Disclaimer: Not mine. Property of Adam, Ed, and ABC. All errors though – they are mine.
Rating: M. Please respect it. No fluff here. None at all.
A/N: Here's Hades. He was an absolute joy to write. He's an omnipotent next-level asshat on the brink of insanity, and he's in love. (That crackling sound you hear is just my heart, shattering into a million pieces. Pay it no mind.)
The air is clean. There are no crevices billowing with smoke, no fires burning continuously to pollute and darken the sky. I stand with my eyes closed and drink it in. It's glorious.
Freedom. It's been eons. Now I finally have it, and can start to be the God I'm supposed to be – not one made impotent and imprisoned in a hellhole. This will be my time, and it will be epic. Anticipation ripples through me, but I rein it in. I've planned this for decades; I can wait a few days longer.
The child is whimpering, and of course, that has Zelena's attention. She's focused on the immediate practicalities, and mentions relocating to a farmhouse, twin to the counterpart she stayed in while in my domain.
Hmm… it is not my domain any longer. That might take some getting used to. Oh well, if I miss it I can always return to claim it and rule both it and the world above. But first things first – Zelena and the child.
"Are we walking or should I…?" She waves her hand in a mock gesture of the teleportation spell.
"Allow me," I say politely before transporting us to her chosen destination. To my eyes, it is not much different than the one below.
"Looks empty, but let's go see if anyone needs an eviction notice," she says in that sassy tone of hers. I do enjoy her turns of phrase – highly entertaining.
We walk up the steps and I peer through the windows. Looks deserted to me. Filthy too.
"See anyone?" she calls.
"No. Should we knock?"
The sassiness continues. "Heavens, no."
Yes - I do indeed like that little streak of wickedness in her.
We enter, and I watch her expression turn to one of embarrassment at the condition of the place. Why she worries of such things is beyond me.
"Here," she states, offering the infant to me. "Hold her for a second. I'll clean it up."
"No need," I tell her. "Do stand back though, won't you?"
This statement plasters confusion all over her pretty face, and I try to hold back my amusement. It's time for me to show her what it means to be…well, me. "You'll see."
I walk to the middle of the main room and flick the table out of the way. I center myself and call forth the power. It's different here aboveground; again it seems cleaner, fresher. There's a lot I can do with this – but for now let's just make this place suitable for habitation. I focus the energies and then release them with a buffering attached, allowing for the spell to creep slowly and heighten the effect.
Okay, so maybe I'm showing off for her.
Apparently it worked because I see her looking at me in amazement. "Damn."
"You don't like it?" I quip. "I wanted to keep it simple. I can do another color if you'd like." I picture yellow in my mind and with a gesture, it appears. But yellow isn't really her color. "Maybe green?" She'll like that. Then I get a better idea.
"Or maybe like Oz?" With a flick it's a color duplicate to her home there. I am impressed I matched it so well, but then again, I do remember it so clearly.
Her tone is teasing. "Now you're showing off."
I tease her back. "Got me again." I reset it back to the way I like it. "Still, you get the idea. Whatever you want."
This makes her melt. I love doing this to her. "Hades…"
I walk towards her and lightly run the back of my hand down her cheek. "Anything," She's so easily flustered – the smallest kindness. She turns all doe-eyed until the baby cries. That snaps Zelena back into Mother Mode again.
"She must be hungry. We'll need to go to the market to get her formula, and diapers, and wipes, and bottles…"
Oh hell, she's panicking. Why does she worry about the mundane so much? I can almost see the wheels spinning out of control in her mind. Her voice is choked with it when she tries to talk, and I just take her in my arms and try to calm her down. "Hey, it's okay. Just tell me what she needs and I'll get it for you."
The child cries out again. I'm willing to bet the poor thing is hungry.
"Here," I tell her as I call forth the baby formula. "Try this."
She gives it to the child and of course, it was starving. "There," I tell her. "Much better."
ooooooooooooooo
It takes less convincing than I expect to get Zelena to agree to use magic to get the house into some semblance of normalcy. She's no slouch with it either – that too is appealing to me. She agrees to stay downstairs and prepare supper while I agree to tackle the upstairs.
Once I get up there, I'm a tad horrified. Why in the world did she choose to live like this? I need to fix this place up properly. I mentally roll up my sleeves and call forth the power. Once within it, I start to imagine what she'll need. Memories of the boudoirs of other women come to mind, all the beautiful furniture they had back hundreds of years ago. They truly don't make things like they used to.
