A/N: Sorry folks – short chapter after a week of waiting. I apologize. Also, there isn't much plot in this one, so I apologize for that too.

Chapter 21: Dark Thrones

CORA

I'm walking on bronze floors and through stone hallways. There are ornate tapestries on the dark walls; scenes of battles and crownings and beautiful sunsets. I am wearing an elegant white dress with patterns of shining green leaves flowing down from the neckline and waist to the hem. I walk further and further into the hallway and it gets wider and branches off into other paths and rooms. I reach the end, walking underneath the tall arch into a huge chamber, dark but elegant. There are steps to left that lead down a path with a gigantic set of onyx double-doors, inlaid with what looks like silver and gold. In front of me is a solitary black throne, harsh and cold-looking…

No wait, not solitary – there is another throne, a little smaller, but black too; covered with gold floral stems and precious gems. It's…soft, almost.

They're the thrones of a dark king and queen, and this place is their dark palace.

Dark, but…not evil.

I keep walking towards the thrones. I don't know why. People do strange things in dreams, y'know?

The bronze is cool beneath my bare feet. As I walk there, I see shadows move around me; shapes of people, of old memories, and even as I get closer to the thrones, I start to see the shadow of a man in the king's seat. From what little I can make out, he's leaning his head on his chin. I can't see any distinguishable features on his face as I step in front of him.

He really is a shadow.

And the weird thing? I don't see the shadow of his queen seated next to him. He's completely alone. He points with his other hand, and I turn my head to see what I think he's looking at.

I gasp. The area beyond the steep steps is completely filled with shadows. Thousands. No.

Millions. I don't know how I didn't notice all of them when I first looked there before, but damn – that's a lot of people. The shadow-king shifts in his seat, and I get this weird urge to sit in the queen's throne beside him.

I must be having a mental breakdown – I'm dreaming about being a queen like a little girl dreams about being a princess. I'm too old for this crap.

But even though my logic says doing it is dumb, my dream makes me do it anyway, and when I sit, the colors become even more shining and saturated than they were before. And when I look out at the crowd, I can see their faces; drawn and sad…and dead?

Because even though I can tell that they're people, they're dark blue and transparent. They look like ghosts.

Sitting in this dark throne adorned with elaborate carvings and etchings, things feel…true. Like I'm supposed to be here.

Like this is my throne.

I look to my left, and my shadow-king has gotten more definition, too. I can see that he's wearing dark blue robes; see that he's got a thick silver ring on his right middle finger; I can even see his silver crown, resting on a head of thick raven-black hair.

I can see all that, but I can't see his face.

Even when he turns to look at me, I can't see his face. Everything is blurry and faded. Then his hand reaches across towards mine, capturing me and holding me in his gaze; and when I start to finally see his features, finally start to see him, my dream ends.

It ends because I can feel Hank kissing down my neck, caressing with light touches down the lengths of my sides.

And it's fantastic and wonderful and perfect, but when I open my eyes, see the soft rays of early-morning light coming in through the blinds, I start to cry.

I start to cry, because this is how Leland was. How he used to be.

And all my memories of him are hitting me at once: the good times, the bad times, and the ugly times.

I'm letting this guy into my life – a guy who I like, who it's so easy to be around – but who I don't really know.

No matter how much I feel like I know him – like I've known him for years – I don't.

I don't know him.

I don't know him and…what if…what if he hurts me? Takes my heart that runs like crazy when I'm with him, and crushes it?

Or worse, what if he hurts Jim? Is this guy just using me? Have I just been using him?

He stops, noticing me crying. "What's wrong?" he asks, breathing into my ear. I feel his heavy warmth on me; his hard chest, his protective arms, and that makes everything worse…

"Cora." I can see him looking down at me through blurry tears. He's worried; concerned and even cute, and he reminds me of my shadow-king. "Cora, what's wrong?"

What is wrong? I…don't know…

No, that's not true…I do know.

"I don't want to get hurt." I don't want you to hurt me.

He gets…sad, I think, leaning back on his haunches. He's straddled over my thighs.

"You think I'll hurt you," he says. I don't think he's really saying it to me; more to himself, and he starts to shake his head. He looks…lost.

I lean back against the pillows, wipe some of the tears still streaming from my eyes. I probably look like a huge mess.

"I'm sorry, Hank," I say, somehow friggin' managing to get past my hitching breath and sobs. "It's…it's just…I've been hurt before. And I don't think I can go through that again." He puts his face in his hands, breathing out. He sounds like he's in pain.

HADES

She does not trust me. After everything, she still does not trust me.

She still does not know me.

And perhaps this is a lingering effect of Aphrodite's spell, because I felt like a dagger has just pierced my chest.

I look at her, weeping and hugging a pillow, and come to realize that this mortal life has truly damaged her.

Damaged her in a way that I may not ever be able to heal.

She is just as broken as I am.

"I'm so-so-sorr-sorry, Hank." She hugs the pillow tighter, breathing in raggedly. I reach out to touch her face, and she flinches.

I will earn her trust.

"Cora," I whisper, getting closer to her. "Cora, I'm not going to hurt you." This time, she allows me to touch her face, and I wipe off the tears streaking down her cheeks with the pads of my thumbs.

