A few hours, a cup of warm tea and a fresh change of clothing later, La Muerte managed to calm down enough to tell her father what had transpired between her and Xibalba. She didn't have the heart to tell him he had taken advantage of her feelings to bed her, so she told she caught him cheating on her in the act with another goddess, and he didn't even try to make an excuse to it. Thankfully, it seemed he believed her, for he did not question her any further on the matter. Sol almost immediately sent another petition of marriage annulment to Quetzalcóatl and Tezcatlipoca, this time with La Muerte's approval and testimony. But it would take a few months to process it, they had to inquire to Xibalba about it, and if he wanted to go ahead with a divorce. While marriages between Gods was usually life-long, there was a sort of loophole in the Ancient Rules; if both members of the union had a legitimate reason and wished it so, they could as for a divorce, but these were rarely approved, if at all. Sol wanted to separate his beloved daughter from the monster she had been forced to marry as soon as possible.

However, Aimé could tell there was something more to it. Why had La Muerte arrived on a bathrobe, almost undressed? She had the feeling of what had truly happened, but she didn't dare tell their father about it. She didn't want to worry him even more, and perhaps she was only assuming things, but she felt she had to ask her sister about it. Sol had asked her not to mention anything more about Xibalba to La Muerte, but maybe it was a good chance for her big sister to let everything out. They had always shared their secrets ever since they were children, so maybe she would tell her. She could tell she needed comfort now more than ever.

That night, Aimé left her room when she was certain Father had gone to sleep, and headed across the hall to her sister's door. She wasn't certain if she'd already be asleep, but as she silently opened the door, she found La Muerte was awake, though most of her lamps were until, save for the one in her bedside table. She was sitting in bed with her back against her pillows, her fingers fidgeting with the gold locket around her neck; Aimé noticed her sister's eyes were till glossy and bloodshot from all the crying. It hurt to see her like this.

"Muertita?" Aimé gently called out to her sister.

La Muerte quickly wiped her eyes, an tried to look as calm as possible, before glancing at her sister and doing her best attempt at a smile. "What is it, Amy?"

"Can I talk to you?"

La Muerte shifted a bit to the side in bed, giving some space for Aimé to sit down next to her. It was just like when they were just children and they'd have their woman-to-woman chats. "What is it?"

"How are you doing?"

"I feel a bit better now that I'm here with you."

"I'm glad you came back too, La Muerte, I missed you very much." Aimé leaned against her older sister, and relaxed when she felt her arm warp around her shoulders.

"I missed you very much too, hermana." La Muerte smiled. "I admit, it was boring down there without my best friend to cheer me up."

"Say, La Muerte… there's something I'd like to ask you."

"What is it?"

Aimé bit her lip. She was reluctant to even bring the topic out, but maybe it was best that she let it all out. "What happened between you and Xibalba? The truth."

As she expected, La Muerte's smile immediately disappeared, and her eyes swelled up with tears at the reminder. La Muerte froze when she heard his name. Flashes of their night of passion, then of his betrayal and his heart-wrenching words as he almost literally kicked her out of his life, having obtained what he wanted from him. She just wanted to forget about it and go on with her life, but for some reason she couldn't. Still, she felt it wouldn't be fair if she didn't trust her little sister, after all they had always confided in each other ever since they were very young.

"I'm going to tell you…" she finally said after a while. "But please, don't tell Father about it. I'm afraid of what he could do if he ever found out…"

"You mean what he could do to him?"

She would be lying if she said she didn't care what happened to Xibalba. "Of what he could do, you know how papá is about these things."

"Wait…" Aimé was starting to connect the dots, her eyes widened in horror. "Did Xibalba defile you?"

