The next day we try to get Hades walking, full steps down and back the cavern's endless hall. It's like his wound was never even there until he tries to stretch out long, abrupt pull in the muscles of his side and he winces.

"Not quite ready for that," he says, slumping against the cavern wall. We've neared our makeshift camp again; I wrap his arm around my shoulder just in case and help him sit down by the fire. "How's your back feel?" he asks after a moment, glancing up at me under bruised eyes. The cut on the side of his face he got from falling out of the tree the other day has healed into a scar now, medicine having taken effect just like it did to the lashes on my back, no burn, no sting, no problems.

"Good," I tell him, sitting with my legs folded into my lap. "It won't be so bad sleeping on the dirt and leaves now."

This morning I left him resting to go back up top and grab as much dried grass as I could, lots of leaves from large trees to use for bedding. I refilled the canteen too, bathed and grabbed more cattails to make up for the loaf of bread Hades and I ate last night. When I came back to the cavern I found him awake and doing push-ups held by his knees so there wasn't strain on his stomach where the wound was, breathing harsh as he collapsed at my cleared throat.

"I felt energized," he said with an embarrassed smile, then glanced at the way my pack was stuffed and the large leaves in my arms. "What's that for?"

"Bedding," I said, laying the pile down on the general area we've taken to sleeping to. "I figure it'll be a little more comfy than dirt."

Hades' eyes glowed softly in the light of the fire, an impish kind of look to him when he asked, "Can we…can I still hold you when we sleep?" Because that's what we've been doing every night that we've been down here– it's just a natural thing now, a sort of comfort. And it's nice because he gives me the liberty of not saying anything about the way I drool on his chest and I never mention the press of his erection against my hip when we wake in the mornings. It's a new kind of thing for both of us, but we're not about to give up any semblance of affection in a place like this.

"What do you think?" I asked him with a coy smile, and laughed when he blushed.

"Especially with shirts," Hades says now in relay to my statement, pulling at the rich fabric of his new tunic; I gave him the one I didn't rip to use as cloth; since he is much taller he needs all the fabric he can get for the shirt to make it to the top of his leggings.

"I kind of like you better without a shirt," I tell him, half serious half play.

Hades startles at the admission, head whipping in my direction with wide eyes. "Oh," he says after a moment, running a hand through his hair where it's thicker on top than the sides. "I could…I could take it off, if you want me to?"

"What do you want to do?" I ask him, glancing down at my broken wrist and manmade splint as heat rises to my cheeks now that the boldness of my words has hit me.

I haven't had much interaction with boys in this kind of way. Usually it's either Mom shooing them off or me telling them to get away for me because they want to copy my homework or cop a feel, or I'm punching them in the face because they won't take no for an answer. With Hades though, I don't think I'd want to tell him no in the first place. The only boy I was ever nice to sometimes was Charon, and we've never had romantic feelings for each other, not that I know of. He had a crush on Plutus, not me.

"I dunno," Hades admits, blushing as I look at him from beneath my lashes. It's in that moment I'm struck again by how easy it will be to 'love' him as Prometheus told me to do; none of this feels like acting for me– it just feels natural. "I don't– I haven't had much experience with this sort of thing."

"What sort of thing?" I ask him, biting my lip and stifling my urge to kiss him when he shifts uncomfortably, looking nervous and adorable.

"Girls," he says, choking on the word a bit.

"Do you like boys?" I ask him, making him sputter. I laugh a little, reaching out to take his hand in mine. "It's okay to like both, you know."

"I'm more apt towards girls," he says almost shyly, and for all the stoic and tough persona Hades puts on, I can see just how young and scared he is now. He told me he'll be nineteen in the fall, but that doesn't make him a man; I think in the end of things everyone is just a scared little kid looking for comfort. "I mean, I'm more apt towards you."

I smile at him softly, fingers beginning to tremble around his. "If it makes you feel any better, I don't have much experience with this either."

"You weren't lyin' during your interview when you said your mom doesn't let you out much, were you?" he asks.

"No," I say, soft shake of the head. "Especially after my brother died…she was always protective, but that just made her even more sheltering, I guess."