I focus a segment of magic on color – digging out my memories of her on the day I knew she was the one. That green, that is the base color I want to use. There, on the curtains. There, on the dressing screen. There, on the plush rugs. Ecru for the walls, cherry for the wood. Yes, that's rather nice, isn't it?
The baby will need a crib, and a bassinet for keeping the child near while they sleep. Soft. Elegant. Feminine. Zelena will absolutely melt when she sees those.
I leave the bed for last. It'll have to be a four-poster, complete with the swags to match the window curtains. Silk or Satin? Silk. Pillows? Why yes, let's add one like that, and another like that, and another rolled one trimmed in cording.
Once I see it all, I brace myself for the rush and cast it forth. The cold blue tendrils of my power send ripples along my skin and set my scalp aflame. I do wonder if the mortals realize that my flames are cold, not hot. They'll flash freeze anything they touch, so they're deadly, but they do not burn. Sometimes they are challenging to control. I doubt mortals realize the effort I have to put forth to actually not kill them.
Once it's done, I wander around, inspecting everything. I want this to be impressive, so it has to be done just right. Zelena isn't all that complex – what I've done for her should knock her right out of those sexy heeled boots she's so fond of traipsing around in. Practicality – not a woman's specialty.
I add a mirror and matching vanity. Women like those. I am stuck on finalizing the bed though. For some reason I want that to be perfect, even though I have no intentions of sleeping within it.
Something deep within me clangs in discord. Yes you do.
"No," I say aloud. "I do not."
Lies. Yes you do – you want her. I growl in frustration. Ever since my heart started, I've been having these weird conflicts. I had forgotten how emotional hearts were. If I wasn't, well… me, I might have been a little worried. But who I am is who I am, and no fits of conscience are going to suddenly make me change my plans. I still need Zelena, and even after I don't need her, I might keep her around a while longer. Gods need their toys after all.
I study the bed again, angry with myself for caring so much about it when it clearly does not matter. No, I will leave it the way it is. I head downstairs and she hears me.
"Finished up there?"
"Yes," I tell her in my smooth voice, "and I do hope you like it."
She quips back, "Well, I hope you like pasta, because that's what I'm cooking."
Again with the mundane? "Zelena, you don't have to cook."
She looks pretty cute though, standing there in the kitchen, her hair slightly frizzy and her cheeks all pink. "Although…" I walk over to her and stand behind her. She leans right into me and I whisper to her, "I do like watching you be domesticated."
She turns in my arms and I kiss her – just because I can and it helps reel her in. However, in doing so - I feel it again, that base-level pull to her. It's the same as when I first found her, and when her kiss restarted my heart. It's making me dizzy, and gods do not get dizzy over mortal women.
Then she does something that knocks me for a loop. She starts running her fingers along my chest. I can feel my pulse start to quicken and my focus start to dim. And that's completely unacceptable.
I gesture at her pasta pot, making the water boil. That'll get her attention. "You're boiling," I tell her.
Ugh. Freudian slip. This heart thing – it's getting rather bothersome.
"Oops," she chirps. "Better get back to that. Will you check on her for me while I finish in here?"
She means the child. "Certainly. Anything for you."
When she serves me, I feel that twinge again. I squelch it back down and focus on the food. The pasta smells heavenly and tastes even better. Then again, I haven't been able to truly smell or taste anything for centuries; so I suspect even the worst meal would be ambrosia right about now.
She's watching me though, and that frustrating emotional part of me is now feeling self-conscious about it. I watch her in return, knowing that little brain of hers is churning away. Then pity crosses her pretty brow and I am pleased she figured it out. Yet another reason why she's so highly entertaining – she's extremely intelligent.
"No," I tell her, putting my fork down. "I couldn't taste food when I was in the Underworld." Hearing my reality out loud flares up more emotions – primarily embarrassment. "I had to eat, obviously, but mostly it tasted like … well, nothing." I really do sound pathetic.
Her tone is sincere and laden with sympathy. "I'm sorry."
Now I feel even more pathetic. She's looking down at her plate of pasta with a scowl, and I realize she feels guilty she didn't make me something better. This makes my annoying beating heart happy – it likes knowing someone else cares. But I've had enough.
"I like spaghetti." I tell her. Then I attempt to turn the tides. With a smile I say, "And this, this is probably the best I've ever had."
I wait for her face to go all soft, but then she snarks, "Well, I'm glad you liked it."
