A/N: Happy September! Thanks for sticking with me still. Two weeks is a long time between posts, I know, but I've been using the time wisely. I've made sure to work on the story a little every day after my homework. Pharmacology is already crazy, and I'm only two weeks in. This story provides a well-needed respite from going too mad with everything.
Here is your long-awaited chapter, in more ways than one!
Chapter 21: Breaking Point
Everyone has a breaking point. Hades should know; he'd been broken several times. He was used to the breaking of his body, mind and soul. He was familiar with the snap of his temper when it flared. During the course of his judging, he had experienced broken lives and broken lands. His first eons in the Underworld had been spent breaking a lot of things. He had learned to recognize when he was approaching that fragile line. On this side, control and order. On the other, broken madness.
He knew what it was to flirt with that line, and to bull past it recklessly. This time when his control broke, it was as softly as a slowly eroding bank. Grain by grain he was swept away, until he toppled with a soundless crash. He wondered if being broken so many times before had strengthened his ability resist, or made it inevitable that he would fall. Either way, his control was well and truly broken. He was so far over the line he couldn't even feel where it had been.
Persephone had been in the Underworld for six weeks. And he could no longer be silent on his emotions. She had wound her way into his heart within days of being in his kingdom. It had taken this long for his resolve to leave her alone to shatter. Maybe he could have held back if she wasn't so determined. Over the last several weeks, he had witnessed an amazing transformation in her. She had gone from a terrified maiden to a confident young woman. In the first weeks of her stay, she had frightened him with her apparent lethargy. Not only had she recovered from her lethargy, but she had grown stronger as well.
The way that his advisors treated her had also changed. They had always been civil to her, but there was an underlying amusement. It was like they didn't think she belonged in their world, and were only indulging her interest. Now there was mutual respect between them. When Hecate or Thanatos spoke about his realm, Persephone asked astute questions and committed the answer to memory. As time went on, Hades realized this wasn't a passing fancy to her; she genuinely wanted to know everything about the Underworld. How could he not fall more in love with her?
It was his day off, and he had decided to tell her how he felt. What happened next would be up to her. If she felt nothing for him, he would release her from all obligation to share his company. If she wanted to leave the Underworld, he would escort her back to Demeter. His realm would then suffer for his negligence, for he would remain in the mortal world. He would protect Persephone from his place in the shadows. It was the only way he could keep her safe. She might not want anything to do with him, but he would not abandon her. She need never know of his interference. And if by happy chance, she returned his regard… He had scarcely dreamed the joy that could be his.
She sat through the judging with him. Afterward she crawled into his lap to nurse him back to life. He vowed it would be the last time they did this. If she felt nothing for him, he could no longer obligate her to help him. And if she did feel something for him, it would be the last time they cuddled without him kissing her senseless.
He finally recovered. They rose together. Automatically Persephone took his hand and intertwined their fingers. He loved how free she was with her touch. His heart ached at the thought that soon he might have to give that up. On the other hand, how much better could it get if they became acknowledged lovers? Not that Hades was going to take advantage of her. Above all else, he would do right by her. He wasn't the sort of man to engage in meaningless flirtations. That was what had convinced him to speak up. After living with him for so long, he was aware of the damage done to her reputation, not to mention the growing closeness between them. She had to have noticed his reaction to her. She deserved an explanation, if nothing else.
She turned down the path to the stables by habit, but he stopped her with a tug on her hand. She turned back to him inquisitively.
"Actually, I was thinking of doing something different today," he began. He felt a thrill of nervousness. There was one last part of himself he wanted to show her. He was no longer holding anything back.
"Okay," she agreed. Her eyes were shining with curiosity. She was so willing to follow him. That much trust humbled him, and gave him a responsibility to never lead her into harm. He smiled and touched her cheek fondly. A small sigh escaped her lips as she leaned into him. His pulse jumped erratically. They needed to get out of here before they didn't leave, or he wouldn't be responsible for his actions.
He led her through the palace to the tallest tower. A long staircase of winding jasper was set into the walls, and they began to climb it. There was no guardrail, so his shadow paced her protectively. The staircase spiraled onward, almost endless in appearance. He checked back on her frequently, but she didn't appear fatigued. The stairs went on steadily, circling the tower as they rose. There were no landings to rest on. The tower was lit by torches set into the walls every dozen steps or so, giving the stairs a half-shadowed, mysterious glow.
