This is...I don't know what the hell this is other than some mythology parallels with fancy syntax. I felt compelled to do this probably-overdone comparison and it turned out pretty. You'll like it, I promise.

He walks in time to the rhythm of life with death at his heels. He is a reaper of souls and his sickle is red, red, red. Deep, dark, like rust, like blood. The void clings to his cloak as he goes, marring the ground and killing the lilies. He means nothing by it, but his touch is damning to mortal things. One day, maybe, he will have a lighter beat to his step.

The others do not like having him around, the God of Death. He is a dark creature and he sticks out when they invite him to parties, to feasts. With great antlers on his head and a ruby color to his eyes, he stalks like a raptor through the throngs of deities, causing them to cringe and shuffle away. He means no harm, but his looks have other things to say.

When he spots her first, his lifeless heart begins to beat with the quick hooves of a warhorse. She is pouring water onto the roots of crisp apple trees; clear liquid spilling from an ornate pitcher. She laughs as it splashes her toes, grateful for the coolness during the heat of the day. Her smile is innocent and he is smitten.

He does not know what he wants from her when he breaks from his cover behind the trees, eyes wide and full of curiosity. She is so strange to him, new and yet familiar. He thinks all he wants is to touch her hands, to feel as she feels, but he cannot explain the emotions threatening to burst forth from his frame.

She knows him, knows of the stories that follow in his wake. He is a terrible thing, dressed in thick black clothes and bone-white skulls. She knows his teeth are sharp and his jaws are menacing. In his eyes she can read his hunger, how it pours forth like poison from a well, spilling down and lapping at her bare feet. She is frightened of him as she should be, for he is a God of Death and he takes what he wants from the glades and streams. And he wants her, that she sees.

Rising from the sand, she gauges his balance, his desire, and his potential anger. She is a lesser Goddess, one not equipped to defeat Death. She knows she is not powerless, but she isn't certain this is a fight she can risk or win. Not when his expression is akin to a snake preparing to swallow its prey whole. She is no fawn and she will not be chased through the meadow to her demise. He steps closer to her and tilts his head, antlers bleeding with white light. She backs away, roots twisting at her feet.

"My dear, beautiful girl," he says softly, his voice a dark wine, "do you bear a name as lovely as your eyes?"

Her heart is faint but her stance is strong. "I have two names. The mortals call me Persephone, but to the Gods I am Rey."

"A fitting name for a beam of sunlight. Come," he says, "walk with me."

She feels compelled to fall into step with him though her mind wants to flee. He is no good, this God of Death. She knows he wants something from her, and she is aware it is not savory. He may not, but she knows, she knows. Others have glanced to her with the same dark need in their eyes. His held it fiercely, but she saw another desire behind the ember-black rings. Something softer, something innocuous.

"Tell me of yourself," he says as the river begins to open, a great black maw ripping the banks from the riverbed.

"My mother is Demeter and my place is with the flowers. Forgive me, Hades, but I cannot swim."

He smiles down at her with mischief in his eyes. "You are a Goddess and to you I am Ren, not Hades. I will carry you, dear girl."

He picks her up and she does not fight him, she does not know why. He cradles her to his chest as they disappear into the dark.

"Where are we going?"

"To my kingdom down below." She can feel the rumble of his voice through his ribcage, deep and calm. She decides she enjoys the sensation, with her ear to his chest, and she hums to herself a small note.

"I need to attend the flowers. Will I be away long?"

"That is up to you, Rey. But I beg you be my guest for a night."

She stays quiet for the rest of the trip, her arms loose around his neck. Through his robes she can feel his muscles and his strength. He sets her down at the bottom of the staircase from which they descended, letting her stand in the dirt of a night forest. It is dark and blue, shimmering and silent. She takes his hand readily when it is offered and follows close through the flowers and trees. They all appear dead and wilted, but she can feel their lives and spirits pushing around her sides.

His castle is tall and black, buttresses and spirals growing up from the dark ground. Regal and wonderful, she is amazed at the richness of his palace and the rooms inside.

"Where is your queen?" she asks, knowing full well that no God who controls so much is without a wife.

"I have no consort. I wanted to fall in love before taking a bride, but I had yet to find a Goddess so worthy before recently."

"And have you? Fallen in love, that is."

"That depends; have you?"

She stops her pace and gazes up into his cherry-red eyes. He is a handsome God, but even after all the stories and fables she's heard told about the beauty of true love, she knows there is more to it than a dashing smile and charming looks.

"Isn't it a little early to tell?"

"Perhaps, perhaps not. It has been eternities since I last saw such beauty before my eyes. But love is deeper than characteristics of the flesh."

Nodding, she takes back his hand and follows where he leads, a small thought in her mind. She thinks he will take her somewhere more intimate, to display his affection by means of skin. A shiver crashes down her spine in anticipation and dread.

"They tell stories of you on the surface," she says quickly, trying to deter his intent. "Vicious things always taken for truths."

He chuckles and gently squeezes her fingers. "Death is fair, not just. And in being fair, I am despised. A darkness settles when my name is said for I bring the end of things. I asked for no such gifts but with me they lie."

"So you are not some horrible creature that feeds on decayed bones?"

"No, dear girl. I will cook you a splendid meal to prove otherwise."