She smiles sadly at me. "How can you say that? Can you predict the future, Hank?" The world has been cruel to you, but I will not.

"Somebody told me once," I say, kissing her forehead, "that everybody falls. What matters is whether or not you get back up again." I kiss her cheeks, and her breath hitches again.

"Hank…"

"I'm not going to hurt you, Cora."

CORA

He kisses my lips then, tenderly and softly; and here, surrounded by his smell and his arms, and him, I feel connected to something bigger. Like this is supposed to be, as silly as it sounds. But I'm not ready to let this guy into my heart…

Am I?

After only a week, can I trust him this much? How is it even possible? How is possible to have feelings like this; feelings now that when I think about them, feel like they've always been there, buried and waiting for… him. He keeps kissing me, and I feel him place a gentle hand on my sternum.

"Lie back," he says between a kiss. And I listen, because he's gentle and kind, and not Leland.

He kisses down my neck, running his hands up underneath my nightshirt, caressing my breasts and lifting the shirt up over my head. His kisses leave a hot trail to my chest, on my breasts and I'm pretty sure I'm starting to pant. He curses in Greek when I moan, and I…understand it. I'm pretty sure he says "fuck". "Fuck" or something like it, and groans as he says it. Him and Bobby should have a conversation in Greek. I'd pay to watch that.

And then he keeps going, down towards my stomach, kissing my belly button, before moving even lower. And crap, is that my loud breathing? He gradually pulls off my pajama bottoms, and I see him briefly clutch his thigh with his other hand. Pretty soon my pajama pants are gone, and he's still in his shirt and sweats, and I can see him straining against his sweats.

He shuffles back a little bit, leans forward onto his elbows again. What the hell are you trying to do, Hank?

Then he starts kissing the insides of my thighs.

Oh. That's what you're doing. His hands run up the lengths of my thighs, gently but firmly, and his ministrations make me sigh. His kisses move up and down between my thighs, and his hands reach up to my belly, massaging it. His beard is soft beside my skin.

"Hank," I say, somehow managing to form a word through the heavy pleasure built up in my brain. "Hank, you don't have to –"

Then he pulls off my panties, not roughly, but fast – leaving no room for argument.

"I want to, Cora," he says, his breath cool against my overheated core. And then I feel his tongue there, licking me in long, thick strokes and are those stars in front of my eyes?

Then he goes back to kissing the inside of my thighs and I make a frustrated groan because that is not okay. He chuckles when he hears me, and his cool, puffing breaths there send shivers down my spine.

Then he blows softly across my skin before kissing me there again and I dig my fingers into his hair.

"Hank." And he keeps himself there, running his hands up my thighs and stomach as I see the occasional involuntary buck of his hips into the bed.

Then he sticks his tongue in, and I'm pretty sure my toes are curling.

"Oh God, what are you doing to me, Hank?" When I say it, it's really not that coherent. It comes out in a series of hitched breathes and moans that get louder and louder with each flick of his tongue.

This is the most intimate thing I've ever done with someone. Leland never did this.

And here I am, in bed with a man who I've only known for a week, engaged in probably the most intimate thing two people can do.

And I …love it.

I'm starting to feel that pulse; that exquisite fire starting to build up.

"Don't. Don't. St-stop, Hank." Yeah, those words don't come out nearly as coherent as that, either. And then it happens. That explosion, that peak where your vision gets all blurry and you feel like you're floating on a cloud, and even if you cry out like a banshee, you don't care because you've just had the most intense orgasm of your life.

I look up, and as my breathing and heart rate start to go down, I see him hovering above me, smiling softly at me. Smiling beautifully at me.

"You taste magnificent," he says in a light tone.

I laugh, best I can in the breathless state I'm in. "I wouldn't know." My eyelids feel heavy, and he lies next to me, bringing me close to his chest. He kisses my head. "Cora, I'm not… going to hurt you. I need you to know that." His voice is soft and somber, and the rays of sunlight coming in through the blinds are bright. I lay my head on his chest, nodding.

"What time is it?" I ask after a few minutes. I feel so safe here.

"7:30," he answers.

I snuggle closer and his arms wrap around me tightly.

"I was thinking about taking Jim out today," he says, nonchalantly.

I smile. "You guys are getting along, huh."

"For the most part," he says, hugging me closer. He hears me yawn, and he kisses the top of my head. "You need your space," he whispers. "Him and I will go out and –"

"Do man-things?"

He chuckles. "Exactly." My eyes start to close. "That's cool. Rachel invited me to have lunch with her around 2:00-" I yawn, not finishing my sentence.

His strong arms hold me around my waist. "Sleep, Cora," he says. "I'll be right here..." And so I sleep, and when I do, I see my-shadow king, seated on a throne of dark stone, say to me through his icy-blue eyes, "I will never hurt you."

They're the only things I can see on his face.

And because of those eyes, I believe him.

I believe him because they're Hank's eyes.

And even as the palace begins to crumble around us, his hand is holding mine and his eyes are locked right onto mine.

In this dream, I know we'll protect each other.

A/N: Sorry for slow updates. I'll do better.