I must have rewritten this a million times.
Hopefully this chapter clears things up a bit.
On and on, we're rollin.
-O.K.
Four
Hecate was one of the last titans still wandering, Hades had explained.
A figurehead of magic and connection.
After the "incident" that led to Bella's vomiting, Hades had scooped her into his arms and carried her to a small washroom. He'd held her steady as she washed out her mouth, sitting with her as she sat curled on the modern toilet, sipping water out of a metal goblet. It all felt confusing, conflicting, every item as painfully out of place as the next.
'It's all wrong,' She murmured, 'It all feels so wrong.'
Her arms had curled around her shaky legs as Hades knelt in front of her, speaking in low tones.
It had been false. Alice hadn't been anywhere nearby; Hecate had created an auditory illusion in order to distress Bella.
Hades's earlier question about "times of duress" nagged at the back of her mind.
Hecate had intentionally terrified Bella. She wanted to stress her, so they could prove a point. She'd picked at her brain until she found her deepest fear, her darkest nightmare, and forced in her to live in it. Forced her to find escape from an imaginary world where Alice was in trouble and Bella was helpless. A world that, for once, wasn't true. A tool instead used by Hecate.
So Bella's "abilities" would work to the surface.
Persephone's abilities, Hades insisted.
It had worked, she figured, based on the way Hecate had left the room— nearly smug. Bella hoped she never returned.
For the first time Bella was fully considering the possibility she was who they said they were.
She found herself staring at the man in front of her, who had stripped off the dirty cloak, leaving him wrapped in a grey tunic.
"She locked you in your own mind," Hades murmured lowly, "I should have stopped her. There would have been another way."
Bella let out a shaky breath. He should have stopped her, but a God would stop, could stop anything he so desired. He should have stopped her maybe, like he said, but he didn't. Because he didn't want to. What he said now was for her benefit.
She felt like a bug flipped on its back, flailing wildly and uselessly against the world happening around it. They'd never elaborated on the nature of her supposed abilities, was she just supposed to ignore whatever the hell happened? Did they think letting her figure it out for herself like some lost child would speed things along?
Were they purposely keeping her in the dark, hiding the details until they could connect the lines for her on their terms? Take the pencil away so they could paint her picture themselves.
No.
She would work this out herself.
"Do… Do you have any, like, books or something? Something I could read?" She whispered, fingers rubbing the etched details on the metal goblet, "I just… I just want to, I don't know."
He blinked, then stood swiftly, something flashing in his eyes; "The library, yes. Please, let me escort you."
That… was easier than expected. Maybe they weren't hiding things, he was doing a terrible job of it if he was.
She just wanted to read. To make sense of this herself. Maybe understand things a bit better. Just enough to get back Alice. Was she even safe to be around? She didn't want to believe what was going on, but after that light show… She was desperate for some semblance of stability. Consistency. Some air for a drowning man.
Hades was slightly surprised at her request for the library. Persephone had never been one to sit and read; she got too anxious sitting around, wishing to instead walk about outside or swim about in a safe cove. She had light feet, a drive to wander—sitting in the study was something he could never convince her to do.
Again, a pang of mourning struck his heart. Would he ever get the woman he once knew back? Would this new version of her ever care for him as she once did?
"Are you certain?" He cupped her cheek gently, relishing the feel of her soft skin against his own; "We could walk in the gardens in the courtyard, perhaps you'd like to rest beside the cenote-"
She tilted her head away, rubbing the spot he'd held with the pads of her fingers, "Please. The library."
He frowned and withdrew his hand into the folds of his clothes, the warmth her cheek had lent to his fingers leaking away into the folds of his himation.
"Please," He beckoned, briskly turning away. He doubted she would stay too long there, he wouldn't stray too far. Once she was inevitably bored he would return and bring her to the gardens.
She followed him through the carved stone hallways. Slowly, modern themes transformed into older, antique carvings and statues. Large ceramic pots decorated with geometric patterns stood like guards against the walls, standing nearly as tall as she did. She felt shrunken like a toddler, wandering on uneven steps through a room entirely too large for her.
They arrived at a thick wooden door, which Hades pushed open with ease.
In the middle of the massive cavern a great fire raged, deeply set in a groove in the floor, surrounded by pillows. Surrounding it were curved cupboards, each holding different stacks of rolled scrolls or piles of thickly bound books.
A curved, black stone ceiling met at a peak that descended with several glittering stalactites.
Bella felt she were in the center of the world, of time. Ageless and immortal. The inside of a geode, dark and sparkling.
"Please," He gestured, "You are free to all materials, though you may not understand some."
She pursed her lips; "I think I'll be okay."
