some more wool to make yourself some warm socks.” Fishing around in your bag to find some cash to give her. 

Lucy crossed her arms across her chest, “Gonny no dae that. If you give me any money I’ll be right offended by you, I’ll gie ye a skelpit lug. It’s a gift, you dafty.”

You shook your head and chuckled, there was no point in fighting.

You would never win anyway.

“Fine.” You acquiesced, “But I’m coming to drop you some muffins and scones when I make them next week.”

The older lady sat down heavily in her chair behind the stall, “I expect nothing less. Will you bring some strawberries from yer plot? Dang caterpillars got into mine and tore them to shreds.”

“I’ll bring you a mix of goodies from my wonderful garden that has no caterpillars.” You teased, rubbing the woollen jumper between your fingers, “Thanks again, Lucy, but you’re a menace.”

“Got to be when yer married to my husband.” Lucy joked, but it made your heart race instead.

You swallowed thickly and smiled shakily at the woman, nodding before bidding her a goodbye. 

You walked through the rest of the market for a while, getting some fresh honey from a local farmer, some potatoes for a stew later on, and even buying yourself a new handmade mug.

It was a bustling affair, small children giggling with their parents, and older members of town who had been born and raised there walking about and stopping to talk with their life long companions. 

Bright bunches of flowers caught your attention, and you moved over to look at them all.

Native flowers of all kinds were bunched together; roses, petunias, anything that could survive the chillier climate. And as you looked at a peculiar shaped purple flower, hooded like a bell, the hair on the back of your neck stood up.

A shiver rolled down your spine, and instinctually you turned, eyes darting around the rest of the market, looking at the sea of people, young and old, walking with their wares, chatting amongst each other or smiling. 

Not one had that familiar head of silver hair.

You breathed out a sigh, shaking your head.

It’s fine.

You’re fine.

You’re safe.

It’s just your anxiety. It was probably just Lucy’s comment that set you on edge.

Not even Sara truly knew where you were. 

You looked back at the flowers again, eyes on the purple ones that were nestled amongst pea flowers and other pinks and yellows.

“Devils Helmut.” The man told you, noting your interest in its peculiar shape, “Monkshood to others, or Wolfsbane to those witchy ones.” His eyes looked at you intently, “You ok? Yer lookin’ a bit peely wally.”

He was tall, older, but not by much, with deep brown eyes and wavy brunette hair that came to his shoulders, tucked behind his ears. His jaw was sharp, a nice shadow across the skin from his stubble, with lips that were full and pulled upwards slightly. He had broad shoulders and large hands, tiny freckles dusting the pale skin as he watched you. 

He was relatively new to town like you, but not really. Duncan, you remembered, had moved back to the little town after his father had passed away, inheriting the plot of land that was next to yours. Lucy had spilled the tea, over a cup of tea, about him with you a few months before, telling you that he was an eligible bachelor with a wink, trying to set the two of you up.

And although he was undeniably attractive, you worried for the implications of getting to know him, and eventually having to tell him about your marriage, and why you were truly where you were. You doubted the man would want anything to do with your baggage.

“I’m okay, just a bit cold. How have you been?” You asked him, the feeling of being watched prickling at the back of your head.

“Fairly good.” Duncan rolled his r deeply, same low Scottish timbre as Lucy, distracting you from the rancid feeling that curled in your gut, “The winter’s come early this year.”

Duncan leant a hand against the table, and you noted that there was no ring on his finger.

Stop that.

“That’s what Lucy said too. Can definitely feel it.”

Duncan looked pointedly at the jumper still in your hands, “And what’s she given you this time?”

Unfolding the jumper in your arms you held it up, holding it against yourself to show him, “A new jumper. Will be perfect when it gets colder. Wish she’d stop throwing things at me and not letting me pay though.”

Duncan laughed, a deep chortle that rumbled his chest and warmed your cheeks, “That’s Lucy for you. She does the same to me too, the auld blether.”

You laughed heartily, “We should go in doubles to the markets when you’re not selling. There’s strength in numbers, you know.”

Oh gods. Why did you say that?

A soft smile pulled on his lips, “You don’t know Lucy well enough if you think we’d stand a chance against her. She’d bowl us over without even blinking.”

Another laugh, and a shrug, "Worth the try.”

Duncan’s eyes scanned your face softly before he stepped forward, grabbing the bunch of flowers you had been looking at from their little vase, holding them out towards you, “Here.”

You looked at the flowers in his hands and frowned, “What?”

“Take them.” He insisted, “You looked right keen on the Monkshood, mean bloody flower that one. Be careful you don’t touch it too much.”

You shook your head, tucking your jumper into your bag, “I can’t possibly-“

“-Please. I insist.”

You reached forward to take the flowers from him hesitantly, feeling guilt bubble inside of you. What was with all these people and their generosity? It was going to give you an aneurism. 

Your fingers brushed against his, and the warmth carried up your arm and straight into your chest. Duncan must have felt it too, because a soft blush creeped across his freckled cheeks.

Holding the bunch of flowers to your chest you smiled.

“You don’t have any pets at home? Any cats that might try and make a snack of the flowers?” Duncan pointed to the Monkshood.

You shook your head, “No it’s just me.”

His eyes danced as he nodded, and you felt as if you had answered his second question without him even having to ask.

“Thank you. They’re beautiful.”

A large hand waved the thanks away, “Dinnae worry about it. Though, I have heard good things about yer baking.”

“Have you now? Has Lucy spilt all my secrets?”

A smirk, “Not yer secrets no. But yer baking, yes.”

Feeling bold, you smirked back, “I could make you something, if you’d like." You held up the flowers in show, "As a thanks, of course.” 

“What can you make?”

“Anything you want.” You said quieter, swallowing the anticipation that rose in your throat.

“Can you make a good scone?”

You scoffed, “Easiest of things to bake.”

Duncan mirrored your stance, pursing his lips, “Guess I’ll have to be the judge of that then. Do you have enough wood for yer fire? Snow will be falling soon, and we dinnae want you chittering in the cold.”

“I’ve got some left, but I know I’ll probably have to go over to Douglas and Lucy’s to get some more.”

The brown haired man paused in thought, tongue in cheek before he spun around, crouching down to rifle through a bag beneath his table, pulling out a pen and paper. 

Duncan placed the small notebook in front of you.

“How about this, you give me yer number, and I’ll come round and bring you some more wood, maybe chop some for the fire as well, and you can thank me by making some scones. I can bring some of Elsie’s jam with me.” Duncan looked up at you, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. 

And although he had spoken with confidence, it was clear that he was just as nervous as you. 

It was hard to fight the heat that creeped up your neck. Excitement and anticipation coursing through you, the feeling of being desired making you giddy. 

It had been so long.

You bit your bottom lip softly nodding, leaning down to write your home phone number, making a note to plug the old thing in, praying that it still works, as well as your address into the notebook.

