Geordo had never understood the myth of Hades and Persephone.
He remembers when his tutor first read him the legend. He had said that, a long time ago, in a very distant land, the people believed that the winter would grip the land every six months due to the kidnapping of the daughter of the harvest by the god of the underworld. The time she spent with her mother, the land would be fertile, and the time that she is under captivity under her husband, the land would be barren.
It all seemed very unrealistic to the young prince. Not in the sense that the seasons are clearly generated by the inclination of the axis and the position in relation to the elliptical orbit around the sun of their planet's. Rather, he finds unrealistic how such a relationship comes to be.
The obsession, the driving need for Hades to take and to have the object of his desire, that he understood. However, that Hades was willing to part with Persephone for half a year, every year? That a god so powerful deigns himself to settle such an unfavourable deal? That was simply beyond him.
Geordo would burn down the world to keep the object of his deranged obsession, his limitless love, by his side, especially considering how difficult it had been to get her there.
Unlike the god of the underworld, his obsession was not something that suddenly occurred. In fact, he had actually paid very little attention to Catarina Claes when they had first met. At that point, she was just a petulant and wilful eight-year-old, and he was hardly impressed about how much she seemed to take to him.
Of course, she quickly gained his attention by falling flat on her face and destroying her only asset in life. His tutors and advisors pressured him to propose to the girl, as retribution. It would not bide well to alienate the Claes family in such a way, and she could have her uses beyond damage control, as well.
Geordo acquiesces and goes to visit the girl. After he exposes his motives and reasons to why they should be wed, he waits for her response.
A moment, then another, and then she refuses the engagement. His eyes widen and he braces himself for the outrageous demands that shall follow, as her scar has yet to magically heal. After some back and forth, she finally confesses that there is something that he could do to lift that burden from him.
"I am a girl, you see, and I can't inherit my father's title. There's a boy, the son of a cousin to our family, who has very strong magic. If you could convince my parents to adopt him as the heir, I'd be in your debt!"
Keith Coleman was the child's name. He was the illegitimate son of Viscount Coleman, and he had, indeed, a strong affinity to Earth magic. Due to each of their particular set of circumstances, both families were much too happy with the proposed arrangement, and the prince is confused to why Catarina needed the Crown to broker the deal.
Nevertheless, she followed through with her end of their bargain and signed a document releasing him of any and all responsibility over her accident. This was supposed to be where they part ways and never met again, aside from a few passing encounters at the many functions of the aristocracy.
Alas, it was not. Geordo has not let it be.
There was something about Catarina Claes that demanded his constant and undividable attention, and he went about in indulging that feeling in the worst way possible. He constantly complained about her to any willing ear, and mocked her mercilessly to her face at every chance he got. He lived for her reactions, delighted in her embarrassment and her spluttering rage.
He concocted all sorts of situations that would play to his hand, that would be just humiliating enough so he could get a quip on her. Circumstances that would force her to spend long periods of time with him. Invitations to tea parties, hunts, courtly events of various natures. Everything perfectly coordinated so she would think of him as often as he thought of her, if only for the duration of the event.
One day, when they were thirteen or so, Catarina finally had enough of his torment and punched him in the straight in the face. Her face immediately showed of the terror she felt at the consequences, and the expressions of her entourage reflected the terrible choice she made.
At the heat of the moment, he was taken away in a rush by zealous attendants, but later when the side of his face swelled up and turned an unsightly purple-green, he had been tempted to find her and punish her. He dreamed of throwing her against the wall and hurting her, scaring the living daylights out of her, and for some strange reason, he imagined kissing her.
Then, there had been her fifteenth birthday, on the Spring before they entered the Academy of Magic. Geordo pressured the duke to go, based on the argument that his twin brother had been kindly invited, and the Claes family would not like to declare a candidate for succession, would they?
Any effort that he made soon proved itself worth it when he saw Catarina walking in the ballroom. She was lovely, more beautiful than he had ever seen her. She had glided across the room on Nicol Ascart's arm and all Geordo had been able to think was that she was by far the most stunning creature in the realm.
That night in the darkness of his room while his date rode on top of him, it was not that foolish girl's name on his lips. It was the first night he got off to the thought of Catarina Claes, but it certainly was not the last. After that it was incredibly hard for him to go back to seeing her like he used to; an ugly and uncouth noble daughter with weird hobbies. Instead, he found himself staring at the curve of her back as she walked down the hallways with her crinoline, or the way that her whole face lit up rather prettily when she laughed.
At first, he had been disgusted with himself for allowing anyone to hold such power over him. He hated himself for wanting her and hated her more for making him this way. Then, one day, he had spied her sitting closely in the library with Nicol, holding his hand and whispering to him. He watched as she leant across the desk and kissed his childhood friend on the cheek.
It had gone downhill from there. Where once he had been satisfied with throwing her an insult now and then he began actively seeking her out, trapping her in dark corners of corridors just to be close to her. A better man might have realised that the best way to woo her was not by scaring her or bullying her, but by trying to be a gentleman.
Geordo, however, never claimed to be a good man.
Oh, but he loved her. It was undeniable, perhaps the only redeeming quality he had. It consumed him. Catarina took priority over everything, his schooling, his family, the stupid succession raging around them. He went through the motions of course, but his heart was singularly focused on Lady Claes. She is the reason behind his every decision, and the interest in having her as his queen trumped all considerations.