Huh. Not quite what I expected. Maybe she's catching on? Nah…
Just in case, I put on the gentleman act and offer to clear the table, since she did the cooking. She declines and honestly, that's fine by me. I make my way to the main room, and once I'm in my chair, I realize I forgot the ottoman. With a wave I fix that, and then call forth the Iliad for a little light reading. Homer always cracks me up.
But I can't seem to make it through one page. All I hear is Zelena off in the kitchen, going through her little domestication routine. I watch her with hooded eyes over the leather rim of the book. She's a bundle of raw energy, and I have to dart back to the book quickly when she turns and looks at me. I try to play it cool and casual. I tell myself I'm only watching her because she's something new and entertaining.
Lies again. You are such a liar.
Okay this nonsense is really going to have to stop.
oooooooooooooooo
I actually do make it through a few pages and when I look up to check on Zelena again, she's gone from the kitchen. I hear faint murmurings and realize she must be taking care of the child. I walk over to the far room, the one where the baby's things are, and I'm stopped dead in my tracks when I see her.
She is a madonna. There is a glow cast around her from the late day sunlight reflecting through the windows, setting her hair aflame and making her skin white as porcelain. She's content and smiling, completely focused on the little girl in her arms. Gone is the wickedness that makes her beautiful; the love she has for her daughter is making her radiant.
Those new emotions start screaming. Want. Mine. They are hard to stop this time. She's heavenly. She's everything I'll never be, and the contrast is enough to jar me significantly off balance. She finally notices me idling in the doorway, and when her light eyes meet mine, it sends a jolt right down to my core.
Her voice is soft. "She's almost done. It's getting dark too. I think after this she'll be able to sleep again – at least for a while."
I nod, afraid to speak. I just watch, mute, as she finishes feeding the child and wrapping her up in her pink blanket. She heads upstairs and I follow her, unbidden but drawn in regardless. When she's almost at the top, I realize she hasn't seen what I did up here yet.
"I do hope you like it," I tell her softly. Nervousness creeps up my spine, highly unwelcome but present just the same. I desperately want her approval of what I created, and that is not a good thing at all.
She halts at the top of the stairs, and doesn't say anything. Seconds pass, nearly a minute, and she hasn't said a word. The influx of nerves is now racing up and down my back and my stomach feels weird. Part of me wants to cry out, 'Well do you like it or what?' but I'm trying to fight it. It's a losing battle and anxiety almost wins until I hear her say: ""Oh Hades, it's beautiful."
Score one for the God of Death; I got her.
"Not nearly as much as you," I purr as I approach her. "But I thought it turned out rather nice."
"You thought of everything I'd need, didn't you?" She turns towards me and those crystalline eyes are swimming in love and trust. "How do I thank you for this?"
Yes indeed, score one for me. "Knowing you're happy is enough," I coo at her.
She's doe-eyes again, until the child stirs in her arms. "Sorry little one," she says to it, "I promise I'll get better at this." She settles the baby into the bassinet I made, and I can tell she's pleased with it. I watch her place a gentle kiss on the infant's head and murmur, "Goodnight, sweet pea," with such genuine affection that it's stirring me up again.
When she turns towards me, there's a different kind of fire in her words. "Now," she says while tracing a finger down my shirt, "you ready to resume our 'conversation' from earlier?"
The pull to her has become magnetic. "Zelena…"
She kisses me and I let myself enjoy it, just for a bit. It is rather intoxicating, and part of me wonders if this is a side effect of the True Love part of that kiss. I'm drawn to her neck, the creamy skin there. She gasps when I nip at her and that starts to make me lose focus again. I have to put a stop to this. I break away from her and she's now a fiery siren, the beams from the setting sun turning her hair a burning copper. It does wonders for her eyes, and her skin, and outlining the fantastic curves of her body.
Want. Need. Now. MINE.
She grasps my shirt with her hands and starts to lead me towards the bed. I freeze in place. No. Not happening. I have rules - and for good reasons.
She's looking at me, confused. She gestures towards the bed and says "That-a-way, 'kay?"
No. Hell No.
Oh Hell Yes.
I'm too distracted by the civil war between my mind and my heart to pay attention to her, but she yanks me right back into reality by saying, "I'll take care of prevention, if that's what you're worried about. It's a simple spell."
Yikes. I hadn't even thought about that. This is getting way out of hand.