His eyebrow rose at the tone and her cheeks immediately flamed, her eyes casting down as she crossed an arm over her chest to grab the other.
"Of course." He nodded, slowly backing away, "Call out should you desire anything. I won't be far."
She bobbed her head, back turned to him as she waited for the resounding boom of the door to announce his exit from the room.
He was gone.
For the first time since she'd awoken, she was alone.
Time to get some work done.
Bella didn't realize how long she'd been sitting beside the fire pit, surrounded by a mound of pillows like a silk moat around the thick leather walls composed of hundreds of books.
Why the hell couldn't everything be in English?
Evidently, when adding to his collection, Hades, or whoever stocked this anti-American Barnes and Hell-hole, they had thought any English opinion on mythology was equal to nil.
Honestly it was a little disappointing, and more than a little frustrating. She'd had to rely on pictures, words she recognized from picture books and the sparse novels she'd read that had actually reference this brand of history. This brand of insanity. Amusingly, she found herself wishing for a book on psychology, but Hades seemed to be lacking that genre.
Or maybe he wasn't. Maybe he had several, they were just in a rare whistling dialect or some other crazy shit. Freud, Translated Specifically for Dolphin-kind; it wouldn't even seem insane considering the circumstances.
While she had lost track of time, Hades had been counting every second with growing illness. He twisted his fingers together, lips tightly pursed as he watched the walls of books grow ever-higher around the small girl swaddled in soft pillows.
She had been reading for hours, nearly the entire day. More than he had seen her read in the entirety of her existence combined, excluding the current day. Mostly, she stuck to the old illuminated tomes that sat like thick leather bricks collecting dust for centuries. At first he thought, with awe, she may actually have been reading the old dialect—that the knowledge may have returned from some deeply buried memory, and he had a spark of hope.
Then he realized she was simply flipping between pictures, back and forth, trying to tie names to faces that inevitably would not match the real figures.
He ran his fingers tightly through his hair, forgetting he'd tied it back and tangling strands in the process. This was madness. She would drive herself mad.
More so, those books held stories; not truths. Many, he knew, about him.
How he met her, specifically.
"Persephone." He strode through the heavy oak doors. The books hiding her from view collapsed with a wave of his hand, sliding across the floor like water drops across glass as Bella jumped at his sudden presence. She'd been unaware of the fact he'd been beside the door the entirety of her time spent among the books.
"Shit," She stumbled up and grabbed at the remaining tower of swaying books, "What did you do that for?!"
"I sensed perhaps you are ready to stop needlessly frustrating yourself with these materials and would like to stroll in the gardens with myself." He stepped easily over one large book that Bella had discovered was full of colorful images depicting heroes and gods. One she had specifically set aside. She reached for it, only to jump back as his sandaled foot landed atop it.
His face looked down at her low form, her wide round eyes stared at him as she sat back on her knees. Dark eyes met for one, tense moment.
She carefully sat back, face setting.
"I don't want to go to the gardens."
"You certainly don't seem to be enjoying yourself here," He countered smoothly, "My lady, please, let me escort you-"
"Touch me and I swear to god," She stood stiffly, jerked back away from him and stooped only to pick up a few books and bundle them into her arms, "I don't want to see your fucking flowers, alright? Christ, just drop it. I'm fine here, okay? I can fucking read. I'm fine." A feeling in her gut dropped, low. She was alone in this room, this world, with this man entirely larger than her. Entirely alone and small.
But the anger bubbled over, even as her brain screamed to stop.
He frowned, "Persephone,"
"My name is Bella." She snapped, fingers tingling.
His face darkened.
She could feel hers pale.
The temperature of the room noticeably dropped, the lights dampening. Her breath appeared as a frosty cloud beyond her lashes, fogging her vision of Hades as his appearance grew, all-consuming as it swallowed the room. Entirely large and beautiful. A stone viper, she felt childlike as his feet. Like a lens cap on her vision, he covered everything beyond his own image.
For the first time, she saw him as a God.
"You will follow." He spoke lowly, voice reverberating over the stone walls as it wrapped Bella in a vice. Her head pressed down.
Her knees cracked as she fell to the ground under the pressure.
The sound reverberated in the tense atmosphere as their eyes stayed locked.
She could feel her palms shake as power oozed from his cold eyes. One tear slipped onto her cracked lips, a choked sound gurgling from her throat.
Terror, her eyes, body, hands screamed.
Terror they shook, fingers tapping, trembling it out in a fearful Morse code against the book held tightly against her chest like armor, tap tap shake.
It stopped.
They stared at each other with wide eyes, his own flashed quickly with discomfort before he disappeared from her vision in a blink, leaving her to shake alone in the middle of the library. Her fingers turned white against the leather grain of the book she held, shoulders high against her neck.