"What was your brother's name?" Hades asks softly, shifting so our knees are touching.

"Plutus," I tell him. "My little sister's name is Despoina, and my youngest brother's name is Arion… What about your sisters? What are their names?"

Hades wrinkles his nose. "Tisiphone, Megaira and Alekto."

"You really don't like them, do you?" I ask him.

"No," he says, then quickly corrects, "Don't get me wrong– they're my sisters and I love 'em, but they can be pretty awful most days. Then again, our household wasn't so good itself in the first place."

"Didn't your mom and dad keep them from being mean?" I ask, taking his other hand in mine when he flinches. "It's okay if you don't want to tell me."

"No, it's not that I don't wanna tell you, but, well…" He looks around the cavern, sharp faces of marble rock in the firelight. I understand after a moment what he means– he doesn't want to tell the Capital.

Slowly, I lean into him, lips at his ear so I can whisper, "If we were alone, I'd tell you everything."

"Me too," he says when I pull back a fraction, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows nervously. "I really wish we were alone."

I giggle, untangling one of my hands from his to lift it to his cheek, stroking my thumb along the shell of his left ear. "You're certainly a teenage boy, alright."

"I usually don't like people touchin' me," he says after a moment, only when I go to pull my hand away he holds it in place. "Except with you. I like it when you touch me."

"When did you start liking me?" I ask him softly, because I feel like I need to know after he's gone and said something like that.

"Since the start," he says softly. "The moment I saw you get chosen on the recaps– the way you went up solemn-faced and shoulders high… I tried to tell myself I was just being dumb, 'cause it is dumb, liking my competition– but you just kept growing on me, and that first day, when you tried to save Hestia at the beginning of the Games I– well, I was sure glad to see you alive at the Pantheon. And when we ran into each other again, I didn't wanna stick together just to find that fox."

I blink at his admission, try to find a hint of game-play behind it and come up with none. Either he's a damn good liar, or what he's said is all true. Thinking of the way he stayed with me when Aphrodite gave him the chance to run, I know it's the latter. It makes my heart thump, a guilty ache in my chest because even though I know I have feelings for him, too, I also know that what we're saying right now is keeping us alive and safe, while he doesn't.

"What about you?" Hades asks, anxious that I haven't replied to him admitting he likes me yet. "When did you start linking me?"

"I don't know," I tell him honestly. "I've always liked you, I guess– since you caught me from falling before the parade and all. But I don't think I really started liking you until the Pantheon. I can't even describe how relieved I was to see you were okay…"

"It's too bad it took us this long to figure it out," he mumbles, pressing his forehead to mine. "At least before the Games I could've kissed you without anyone watching."

I let his words sink in for a moment, glance at the fire burning to the side of us and smirk. "Well," I say, kicking dirt over the flames until they begin to extinguish, not caring if Prometheus is out there cursing me for it right now. After a few more handfuls of sand, the cavern settles into black and I feel like Hades and I have at least a bit of privacy. "This is better than nothing, right?"

I feel him lean in then, shaking as he smiles against my mouth. "Right," he laughs, and then he kisses me.

After a few hesitant moments I wrap my arms around his neck, not exactly sure how to move my mouth for this, thinking about the way Prometheus kissed me and trying to follow memory. Hades exhales shakily when I slip my tongue in his mouth, awkward clack of teeth as we shift. I try to tilt my head but that just makes it messy, too much spit so our lips slide against each other.

I break away then, frowning as Hades stutters an apology. "It's not your fault," I say. "I just don't know what you like…?"

"I don't know what I like, Kore," he says and I can hear the embarrassed humor in his voice. "What do you like?"

I think about it a moment, the one real kiss I've had not providing much example. "I don't know," I say eventually. "I haven't– you're only the third boy I've ever kissed, and one of the others was Apollo so–"

"Apollo?!" Hades practically shouts. "When did you– isn't he– I–…?"

"It isn't like that," I laugh, reaching out to soothe the angry wrinkle I know will be between his eyes; it's one trait of his I've picked up on over the past few days. "He suggested we get together, but I told him no."

"Good," Hades says with apparent relief. "You're too nice for him anyhow."