Duncan smiled softly, taking it back and looked at the note, “You didn’t have to write down yer address, I know you bought Macnair’s property a while back, we're practically neighbours. Not accounting for the acres between us.”

“Oh.” You laughed softly, “Sorry, I didn’t know you knew him.”

“Hard to not know everyone here, especially when you grew up around them all. Plus, hard to not notice the bonnie lass who moved here. Quite the stir you created.”

You shook your head and blushed again, Gods damn him, “Not my intention.”

You both stood shyly for a moment, staring at each other, a warm pleasant tension building around the two of you. 

Duncan cleared his throat, and clapped his hands together softly, “Right. Well, It’s a dreich day, so you best be off before the rain comes again.” He held the notebook up in his hand and shook it lightly, “You’ll be seeing me soon then. I’ll be coming to collect some of those scones.”

You grinned, and held the flowers gently in show again, “I hope they’re up to your standards. Thanks again for the flowers. I’ll see you.”

“Looking forward to it.”

-

The blaring ring of the Skype call filled your cottage. You raced from the kitchen to the desk, answering Sara’s call with a bright smile.

“Sar!” You smiled, pulling out your chair to sit in it, looking at your best friends face. But her excitement did not match yours, and instead, her face filled you with dread.

“Sar, what’s wrong?” 

You watched as Sara visibly swallowed, leaning towards her computer, “Aemond’s left the country.”

Chills ran over your body.

“Oh, he must have a conference in Rome or Budapest. He always used to-“

“-No.” Sara interrupted you, and her voice instilled a rising sense of fear that you had been battling with for months, “Y/n, I don’t think that’s it. He’s already been gone over a week. That’s why the solicitor couldn’t talk to him him.”

Your heart raced in your chest, blood rushing in your ears.

Sara continued as you felt the walls around you move closer, “That’s why the solicitor couldn’t get in contact with him. They went to his office. Apparently he’s on leave, not even Alys was there.”

You licked your lips, swallowing dryly, “What do I do? Fuck, Sara, what do I do?”

“Don’t panic. He doesn’t know where you are! Hell, I don’t even know where you are.”

“I know, I know. But still…” You paused, breathing shallowly, “Sara, I went to the markets yesterday, and it was… Off. Something was off… And I just couldn’t shake this feeling that I was being watched.” You felt like you were going to be sick.

Sara’s face fell, head turning to talk to someone else quietly in the room.

“Who’s that?”

“Just Cregan. He’s talking to Helaena.”

You scoffed sadly, “Helaena won’t know anything. She didn’t even know about Alys.”

Sara shrugged, image becoming pixelated, “I-…-ow…-bu-….-o….-harm…-“

“Sar, you’re cutting up.” 

You swore, swatting the computer lightly as her image froze.

Fucking broadband. Gods, maybe you should invest in getting a satellite dish here. At least you could get some cable tv if you did.

“-come to you.” Sara unfroze, the pixels evening out to an almost smooth image.

You groaned, “I didn’t catch any of that. Fucking internet cut out.”

“Can you get a satellite or something like a normal person and not be such a hermit? I said, why don’t I come to you.”

“I couldn’t ask that of you, Sar. Besides, he wouldn’t hurt me, not that he’d ever find me. He’s just an asshole. Probably curse me out and tell me I’m making it all up.”

Sara’s face dropped again, and you wished she was pixelated so you couldn’t see it, the image making your skin crawl, “Y/n. Theres something you don’t know.”

You straightened in your chair, “Is Alys pregnant?”

“No. She’s too old for that. Something else. Something Jacaerys told Cregan one night years ago. I didn’t want to tell you then, you guys were so in love, and I had never seen you so happy. I just,” She sighed, “I didn’t even really believe it until recently.”

“Sar, you’re scaring me.”

She shook her head, “I know, I know. But as you said, he doesn’t know where you are, and he won’t find you. But Y/n, Aemond isn’t who we think he is.”

“Are you about to tell me he’s some sort of international spy, or politician in hiding?” You tried to joke, but the joke fell flat.

Sara’s head looked to the side before back at the screen, “When Aemond was young, he had a temper. A real bad one. Never got along with his nephews.” She took a steadying breath, “When Lucerys was thirteen and Aemond was nineteen, he attacked him. It was probably years of pent up anger after the accident, a fight had been brewing, but he didn’t stop. No-one could stop him, Y/n. It was bad. Really bad.”

Your stomach roiled.

“Y/n, Lucerys nearly died.”

Your mouth gaped open as you could scarcely get air into your lungs. 

Oh gods.

Oh gods.

“Breathe.” Sara cooed through the computer, “Girl, you need to breathe.”

You sucked in a sharp breath, hand rubbing your chest, “What the fuck?”

“I know. I know. But they were young, I mean, Aemond was a lot older, but still. They were boys. And Aemond would never do anything like that to you. Not that he will ever find you.”

You counted your breaths as Sara spoke to you, trying to get the room to stop spinning.

“Y/n, y-….I-…t wi-…ll be fine-…. I-… ca-…n…-“

You growled at your screen, standing up in anger and frustration, anxiety pulling cruelly at your gut. You paced in front of the desk as you waited for your friend to come back into view. 

When she de-pixelated and came back, you leant heavily against the table.

“You got your phone with you?” You asked, rocking back and forth on your heels.

“Yea.” Sara lifted her phone to the screen.

“Okay, I’m going to give you my address. When do you think you can come?”

A cry flew from your lips. 

The cottage was bathed in complete darkness, generator slowing to halt outside, the soft hum of electricity disappearing. Your heart lurched into your throat as you stood in the darkness. Skype screen blaring a ‘Lost Connection’ notification at you.

You took shaky breaths, trying to calm yourself. 

This wasn’t unusual. 

Just last month a squirrel had been trying to burrow into the electrical box for warmth and chewed through a cable. Luckily for you, Douglas had come over to fix up the wiring and helped you on your way. But with all that had been happening, it gave you a right scare. 

Your heart did not slow in your chest, nor did you calm with the way your ears pricked at any noise inside or out. You stumbled through the darkness of the cottage to the kitchen, searching beneath the sink for your emergency torch. 

Grasping it in your hand, you clicked it on, lone beam of light shining a path for you through the house to the front door. You crept slowly forward, the sound of your loud breathing in your ear as you got to the door.

You would have to go out and flip the switches manually, and make sure the damned squirrel wasn’t back. 

Throwing on your wellies, you unlocked the four deadlocks you had installed on your door one by one until you opened it wide, the valley blanketed in the darkness of the night, clouds shrouding the moon and stars. The shadows of the forest around your house made you more on edge, every trunk or branch causing your eyes to linger that moment longer to decipher what it was.

But they were just that.

Trees. 

You trudged around the side of the cottage, shoes crunching on the ground below as you made your way to the back. The icy air nipped at your skin, and you tugged the jumper that Lucy had knitted tightly around you. 