"What is this place?" Persephone's voice echoed when she asked.
He smiled over his shoulder at her. "You'll see," he said, deliberately teasing. Even though he had been up this tower before, had in fact built it, it still took a ridiculously long time to reach the top. But then, it wasn't the tallest tower for nothing. The roof of the tower pressed down on their heads. Anyone looking down from that height was almost guaranteed to get dizzy by both the height and the twisting stairs below them. He started to warn Persephone against it, but she was leaning against the wall, breathing hard, pressed as far from the edge as possible.
There was a trap door above them. He pushed on it, and they took the last few steps onto the top of the tower. By that time, both of them needed a moment to catch their breaths. The top of the tower was a flat circle perhaps twenty paces in diameter. A crenelated wall surrounded them, providing protection from a long drop below. All the torches from the town made a smoky haze around them. There was no natural wind in the Underworld, but Hades had long ago created a slight updraft over his town and palace to vent the smoke away from them. It kept the air from becoming too oppressive, even for ghosts.
As they recovered, Persephone drew near the wall to look out. Hades merely watched her. She studied the view, unaware of how she was being studied as well. It was the opposite of their overlook. There, the gentle light of the fields surrounded them, while the town and palace were a faint orange glow in the distance. Here, the world was lit by hundreds of torches, casting garish, flickering light over everything. The fields, a naturally fainter light to begin with, were barely a glimmer on the horizon. It was like the difference between looking at the stars in the middle of a lowland city, filled with fires and smoke, and looking at them on a mountain top on a clear night. Hades had had a long time to compare each view, and he knew which he preferred. He wondered which one was her favorite.
"It's pretty," she commented, "But I think I like our overlook better. Does that bother you?"
"Not at all," he said warmly. He agreed with her completely. But the view wasn't the reason he'd brought her up here. His shadow shifted behind him. His heart drummed nervously. He had no doubts about what he was going to do, but he hoped she understood what it meant to him. She finally cast a glance over her shoulder at him, and gasped. Her mouth dropped open in wonder as she turned to face him.
"You're going to fly?" she asked, eyes wide in delight. His shadow stretched from his back in the form of huge, dark wings. She hadn't seen them since her first day.
"I'd like to take you flying," he offered, trying to make it sound casual.
"Really?" her voice squeaked in excitement. "Can I touch them?" She half-reached toward his shadow-wings but hesitated. He hid a smile in amusement. She was already familiar with his shadow, but for some reason putting them in this shape made them new again. He extended one shadow-wing the rest of the way toward her. She tentatively stroked her hands over it. He closed his eyes against the soft whisper-touch against his shadow. She was the only one who wasn't afraid to touch him so intimately. Everyone else was frightened of his shadow, or it felt too uncomfortable. Persephone's touch was a taste of Elysium.
"Does it bother you when I touch them?" she asked in concern, raising her hand from his shadow.
He opened his eyes and shook his head. "Give me your hand," he said. She placed her hand in his. He stretched out her arm and ghosted his palm over her flesh, barely stirring the fine hairs on her skin.
"That's what it feels like," he told her.
She shivered. "I like it."
"So do I," he admitted, smiling in invitation. "Are you ready to go flying?"
"What do I do?"
"You'll have to hold tight to me," he warned in advance.
"I don't mind," she looped her arms around his neck. He rested his hands on her hips and guided her backward until she hit one of the crenelations. He lifted her on top of it, her head now a couple inches taller than his. She looked over the edge of the wall nervously and instinctively tightened her hold on him, even though she was in no danger of falling off. The wall was thicker than his arm, so she would have to be trying in order to go over the edge. Of course, when one purposely jumped off the tower, that was a different story altogether. Now for the part that was likely to test his control the most.
"Put your legs around me," he instructed, trying to sound professional and not like he was seducing the woman he loved. She did as he asked, and he had to take a moment so he wouldn't embarrass himself. He tried not to think of her flowers-and-rain scent, or her warmth as she held onto him. She absolutely deserved to have an understand from him after this.
"Hold on," he warned. She tightened her grip on him, and he wrapped his arms securely around her middle. He stepped onto the low part of the wall, carrying her with him, and then the high point. He moved to the edge until he could grip it with his toes.
"Are you ready?" he asked.
"If you are," she replied.