"But not for you?" I ask jokingly.

"I don't know," Hades answers, lips pursing. "I guess I just can't believe I'm here right now. It still feels like a dream."

I bet the audience is eating this up, a voice in the back of my head whispers as I say, "I didn't think this could happen despite everything else. We're supposed to be killing each other, and yet here we are…"

"I couldn't kill you," Hades says with a shake of the head. "I never could. When that boy attacked you while you were trying to save Hestia– I didn't even think about it when I stabbed him, Kore. I just wanted you to be safe."

"I thought you didn't trust me all the way then," I tell him, eyes threatening to water because he shouldn't even trust me now; I don't trust myself, so how can he?

"I did and I didn't. When you offered an…alliance," he says, and I know he means what I said about Hestia, about getting her through to the end but he's got to be discreet in front of the audience if he wants to protect her, "I wanted to believe you, but I mean, these Games, I just– I didn't know if I could no matter how much I wanted to."

"We can still find Hestia," I tell him, feeling his heart beat faster under my palm at her name. "We can go out now," I begin frantically, thinking that maybe if we get to her now that neither of us is wounded, bring her back here and keep her safe, I can make the lying up to him. I can make up for killing Pan by saving her. "We can look for her; she's smart and will be hidden good but you know her better than most. We can–"

"Let's just stay here a little longer," Hades interrupts me, and even in the darkness I can see the plea in his eyes. "Just one more day."

And I know it then, know that he has no hope for us once we leave this dark place, that the moment we make it into the light everything between us will vanish. I've been worried about the same thing all along, if I'm honest with myself. Because eventually the audience will get bored of the star crossed lovers bit– they always want their share of blood.

The Gamesmakers won't let us stay down here forever; soon we'll be forced to fight and one of us will die. Every moment that Hades and I have together is fleeting; he'll slip from my grasp any moment and I realize with sharp clarity that I want every memory I can get out of him, no matter how ridiculous or life-endangering.

Without further thought I surge forwards, press my lips to his and don't try this time, just let the instinct of it take over. Hades is startled by the move only a moment before his hands rise up to tangle in my hair, the two of us falling back in our forest bed at my insistence. He doesn't know what to do then, and neither do I really.

But I think I know what I want– I know that even if by some miracle I win these Games and become a piece of Capital property, I don't want them taking anything real from me. And Hades is real and what we have between us is real despite what Prometheus or anyone else might think. And I can give him something, something I have yet to give to anyone else and whether he lives or I live or neither of us do, it'll be something Hades and I can keep that the Capital will never be able to get their filthy hands on.

Even if they can see it, they won't be able to have it, not really.

Eventually, our kissing becomes more frenzied, Hades' hands moving out of my hair as we lie on our sides facing each other, barely touching and yet so close I can feel the way he's shaking and I'm sure he can feel me shaking too. His hands settle at my waist first, then right above my backside, like he doesn't know if he can touch me there yet or not. I smile against his mouth, untangle my hands from where they're curled into his shirt and the side of his neck and move his own hands down, encouraging.

At my permission he groans, uses the newfound consent to grab the back of my thigh and drape my leg over his own, fitting into the crook. I gasp at the boldness of it, scrabble one arm over his shoulder to press my hand between his shoulders and bring him closer. We're writhing against each other by now, looking for a certain kind of friction we know the meaning of but haven't sought from another before.

When I break away for a breath he keeps his lips on my skin, a wet trail down my chin to my neck, sucking a warm mark there. I whimper, hips pushing into his more insistently at the action. I wish I could keep quieter, because while it would be hard to see us fully in the dark, it's ever so easy to hear and take a good estimate at what's going on.

"Shhh," Hades chuckles as if guessing my thoughts, hand on my thigh rising up beneath my tunic, tickling the skin of my belly. I nip at the side of his cheek in retaliation, gasping when his hand suddenly touches my breast. Instantly he stills. "Should we stop?"

"Hell no," I say, a bit louder than needed; I blush in the darkness, shake my head. "I mean no," I say a little softer.

Hades laughs again. "Fine by me," he says, leaning back in for another kiss.