They were right, winter had come early this year. 

You would have to thank her later.

When you reached the electrical box, you tugged it open, shining the torch on all the different switches inside. 

The main switch was flicked off.

For fucks sake. 

The broadband must have blown it out. 

The cottage was old, and the electricals likely older. But the solar panel were new, and you had a sneaking suspicion that perhaps the different generations of technology were clashing. You briefly wondered how costly it would be to have someone come to rewire the house for you.

As you looked at all the other switches, making sure they all looked in order, and the wires coming from out the back were all in tact, you felt the hair on the back of your neck stand on end.

You never liked coming out here in the dark. 

It was scary, and although there was nothing out here to hurt you, unless there was a miracle lone pack of wolves that came strolling by, which you knew could never happen, since Lucy had told you wolves were hunted to extinction there. So it was just you, the trees and the moon. 

The sound of a twig snapping in the woods made you spin on your heel, shining the torch out at the trees in vain. The light didn’t reach very far, illuminating just the front row of trunks, leaving the rest to be bathed in its dense darkness. Your heart thumped in your chest as your eyes scanned the woods. 

It’s fine. 

It’s nothing. 

I’ve just worked myself up. 

Gods.

It was probably just a deer or something.

You remembered the day you woke up to a whole herd of deer outside your cottage one morning, quietly munching on the grass outside. You had nearly screamed with joy, but kept the excitement inside, tiptoeing to sit in your window nook and watch them graze. 

Holding the box open with one hand, you popped the small torch in your mouth with the other, holding it in your teeth as you flicked all the switches off, and then back on again.

You looked to the house. 

Still dark. 

You groaned, and did it again. 

Again, nothing. 

No hum of the motor kicking back on. 

“Third times a charm.” You mumbled with the torch in your teeth, flicking the power back on.

The steady buzz of electricity came back, and the lights from the house illuminated a path for you back inside. You all but slammed the box shut and sped back inside to the safety of your cottage, spinning quickly to shut the door behind you, rapidly locking it tight with the deadlocks. 

One, two, three, four.

You sighed a breath of relief.

See? Nothing. Just country electricals and wild deer.

You toed off your gumboots, hanging your keys on the hook beside the door. 

You needed a glass of wine. 

That would do it, a glass of wine and maybe some baking.

“Took me a while to find you.”

Ice ran down your back. Your heart leapt out of your throat as you spun on your feet, fear crashing over you. 

You blinked.

And there he was.

Standing in your lounge room. 

He had found you.

Aemond’s jaw ticked.

You were so in shock, so terrified that you couldn’t move, entirely rooted to the floor in place as your breath was caught in your throat. Your mouth opened as you tried to suck in air, head feeling light, but you couldn’t even speak. Couldn’t even let the scream out that clawed at the back of your throat. 

He had found you.

Aemond took a step towards you, dressed in all black, his long silver hair pulled away from his face in a braid, “I told you, I would see you soon.”

Instincts kicked in, and like a startled deer, you ran. Tearing down the short hallway to get to your room, where you knew the old shot gun Macnair had left behind was hiding beneath the bed. But Aemond was quicker, and you heard his loud steps before you felt him, grabbing you from behind as you kicked your legs back and screamed, trying to get out of his grip.

“Did you really fucking think you could get away from me?” He grunted, holding you impossibly tight, “That I’d ever let you go? It was just by chance that I saw you today, I didn’t even think to go to the markets.” He explained, and tears prickled in your eyes. 

You were right, you were being watched.

“But there you were. The Gods brought us back together again, Y/n. I was about to give up. But it was fate that our paths crossed again. It was meant to be.”

You thrashed against him, his arm locking around your chest and neck tightly. You turned your head and bit down on his arm, hard, tasting blood fill your mouth. Aemond hissed, tearing himself from your teeth as he dropped you to the ground, knees collapsing beneath you as you scrambled along the floor to get away.

“Fucking bitch.”

Pain rippled up your scalp as Aemond gripped you by your hair, throwing you back against the floor. Your head hit the wooden boards, eyes sluggishly blinking as the room spun and nausea curled in your stomach.

Your husband stood over you, sneering.

“You’ve been hiding out here for months whilst I’ve been looking for you. Having an affair with that other man who gave you the flowers.” Duncan, “Almost paid him a visit, but that can be done later. Spent all this time searching for my ungrateful cunt of a wife, but you didn’t hide well enough.”

His lone eye narrowed as he looked down at you, lips pulled back in a sneer. Strands of his silver hair had fallen from his braid and puffed with each breath as he stared down at you, chest rising and falling roughly.

You scrambled backwards, nails digging into the wood as he stalked forward, hunting you like prey.

“Money talks. And I have a lot of money. Which you would know, since you cleared out our joined account. Very naughty, Y/n.”

“Fuck you. Get out!” You screamed, kicking a leg at him.

Aemond laughed, dodging your kick, “I’m not going anywhere. You’re my wife.”

“I’m not your fucking wife, you psycho.”

“No?” Aemond paused, cocking his head, “Then why are we still on the marriage register? Hm?” 

Your back hit the side of the bed, hands swiping underneath desperately in search as you kicked at him again. Aemond swatted your legs away with ease, smirking down at you meanly. But he couldn’t block your kicks forever, and your foot hit him squarely in his groin.

Aemond grunted, doubling over in pain.

You took your chance, desperate to escape as you crawled forward, away from the bed, dizzy and horrified, all instincts telling you to run, not fight.

Besides, you didn’t even know how to use the gun, let alone if it was even loaded.

You stood, side stepping him as you moved to run out the bedroom door.

Your head hit the wooden frame with a crack, smashed into it by Aemond’s large hand. Stars bloomed behind your eyes, pain shooting through your skull. You tried to catch yourself on the door, your nails digging painfully into the wood as you cried, the hand gripping your hair, pulling you back into the room. 

Aemond threw you onto the bed, looming over you, “Do you know how long I’ve waited for this moment? To see you again? How hard it was to find you? And you’re acting like such an ungrateful little bitch.”

You grunted and cried, trying to get away, desperate to get yourself off the bed as he pushed you back on it. 

“Get off me!”

“But a husband needs his wife,” He leered down at you, pupil wide, “I’ve been dying without you, Y/n. I’ve been bereft ever since you left me. Abandoning me like a coward.” Aemond shook his head, “You could never really leave me. You’re mine.”

“I hate you!” You screamed at him.

Aemond smiled down at you softly, stilling for a moment. Your heart stuttered in your chest as you looked at him, “No you don’t.”

His smile dropped from his face in an instant, shadow cast over his scarred cheek as he looked at you blankly, “And if you do, I’ll make you love me again.”

His hands slid down your body, and began to tear at your pants, busting the button from your jeans, sending it flying across the room, then ripping the zipper apart. 