"No! No, not in the way you are imagining…" La Muerte sighed, and started to tremble. "But… He was s-so sweet, and so tender, I t-thought that maybe, he t-truly loved me…" her voice was trembling, a few tears were finding their way down her cheeks. "I g-gave my m-maidenhood to a monster!" Finally she couldn't take it any longer and she burst out into tears for the hundredth time that day, embracing her sister tightly and sobbing into her chest, just like Aimé would do back in their younger days. "This m-morning, he j-just… he…"

"I understand." Aimé told her gently, returning the embrace and stroking her head. "It's okay, you don't have to continue if it's too hurtful."

The two sisters stayed like that for what seemed like hours, La Muerte crying bitterly over her foolishness. How could she come to love such a man that liked to toy with women without a care in the world? To think she had come to see him as her friend! The very thought that she allowed him to touch her repulsed her, and yet she couldn't forget the passion he made her feel, the tenderness in his kisses and caresses, she shivered at the reminder.

"I never want to see him again." She finally said, growling and managing to calm down a bit. "He can rot in that hole he calls his kingdom for what I care."

"I don't mean to defend him, but you're always saying we shouldn't bear grudges against anyone, even if they deserve it."

"I know that, but that… man, doesn't deserve even my pity, nor my tears." Finally, La Muerte slid out of her sister's embrace, her tears drying on her cheeks. She would not shed any more tears for him. She had been in harder situations than this, and she always got ahead despite the pain and the hardships. It would be the same this time. She had her family, her friends, her subjects were safe from the dark god now that he lost all interest on her-and on the Land of the Remembered, thankfully.

She didn't need him.

From this day on, he was no longer her husband. He was a stranger.


She left.

She was gone.

He was alone.

In a fit of sorrowful rage, he destroyed nearly all of his bedchambers, anything unfortunate enough to be in front of him was either sliced in half, broken into splinters or shredded to pieces. His desk and bedside tables had been reduced to splinters, his curtains, pillows, mattress and blankets looked like they had been clawed by a lion and his walls had claw marks left from over his rampage. Finally, he let himself fall on top of his bed, cocooning himself in his wings, trying to hide from the outside world. His eyes had no more tears to shed, but his heart was torn apart, and he was broken.

He regretted what he had done deeply. The words he had told her haunted him and stung him like angry bees, the look of hurt and betrayal on her face was too much for him to bear. The very thought made his eyes moisten with tears. He wanted to go see her and beg for her forgiveness, but he stopped himself from doing it. She was with her family now, with those who loved her, she would be better off without him. Yet, the thought of her being with another man infuriated him and drove him mad. He wished he could regret ever meeting her and bringing her down, but he could not. He loved her too much, she was his light in this darkness he had to call home, she healed his wounds, she taught him how to love again, but now she was gone. He was all alone once again.

There was a knock on his door, but he didn't reply. His throat was dry, and his voice was gone.

"My Lord?" it was Regina.

No reply.

The door creaked open, but he didn't move a muscle. He didn't want to see anyone at the moment. He heard her footsteps on his marble floor, and a tray being placed on his bedside table.

"I brought you something to eat."

Again, he didn't reply. He heard Regina sigh sadly and walk out of his room, closing the door behind her.

A small hiss caught his attention. Ponzoña slithered up his bed, and towards his hand. The two-headed snake glanced up at his master sadly, and rubbed its heads against his hand in an attempt to comfort him; Xibalba wished he could offer his snake at least a small smile, but he had not the heart. He was too broken for it. But he did stroke his pet's heads gently. Curious at what Regina had brought to eat, the dark god shifted in bed so he could glance back at the tray. Grilled pike. One of his favorites. But he was not hungry.

Somehow he managed to make his way out of bed grabbing his purple robe, but he wrapped his wings around his body as he walked out of his room, and down the hall. He made his way towards La Muerte's former room, his hand trembled as he reached out for the knob and turned it. Taking a deep breath, he pushed it open; surprisingly one part of him still expected to find his wife asleep on bed, or reading a book, which made it more painful for him to find it empty. Xibalba walked inside, glancing at the empty bed with a forlorn expression, recalling when he'd often find La Muerte asleep with a book in her lap, and he'd cover her with her blankets to keep her warm. In her hurry she had forgotten all of her things, but he guessed she had more dresses in the Land of the Remembered. Maybe she wouldn't mind if he kept these to remember her.