"No." I struggle with how to say this without hurting her, and that sends me into another conflict because I am not supposed to care. "I…we…"
Her voice is faint, afraid. "Hades…?"
Guilt floods me, and with it comes the definition of the magnetic pull to her – lust. I'm lusting after her and I care about her and neither is acceptable. I cannot give in to this.
I say it like it is. "I cannot stay with you tonight."
She is so hurt. "What?"
"I need to go, Zelena. Trust me – it's best if I leave." She has to trust me on this one, she has no idea what she's in for if it goes the other way. "I will come for you tomorrow," I tell her, attempting to be charismatic, but failing miserably.
She's speaking through tears now. "Why are you doing this?"
I can't face her. I just need to go, because if I stay in this blasted house one more second, I'm going to lose it. She repeats it. "Why?"
This is entirely too much emotion for me. I am leaving. I hear her footsteps behind me and when she touches my shoulder, the contact sends a shiver up my spine.
"Hades," she pleads, "I don't understand."
My newly beating heart cracks at this. I turn and due to the confinement along the stairwell, I brush against her. It burns, causing my pulse to pound in my ears.
We can't do this. I can't do this. She needs to let me go. "Zelena…"
She takes my face in her soft hands and kisses me. I fight it with everything I have, forcing myself ramrod straight and unresponsive. I see the anger flare in her eyes and there is something else, something I can't describe.
My world dims when I hear her, loud and clear. "I love you."
Why'd she have to go and say that? Doesn't she understand that I'm not meant for love? I am a God of Chaos, a God of Destruction. I do not love. I only needed her to break me free and get me aboveground. The plan was to use her until I've gained enough power to start my new realm of chaos. If I keep her beyond that, it is for entertainment purposes only – not love. I do not love her.
Liar.
No. I do not love anything.
You love her.
Those were words I said to influence her and gain her trust. It was all lies.
Truths. You love her. You loved her then, you love her now. You have always loved her.
If I let her love me, it will destroy her.
Wrong. It will heal you.
That's a terrifying thought. I blink and her lips are on mine, fierce and demanding. I need to reach for her, cling to her, lose myself in her – and yet that is the last thing I want to do. I feel her body press against mine, and lust flares within me, igniting something deep in my gut that starts to burn – hot. Things long dormant spring to life, beating and pulsing with a need long suppressed. I cannot ignore it, and I cannot fight it any longer.
I have to have her. I will have her.
We clamber back up the stairs and I am ripping off my shirt and shrugging out of my pants and shoes in record time, casting them into a messy pile on the floor. I'm yanking off my socks when it occurs to me I could have used my power to do this. It's too late now, and when I return my focus to Zelena she is naked before me, a goddess in the waning light.
Truly, she could be a god. Maybe I should find a way to make her one. She presses against me and my mind and heart bind together into a single focus – her. Base instinct takes over – the raw, carnal energy of yin and yang drawing us into one another.
I maneuver us back to the bed, and she purrs as the silken duvet touches her back. I knew she'd love it. I climb on top of her and the contact of her skin against mine is searing. My head is spinning, dizzy and drunk over the sight, sound and feel of her. My pulse is throbbing in my ears, and elsewhere. The atmosphere around us is charged - tense with anticipation.
She shifts underneath me and I can feel her. My body twitches in response and I freeze. If we do this, if I make love to her, we can never go back. The act of coupling with a god can have implications for both mortal and god alike if it is more than just a sexual act. Others have mentioned this – warned of this. It's almost an unspoken rule with immortals. I know what I do with her now will be more than me acting on a need, and I fear it. I don't know what will happen.
I lose it when she roughly scrapes her fingers down my back. She is everything I am, and everything I'm not. I am done fighting this. I want her. I want her panting and breathless beneath me and goddammit I will have her!
I plunge myself into her softness and instantly feel the synergy, the merging of her soul into mine. It's heated, fiery, and powerful - filled with torrents of love, hope and pain. I can feel her beneath me, every inch of her lost to me, surrendering to me. This is a foreign type of power that brings with it a pleasure I've never experienced before. Nothing compares. Centuries of life, and this one woman is outshining everything I've ever known.
I let go. I let instinct take over and we become primal – male and female. It's achingly beautiful in its simplicity and I let our bodies join in the natural ebb and flow of the energies around us. Each touch, each movement brings with it a new and searing pleasure that drowns out everything around me. I feel her body tense beneath mine, and I want nothing more than to please her, to comfort her, to bring her the equivalent of what she's doing to my heart, body and soul. I shift slightly within her and drive myself deeper. It doesn't take long before she crashes against me, each wave pulling me under until I finally succumb to it as well; a sharp spike of ecstasy that fires off every nerve and shoots stars across my vision.