Sobs flew from your lips as you pushed up at him, desperate to make him stop, fear escalating within you, “Stop! Aemond. Stop!” 

Your fingers tangled in the bed sheets as you kicked at him, knuckles going white as you tried to drag yourself up and away from him on the bed, nails pulling sharply as you used every ounce of strength you had left. The room still spun as your head throbbed with every movement or jolt of your body.

Long fingers dipped beneath the waistband of your jeans and tugged them and your underwear down your legs as you struggled and cried and clawed at him.

“Been a while since you played this game with me.” Aemond chuckled darkly, “Do you remember when you used to pretend you didn’t want it? When you’d say ‘Stop! Please, no!’ and cum around my cock all coy?”

You blinked, memories erupting inside your brain. But those days were consensual, that was fun, something he had even introduced you to. But now? This? This was different. This was not a game. This was not play.

You kicked at his chest, heel clipping his shoulder sharply, a grunt falling from his lips. Aemond slapped a leg away, other hand gripping your thigh tightly. You cried out in pain as his fingers dug into your skin meanly, pain rippling up it.

Your hands tried to pry his fingers away, but the glinting of his wedding ring caught your attention.

He was still wearing it.

He ripped open his belt, and terror struck inside of you.

“Aemond, no. Please. Stop! Aemond stop, please!”

But all the man did was smile down at you crudely, “Gods, I’ve missed your begging. So sweet and small when you’d get on your knees and beg for my cock.” He pulled his length from his slacks, hard and angry, a drop of arousal smeared across his tip, “You’re so fucking beautiful. And you’re mine. My wife.”

You felt like you were going to throw up, thrashing beneath him as he crawled atop of you.

You dug your nails into his arms, trying to swipe at his face and neck, your teeth bared, ready to bite down onto whatever limb came into their collision course.

“Stop.” He growled, slotting himself between your thighs, overpowering you completely.

You sobbed beneath him, begging him to stop, screaming at him to get off, grunting as you twisted beneath the sheets, your head still spinning with small stars that continued to multiply in front of your eyes, the corners of your vision shrouded in black. 

In one final attempt, you went for what you knew would hurt him, what you knew would stop him, slow him down.

Give you time.

And so with the heel of your hand, you thrust it upwards into his face, connecting with his prosthetic eye, clipping the painful scar tissue that would sometimes wake him in the middle of the night in tears.

Aemond’s head withdrew with a sharp and pained cry, one palm pushing into his eye socket as he tried to calm the agony. You pushed against his shoulders, trying to move out from underneath, but Aemond was quicker, and his enraged gaze landed on you. The hand that had been pushing into his face, curled into a tight fist.

Your head whipped to the side, and a cool blanket of darkness washed over you. 

You laid in it for a while, with no thoughts, no terror, no fear, just that darkness that curled around you quietly.

It was nice for a moment, almost comforting.

Just the feeling of not being there.

But then the blanket faded away, and pain bloomed in your face, iron on your tongue as you blinked in confusion. 

There was movement and a weight atop you. Something sliding against your core. 

And then, pain.

You whined, hands shoving against the chest above you as Aemond speared you on his length, thrusting sharply and dryly into you as he reached his hilt, the tip of his cock pushing painfully against your cervix. 

You gagged quietly, head throbbing as the room spun, your arms weakly pushing at him, feeling as though they were made out of lead. Each movement of your body sent pain rippling through your skull, and bile into your mouth.

“Take it like a good wife.” Aemond growled, pulling his length out of you before thrusting it back in sharply.

You cried loudly, pain spreading through your core as you felt him tear at your walls.

He was always larger, much larger than anyone you had had before, and when you were together, he would have to spend ample time to prepare you, but you would always be wet to help. 

The only wetness you felt now, was from your own blood.

Aemond began a harsh and rough pace, with long sharp thrusts that jolted you up the bed on his length, cries of pain bleeding from your lips as you cried, turning your head away from him.

You still tried to push at his chest weakly, nails scratching at him through the dark shirt he wore, but it was no use. 

He grunted above you, picking up his pace, wrapping his hands around your neck for leverage. He squeezed, not tightly, but as a warning, and your eyes shot open to look up at him, hands clawing at his to try and get him to release you. The more you dug your nails into his skin, the more he tightened his hands until you were wheezing beneath him. 

“This doesn’t have to be difficult, you just need to give in, baby. Come on. Be a good girl for me. Be a good girl for daddy.” He groaned, one hand leaving your neck to pull up the soft woollen jumper to reveal your breasts to the room. 

Your nipples stiffened in the chill of the air, fireplace not having been lit yet and the cool of the early winter air seeping into the cabin.

“Fuck.” He hissed, hand coming to squeeze your breast roughly, pinching a stiffened peak between his fingers, rolling it through forefinger and thumb.

You whined in protest, hand trying to move his away.

Aemond lightly slapped your face, “Behave.” He accentuated with a hard thrust, another warning, sending pain shooting through your gut, “I’ll even let you cum. Be a good girl for me and I’ll let you cum, hm? Is that what my pretty wife wants?”

You shook your head weakly, tears overspilling from your eyes and down your cheeks, a sob working its way through your lips. 

Aemond bent down and licked the trail of tears from your cheek, “Fuck.” He moaned, thrusting into you faster, “Forgot how fucking tight you were. Gods. Gonna have to make up for time lost aren’t we? You’ve been such” Thrust, “A naughty” Thrust “Girl.” Thrust.

Your core clenched around him instinctually, Aemond adjusting his hips upwards so that his length would brush against the soft spongey spot within. His pace faltered, and a smirk pulled at his lips. Warmth spread through your gut.

“There she is.”

“No. Please, stop. Aemond, please. I’m begging you.” You wailed, hands gripping his arms as your nails clawed into him.

Your husband smirked down at you, “Not so cocky now that you’re mine again, huh? Where’s that bratty attitude from on the phone?”

Aemond continued to fuck at you from the new angle, one hand on your neck in a promise, the other pulling a limp leg up his hip, revulsion barreling through you as you found yourself growing wet from the angle, your body betraying you. 

The sound of your slick was loud in the room, adding to your shame. 

Aemond only tutted at you, “See? Only I can make you feel like this. Duncan would never be able to make you cum the way I do. No-one can. You’re mine. This pussy, is mine. And what I do with it is for me alone.”

The light in the room was too bright above you, making your head spin even more, the clapping of his hips against yours loud in your ears as his thrusts rocked your head and body backwards, a familiar coil beginning to wind in your stomach.

It was all too much. 

Even the smell of him overwhelmed you.

“Can feel you squeezing my cock. You gonna cum for me, baby?” He cooed, mocking you.

“P-Please st-op, Aemond. It h-hurts.” You sobbed.

“Oh it hurts does it?” The sneer was back, Aemond’s head leant down beside your ear as he pushed to his limit, your walls gripping him tightly, and whispered, “Now you know how it felt when you left me.”