He stepped on something. Xibalba lifted his feet to take a better look, and his eyes swelled up with tears when he found La Muerte's wedding ring on the floor, forgotten. It was no surprise she had gotten rid of it. Gingerly, he picked up the golden ring with his claws and took a closer look at it. He wished he had given her a much more beautiful ring, but that was all in the past.

The tears finally rolled down his cheeks as he closed his fists on the ring, He missed her terribly, every moment he spent without her was Hell. Xibalba glanced at her bed once again, somehow he found himself walking towards it and laying down on top of it. It still smelt of marigolds and flowers. Xibalba ran his free hand on the duvet, holding the ring in his closed fist close to his chest. He caught the smell of her perfume, once more he cocooned himself in his wings. The smell brought him memories of La Muerte, of the night they spent together, when they expressed their love in the garden. There would no longer be any of those moments.

He could only dream of her. He could only dream of her kisses, her caresses, her warm breath as she whispered his name.

The warmth of the bed combined with that of his wings, and the sweet aroma of the woman he loved soon lulled him back to sleep.


A week passed.

A week ever since La Muerte abandoned Xibalba. Many people had different reactions to it. Sol was beyond happy that his daughter was free from that monster, Aimé was glad that her sister had returned home, while the rest of the pantheon couldn't believe what had happened. How La Muerte could have been tricked by Xibalba, to think they had even started to believe he had truly changed for the better. Most of the Aztec pantheon cut off all interaction with him, except for a select few who had no other choice.

But Xibalba could care less about that. Emilio and the rest of his servants, as well as the closest things he had to friends in other pantheons (Epona among them) were getting worried about him. He never left his chambers, not even to work, barely ate (his room was full of trays of food, cold and untouched) and he didn't react to anything. Nothing could make him get out of bed, not even when Roberto told him he had messed something up. That usually made the dark god bolt out of bed to yell at him, but now he didn't even move a finger.

Xibalba now spent all the time on bed, except when he had to answer the call of nature, thinking about La Muerte and remembering her, which further stung at his heart. He hadn't bothered to go for a bath. If anyone saw him in that state, they wither wouldn't recognize him, or would scoff at how such a once-feared god could become such a pathetic creature.

He was almost the definition of the word pathetic itself. His feathers were all bristled and uncared for, his eyes were bloodshot and puffy from all the tears, and his moustache and beard were all disheveled and an authentic mess of tangles. He spent all his time cherishing on La Muerte's discarded wedding ring, now hanging on a small chain around his neck.

La Muerte, meanwhile, wished she could say she was happy and had all but forgotten about him, but that would be lying. She denied it, she still tried to fight against it, but in her heart she knew she still loved Xibalba. Even if he only toyed with her, he had made her feel complete, he taught her a good lesson: to be herself. She did her best to show her family she was fine. She tried her best to act as the happy, kind princess she had always been, but that was only a mask, a mask to conceal her broken heart, and her forlorn expressions. There were a few things she would miss, Emilio and the other servants, Epona, the hounds… And even though she refused to admit it, she missed Xibalba.

Lately, though, something weird had been going on. She felt sick at her stomach, yesterday morning she woke up to a churn in her stomach and she rushed to her bathroom to throw the contents of her stomach from dinner up in the sink in the form of acidic vomit. She assumed she must have eaten a piece of underdone cheese, or undigested tacos. Speaking of which, she didn't even like tacos that much anymore. Nor empanadas, enchiladas, or any of her favorite dishes; she had been asking for pastas and meats these days, everyone guessed that after almost a year of living down in Xibalba's realm with only European food had something to do with it.

