I live in the isle of the dead.

I was always a happy child. Quiet, yet headstrong in my own ways. I am still as innocent and naive as I was then. I lay in my room and curse the way I was; the way I am.

I guess it all went wrong at some point, right?

I blame my husband. He saw me, I am sure. He looked at me; innocent, small, young, carefree. He looked at the tiny child I was and thought to himself "yep, better ruin her life."

I don't even know what I'm here as. His wife, sure. But as a queen? His consort? Something tells me that is the least of my worries. In fact, if I were to write out a list of all the things I have to worry about, my status as his wife would probably be pretty low down on the list. Probably sandwiched between 'what's up with that bizarre three headed dog' and 'oh no my virginity'. Three guesses which one of those is higher.

All I'm saying is that if I'm gonna be his broodmare I better know more about the things in my general vicinity.

Not that he seems to be open to letting me walk in and out of the underworld any time soon.

Oh, well.

When I was kidnapped by him, I was in the middle of a field of flowers. After he took me, I was in a place of nightmares. Needless to say, I was a bit confused. My mother of course, told me about the Underworld. Not much, but she did. I suppose it was sort of ironic how the goddess of spring and life was so interested in... the opposite of that. Maybe now it won't be so weird. Heh, yeah that's what I'm going to be focusing on. Kidnapped by the god of death and I'm thinking of how now my interest in his domain won't be so weird.

Oh wait, he rules this place. This is literally his domain. Oh jeez.

Mentally, I curse myself for not automatically knowing that.

He put me down ever so gently from his arms and looked at me with adoration after he'd violently kidnapped me. He's weird. So weird, in fact, I almost fainted. My face had become pale, apparently, for he pointed it out with a worried expression. Of course it was pale, I had just been forced into the underworld after all.

I didn't tell him that.

He then informed me that he loved me and wished to marry. I remained silent, and therefore did not object. Darn, that was probably my chance.

We married soon after. Like, the same day. Literally right after he proposed this marriage he made us actually go through with it. I was saying no quite a lot after that.

Being together at the ceremony was just me glaring at him. I sure hope it made him uncomfortable, because that was how I felt that night.

He carried me to his-or rather our, as I was informed afterwards-chambers and laid me on the bed. He then informed me that he did not want our first time to be like this, but we had to otherwise our wedding wouldn't be official, and spoke words of love to me, probably hoping to ease the emotional pain of what was going to happen, but I was numb when he was talking of this. I cried tears of fear and shock and kept shaking my head no. He gently hugged me and laid me down. The next process was probably the most awkward and painful moments of the night. I would not accept what was happening. When he got off me he apologized and kissed my forehead before laying down the other side of the bed, not touching me. I wondered if this was how it was going to be for the rest of eternity. Cold and unfeeling.

The next morning he draped a blanket over my shoulders and told me he would let me sleep in my own chambers until I felt ready to join him in ours. Clutching the blanket, I made my way across the hall to mine. It was cold, and I dressed quickly in one of the warm dresses in my closet. Then I made a fire and let no one in for days and days. I ate and drank nothing, and bathed only when necessary. I made a nest of blankets for myself on one of the plush carpets and laid my small frame in it. I spent endless hours there, hoping to waste away and disappear, away from my husband. I resolved only to come out if made to, but no one ever came to order me out. My only visitors were shadows that moved to help me, and Hades himself. He tried to tempt me out with words of love and devotion, pleas and cries: but never commands.

So here I lay, swaddled like the child I used to be in blankets and pillows and furs, looking at the ceiling. Day after day is filled with nothing but my own company and the near constant stream of tears down my cheeks. I never told myself not to cry, for I thought of no reason why I shouldn't. It gave me something to focus on, at least.

I stare at the darkness, at the pale sombre lines on shadows at the lonely world I now live in. the limits of my mind stretch no larger than that which I have confined it to.