You weeped.

“I hope it fucking hurts.” Aemond leant back, fucking into you with new found vigour, sitting back on his haunches as he pulled your hips onto him, the coil getting tighter and tighter. 

It was horrifying, to find your body finding pleasure from his assault, but you couldn’t stop it, no matter how hard you tried. He knew you too well. Knew your body too intimately. Knew everything that made you tick, twitch, or moan. He had spent hours, years, learning how to expertly map out your body, and he knew your body better than you did.

A slick thumb pressed down on your bud. 

“Come on, baby, cum for me. Wanna feel you cum on me. If you cum for me, I’ll forgive you, okay? You cum for me and I’ll know you love me back. Come on, be a good girl, cum for me.”

His thumb swirled roughly against your bud, your hands tightening around him, unsure if you were pulling him toward you or pushing him away. Your mind hazy and confused, the world having been turned upside down. 

You came with a cry, back arching off the bed as Aemond praised you through it, fucking into you harder and faster. Warmth spread through your limbs, your eyes scrunched tightly shut, bright lights behind them as your skull throbbed.

Aemond fucked your limp body, thumb leaving your clit as he held your hips with both hands, drilling into your wetness with a painful force, pulling agonising pleasure from you. 

You weeped below him, keeping your eyes shut as you just wished for it to be over. For him to just finish. 

“Gonna fill you up. Gonna fill my pretty wife up so we can have a baby. Hm, doesn’t that sound nice? Start a family.”

You sobbed loudly, hiding your face in your hands as you turned your head away from him, the taste of blood still thick on your tongue from where he had struck you.

His pace became sloppy, thrusts uneven as he began to lose himself to pleasure. 

“Fuck!” He hissed, thrusting into you sharply as he came, hot ropes of cum coating your walls as he thrusted weakly through his climax.

You chest stuttered with sobs, head spinning, but exhaustion taking over. 

You were so tired. 

So tired.

You just wanted to sleep.

Wanted to fade away back to that darkness again. Back to nothing.

“Shh,” Aemond hushed you from above, dipping his head to press a gentle kiss against your wet cheek and forehead, “It’s okay now. I’m here. It’s okay.”

You sobbed even harder.

Aemond pulled out of you with a hiss, a small whimper falling from your own lips as you felt pain strum through your brutalised walls. He flopped back onto the bed, dragging your body up beside him as though you weighed nothing, black blooming before your eyes as you knocked your head against the pillow, a wave of sickness rising inside.

But you didn't fight it. 

There was no point. 

No escape. 

Nowhere to go.

Nowhere to hide. 

You couldn’t run, even if you wanted to.

And so you laid in his arms as he held you whilst you cried, curling into him as the tears kept coming. He cooed at you softly, rubbing a gentle hand up and down your arm in a way he always used to. 

It was so stomach turning, the different sides of Aemond, and if it wasn’t for the concussion that you certainly had, his actions alone would send your head spinning. 

Because this Aemond, the soft Aemond, was the one you had known. The one who used to hold you to him, and whisper words of praise. But that was a long time ago, and the Aemond who held you now was a different man. 

Someone you didn’t even know. 

This Aemond was not the man you married.

Aemond pressed another kiss to the top of your head again, “It’s okay, cry it out. I know you’re sorry. And it’s okay. I'll forgive you. Alys was a mistake, but she’s gone now. She won’t be a problem anymore, okay? It’s just you and me.”

You sobbed louder, and he pulled you closer to him, tangling his legs with yours.

“I know, baby." He cooed sweetly, but it was insincere, hollow, cold, "I’ve missed you too. I love you so much, Y/n." Aemond exhaled hotly at the top. ofyour head before his voice fell to barely a whisper, "So much, you don’t know what I’m willing to do to keep you with me.”

A chill rolled down your spine. 

You knew now what he was willing to do. 

And with the added news of what he did to Lucerys, you wouldn’t put it past him to harm anyone that came between you again. 

A wave of mourning crashed over you. 

Mourning your past. 

Mourning your future. 

And mourning the person that you would become with him. There was no escaping this.

Him.

You inhaled his scent deeply.

He still smelt as he always did, but there was a lingering smell of pine in his clothes. The pines from the woods surrounding your home. 

How long had he been out there?

How long had he been waiting?

“You’ll love me again, I know it. I’ll never leave you again. We will be happy together. Here.”

Your breath caught in your throat, eyes wide against his chest.

“You’ve chosen the best spot, baby. You always were clever, we can start our family here. Somewhere quiet, no-one around. Just you and me, and eventually the children. Like it was meant to be.”

A shiver rolled through you.

“Marrying you was the best decision I made in my life.” He kissed the top of your head again, smoothing your hair down with his hand lovingly, “I’ll make you see.”

You laid there as you cried, unsure of what to do, unsure of what to say. Having no real power over the situation, having no real way to escape or get out. If not for Aemond's sheer will, the four dead locks on the door assured it as well. He hummed softly as he let you cry, pain crashing through you in waves.

Aemond paused in thought, his thumb coming beneath your chin as he tilted your head to look up at him.

Your vision was fuzzy from the tears, and the edges were seeped in black, but you could see it. The crazed look in his eye as he gazed down at you with a hungry possessiveness. 

“Do you remember our vows?” He asked, watching as you blinked at him, your lip wobbling as you tried to stop the endless stream of sobs that worked their way up your throat.

His thumb brushed gently over your bottom lip, a sharp sting sparking in it as his finger brushed over the split.

And then he smiled at you, in the same way that he had the day of your wedding, lips pulled wide, teeth revealed.

Your heart fluttered in your chest as you looked at him.

The man you had loved, the man you had married and planned a future with. 

The man you had been on the run from.

His mouth parted again, smile becoming softer.

“Til death do us part.”

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the general tag list please let me know on the general taglist post here :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

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[stedesparasol]

our flag means death + onion headlines (part 4)

[luciuscodedswedeboy]

this y’all’s hard dom??

[persephoneflowerpetals]

'Til Death

Chapter 8: First Date

Chapter 7: Passing the Time

Chapter 9: The Exes

Wake up, babes! We finally got chapter 8 of ‘Til Death! Lmao, but seriously I just wanted to apologize for the long wait. I really struggled trying to write some authentic and in-character dialogue for these two lol. Also life and work got in the way too, so yeah. But now I can really get to the “nitty gritty” parts of the story! I’m very excited to write for those next chapters coming up! Hopefully, those won’t take forever to write like this chapter lol! But anyways, please enjoy!

Persephone waited for the black smoke that surrounded them to dissipate before taking a look at her surroundings, wondering what this “perfect spot” that Hades was referring to would be like.