With that he flexed his knees and jumped off the wall of the tower. Persephone screamed, nearly deafening him. It threatened to distract him from getting them into the air. He'd never taken another person flying. Her weight was slight, but it was enough to throw off his balance. He spread his shadow-wings, but they were still going too fast. He reached out to power of the Underworld, and it answered him. His wings grew thicker and longer. A glowing skeleton of blue-white Underworld light spread through his shadow, giving him a fiendish look. They caught the air at last, and their sharp descent slowed.
He steadied out over the town, and flew with heavy wingbeats toward the fields. He was able refine the size and shape of his wings as they went; the wings he used to carry himself were inadequate to carry another person with him. It wasn't only Persephone's weight, but the drag of her body against the wind, and the way clinging to her made him less agile. It was a dozen little things he'd never considered, but that he had to take into consideration.
When he first began flying, his wings had been huge and clumsy. It was only with experience—and study of mortal bird wings—that had enabled him to develop something graceful. He went through the same process now, only with experience behind him. When he was finished, his shadow-wings, though still larger than his usual ones, had the elegant angles of a raptor. Not only did they look better, but they were better made for flying. Once he was confident that they weren't about to drop out of the sky, he was free to look down at his passenger.
Persephone's face was pressed to his neck for protection. The wind snatched at her, but she seemed to have no problem holding onto him. Of course, that might have been because of the death-grip he had on her. Her breath puffed out in warm bursts on his neck. He felt her heart pounding against her ribs, pressed so close to him it was like her heartbeat was in his chest as well. He worried she was too frightened, but she began to slowly raise her head to look around. Her jaw fell slack at the sight of the fields passing quickly below them, and her grip loosened.
"Don't let go," he warned into her ear. A fall from this height and speed wouldn't kill the goddess, but it would hurt a lot. That was the last thing he wanted on today of all days. She tightened her hold on his neck.
"Don't want to choke you," she replied, struggling to speak against the wind. Her words felt like soft kisses on his skin before dying away.
"You're not," he assured her. Even if she cut off all his air, he would prefer it to letting her go. He circled lazily over the fields, letting her adjust to the movement of his body and wings. Her rain-and-flower scent mixed with the fragrance of growing things, until he felt as though they were not in the Underworld at all. She was his personal sun, the warmth of her body making him feel alive like never before.
He began to beat his wings harder, slowly rising. "Be prepared," he warned, and started a series of shallow dives. He practiced with her weight, learning the new limits when he was carrying someone else. It took longer to stop, longer to get up to speed again. His turns weren't as crisp as when he was by himself. He took a certain delight in the way Persephone gasped each time they dropped, even though he was being very gentle compared to how he could fly. Sometimes she would let out a startled cry, or giggle nervously against him, sending shivers through his entire body. In fact, she was about to find out what real flying was like. He had a good grasp on what he could do with her, and he was eager to show off for her.
"Is this alright?" he asked first.
"Yeah," she nodded.
"Are you ready for more?"
She looked up at him, biting her lip from excitement or fear. It drew his attention to her mouth. He wanted to reach down and taste her, to nibble that lip for her. He almost missed it when she nodded, and he had to forcibly pull his attention back to flying. Once more he began circling, beating powerfully for altitude. The Underworld wasn't physically under the surface of the earth. It was far too large for that, though it was connected to the earth's underground caverns. There was no ceiling as such to his realm. He supposed he could have climbed indefinitely, but he had no desire to test it. He only had to be high enough. So long as he left a healthy safety margin below him, the actual height didn't matter. After all, it wasn't the climb that was the fun part.
He gave one last thrust upward, spreading his wings so it seemed like they were hovering for a heartbeat. Then he did a neat wingover and began to plummet. She screamed at first, but turned it into whoop after only a second. He gathered speed and spun off into a barrel roll. The motion tried to pull her away from him, but she was too well secured to fall. He reveled in the strain of muscle and the roar of wind. His own heart was beating with exhilaration, and he was only getting started.
From the barrel roll he did another short dive, and then circles so tight his wings turned nearly vertical. He straightened out and flew a couple, almost lazy loop-de-loops. He did another dive, this time angling the feathers of his wings so they went into a wild corkscrew. They'd drifted close to the ground by this point, so he rose with hard, sharp wingbeats, maintaining momentum until he did another wingover. They dove, and a few dozen feet from the ground he leveled out while still keeping his speed, his wings folded tightly along his back. A series of unpredictable hairpin turns later—Persephone alternately squeaking and laughing her head off—he rose for the last time.