He takes her to the kitchens and they are large and white, a change from the rest of his lands. She is not very peckish and he concedes to share with her pomegranate seeds. His lips stain red while they make small conversation and she finds herself unable to glance from their shape, how they quirk. He catches her staring and smirks, knowing she is starting to dip her feet.

"I am tired," she says slowly, resting her chin in her palms. "As a guest, where shall I sleep?"

"My bed is big enough for two but has only fit one. The castle is cold and fires here burn weak. Could I interest you to share my sheets for a night?"

He is asking for something else and she decides to give in. There could be much harm in agreeing, but she also sees no pros for upsetting the Underworld's King, though she has seen hints that, had she rejected his offer, he would continue being polite.

"What draws you to me?" she asks as they proceed to his chambers, the drafty air chilling her skin.

"Aside from your beauty, you are an opposite of me; a lovely creature who can bring life to the earth whereas I can only reap. You give instead of take, and with that I am fascinated. We are both similar and not alike."

"Do you not care for who I am or what I'm like?"

"No I do, deeply. But it is your surface that captivates and your depths that anchor. I can read into you from your mind, who you are as a creature inside. I hope to draw you to me like moths to light."

"How do you intend to do that?"

He smiles again, this time soft and warm. "By loving you, of course."

He strips of his clothes when they are in his room, leaving on loose pants to preserve his modesty. She follows hesitantly, remaining in undergarments as they climb under the covers of a soft, inviting bed. Lying beside her, he does little more than run his long fingers through her hair, captivated by her beauty. He is a crooked thing, his face strange and his features unattractive. He knows he has little ability to woo her with his looks and touches her slowly instead, a hand moving to cup her face. Oh, her skin is soft, softer than a lamb, and he wants to bury himself deep within her heart to sleep.

She does not flinch when he raises his head to kiss her. His lips are soft and sweet like fruit. But his kiss is chaste—so painfully chaste—and she craves more from him. It shocks her a little to realize her wants but he is sensual and divine—how can she refuse his touch?

Fingers lacing in his dark locks, she pulls him back to her, eager to know his tongue, his taste. She kisses him feverishly and he can do nothing but smile underneath her lips, heat filling up his chest.

"Is something the matter?" she asks, her mouth pressed tight to his temple. She is making her way down a scar on his face, careful to pepper tenderness lavishly across his marked skin.

"You warmed up quickly."

"Maybe I've always harbored a soft spot for you," she says and hums, her lips now at the tip of his nose.

"Or maybe you are as hungry for love as I. Tell me, have you always felt lonely in the night?"

She nods. "It is deepest with the moon." With a sigh, she settles her arms around his neck, wrapping herself closer to this unloved God of Death. He is right; she can see herself in him, the way he pains and longs for companionship. Where men have wanted her only for her body, no one has sought his soul in affection. She knows others see her as beautiful, but did he know what was thought of him? "Do you feel as though you are unlovable, Ren?"

"Sometimes."

"Do you find yourself unattractive?"

"Always."

"And if I told you I thought you were neither?"

He gives her a sad smile. "I would call you a dirty liar."

"Yet you seek my love."

"I can dream, can't I? Or are figures of Death forbidden to wish?"

She kisses his neck, then, one hand trailing from his back to his shoulder, his heat radiating through her fingertips. "You can do both but I see no need. You've lured me into your trap and I am happy to have taken your bait."

"Would you stay if I asked? Would you want to know me?"

"I want to discover you fully."

With a twist of sheets, he draws her back to his chest, an arm snug around her waist. "And you shall, my love, starting as soon as the dawn breaks."

Rey woke from a fitful sleep and sat up in bed, confused and intrigued by her dreams. They had been getting stranger as of late, but nothing had been quite like that. Not for a long, long number of months.

A lazy arm caught her waist and she was brought down into the pillows beside a slightly awake, slightly groggy, altogether too cold Ben Solo. He cocked an eyebrow at her, eyes dark and tired in the fake starlight of their ceiling.

"If you keep hogging the covers, we're getting separate beds."

She frowned. "I'm not hogging them."

"Are too."

"I'm just getting tangled, that's all. Tell my nightmares to stop and maybe we'll both be warm for once."

He yawned and coiled himself around her, strong arms pulling her easily to his chest. "Oh yeah, and what terrible monster couldn't you slay this time?"

"You, funny enough."

"Me?" he mumbled into her hair, sleep still falling around his eyes.

"Well, the other you. Dark you."

"Kylo Ren."

"Yes. You were a god who controlled death and you kidnapped me, taking me away to your kingdom. We were both lonely and fell deeply in love almost instantly."

"One of those things wasn't far from the truth."

"Ah yes, the minute you had me cornered in those woods I just knew we were destined to—"

"The other one, you silly girl."

"It took quite some time for the second part, didn't it?"

"Too long in my opinion. I spent forever pining for you."

"And now you have me."

"Yes," he said quickly and kissed her forehead. "Now I finally have you."

She curled into him, arms finding their way around his broad, wiry frame. He was a bastion in which she took great comfort, knowing he'd keep her safe from another nightmare. As she began to drift off, her mind wandered to the possibilities of that other existence, one where she fell in love with him while he was still an irrevocable beast. A forbidden love much like their own, but it was more consuming, devouring. For a brief moment, she imagined it would be soothing to be the only object of her lover's attention.

"You are the only object of my attention, so much so you're keeping me awake." Ben growled and playfully nipped at her ear when she teased him across their Force bond, comparing him to a godly king. "Love, go to sleep."