When the smoke finally cleared Persephone found herself by a river bank. The grass was a dark green color and the trees that stood nearby the river were sparsely covered with warm colored leaves. You could really tell it was autumn and that Persephone’s mother, Demeter, was busy at work. The rushing water in the river was practically crystal clear as it ran along various rocks and logs. Persephone could see fishes of various sizes swimming along the current to their unknown destination as well as the occasional autumn leaves being swept away by the current.

“Breathtaking, isn’t it? Not bad for the River Styx.” Hades remarked as he surveyed the area as well, his hands planted firmly on his hips.

Persephone looked at Hades with surprise. “Wait, this is the River Styx?” she asked in disbelief.

“Yup, the one and only aqua border and river route to the Underworld.“ Hades answered as he crossed his arms and smiled proudly while looking at the river. 

“Huh, I never knew this was part of the River Styx. I thought it only consisted of souls of the dead.” said Persephone. 

“It does in the Underworld, but outside the Underworld it’s just a plain old river and a pretty nice one at that if I do say so myself.” Hades replied.

Persephone smiled then looked around at the empty, grassy area they were in. “So, where’s this picnic you were talking about?” she asked as she raised her brow curiously. 

Hades grinned as he snapped his fingers and suddenly an entire picnic, blanket included, appeared on the grass before them. The blanket was a dark blue color, contrasting greatly with the green grass around it. An array of delicious looking foods were scattered on one half of the blanket while the other half was empty, leaving room for the two gods to sit on it.

“Voila. A picnic for two.” Hades declared, presenting the set up to Persephone as if it were a work of art.

“Wow, you certainly went all out.” Persephone remarked as she went over to the blanket to sit on it.

Persephone observed the food laid out on the blanket as Hades sat next to her. The picnic looked more like a feast rather than a small lunch. There were lots of Grecian finger foods like tirokroketes, tzatziki with fresh baked pita bread and veggies, and tomatokeftedes. There were even foods she’s never even seen before like little triangle shaped pieces of bread with some sort of tomato sauce and cheese. Of course, Hades didn’t forget that Persephone had a bit of a sweet tooth, as there were many scrumptious desserts on the blanket as well like baklava, loukomadies, and Persephone’s favorite, bougatsa. Sitting on the edge of the blanket were two black colored goblets that looked like they came straight out of the Underworld and a pitcher of nectar (which also looked similar to the goblets).

“What can I say? I like a little variety with my meals.” Hades replied with a cheeky smile and shrug. “Go ahead. Dig in.”

Persephone looked at him and smiled before helping herself to some of the mysterious foods on the blanket. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen some of these foods before. What is this stuff?” Persephone asked, picking up a cream filled treat covered in powdered sugar and chocolate chips. 

“I figured you might like some Roman dishes. Those guys stink at naming gods, but they make some great food. Try it. It’s really good.” Hades answered as he poured some nectar from the pitcher into the goblets for each of them.

“Funny, you said the same thing about the worms. I’m surprised you didn’t bring any.” Persephone joked. 

Hades smirked as he replied, “Uhh, as I recall you liked the worms, so don’t sound so skeptical. Okay? Anyways, I thought I’d be a little more classy by keeping bugs off the menu.” 

Persephone giggled softly before taking a bite of the sweet looking pastry. Her eyes widened as her mouth formed a small smile. “Oh my gods, this is the best thing I’ve ever tasted! What’s it called?!” Persephone asked with delight after swallowing. 

“Cannoli.” Hades answered with a grin before taking a sip of nectar. He adored the way she found such wondrous delight in new foods. The way her face lit up when she found something to be truly delicious just made Hades fall more and more in love with her. She really was a Grecian goddess after his own heart; she loved good, well cooked food.

“Well, I think cannolis are my new favorite food!” Persephone giggled before taking another bite of the creamy pastry. 

Hades chuckled softly as he looked at her with admiration. Gods, how could one goddess be so darn cute? The two sat in comfortable silence for a moment as they both snacked on the array of Mediterranean cuisine, the natural sounds of the nearby flora and fauna putting them at ease as they took in the beautiful view of their surroundings. 

“So…we’re here. We’re eating. Didn’t you say you wanted to talk?” Persephone asked as she grabbed another snack from the blanket. 

Oh, right. This was supposed to be a date. Though, Hades didn’t actually say it was a date, but this is what it was supposed to be and a date is supposed to involve talking and getting to know each other. 

“Well, what do you wanna talk about?” Hades asked before taking a bite out of one of the tomatokeftedes.

Persephone paused for a moment, trying to think of a subject to discuss. She then looked at Hades with a sweet smile. “Could you tell me more about your mother? I like hearing you talk about her.”

Hades smiled fondly at the comment before taking a final bite of his food. “Heh, sheesh. Where do I even start?”

“Does she have any hobbies besides watching over the cosmos?” Persephone asked.

“Oh, yeah. Believe it or not, my mom’s a total party animal. Seriously, I think she could out-party Bacchus !” Hades answered with a chuckle.

“Really?” asked Persephone in slight disbelief as she chuckled with him. 

“Yeah, you’ve never been to a ‘Rhea party’ before?”

Persephone shook her head. “Well, next time my mom throws a party I’m takin’ you with me, babe. Let me tell ya, her parties are wild ! I’m not joking, last party she threw she made her grand entrance by riding in on a lion! A lion ! Can you believe that?!”

“Wow,” Persephone giggled. “- when I asked about your mother’s hobbies, that's the last thing I expected to hear! I think I’d love to meet her one day. I can tell you really admire her by the way you talk about her.” 

“What’s not to admire? She’s amazing! Besides, her parties are the only ones I can attend where I’m actually welcome…and invited.” Hades said as he took another sip of his glass of nectar. “So, I told you about my family. What about yours? What’s the deal with your dad? If you don't mind me asking. I’ve never heard anybody talk about him.”

“Oh, that’s because I don’t have one.” Persephone replied casually. 

“Ah, I get it.” Hades said with a nod. “Deadbeat dad. Left for goat milk and never came back, right?” 

“No, it’s nothing like that. I just literally don’t have a father. You really don’t know how my sister and I were born?” Persephone asked, surprised that this god who seemed to know everything about everything didn’t know how she was born.

“We’re both about the same age and we grew up in different parts of Greece, so besides reproduction, no. I have no idea how you were born. What? Did you pop out of your mother’s head or something?” Hades asked with a playful smirk.

Persephone laughed at his silly question. “No. Back when the titans were still running things my mom was busy using her powers trying to make the Earth a better place. More beautiful. Of course, that’s a little difficult when you have titans like Pyros and Lythos running around destroying everything in their path. So, safe to say, my mom had her work cut out for her and she didn’t think she’d have the time to find a husband and maintain a relationship, but she did really want kids, so she found a safe place somewhere in Attica and planted some sort of ‘magical sprout-let’. While it grew she watered it and gave it some sun, y’know, normal gardening stuff. Then, 9 months later, the sprout bloomed into a flower and here I am! Of course, the same process happened with my sister too, so the real reason why mortal parents tell their children babies come from ‘magical gardens’ is because of my mother.” 