The pressure evaporated from her back like a spark, disappearing as she filled her lungs with air.
Seconds, minutes, hours later she slowly came back into herself. Calmed just enough to think. To notice.
Slowly, she dropped one hand, feeling the damp spot growing on her soft pants.
This is when Bella truly began to cry.
Bella didn't see Hades for three days following the incident in the library. This was a good thing; if she'd happened upon him at any point she would have either stabbed him with a kitchen knife, or throttled him partly out of fury, partly out of embarrassment.
That was a lie.
It would be fear.
She was too afraid to do any of those things, but the lies felt nice on her brain.
She hadn't wet herself since before she could remember, not even as a toddler in the bed. Suddenly here she was, a grown ass adult, and she had wet her own damn pants after some dipshit got all I-Am-God on her.
Not to mention, she couldn't find a single washing machine in this place so her urine soaked pants had found a home huddled in a low corner under her bed for the time being. She ended up wrapping those cloth-robes around her waist like a skirt instead, hanging on stubbornly to her T-shirt, even as it began to smell.
Fuck that. The worse the smell the better. Maybe it would keep him away. She felt the same about the hair now lengthening along her legs and under her arms. She was an animal, stinky and thick and a coat of rough fur, always standing on end.
Her days evolved into exploring the images on the hallway walls, exploring the complex and avoiding the library entirely. She'd made it as far as the wooden doors the second day of No-Hades, but she couldn't bring herself to push it open. The shame and anger too fresh.
So when she'd found a jar of peanut butter in the cupboard of the strangely modern kitchen beside her room she'd started a process of exploration that involved smearing peanut butter on the walls in order to find her way back.
There had been bread, too, but she'd imagined the peanut butter would be more irritating to clean. The bastard could scrub his own damn walls after what he'd done.
Today, she'd been exploring the southern pathways. She'd decided to find the pool Hades had mentioned briefly, just for the sake of orienteering and something to do. If she could find a portal, an elevator, anything to get above, she could use it to get the hell out and find Alice. Water had to come from somewhere.
Bella had no clue what a portal might look like, but when she stumbled upon a golden gate with smoke seeping out beneath she had a sneaking suspicion she'd found something entirely different than the rest of the palace, so she didn't even stop to listen before she pressed all too excitedly into it, swinging the gate open with all force.
Had she listened, she may have heard the low murmuring and female giggling on the other side. Instead, she saw the entire image of writhing naked bodies entwined under ribbons of smoke as the muscular outline of a man rose grinning, biting playfully on the rosy feminine bottom of a woman whose upper half was hidden from Bella's view.
"Oh, shit!" Bella cried as she reeled back, unable to look away from shock as the man's head tilted towards her at her cry, and a grin spread across his youthful face;
"My lady, look who stumbles upon us! The Queen herself, would you care to join us?"
"Uh," Bella took a step back, "I-"
"Please, allow us a moment to finish then." The man winked, and returned back into the heap of scrambling bodies writhing in a mass of cream colored cushions and silk sheets.
Bella turned and ran from the room, her cheeks flaming.
She'd been around people having sex before. People weren't exactly shy when you were all sleeping in the same shelter and the most privacy you got was the occasional fence or hanging blanket, but she'd never seen so many at once!
Lord, they were like rabbits in there! Were there even enough parts to go around, what the hell were the social logistics for something like that?!
All too quickly the man reappeared. Bella jumped, not expecting him to actually emerge from the room any time soon. His broad, mostly naked form towered over herself. His skin a cool pale, almost grey, coal colored hair short and curling close to his skull. She had barely caught her breath, and still leaned against the wall across the hall as she stared at him.
"My lady," He beamed, eyes brightened kindly; "Please, come in. I promise all potentially unsavory activities have ceased."
"Uh," She repeated, pressing against the wall. She hadn't seen anyone else exit the room, how the hell did she know he wasn't trying to lure her into some weird sex party?
"Or we could remain out here." He continued smoothly, and gracefully fell to the floor with crossed legs. Arms open, head cocked to one side kindly.
His face was angular, similar to Hades but more boyish. He seemed youthful, like a teenager who'd just stepped into the world with enough confidence for anything. A modern day gladiator, or maybe a real gladiator considering her present setting. She pressed her arms to her sides, suddenly aware of the unshaved hair peeking out from under her shirt.
"Are you Adonis?" She asked slowly.
He blinked. Once. Twice. Then laughed, a loud booming affair that made her shoulders drop, tension released as she watched him double over and wrap his arms around his muscular torso as he wiped an amused tear from his eye.
"No, my queen, I'm Morpheus. God of Dreams; though, please, pass this story along to Adonis should you happen to run into that runt." He smiled, a perfect set of white teeth, "It's nice to once again have you here, my lady—or should I say meet you, considering the circumstances?"