Today she was supposed to accompany Aimé to the orphanage, like all Saturdays. She was happy she would get to see all the children again after so much time, but she hoped her temper wouldn't flare out of sudden, like it had been happening. After a small breakfast of French toast and orange juice, La Muerte and Aimé headed outside where a carriage was already waiting for them. The driver waved at the princesses with a friendly smile, to which they responded with a gently curtsy and gentle smiles. La Muerte's smile nearly wavered when she remembered Roberto and Emilio as they drove Xibalba's carriage, often bickering between themselves, but she kept her mask on.

After going into the carriage, the drive closed the door and climbed unto the drive's seat, gently touching the horse's rear with the light whip, signaling to move forward. He drove through the Remembered city, leading the horses through streets and crowds and seas of remembered souls. La Muerte would wave happily at the passing souls, watching fondly as they continued to enjoy the festivities. Soon after, the carriage stopped in front or a large building. The driver climbed down the seat to open the door for the princesses. La Muerte and Aimé climbed out of it, thanking the driver for bringing them, before he went back to the seat to wait for their return.

As soon as they crossed the large marble doors, crowds of children of all ages immediately gathered around the sisters, laughing and trying to call their attention. La Muerte smiled and kneeled down, receiving lots of hugs and kisses from the children.

"La Muerte!"

"Is it true you're not leaving again?"

"I'm glad you're back!"

La Muerte smiled. "I'm not leaving again, mis niños. I promise you."

"Yaay!"

One little girl took notice of something. "Where is Beasty?"

Aimé glanced at the little girl in surprise. La Muerte would have loved to see Xibalba's reaction to the nickname he had been given- she quickly shook the thought of him out of her head. La Muerte did her best to keep her warm smile on her face. "He's… back home."

"Why didn't he come?"

"He was busy."

"Marie, hush." One of the female spirits who worked there scolded the child gently. "You shouldn't be peeking your nose into other people's business."

"Don't worry, Martha." La Muerte said kindly. "I don't mind."

Aimé decided to change the topic, bringing up the basket they had brought. "So, everyone, who wants some biscuits?"

"Yay!"

As the children swarmed around Aimé, who giggled as she distributed the chocolate chip cookies among the children equally while telling them there were enough for everyone, La Muerte was 'dragged' aside by the hand by some of the other children who were a bit closer to her. She sat down in the table, surrounded by the kids. They were asking her all sort of things about the time she was gone, and she didn't mind speaking about… certain things from the Land of the Forgotten.

"Are there parties down there?" a boy asked.

La Muerte shook her head sympathetically. "Not really. It's very quiet and cold down there, the spirits down there… well, they are not fit for parties anymore."

"Why not?" another boy asked.

"Well, they were very sad about not being parties at all."

"So Beasty doesn't like parties?"

Another one who mentioned Xibalba. "Not quite, he is very serious and would rather have peace and quiet."

"So, all the spirits are always sad."

"Not everyone. Xi- Beasty had a particular type of spirits who served him, they were mostly lizards."

"Lizards?" a girl stuck out her tongue in disgust. "Eeww!"

La Muerte couldn't help but giggle. "Don't worry, they were actually very friendly. They all had affection for Beasty, and I came to see them as friends."

"Did Beasty have animals there, like King Sosol?"

"Not many, but yes. He has a beautiful black horse named Medianoche and lots of dogs."

"Was he nice?" a little boy inquired.

"He was a gentleman, though sometimes he did have his defects." La Muerte felt someone tugging at her dress, and looked down to find one of the younger girls looking up at her innocently.

"La Muerte, would you draw with me?"

The goddess smiled down at the child. "Sure, sweetie." But as she stood up to make her way down the hall, out of suddenly her consciousness started to fade away, and her vision faded to black as she fainted. Everyone grew alarmed as La Muerte suddenly lost consciousness, Aimé barely managed to catch her in time before she hit the ground.

"La Muerte!" she tried to make her older sister react, to no avail.

"Milady!" Martha and other female spirits rushed forward with worried expressions.

All the children had no idea of what had happened, soon the nurses were leading them away. Aimé asked the maids for water and alcohol, attempting to shake her sister awake, to no avail.