He strove for height, going higher than before. He panted hard with exertion, but he had one final trick up his wings. He executed a final, perfect wingover, and plunged toward the ground. Faster and faster they fell. Straight down they went, his shadow-wings making tiny adjustments to keep them on course. He had the accuracy and speed of a falcon. His eyes were fixed on a single spot on the ground, never wavering. He squeezed her to him as tight as he could, trying to streamline their profile more. Their speed ripped at their faces and clothes like tiny claws. It stung and threatened to tear, but still he fell faster, gathering at much speed as possible. She was gasping breathlessly, unable to draw air with the force of their travel.
Without warning he flipped them upright and snapped open his wings. If they had been made of flesh and blood, they would have been torn from his back in an instant. Even expecting the powerful drag against him, he still felt the vicious strain of maintaining control. He might be sore in the morning, but it was going to be so worth it. Energy surged through him, the Underworld responding to his need. The force of gravity threatened to pull Persephone from his arms.
"Hades!" she cried out, half alarm and half insane joy. Her voice cut through him; he decided he never wanted to hear his title from her again. He felt as though he were being crushed from the pressures against him. His incredible momentum pulling him down, his wings yanking him backward. The absolute knowledge of how painful it would be to hit the ground at this speed. For nearly a hundred racing heartbeats it felt like they wouldn't stop. And then the strain on him began to ease. Bit by bit they slowed, until they seemed almost to be drifting.
He had timed it perfectly. With a few gentle lofts he brought them to their overlook. His shadow-wings faded into its usual amorphous shape as he lowered her to the ground. Her feet touched down, but she clung to him as if she hadn't the strength to stand. He stared down at her, feeling his heart racing. This was the moment. This was how he planned to reveal himself and say he loved her. He had shown her how to fly; all that was left was to give her his heart. But as he looked at her windblown face, his carefully prepared speech was forgotten. Her cheeks were pink from flying, her eyes bright as she met his. Her hair was delightfully mussed. He cupped her face in his hands, her warmth sinking into him. She was so vitally alive. Her head raised to his as if she knew what was coming.
He kissed her. The first press of their lips was soft and tentative. Until he'd done it, it hadn't occurred to him that he'd never kissed anyone before. But once he was touching her, it was all instinctive. Gentle movement, hesitant pressure as if asking permission. She tasted the way she smelled, fresh and unspoiled. She was sweetness defined.
They pulled back at the same time, breathing hard in a way that had nothing to do with exertion. They stared at each other uncertainly. Hades was faintly ashamed of himself. He'd taken advantage of her without giving her the assurance that he wouldn't abandon her.
"Persephone, I—" he stopped. He tried to apologize, but he couldn't. He wasn't sorry for what he'd done. There was only one thing he could say then. I love you. Before he could utter a syllable, she grabbed the back of his head and pulled him down to her. They kissed again, and any doubts about her reaction were washed away by the sensation of her lips on his. She was clumsy but insistent. Her fingers wound through his hair as she strove to get closer to him. If their first kiss had been unsure, this one was hungry. Her passion soaked into him, so he was flushed with it. They broke off, gasping for air.
He groaned, "Persephone, I love you."
"What?" she gasped, her eyes filling with tears.
"I love you," he repeated, his heart clenching painfully. He was fairly certain she at least cared for him, given that kiss, but it was hard to make himself vulnerable even to her.
"I-I love you too," she stumbled over her words. "Hades, Lord Hades—"
"No," he said hoarsely, hardly believing this was happening. She loved him! "My name, just use my name, Persephone," he was practically singing her own name.
"Hades, Hades," she chanted. "I love you so much."
They were kissing again, this time desperate as if afraid the other would disappear. His shadow rose up and wrapped around them. When it cleared, they were somewhere else. He broke away, panting and incoherent. Where were they? The room was familiar, but it took him a moment for his befuddled brain, drunk on her, to recognize it. His study. He flushed. Even in his semi-flustered state, he realized why he had brought them here: because it was close to his bedroom.
He flushed and disentangled himself from her. He took her hands and guided her to the couch. For a moment they stared into each other's eyes, savoring the connection they felt.
"I love you," he said simply.
She nodded. "I love you too," she said.