Hades smiled as she explained the story of her birth, listening to every word. “Huh, and here I thought it was because they didn’t wanna teach their kids about the birds and the bees at such a young age.”

Persephone laughed again at his comment. “Yeah, that too.” she replied.

“But seriously, why does that not surprise me in the slightest? You being born from a flower of all things.” Hades said.

“I know. The flowery spring goddess being born from a magical flower? What a shocker!” Persephone replied sarcastically as she smiled.

A sudden noise from nearby immediately interrupted the gods’ conversation. A mother duck and her ducklings had decided to hop onto dry land after swimming in the river. Persephone smiled as she watched the ducks shake the water off their feathers and waddle near the picnic blanket, curious of the delicious smells. She then manifested a bunch of seeds into her hand and offered them to the duck and her babies. The ducks eagerly ate the seeds in Persephone’s hand as Hades watched with a small smile. He wasn’t really big on “cutesy stuff” like this (in fact, this sort of stuff usually disgusted him), but when he looked at Persephone and how sweet she looked feeding those ducks, Hades just couldn’t help but smile a bit. The goddess was so unbelievably cute that even Hades wasn’t immune to her adorable charm. 

One of the ducklings, struggling to find room around Persephone’s arm to eat the seeds, then wandered over to Hades after its failed attempts to reach her handful of seeds. Hades looked down to see the fluffy, yellow little duckling chirping at him, as if it were asking him for some food. 

“Uhh, no. Go away. Shoo. Food’s over there. Go on.” Hades said, trying to gently shoo the chirping duckling away from him as he looked at it with slight disgust.

Persephone lightly chuckled and placed some seeds on the blanket near the little duckling. The duckling turned around and saw the seeds, instantly going towards them to eat as other ducklings started going over to the small pile of seeds as well. 

Hades looked over at Persephone and just couldn’t stop staring at her. She was just so...gorgeous. He couldn’t not look at her. He was so distracted by her, in fact, that he didn’t even notice that some of the ducklings that had gathered nearby were starting to waddle on top of him and into his lap. It wasn’t until he heard the sound of many chirping ducklings that Hades actually looked down to see the baby ducks all spread onto his lap. Some were even trying to hop up to climb up his chiton. 

Persephone giggled when she noticed Hades with the baby ducks in his lap and how confused he was by it. Hades looked over at her again when he heard her giggling. 

“I think they like you.”

Hades raised his brow and smirked as he looked back down at the ducklings. “Well, it’s no wonder you little fluff-balls are easy prey. You’re a poor judge of character.” 

Persephone laughed at Hades’ witty comment before the mother duck that stood by the spring goddess started quacking at her babies. The ducklings then waddled away from Hades and straight to their mother, one little duck straggling behind the others after clumsily tumbling out of Hades’ lap. The gods then watched the family of ducks waddle off into the forest behind them.

Hades brushed off a few stray duckling feathers off of chiton before picking up his goblet of nectar once again, taking a sip. “So...there’s something I’ve been dying to ask you since the day you yelled at me.”

Persephone then looked over at Hades and smirked. “Oh? And what would that be?” 

“You said you didn’t have a say in what role you’d get as a goddess, so what kind of role would you have picked if you had the chance? I’m genuinely curious.”

Persephone looked down in thought. “Huh, I guess I never really thought about it before. Well, I mean, I have thought about it, but just not…deeply...” 

There was a short pause as Persephone thought about her answer. She then chuckled to herself, trying to think of something. “I dunno. There’s a lot of things I’d like to be goddess of.”

“Like?” Hades asked, wanting her to continue her thoughts.

“Like, Goddess of Beauty and Love. Aphrodite has an amazing role. She blesses mortals with beauty and helps them fall in love. I think that’s really sweet, but there’s always a down side to every role, y’know? Like, having to deal with mortals that fall out of love with each other or mortal women begging and pleading to be blessed with beauty because they can't accept themselves for who they truly are.” 

“Yeah, I guess you’ve got a point there.” Hades replied.

“But, I hope you don’t think I hate my role as a goddess because of what I said. I really do like being Goddess of Spring. It’s just…sometimes my family makes it hard for me to enjoy what I do…but, I dunno, at the same time I guess it would’ve been nice to have a say in what I get to do for the rest of eternity. Who knows? Maybe I could’ve been Goddess of the Underworld.” 

Hades chuckled. “Goddess of the Underworld, huh? Alright, I see how it is. Are you vying for my job now?” he asked with a smirk. 

“Nah, I was thinking maybe we could do a partnership. Like a ‘duo deity’ sort of thing.” Persephone replied with a playful smile.

“Oh, a partnership. Well, you show a lot of promise, babe. I mean, you’re pretty good at organizing scrolls for me, so I could make something work. How about you send me your resume and I’ll beseech you with an offer at my earliest convenience, alright?” Hades jokingly suggested. 

Persephone laughed as Hades joined her. “Alright, deal.”

There was another moment of silence as the two just sat there, enjoying each other’s company as they looked at the natural scenery before them. 

Hades then turned to Persephone to speak. “Hey, uhh…you wanna…go for a walk along the river for a little bit?” he casually asked. 

“Sure.” Persephone replied with a nod before getting up from the picnic blanket, wiping any dirt, grass, or crumbs from her chiton before making her way along the river bank. 

Hades stood up as well, brushing himself off before snapping his fingers, making the picnic disappear in a cloud of black smoke. He then followed after Persephone to walk with her.

The two gods spent the rest of their time just walking along the river and talking. They told stories, cracked jokes, shared their likes and dislikes. They had gotten so lost in conversation that it had already reached sunset and were now heading towards the end of the River Styx. 

They spotted a wooden bridge across the river, the bridge that crossed the border between the entrance to the Underworld's domain and the entrance to Earth. They decided to stop on the bridge and watch Apollo slowly pull the sun across the sky. 

Hades looked over at Persephone and smiled as he admired her. She looked positively exquisite. The way her hot pink hair flowed in the breeze, the warm orange glow from the sun reflecting off of her skin as it mixed with her natural pink godly glow. That adorable little smile she almost always seemed to have on her face and how her amethyst colored eyes always sparkled. Hades was positively stunned by her beauty. Everything about her was truly perfect in every way. That honestly used to annoy him, but now it’s one of the many things he finds so attractive about her. It was so crazy how after getting to know her, his perception of Persephone really changed.