"Bella," For the first time since that first night, against all logic, she actually felt at some semblance of ease. Hecate and Hades both felt so detached and cold, so ethereal; Morpheus felt genuine in a way that neither could hope to emulate. Human.
Something about his demeanor felt familiar, something that touched a curious ache in her gut almost like… longing? The same sensation she now felt when she thought of Alice, but shallower. She felt wistful.
"My lady Bella, please." He gestured with one hand, "This marble is too grand to simply walk on, and you wound my ego standing so far above, perhaps you'll consider sitting beside me?"
"Yeah, uh, sure." She slowly slide down the wall, eased downwards until she crouched in front of this man.
"I must admit," he leaned forward, "When I heard you'd returned, I feared I would never see you for a century at least—Hades isn't fond of sharing, not that I blame him."
Bella tensed and made to stand.
"My lady," Morpheus's grin disappeared, "I'm sorry, don't leave, please, I'm not serious in any manner. You're safe here."
Oh yes. He said she'll be safe here, then it must be true.
But she still found herself slowly move to sit back down.
"Who… What am I, to you? Did we…" She gestured.
"What? That? Gods, no Pe- Bella, sorry, no we never did that." He smiled lowly, "Not for lack of trying, once upon a time, but- wait please, please don't leave. That was eons ago, before Hades, even. You and I are like family, or once was. Before the disappearance."
The relief was palpable. "What disappearance? Please, what the hell is going on?"
He frowned, "Bella, I would have expected Hades to appear long before we reached that question, it's hard to believe he would leave you alone after so long, where is he?"
Her gut shrank, fingers beginning to code again against her thighs tap tap terror tap.
Morpheus's suddenly narrowed, dark eyes looked odd against the olive tone of his childish face. She crossed her arms.
"I understand." He said evenly.
Understand nothing, she thought, understand nothing and you'll finally understand.
"Bella, please, would you come with me?" Morpheus's face shifted back into a cheerful smile as he rose, holding out one hand.
She looked at the door.
"Oh, don't look like that." He laughed, "I just want to show you a book of mine. I promise everyone is gone. Gods don't necessarily need doors, you know. Nymphs, neither. Oh, that's an interesting sound, Nymphs neither, neither Nymphs," He hummed, opening the golden door and slipping inside the smoke.
Bella jumped after a minute, when an olive toned hand suddenly snapped out from the thick fog; "Are you coming?"
Reluctantly she followed, washed by the fog as she stepped into the room.
She avoided looking at the silk pillows and sheets that laid strewn on the bed, lumped and ruffled with obvious use. Instead her eyes traveled across the warm red tones of the walls, over the leather couches and across to the opposite wall.
"Whoa."
Morpheus, crouched in front of a dark oak chest at the base of the bed, looked up; "What? Oh, not all of us are antiques down here, thanks. Some of us like to live in the modern age."
Somehow, the giant flat screen television across from Morpheus's bed made her even more at ease. Visions of Greek gods sprawled out on the couch in antiquated robes as they watched football flittered through her mind. Overlapping time, two discs laying atop of each other, the strangest element being the humanity of it all.
"Your boyfriend hates that thing, by the way. Thinks it's mind numbing, some shit about brain cells." Morpheus rose, a thick leather book in his hands. Corners of pictures and bookmarks stuck out like spikes, the cracked spine wrinkled like a thumbprint. Entirely individual, well-read compared to the untouched relics in the library; "Honest he just hates change."
"He's not my boyfriend." She whispered.
"No," Morpheus agreed solemnly, slowly as he sat on the leather couch; "Not your boyfriend. Not even a friend, now, is he? But he is unfortunately still your husband."
Slowly, Bella inched forward towards the book that Morpheus now held open, towards her, his features carefully neutral and cautious against whatever he suspected her reaction to be. She slipped one foot In front of the other, hair falling over her eyes and tangling with Morpheus's own curls as their foreheads nearly touched when she leaned over the image.
Taped inside the book, among other images and scribbles in what she assumed to be Greek, was a drawing of a younger, brighter Hades embracing a small woman full of soft curves from her neck down to her shoulders, where the drawing stopped at the soft curls of her hair.
A mirror image. Almost as though someone had dressed her in period clothes and sketched her as she slept, scrubbed the street and muck away. But her eyes were traitorously open and curled with happiness as her hands tangled themselves in Hades, her husbands, hair.
"Bella," Morpheus murmured, "This is your life. From your childhood, this book marks it all. Everything but the last four hundred years, we've collected. This is yours. This is your story. Let me introduce you to yourself, Persephone."
Bella sat down on the couch and reached for the book.