Unlike Hades, Geordo was a patient man. He never made a move during their school years, knowing that he still does not have the power to tie her to him. He waited out the final days of his father's reign, watched with apathetic eyes as the old king passes away, which he played his own part in to be sure. She was not safe with any other head other than his under the crown.
Naturally, the succession flares up when it moves from an inevitable but remote future to a material present. None of his brothers had the deft movement that he did, none of them had carefully planned every step of their ascension, and none of them had the advantage of timing their father's death. Nevertheless, he had been graceful and conducted a stellar campaign amongst the nobles that would select the next monarch.
He had been delightedly pleased when Catarina had testified on his behalf at the Ellectoral College and relished the small tense smile she had thrown him when they had declared him the winner over his brothers.
It still was not enough, and it still was not his time. Geordo waited until the realm returned to a safer place, he watched as the remaining supporters of his foolish brothers were rounded up and purged from the government and the hallowed halls of the nobility.
He waited for the streets to feel safe again, for the fear and paranoia of civil war to subside. For the celebrations to kick off again, for the people to start discussing the selection of his queen. He waited for Catarina to relax, to forget the torments he imposed her throughout their youth, for her guard dogs to stop walking her home at night, for them to stop calling her every day to check in.
Of course, they never were too far away, Keith especially, but Geordo knew they were not much of a threat. He is the fucking King of Sorcier, and he had earned her place by his side.
Finally, after years of wait and preparation, it was time to chain Catarina to her rightful place. It was time to make her his queen. He took her one night under the cover of darkness on her walk home from the Department of Magic, with him accompanying the loyal guards that he detached to the mission to make sure everything goes on as planned.
Geordo had watched her for weeks, planning their movement to the smallest detail. She could have taken the family carriage, took a rental or had someone walk her home. She could have had the protection of her family's knights or made use of all the horrible, horrible weapons that they tested at that department. Yet, the woman insisted in being unorthodox to the end, and so she chose to walk every day. That had made it easier.
She would have fought him tooth and nail if he had given her the chance, he knows that she learnt the sword and dedicated herself in creating snake simulacra exactly so she could fend him off for just long enough so she can run away. He was smarter than letting her try, though. He had knocked her out cold from behind and they were gone in seconds.
Victory was sweet, and having her for the first time was even sweeter.
He loved her. Even when she glared at him, screamed at him, even when she lashed out at him. It might not have been the love she wanted, but it was hers nonetheless.
Geordo is not stupid, and neither is Catarina, despite her pitiful grades and distracted demeanour. He expected her to attempt to escape him and he expected her to be quite insistent about it. She had not disappointed him in either aspect, having a new hare-brained scheme every week.
She would not escape him, no matter how hard she tries. He would not return her, not for six months, not for a single fucking second. The mere thought of her leaving left him breathless with fear, anxiety and longing.
Like Hades he had bound her to him. Not with pomegranates, but ancient blood magic. She could no more leave his side than he could turn into a harpy.
Not that that had stopped her from trying. His beautiful fool.
Of course, it was only expected that her little squad of guard dogs would come after her. A funny assortment of faces, including his brother, all three of his sisters-in-law and the prime minister kicked down the main palace's door and marched over to him to point a finger to his face. They came with their company of knights, blasting their way into his ancestral home, practically salivating at the thought of locking him up and throwing away the keys.
Unfortunately, the ancient blood magic he had invoked had been created by his ancestors as part of their marriage ceremonies. It was as binding as a signed contract, and nothing anyone himself could do to reverse it, or to take Catarina away from him. Even if the roles were reversed, even him, as the King of Sorcier, could not do a thing to undo the ritual.
Not without killing her, him and themselves in the process.
She had begged him to let her go, to let her visit them just once! He had wiped her tears away gently, kissed her forehead and uttered one word. Never.
Catarina would not return aboveground to make everything better. The world could suffer an endless winter for all he cared. It was hard to feel bad for them when he was kissing her sweet, plump lips, his hands tangled in her curls.
She hated him most of all for taking away her chances of leaving. She does not mind his attention, his constant need to have her by his side. He knew how to make her enjoy herself during sex, even if she loathed herself afterwards. She simply hated her helplessness.
It does not matter to him. Geordo would take her hate in place of her love, for the present time being at least. It would be hard to hate him for the rest of their lives, it would be against her nature. He was nothing if not patient.
He was better with Catarina around. He knew he was a bad person, capable of unspeakable evil, but with her… Well, he had better things to do. He also could not deny that the sight of her smile was more fulfilling to him than cutthroat politics ever had. He would do anything to make her happy, anything but letting her go.
Now, as she lay naked and asleep in his arms, the royal wedding ring glittering on her finger, he felt truly at peace. He felt… Dare he say it? Happy. He loved her, he loved her so much that his heart seemed to explode every time he gazed upon her, and he cannot help but to pat himself on the back for such a talent in scheming, in achieving the ultimate victory.
As Geordo drifts off to sleep, the king is reminded of when his tutor first told him the myth of Hades and Persephone. He remembered asking, petulantly, why he must know of this legend.
"Stuart men love with their whole heart, milord." The tutor explains. "Best to be reminded that this is not always a good experience."