Hades then looked down to the water of the river rushing under the bridge, trying to decide whether he should take advantage of this serene moment to finally make a move on Persephone. He didn’t want to ruin it by making her uncomfortable, but this was such a great opportunity to do something romantic. Anything romantic. But…what if she was getting mixed signals this entire time and thought this was just some sort of friendly outing? What if she gets creeped out by his advances and leaves? He’s already come so far with her, especially with this impromptu date. He didn’t want to wreck things now, but…he couldn’t let this beautiful moment go to waste. Who knows when he’ll get another moment like this with her? Decisions, decisions…

Persephone looked over at Hades who seemed to be lost in thought. His face had a very focused expression as he watched the water while he leaned on the railing of the bridge. The goddess smiled as she observed him. It amazed her how well she got along with him and how much they had in common with each other. She was actually really glad she took the chance to get to know Hades. Not a lot of gods out there were willing to do that, but she was and it was certainly worth it in the end.

The spring goddess continued to study Hades’ features as he looked at the water below them. His gaunt yet chiseled face, his gray-blue skin, his fiery blue hair that always made cute little swirls when he walked around, the surprisingly well toned muscles on his arms. Hades really wasn’t that bad looking of a god. In fact, Persephone oddly found him to be quite handsome. She loved the way he laughed, the way he smiled at her when he gave her a genuine compliment, the way he took in every single word she said when she spoke to him as if it were the most important information he could ever retain. 

That fluttery feeling started to come back to Persephone, like that night when Hades talked to her under the stars. It was like a bunch of butterflies were floating around in her tummy. She looked at Hades again and the feeling got stronger and stronger the more she thought about the things she admired about him…and then…it hit her. The sudden realization hit her like a tidal wave from Poseidon that this feeling she had been getting...it was...love. She had fallen in love with Hades. She was in love with him this whole time and she never even knew it. Whenever they subtly flirted with each other, when they smiled at each other, when Hades showed genuine appreciation for each and every plant she made for him in Asphodel Meadows, whenever she blushed when he said something sweet to her. The signs were all there and she never saw them until now. This god that she once despised has now stolen her heart and she had no idea what to do.

A million questions and thoughts rushed through Persephone’s mind as she came to this sudden realization. She looked out and the sunset, once more. The sun was nearly gone from the horizon and it wouldn’t be long now before Artemis would shoot her arrow towards sky to cast the moon into the night. 

She turned to Hades and took a quiet, shaky breath. She had no idea what she was doing right now. It seemed like she was doing whatever her body told her to do in that moment. 

“Um…Hades?” 

Persephone’s soft and somewhat shaky voice brought Hades out of his thoughts as he turned to her. 

“Yeah?” 

He now had her full attention as she nervously stroked a lock of her hot pink hair, looking down to avoid looking at Hades.

“I, um…I just….wanted…to tell you…...” 

Persephone wasn't sure exactly what she was going to say or do. All she knew was that she had an urgent need to let Hades know how much she loved him, not even caring in that moment what his reaction would be. She was terrified and excited all at once. She finally looked up at Hades and found him watching her with anticipation, waiting for what she had to say. It wasn’t until she looked into his piercing yellow eyes that the words slipped out of her mouth.

“….I love you.”

For a split second, Hades’ expression turned to one of shock and astonishment before Persephone suddenly placed her hands on his chest and kissed him. Little blue flowers blooming out of her hair when her lips met with his.

Hades’ eyes grew wide as his pupils dilated. His blue flame began to flare up as his body tensed. He wasn’t expecting her to kiss him, let alone tell him she loved him.

Persephone could feel Hades tense up and for a moment she considered stopping, worrying that she had just made a huge mistake, but then she felt Hades relax. This was exactly what Hades wanted from all this. He wanted her to fall for him and obviously she did, he just didn’t expect her to be the one to make the first move.

Hades melted into her kiss as he kissed her back, gently cupping her soft and rosy cheek. They then separated for air as they looked at each other again. Persephone’s face was flushed red like a strawberry and Hades could help, but smile. His sudden flare up was starting to die down as well as he gazed into Persephone’s eyes. He noticed the little blue flowers in her hair and smirked as he picked one, studying it with a fond expression before looking back at her.

“Y’know, I think blue looks really good on you.”

Persephone smiled bashfully and giggled as she cuddled into the crook of his neck while she wrapped her arms around him. Hades dropped the little flower and wrapped his arms around Persephone as he rested his head atop hers.

Everything just felt so right, like they belonged in each other’s arms. They stood there on the bridge, holding each other close as the sun finally set and the moon finally appeared in the sky. 

Persephone then looked up at him and smiled affectionately. Hades looked down at her with a soft smile and brushed a piece of hair away from her face. “How about we call it a night, huh?” 

Persephone nodded as they separated before they both disappeared from the bridge in a burst of blue flames. The gods then reappeared in the Underworld, now holding hands as Hades walked Persephone back to her bedroom in comfortable silence. Neither god could stop smiling after that kiss. They were truly happy at that moment and they never wanted that feeling to go away.

When the two gods finally reached the doors to Persephone’s room, Persephone let go of Hades’ hand and walked over to said doors. She turned to him one last time, still feeling flustered from the kiss. “Thank you…for everything today. I had a wonderful time…and I hope we can do that again soon.”

Hades continued to smile as he looked at her with admiration. “Yeah, me too…g’night, Seph.”

Persephone stepped towards Hades and gave him another quick kiss as she cupped his cheek. “Goodnight, Hades.” she said before opening the doors to her room and going inside for the night. 

Hades just stood there in front of her room for a moment. Staring at the doors in a lovesick daze before turning around to teleport himself to his throne room. Once there, Hades slowly and calmly took a deep breath.

“WHOOOO!!! YEAH!!! THAT’S WHAT I’M TALKIN’ ABOUT!!! I STILL GOT IT, BABY!!! YEAH!!!” 

Meanwhile, Persephone was busy getting herself ready for bed and she just couldn’t wipe the smile off of her face. She just had her first kiss! With Hades! She couldn’t believe it! After hundreds of years of being single and alone, Persephone finally found herself a boyfriend! The spring goddess hopped into bed, excitedly squealing like a teenage girl as she hugged her pillow. Eventually, after gushing about the kiss for a good while, she fell asleep with the biggest smile on her face, knowing that she had finally found love with the one and only God of the Underworld...and oh, gods was her mother gonna flip when she finds out.

[tubapun]

I tried to include all the relevant ones but I'm not a scholar. Also if you pick taz tell me what arc

[rennyrose]

Y'know ever since I saw that LR wearing kilts post I've only imagined LR speaking w/a Irish accent and I can't hear them in any other accent anymore (except Southern like Nicholas which happens sometimes idjdjdjsjs)

It’s funny cause I ponder em occasionally with either Irish or Scottish accents for shits n gigs sometimes (Tho they are most definitely country boys for sure 🤣)

[spookysalem13]

Instead of saying "Until death do we part", why don't we say this instead...

[obscurelocalstranger]

My submission from the A to Z of Ed Teach zine!

B for Blackbeard

[johnny-depplyloveyou]

When Gale uses the orb with Tav by his side during the final battle...

· We might still have a chance.

· It's been an honour.

· Do it, Gale.

😭😭😭