I have enough conscious thought to twist away from her so I don't crush her. I am spent, drained and lack the ability to do much else other than lay here against the cool silk and let my soul swim in the afterglow.
I feel her fingers touch mine, and I let her take my hand into hers. Her touch is light, cautious perhaps, and I wonder if it was the same for her, if it was new and foreign and beautiful. I'm unsure if mortals are capable of that kind of depth.
I feel the mark of her within me, where her soul mingled with mine. There is an echo, feather-light – a piece of her that I wonder if is truly lost to her, or perhaps shared. Did the same happen to her? Has a part of my soul been left in her as well?
I turn over to study her in the darkness. I see little, although she turns to face me as well. I doubt she understands what happened. I kiss her lightly on her forehead. She has now become special to me, and although my heart is overjoyed by it, my rational mind is deeply concerned. I will have to think of ways to turn this to my advantage, and not let my need for her become my weakness.
Perhaps I can make her a god. Feed her ambrosia. Perhaps she will come along willingly, and we can rule together. The idea has appeal; she is not a token bit of fluff but a strong, powerful woman. Intelligent. Gifted. Clever. I could do a lot worse. Having her at my side would be an asset, not a liability as I originally thought.
There is the baby though. Zelena is a mother – she will not give up that child. Oh well, we'll just have to bring the little one along. If she needs a nursemaid, I'll get one for her.
Then there's Regina and the motley crew of heroes that toddle along with her. Zelena won't give up her sister, either.
I sigh heavily in frustration. None of this will work. Either I give up Zelena or I give up my goals. I can't do either now. What have I done? This was not part of the plan. In all honestly, I should have known better. I should have realized the implications of creating a True Love's Kiss scenario. There are consequences to meddling in magic that deep, and I ignored them all. The need to be free of Zeus's curse made me blind to everything else. The mistake here is mine, and mine alone.
A soft snore breaks my train of thought. I can see somewhat well in the dark, but the inky blackness of the room makes it difficult to make out the details of the woman lying next to me. My heart sings when I look at her though, even in the shadows.
"I love you," I whisper to her. "I mean it this time. And I'm sorry for it. I am sorry that I did this to you, and to me."
Insight floods me, or maybe this is what it means to care. "You deserve a happy ending and you will not have that with me. But we are bound together now. I don't know what that will mean for you. " I smirk at the thought. "Probably nothing good."
I reach out for where I believe her hair to be, and am comforted by it's softness. I run my fingers idly through it, careful not to wake her. "Forgive me, Zelena. I was weak and blind, many times. I knew the risks and ignored them. You most likely will never understand, but I am truly, truly sorry."
She stirs slightly beneath my touch, and I freeze, sharply afraid that she is awake, that she heard the soliloquy I never intended for her to consciously hear. Her breathing remains steady, so I can only assume she remained asleep. I turn away from her and try to sleep myself, but my mind is still reeling. This is going to take some time.
I must eventually drift off, because the next thing I know, someone is pulling on the duvet beneath me. Zelena is awake, and trying to get into the bed. I can only assume she woke to take care of her daughter. Intriguing that I slept through it.
There is a chill in the room. The temperature outside must have dropped rather significantly. She tugs again at the duvet.
"Cold?"
I can tell I surprised her. "I'm sorry," she whispers, "Didn't want to wake you."
Her concern is genuine. Damn if I don't want her again. "You didn't answer me. Are you cold?"
"Yes." I hear the compliance, the submission. It's one hell of a turn on.
"Come here."
She snuggles up next to me; the chill of her skin sending shivers right through me. "Mmm…" she murmurs happily.
I know she's tired, and probably not up for what I have in mind, but I can't help but touch her. "Zelena… you are beautiful."
"Mmm…thank you. You're not so bad yourself."
"Nothing like you. Truly a masterpiece." I brush her hair away and kiss her softly on her shoulder. I want her, badly. If I could envelop myself around her and keep her with me always, I would. "Sleep," I tell her lightly. "Just sleep."
As she drifts off, content and happy in my arms, I realize I've created a whole new kind of hell for myself. But … it will work out. I will find a way to fix all this. I will find a way to guarantee that she and I will have everything we ever wanted.