It's when he tries with fumbling hands to take my top off that we hear the trumpet blare.

Both of us freeze in our frenzied movements, eyes meeting in the dark as we sit up, untangling limbs. "Well," he says after a moment, "at least we know they weren't watching us."

I nod, ears strained and want of him suddenly diminished; nothing like being reminded you're in a Game where innocent kids fight to the death for the sake of keeping false order to stifle one's libido. "Yeah," I say. "Who do you think that was for?"

"I don't know," Hades says. "There are what– nine of us left?"

"Eight now," I whisper. "Not many left to go for a big finale."

"When do you think it'll happen?"

"Not tomorrow," I say. "That death will tide the Gamesmakers over for now." And they probably want to watch us have sex, if Prometheus' note is any indication. I know Prometheus didn't just mean shared stares of longing when he said I need to love Hades to stay alive; that doesn't make good television.

I ignore the guilt at the thought of it, stand up and grab for Hades' hand. "Come on," I say, pulling him to his feet.

"Where are we going?" he asks.

"To see who that trumpet was for," I say as I grab my scythe; he keeps hold of my hand and leans us sideways to grab my knife, the only weapon he has left since Aphrodite cleaned him of his sword and pack; it was just dumb luck I left dropped mine concealed in the grass as she pulled me away like bait with that whip of hers. "It should almost be dark up there, and we need new firewood anyways."

He follows behind me hesitantly after that, stopping when we get to the slope leading back up into the arena. "Kore?" he asks.

"Yes?" I answer, turning to squint at him in the dark.

"Can I ask you a favor?"

"Of course," I say to him, brows drawing together in confusion. "What is it?"

His fingers contract around mine, like he's afraid I'll slip away the moment he stops touching me. "No matter what happens by the end of this, believe me when I say that ev'rything that's happening down here, between us, it's real for me. Can you believe me about that?"

And I am thankful for the dark then, because I know he won't see the guilt written across my face when I say, "It's the same for me, Hades. I believe you."

He gives a relieved sigh, leans forwards and kisses me and I know that in that moment that even if I did win these Games, the only proper title I should receive is Kore: Goddess of Deceit.

When we make it up top, the sun is just setting.

I take Hades to the stream and help him wash off the dirt and grime that he's accumulated the past couple of days to pass time, on high alert with scythe at the hip in case the tribute whose mark lead to that trumpet blare comes traipsing along anytime soon.

After Hades is clean we sit on the bank and drink our fill of the water, nibbling on dandelions and laughing when I smear one down the side of his face, painting him in yellow. He retaliates by tackling me to the ground, digging fingers into my sides where I'm ticklish and begin a fit of laughter.

The only thing that stops him are the sudden lights in the fake sky, hologram of the dead. My breath catches in my throat at the face there, the name.

Hephaestus.

It seems that I'm not the only one who found his interaction with me suspicious– he was well out of the way of trouble here on the mountain if Hades and I not being bothered thus far is any indication. But apparently the Capital didn't like Hephaestus' civilities with me, his saving grace and declaration I'm not the little Maiden they want but a thing of the dark. Don't forget the change, Persephone.

And they sent death his way.

What if I'm next?

"We need to get back in the cavern," I say then, pulling Hades up to his feet frantically; he winces at the pull in his side.

"What do you mean?" he asks. "It's real nice out here and I haven't been aboveground in–"

"I saw Hephaestus yesterday," I blurt before I can stop myself, making Hades freeze up and look at me with shock. "He didn't– nothin' happened really, he just passed by and wasn't looking for trouble. But if he was out here, by us, the tribute that killed him is too."

I shift nervously, rapid breath because even if we get to the cavern, who's to say that'll stop the Gamesmakers? What if I get Hades killed too? Gods, what if it's my fault he dies– how can I live with that? You won't for long if the Capital sees to it.

"Yeah, okay," Hades says then, a moment's beat after my confession. "Let's go."

The entire way back to the cavern, I can feel his suspicion, the loose grip of his hand. And I knew this secrecy between us wouldn't last long– I have to tell him everything, and hope it doesn't break us apart.

Or worse: get us killed.