La Muerte shifted awake, a feeling of dread overcoming her chest as her eyelids slid open. She sat up in bed and looked outside through the window, even though there was no actual sky in this place she could tell it was still nighttime. She tried to go back to sleep, but it was no use, this feeling of dread just wouldn't let her rest. It was very strange, as if it was a feeling that something would happen, and she couldn't understand what. Thinking rationally, it might be only a silly assumption.

*CRASH*

La Muerte jumped in fright when out of sudden she heard the sound of a shattering mirror. Alarmed, she quickly threw her covers aside and slipped her feet into her slippers, donning her red bathrobe and rushing out of her chambers towards Xibalba's, where the sound had come from. The halls of the castle still gave her shivers at night, it almost had the atmosphere of a haunted castle, especially when she was by herself. Luckily her husband's chambers were not far form her own, and a few seconds later she was in front of the door. Not bothering to knock the door, La Muerte burst inside.

Xibalba was panting heavily with cold sweat trickling down his face, clutching his bleeding hand with grit teeth and his feathers bristled in pain, a few steps away from the once-covered mirror, now shattered into pieces and the blanket covering it on the ground. He was so much in shock and dread that he did not notice his wife standing in the doorway, staring at the scene with wide eyes. She had never seen him like this, he looked… afraid? But what could be terrorizing enough to scare Xibalba? he was not easy to even take by surprise.

"Xibalba?"

The dark god jumped at his wife's voice and turned towards the doorway. But there was something wrong with him, his eyes were wide but somehow it felt like he wasn't conscious at all, it was like he was in some sort of trance. Hissing, he flew towards La Muerte and grabbed her by the throat. La Muerte gasped in terror when she felt his clawed hand grab her throat, and his mad eyes glaring into hers.

Xibalba didn't know what came over him; he didn't control what he was doing, he was driven by feral instinct and the fear inflicted to him by his demons, his night terrors that ate him from the inside. But as he gazed into La Muerte's terrified eyes, he had a flash in the back of his mind…

She smiled at him as she held out a crown of colorful flowers for him, the sun caught in her lovely raven hair. "For you, Balby."

That flashback dissipated his insanity and he regained his reason, releasing La Muerte's neck and stepping back from her in horror upon realizing what he was about to do.

"L-La Muerte?!" Realizing he had no clothing, he quickly grabbed his purple bathrobe, wincing as his bleeding hand stung, and donned it. "I…! I didn't mean to…!" his voice was shaking.

But La Muerte knew now was not the time for that. His hand was still injured. "Xibalba, what happened?!" She immediately rushed to his side, careful not to step unto the mirror pieces, and tried to take his hurt hand, but he winced and pulled it away.

"OUCH!" he snapped.

"It's bleeding!" she tried and failed once again to examine it.

"That hurts!"

"It wouldn't hurt so much if you stopped struggling!"

Reluctantly, Xibalba allowed her to take a look at his injured hand. La Muerte tenderly grabbed his hand and took a look at the wound. It was a long cut that ran across his palm, blood was leaking out of it though not in alarming quantities, but thankfully it was not such a deep cut, though it had to be treated immediately. Noticing the empty bowl and a few towels on the night desk, she quickly took one towel and pressed it against the wound.

"OW!" Once again, Xibalba protested in a painful annoyance, but La Muerte still pressed it against the wound.

"Apply pressure!" she ordered him as she picked up the bowl and rushed to the bathroom.

"You think I don't know how to treat a wound, mujer?!" Xibalba snapped, but he still obeyed and pressed the towel against his wound, gritting his teeth as it stung harshly. Damn it, why was he complaining so much if he had been injured much more badly during his time in the wars. He guessed he was not as accustomed to pain as much as before. Soon La Muerte ran out of the bathroom carrying the bowl, now filled with warm water. Xibalba sat down as he watched his wife place the bowl back on his night table, then taking a towel and submerging it, then squeezing it. He knew what was coming next, his least favorite part.

"Give me your hand." La Muerte said, sitting down next to him in bed holding the humid cloth.

Sighing in dismay, Xibalba allowed her to take his wounded hand and gingerly removed the blood-stained cloth from the wound. La Muerte didn't flinch as she saw the black blood still seeping from the cut (though in lesser quantities), and carefully pressed the humid cloth against the wound. Xibalba grit his teeth and dug his claws unto his blankets at the burning, stinging sensation of the water going into his wound, purifying it form any bacteria that might have seeped into it. The sugar goddess continued to gently wipe clean her husband's cut.