If only love were the only thing they had to worry about. He still felt nervous and awkward. There were more things they had to discuss.
"I feel," he said anxiously, speaking to fast. "I feel like we shouldn't be doing this. You're so young. You don't know—"
"No," she said firmly, pressing her fingers to his lips. "Don't say that. Don't think because I am young, I don't know what I want. I've wanted you since the first moment I woke up here. My love for you has grown over time, not on the whim of a child. So don't tell me how I think or feel."
He was properly chastened, and impressed by her resolved.
"But," she continued, and faltered for the first time, "I am young. So if you desire someone older, or stronger, more beautiful than me…"
"No," he shook his head. "No, Persephone, I want you. I've loved you from the moment I pulled you from the river. I don't want someone older, or stronger, and no one is more beautiful than you."
She bit her lip uncertainly. "Aphrodite—"
He learned forward and pressed a quick kiss to her bitten lip. "Not to me," he said with finality. He took a deep breath. "But I am old," he said. "And if you want someone younger, your own age, someone who's livelier… I know I'm not a good man…" he looked away.
"Hades," her voice was gentle. She turned his face toward hers. "I love that you're older than me. You've seen and done so much, and you don't mind sharing it with me. And you are a good man. You're good to me, and you're good to your people. Nothing else matters to me."
It seemed they'd both had fears, and both worked on laying the other's to rest. He couldn't resist her any longer.
"Come here," he said softly. He kissed her gently, but didn't linger on it. He laid back on the couch and pulled her down with him. They settled together, needing to feel their love close. She laid her head on his chest. It seemed almost like a dream, like she might be snatched from him at any moment. She apparently felt the same, for she raised her head to look at him.
"You love me?" she whispered plaintively.
He recognized her need for reassurance. "I love you," he declared gladly. He tried to be strong, but the words slipped out. "Do you love me?"
"Hades, I love you," she answered without hesitation. She leaned up and kissed him. It was more about confirming their love than building passion. She lowered her head, nuzzling her face into his neck. He played with her hair, marveling at the softness and different strands of color.
"This is nice," she murmured.
"Yes, it is," he agreed. He cleared his throat.
"I would like to court you," he said swallowing hard. He'd known for while that he wanted full partnership with her, but he was less certain she would want what he could offer. She looked at him, her expression soft with wonder.
"You do?" she asked without answering.
He nodded. "I realize it is customary to ask your father before beginning to court you, but in this case I don't trust your father where you are concerned." He paused and clenched his jaw as a surge of anger took him. He had to focus on the positive things. She loved him, and he was never going to allow Zeus to hurt her again. He took a deep breath when he could go on calmly, making her rise and fall.
"I would ask Demeter," he explained, "But I worry about drawing attention to her at this time. I will ask her, when it is safer for both you and her. So I'm asking you: will you allow me to court you?"
She sighed, which did not help his frame of mind at all. "Is that what you want?" she asked. "You—you want to court me?"
"Yes." It was the only answer he could give. "I love you. I don't want to be apart from you. If this isn't what you want, don't feel obligated to accept me, but don't doubt my intentions toward you." It was so hard to get his words out. If she said no, he would release her, but it felt like it would kill him.
She inhaled slowly and let it out. "Then… if you want it, I do too." She quickly ducked her head and pressed her face to his chest.
"Hey," he tilted her chin up. "Do you want this?"
She bit her lip again. He smoothed it out with his thumb.
"I do," she said quietly.
"Then what is it?"
"I don't want to embarrass you."
"Persephone!" He sat up, and caught her before she could tumble off the couch. He cupped her cheek with his hand and turned her face toward him.
"I could never be ashamed of you! I love you, and you are brave, and beautiful, and kind." Feeling frustrated, he kissed her, hard and demanding. She started shaking, and he feared he was being too rough with her. He gentled the kiss before ending it completely. There were tears streaming down her face. He felt a jolt of panic, until he felt how tightly she held onto him. With a flash of insight, he understood that this was her fear, not his. He hugged her tenderly.
"I love you," he said quietly.
"I love you," she repeated, "And I never thought you'd love me, that you'd want to court me. But yes, if you want me, then I would love to be yours."
Yours. What a wonderful word that was. Yes, she would be his, and he would be hers.
"I want you," he said firmly. "And I swear, as soon as I can, I will ask Demeter's blessing as well."