V
Hades's Persephone.
Softly, he sang her a lullaby. It was not sad or partially happy; you would define it as an abysmal bliss. His voice is the only beauty of his many horrors.
She drifted like a fallen autumn leaf; slowly, gently, and angelically. Her presence brought sheer joy to him that he wept, how could a monster be so fortunate for him to have a divine being by his side? He must be dreaming. Lucidly.
She was the very hearth of his home.
The gem of his Kingdom.
An ethereal maiden of his forsaken land.
She is his everything.
And no gargoyle shall be this golden. It is unfavorable to the heaven above. Could there be such a celestial place? In all his life, he was rejected of happiness, devoid of normality. Why now taste the sensation of eternal reward? When he'd cheated, lied, and killed.
It doesn't matter now; she is his live Elysian fields.