"La Muerte, I…" he didn't know what to say. He just hoped she didn't think he was nuts after what happened. "I'm sorry for what happened, I don't know what came over me-"

"What happened to you, Xibalba?" La Muerte inquired gently as she treated the wound, speaking like nothing happened.

Xibalba remained silent for a while; it felt like he didn't want to answer the question. "…It's… hard to explain. I don't understand it at all either." he said after a while, before glancing down at his hand. "As for my hand, don't worry about it. It's nothing grave."

"Nothing grave? Aren't you seeing your hand?!"

"I've had it worse, my dear. I went to war, remember?"

La Muerte sighed and summoned a bandage out of thin air, starting to wrap it around his injury. A few seconds later, Emilio rushed into the room with an alarmed expression, and his suspicions were confirmed when he saw his Lord's lady bandaging the former's hand, but he said nothing about it. "My Lord, are you okay?!"

"For the last time, I'm okay. It's just a cut."

Emilio glanced at the broken mirror. "Seriously? The mirror is broken and you say it's just a cut?"

Finally, La Muerte tied the ends of the bandage gently around his hand; that should do it for now. "There."

It didn't hurt as much as before, but still Xibalba carefully closed and opened his palm to make sure the bandage was well tied. "Gracias."

"Is there anything else you need?"

"No, no, my dear, I think I can survive the night." He chuckled, trying to add some humor to the situation, to no avail at all. "Sorry if I awoke you and… Well, you know."

She shivered in remembrance, but she decided to contain it for the moment. "It's okay, you don't need to worry."

La Muerte stood up from bed and headed towards the door, glancing back at him one more time. "Buenas noches, Xibalba."

He gave her a small smile. "Buenas noches, my dear." As soon as she had left, the smile disappeared and he glanced down at his bandaged hand.

"It happened again, My Lord?" Emilio inquired, brushing the pieces of broken mirror into a small dustpan.

Xibalba sighed heavily and crossed his arms, now looking down at the floor with a worried expression, once again starting to sweat lightly. "I don't know what in tarnation is wrong with me… Sometimes I think I'm going mad."

"I don't think you're going mad, My Lord, you're just stressed out."

The dark god closed his eyes and frowned, collapsing unto his bed and stretching out his wings. "I forbid you from mentioning anything else of this to my wife."

"I don't mean to tell you what to do, but maybe Lady La Muerte could help you-"

"Don't you dare!" Xibalba snapped, punching unto his mattress while his teeth turned sharp and he took a hand to his temples, sitting up on bed and glancing at the lizard with a deep frown, sweating and panting heavily. This topic always brought out the worst of him. "It has taken me so long earning her liking, I'm not willing to bother her with my… problems. Besides, I think she's already had enough for one night."

Emilio knew it was futile to argue, so he simply continued with his task until there was not a single piece of glass left on the floor. He gave Xibalba the corresponding bow. "Buenas noches, My Lord. If you need anything, just call for me or any of the others."

"Gracias, Emilio."

When the lizard closed the door behind him, Xibalba tried to go back to sleep, but he was not tired anymore. Besides, after what just happened, he didn't feel like going to sleep again to have yet another of those damn nightmares that wouldn't let him have any peace. Damn it, he wondered if the next time he wouldn't end up bringing down his whole castle in his sleep.

"So, you seem to have grown weaker ever since the last time I visited you."

Oh, great.

"What do you want now, Father?" Xibalba hissed the last word like it was poison, not bothering to lift his gaze to meet the specter this time.

A shadowy, smoky being with the shape of a dragon's skeleton of black bones and green ooze joining all the joints together was floating a few steps away from bed with a snickering grin. "What? Can't I visit my son from time to time?"

"No, you can't. Look, I'm not in the mood for your taunts so I'd be grateful if you let me be at least for one night."

"You're afraid that she'll fear you, aren't you?"

That made Xibalba snap. "Why would I be afraid of such a thing?! If you want to break me, you'll have to do better than that." He hissed, narrowing his eyes at his father.

