"Never," Teyla moaned, so softly that Stephen wondered if he had imagined it. "Not...in…ten thousand…lifetimes!" She panted hard with the effort of each word, and with each word her voice grew stronger. She began to thrash her head to and fro, struggling to break loose of the creature's control over here, succeeding enough to take a few stumbling steps forward, and raising her face towards Stephen.
Dark were the trails of tears upon her fair cheeks, colored by the heavy kohl that lined her eyes. "Beloved," she husked, her deep wine stained lips trembling with the strain of her defiance, "By my soul I swear…it will never be so!" It took Stephen every ounce of discipline in his veins to keep from flying to her side; he could feel her agony, felt it branded upon his heart—but to act too soon would only bring disaster. If she could just manage a few more steps away from the malevolent beast, he might open a portal between them and send her to safety.
But Hades was wily—surely with some awareness of the mystic tools at Strange's disposal—acting swiftly to prevent that sort of rescue. He closed his claw into a fist so tight that black ichor welled up where the tips of his talons rent his own decrepit flesh, splattering the base of his throne, and leaving smoking gauges in their wake.
"Wizard," it intoned, "Submit yourself to my justice now, and I may go easier on her than I had planned." Hades chortled, the sound like dozens of nails dragged across chalkboard. "I have needs, you see; lusts that must be sated. As my captive, your precious one will yield the carnal satisfaction I desire—and the harder she fights my incursions, the greater will be my pleasure in the taking." He opened his claw, and twirled one digit in the air, causing Teyla to spin and face him; she floated a few feet higher, so that her head was inches from the dark cloud obscuring Hades' face. "Come, little one," came his sinister command, "Come and taste your future upon my tongue!"
The darkness sent tendrils threading through her hair, then pulled her close and completely surrounded her head. Stephen heard Teyla's scream in his mind before the sound reached his ears. His own magic crackled around him, an electric current begging to be released. The seconds dragged on relentlessly, and still he could ascertain no weakness that would allow him to attack and defeat the beast. Shame and remorse—those old burdens which Teyla's love had taught him he need no longer bear—flooded his chest. How could he be so useless to save the woman who had revealed to him the value of his own soul? Soon he must act, despite the overwhelming odds of failure, chancing both their lives, if only to end her suffering—or take the deal that Hades had proffered.
Humming lasciviously, the creature cast Teyla at his feet, where she lay in a motionless heap. "Faithless you are, Doctor Strange, to allow me such liberty!" it jibed, "Spells I have at my disposal that can deaden her senses to the full force of the depravities that she will endure. In my awesome magnanimity, I will grant her this mercy—if you surrender yourself…NOW!"
The wicked boom of its voice reverberated around Stephen, pushing him back two steps—but no further, as Stephen asserted that same will which had given him the strength to die a thousand times at the hands of Dormanmmu, so that Earth would be preserved. Hades' minions—who had been lingering just out of sight at the edges of the great hall, finally made themselves known, their caustic tittering surrounding Stephen in the swells of their madness. He had sensed them all along, knowing they were waiting to move in upon their master's command, another vicious obstacle to overcome if her were to save his sweet Teyla. Cloak billowed around him, spoiling for action, eager to take on all comers in the impending battle. Soon, Stephen reminded his steadfast ally; on my signal, and no sooner, if we are to have any hope of success, my friend.
Beyond any expectation, Teyla's voice came to him then, this time as a pure, bright whisper in his mind. I have found a weakness, Beloved…Stephen…hear me, please…and we will both survive the battle to come…
Stunned, he paused a moment, gauging the truth of their connection, needing to be certain it was not an illusion set by Hades as a trap. Teyla, honey, he sent back-careful not to let his face tip his hand—is this really you?
By the blessed light of the Sister-Moons, I swear that it is me! With those words, she sent a wave of love so strong that it filled his heart with vital understanding—she was conscious as she lay at Hades' feet, she was strong enough to bear the tasks ahead, she had full faith that Stephen would triumph over the darkness.
He is foolish and over-proud, Beloved. In the intimacy of that vile kiss, his mind became open to my empathetic gift. And because he is bloated with vanity, he could not feel as I probed his mind's depths. Stephen felt her shiver as she pushed away the memory of the horrors she had encountered there.
Buoyed by the hope that came with her revelation, and by the fact that she had broken through the barrier which Hades had created between their minds, Stephen reached out his mind to hers. Tell me, Teyla. Tell me quickly, and I promise he will pay for everything he has done to you…