A/N: Okay so I received a flood of emails asking me to repost this story after it was taken down. I personally don't really like the dynamic or characterization I did for either H or P here, which is part of the reason why I never wanted to post it. However, my account was hacked, and it seems that the hacker liked it well enough (my bet is that it's because it's a good deal smuttier than my other story). Still, I guess some of you did enjoy it quite a bit, based upon my inbox's inundation of emails (or you like the smut, which is also fine). So I'm reposting it for those of you who liked it. I doubt I will ever finish it, though; unless some wellspring of inspiration erupts within me, you're looking at an uncompleted fic that's going to stay uncompleted. But, still - enjoy it, if you want.

Also, I would just like to make clear that the H and P in this story are completely different people from the H and P in "Solace": they look different, they act different: they are different. This is a separate continuity (again, one that will likely never be finished). So keep that in mind as you're reading - these are different characters.

Cheers!

-Artwolf

The story goes that he took her. This is true, but an important detail is often left out: the marriage was arranged, first by the Fates, and then by Zeus. There was no way around it. He took her in the tradition of the time and the culture.

The wedding was only a formality, just like everything else. Only once did she look up at his black, unreadable eyes. She could feel his gaze; she wanted nothing more than to curl up and hide herself from him. When he kissed her – ever chaste – she felt her whole body grow cold.

The bedding was even worse. As part of the ceremony they were both thrown into his bedchamber, clad only in their small clothes. He did not look at her as she walked to his massive divan. Her hands were wrapped around her stomach, her steps unsteady. She heard the jeers of the other gods and goddesses outside the bedchamber and bit the inside of her cheek to keep from crying. She lied down and looked up at the dark, cavernous ceiling of the room. Her hands shook; she was incredibly afraid. As soon as she felt his weight on the bed, her strength broke and she began to weep. She felt his cold fingers touch her cheek and nearly struck him out of reflex. How she managed to stop herself, she did not know. His expression was unreadable – as always – but his deep voice came out surprisingly soft and gentle.

"I will not harm you," he said. His touch made her flinch; his breath against her neck made her feel lightheaded. She did not answer him.

When he entered her, she felt incredible pain. He took her slowly, but the agony did not stop. Her fingers clawed at his back as he pushed in and withdrew. She could not say how long it went on like that; all she knew was that when he shuddered and withdrew himself from her, she felt his lips on her forehead and heard a whispered apology before he turned his scarred back to her. She felt his warm essence dripping between her legs. Consummation was only a formality.

They have been married a year now. He has not touched her since.

She sits next to him on a great onyx throne, carved with flowers and embellished with precious minerals. It is cold, like her husband. She watches him as he passes judgment, stoic and unflinching. He does not look at her. He is not cruel, but he is unyielding. There is no mercy; there is only justice. He frightens her.

Every night, she steels herself as she waits in his – their – bedchamber and every night, he undresses without looking at her and lies on the bed with his back facing her. She is relieved for the first few months, but his disinterest begins to make her question her beauty.

When she wakes at night, a part of her wants him to be holding her. She turns and is greeted with the sight of his back, unyielding like the rest of him. As she watches him sleep and sees the gnarled ridges that crisscross over his shoulders and along his spine, she has the insane, incredible urge to reach out and touch him. She does not.

When she leaves to the world above, all he offers her in goodbye is a stiff nod. She is not sure why that makes her want to cry.