The ghostly dragon chuckled cruelly. "Please, boy. You're starting to harbor feelings for that mujer; it's not that hard to overlook it. I see all my effort to harden you has been a waste."

"What would you know about feelings? All you ever felt was hatred and scorn."

"And you're no different from me, boy, that's all you can feel now. Or it was, until you were stupid enough to bring that puta here-"

"Do not dare call her that!" Xibalba snapped, finally glaring at his father with all the hatred he could muster, clutching his sheets almost to the point of tearing through them.

"And you claim you feel nothing for her? She's making you soft even though you won't accept it, boy. You can't even keep her under control, look at how she manipulates you like a puppet-"

"Cierra la boca!"

"What? You think she likes you? She only feels sorry for you because she has seen how pathetic you are."

Those words stung at his heart, but he tried not to let his father notice. "You are wrong!"

"Besides, it's not like any woman could ever love you. You are nothing worth loving, I cannot understand what Selena saw in you that she was willing to die for you-"

The mention of that name finally made it. With a roar of anger and hate, he flew forward and slashed at the specter's face with bare claws; the dragon roared in pain and disappeared in a puff of smoke. When the spirit was gone, Xibalba collapsed unto his knees, panting heavily and sweating yet again, his claws nearly digging onto the carpet. Ponzoña slithered down his favorite spot on a hat stand towards his master, and gently rubbed both heads against his master's bandaged hand in an attempt to comfort him.

"Gracias, old friend…" Despite the tension and the hurt he felt, Xibalba managed to smile a bit at his snake as he stroked his heads. He stood up and headed back to bed, still haunted by his father's words. Damn it, until when would he have to bear that dragon coming back to haunt him? Would he ever have some peace?

Heck, he did not even feel tired anymore.


Next morning, La Muerte knew something was off when she went down to the dining hall for breakfast and found Xibalba was not there. She waited about twenty minutes for him, but he did not come down. She guessed today he'd had breakfast in his study, and so she sat down on the table by herself, enjoyed her fried eggs and bacon accompanied with a small slice of chocolate cheesecake. She felt a furry tail brush her leg lightly, but she was not startled this time. She lifted the tablecloth and glanced down beneath the table to find not only Garra and Colmillo, but also a few other hounds; Regina had already told her that it was their favorite place to nap without being disturbed.

Garra and Colmillo were looking up at her curiously, their ears pointing forward and their tails wagging. The other hounds were either asleep, or simply not too interested in her. "Hi, there." She smiled at them. "Did I interrupt your nap?"

The hounds simply rested their heads on their paws and returned to their nap. La Muerte continued to eat, and when she was done she stood up and headed outside, deciding to pay a little visit to her horse. But when she stepped outside, and walked into the stable, she noticed Medianoche was not there.

"Juarez?" she called out gently to the lizard, glancing at Medianoche's empty stall as she made her way to Blanca's to pet the mare's head gently.

"What is it, My Lady?" Juarez inquired, carrying a pile of hay in his arms for Blanca.

"Has my husband gone out?"

"He came early in the morning and told me to saddle up his horse, then he was gone."

"I think what happened last night really affected him. I'm certain it was more than just an accident, but he wouldn't tell me anything."

Juarez shifted uncomfortably. "Well… My Lord doesn't like to speak about his problems with anyone."

La Muerte couldn't contain the shiver that ran down her body when she remembered how he had grabbed her and nearly killed before somehow he regained his consciousness and reason. She didn't understand what had happened that made Xibalba act that way, but she had a feeling it was caused by all his bottled up anger, sorrow and pain that found a way out like a volcano erupting. "Do you have any idea of where he might have gone?"

"Well, sometimes he just wants to be alone. I wouldn't know what to tell you, My Lady."

"When do you think he'll be back?"

"Sometimes he leaves for a few hours, others the whole day, depends."

La Muerte decided not to press the matter any further, and instead focused on brushing her horse a bit; she couldn't help but giggle everytime Blanca would playfully nibble on her hair, and she'd pat her neck. After a while, Emilio ran out of the castle and towards the stable. "My Lady, you have a visit!"

"A visit?" La Muerte repeated, and she felt a twinge of hope that it was her sister. "Who?"

"Lady Epona."

Despite the disappointment, she was also intrigued as to why Epona would come to visit out of sudden without announcing herself. Still, she teleported to the interior of the castle, the living room where Epona was waiting for the Lord or Lady of the castle to come and see her. This time she was wearing a beautiful, golden dress with white and black bodice and silver edgings. It was not provoking in any way; she and Xibalba may have had history in the past, but she knew he was a married man now, and she was not the type of woman to go after married men.

"Lady La Muerte, it is so nice to see you again." Epona smiled, curtsying politely. "Though I have just been informed that your husband has gone out."

La Muerte returned the smile and curtsied as well in greeting. "I'm afraid so, but if you wish to wait for him I have no problem with it. Would you like something to drink?"

"Oh, no, I wouldn't like to be a bother."

"You're no bother at all, friend. You're more than welcome; actually, I'd like to know a bit more about my husband's 'ways'."

Epona couldn't help but giggle. "There are so many stories I have wanted to share with someone."

La Muerte led the mistress of horses to the living room, where they had some tea accompanied with a few pastries. They chatted over what they had been doing these past days, but overall Epona told La Muerte of her past experiences with Xibalba (the funny ones), like when he lost a bet with her and had to be her 'handmaiden' for a week, or when he had to help her with a foaling mare.

"He fainted?" La Muerte couldn't believe it, she could barely contain her giggles.

"As soon as the foal's head was coming out, he passed out like an old lady." Epona confirmed, taking a sip from her tea. "It was funny, really, he claimed he simply had eaten something rotten but I knew otherwise. He just wouldn't admit it. I admit, though, he may not have a stomach for foaling, but he is an exceptional horseman."

"Yes, I have noticed. He showed me impressing tricks the other day when we were in your realm."

"He obtained his skill in part thanks to his bond with his steed. Those two are like flesh and bone."

"I could see that too, Xibalba really cares about his horse."

"It's normal. They've been through many things together. If you knew how they met…"

"Did you give him to him?"

Epona giggled. "More or less. Medianoche used to be one of my prized stallions, but he was very wild and untamable, no one had been capable of riding him without being bucked off. Then one day Xibalba came to visit me, just when my men were attempting to tame the horse…

It had been the fifth, or sixth one of Epona's men had been thrown off the horse. Xibalba watched amusingly as they were thrown off the dark stallion's back; he had to say, that stallion's stubbornness and free spirit, refusing to be ridden by anyone, impressed him. He was a very attractive specimen too, with sable black lustrous coat and long, flowing mane and tail, elegant proportions and a healthy shine to his eyes.

"Ah, that horse may be a thoroughbred, but he is as stubborn as a mule." Epona sighed, taking a bite from her angel's cake.

"What breed is he?" Xibalba inquired after setting his cup of tea down, watching yet another soldier being bucked off the horse. "Mérens? Percheron? Murgese? Or maybe a Friesian?"

"Friesian, though he is larger than the normal specimen."

After yet another servant was bucked off, Xibalba rolled his eyes and let out a sigh of exasperation. "Really, my dear, you should teach your men better tricks in handling horses."

Epona raised an eyebrow at her companion amusingly. "You think you could do it better?"

"I'm no fan of horse riding, I'm afraid. Only when it's necessary."

"Then how about we make a little wager?"

Damn it, she had to know about his weakness. "A wager, you say?"

"You don't fool me, Xibalba. I can see you are very interested in my stallion."

"Define 'interested'."

"I want to propose you something. If you can tame the horse, it's yours."

Xibalba narrowed his eyes. "And if I'm bucked off?"

Epona grinned and motioned him to come closer so she could whisper into his ear. When he heard her words, his eyes widened in shock. "You want me to do WHAT?!"

"Come on, it's not the end of the world." She ran her fingers down his shoulder seductively. "Besides, it's not everyday that I give away one of my horses, do I?"

She was right on that one. Epona would never give her horses away for free, she grew attached to every foal born in her stables, she would never part with them. But this was an special occasion, and she felt Medianoche deserved a worthy rider. Xibalba glanced at the snorting steed as it tried to release itself from its handlers. He had to admit, that horse was exceptional, he would never get a chance as this, he knew Epona's horses were the best in all the pantheons. It was worth the risk.

"Do we have a deal?" Epona outstretched her hand for him to shake.

Sighing in dismay, Xibalba shook it. "We have a deal." He stood up from his seat and walked towards the animal with an stoic expression. The horse was by then starting to rear up in desperation, trying to scare the stranger away. Xibalba was not intimidated, however. "There, there, it's okay, boy. You have nothing to be afraid of."

The horse snorted and stomped his hooves, neighing in protest.

"Shhh. Don't be afraid." He managed to get close to the horse, and ran a hand down its neck. "You don't want to be controlled, right? You want to be free."

The horse neighed and attempt to step back, but he kept shushing at it to calm him down and speaking reassuringly to him, patting his neck gently.

"You don't have to be controlled. Trust me, I don't want to control you, I want to work with you, my friend."

To Epona's astonishment, Xibalba managed to get unto the stallion's back. The dark god got a tight hold of the reins when the horse reared with a loud neigh. "Oh, it's okay, boy!" he ran his gloved hand down the horse's neck once more. "You are black like the night you were born in. Medianoche shall be your name." Suddenly, green swirls drew themselves on the newly-named horse's legs, head and chest, and his changed to red and green, just like his new master's.

Epona watched fondly as the horse neighed happily. Xibalba laughed and led Medianoche towards the open field, before kicking him into a gallop, laughing in triumph all the while.

"Oh, my…" La Muerte smiled at the anecdote.

"It felt like they were meant to be, even though it was the first time they met."

"Too bad Xibalba isn't here…"

"Don't worry, when he is upset about something he tends to disappear for hours or days…"

"Days?!"

"Oh, well, depends on how upset he gets."

"Do you have any idea on where he tends to go?"

"Knowing him, probably he's taking out his anger on some poor little bastard…"


Xibalba snapped the reins to urge his horse to go faster, though he also tried not to pressure him too much. Medianoche's hooves pounded on the snowy terrain, his breath freezing into tiny crystals as he galloped through the snowy plains, sensing his master's anguish and pain. Soon they came into a frozen forest of hibernating trees, and when they came into a clearing Xibalba pulled on the reins to slow down his steed into a stop. He released the breath he didn't know he had been holding, and rubbed his temples, shivering. He would be sweating if it wasn't so cold.

Medianoche snorted and looked back at his master in worry.

"It's okay, chico. I'm fine." Xibalba patted the stallion's neck gently, then he dismounted and allowed the horse to take a drink of water from the nearby pond.

Xibalba sighed and rested his back against one of the trees, closing his eyes and wrapping his wings around his body to keep himself warm. This place was beautiful in spring, when the flowers blossomed and the creeks ran through the clearing. But it wasn't often that he came here, it brought him hurtful memories, the only reason he had come here was because of what happened last night. Of the flashback he had when he saw La Muerte's terrified face.

He and his childhood friend had come to this place various times without their parents' knowledge, though he never met her parents, nor did she meet his father. He was glad she didn't, he wouldn't have bore if his father had harmed her. Hehad already failed to save…. His brain automatically blocked the thought in order to protect his psyche form any further emotional damage, it had accustomed to this a long time ago. He recalled when he and Snow White would come here to play, it was one of his favorite things to do. He wondered how come he never learned her actual name, but instead he simply called her like the princess from that tale his mother had once told him.

Xibalba couldn't help but smile a bit in remembrance. He could see his younger self, sitting down in the meadow picking up wild flowers to make flower crowns and necklaces for her. He could see her trying to catch frogs and crawdads. Ah, the good old days when he had a friend… whatever had happened to her, wherever she was now, he hoped she was happy.

His thoughts returned to La Muerte. He felt terrible about what had happened last night, he had nearly hurt her in one of his… breakdowns. He wouldn't have blamed her if she grew afraid of him once more, but to his disbelief she was more concerned about his injured hand than the fact that he had nearly killed her, and he couldn't understand why. Why was she like that? Why was she not afraid of him?! The doubt was driving him mad, he couldn't understand but yet he was thankful for it. A few months earlier he wouldn't have cared less if she left, but now he didn't want her to go.

He didn't know what he'd do if she ever left him, she was the second friend he ever had. Well, if he didn't count his servants and his pets, he considered them more than just that, they were more of a family to him even if he didn't openly show it. With La Muerte it was different, he wanted to see her happy more than anything; it was the least he could do after endangering her not once, but thrice. The warmth of her voice and her beautiful… yes, beautiful personality, she was so kind and sweet, but also strong and untamable, like him.

He had to think of something to do for her.