IN SICKNESS AND IN HEALTH

Hades didn't waste a second. In a swirl of black smoke, he materialized beside Erianthe in the corridor.

The sight before him stopped him cold.

"Erianthe!" he called, his voice echoing through the hallway.

He dropped to his knees without hesitation, not caring about the chill of the stone floor. Carefully, he gathered her into his arms. Her body was burning up, her breathing shallow, and a sickly flush spread across her sweat-soaked cheeks.

He pressed a hand to her forehead and frowned deeply.

"Fever," he muttered, worry clouding his usually unreadable gaze.

At that moment, the imps came stumbling around the corner, with Euryale following closely behind.

"Boss!" Pain and Panic shouted in unison.

Hades didn't turn to face them. His eyes remained locked on Erianthe's flushed, fevered face.

"Idiots!" he snapped, voice low and dangerous. "The first thing you should've done was call Agapios."

"We're sorry! We—"

"Go. Now. Tell him I'm taking her to my chambers." His tone cut like a blade. "And remember… mutilation later."

The imps bolted down the corridor, casting each other terrified glances at the promise of future punishment.

Euryale stayed behind, saying nothing. Quietly, she crouched to help gather the items Erianthe had dropped. Scattered on the floor were crumpled charcoal sketches—drawings of her mother, her brother, and her friends. Some were faded, others drawn more recently. Among them, catching the faint light of the corridor, was a small yet precious object: her father's medallion.

"What was she doing with all of this?" Hades thought. He couldn't ignore the sketch of Lysander either, and it made something twist painfully in his chest.

Without another word, he lifted her into his arms, holding her with utmost care, and strode swiftly down the halls toward his private quarters. His face was stoic, but inside, he was spiraling. He couldn't tear his eyes away from her.

Once inside his room, Hades gently laid her on his bed. Her breathing remained shallow, and her skin still burned with fever. It wasn't long before the imps returned—this time with Agapios, the Underworld's old physician, a hunched skeleton in a tattered robe.

"Examine her, Agapios," Hades ordered in a commanding voice, his eyes never leaving the unconscious girl.

"Of course, my lord," the skeleton rasped, his voice dry and brittle. "However… I suggest you leave the room for a few minutes."

Hades narrowed his eyes. "And why is that?"

"To examine her properly, I'll need to remove part of her clothing. It would be appropriate for Miss Euryale to stay and assist me," Agapios explained with complete professionalism.

"What? Absolutely not!" Hades snapped, folding his arms. "I'm not leaving her alone with anyone—"

"Oh, for the gods' sake, Hades!" Euryale interrupted, rolling her eyes. "Don't be so dramatic. And don't be a pervert. It's a medical examination. Let him do his job—you'll see your precious Erianthe again in no time."

"Precious? And did you seriously just call me a pervert?" he growled, clearly offended.

"Come on, big guy. I'll make sure she's safe," Euryale said with a wink as she gave him a firm push toward the door.

Before Hades could protest, the door slammed shut in his face.

"Damn gorgon," he muttered, standing there with his arms still crossed. "And I have to put up with that walking pile of bones, too."

Pain and Panic watched him from the other end of the corridor, saying nothing, too scared to even breathe. At that moment, Hades was as tense as a bowstring drawn to its limit—and all he wanted was for Erianthe to open her eyes.

The minutes dragged on like hours. His flames flickered restlessly, mirroring the storm of thoughts churning in his mind. He hated this feeling. He hated feeling powerless.

Finally, the door creaked open. Agapios stepped out first, followed by Euryale.

"Well?" Hades asked, his voice low and serious.

Agapios gave his skull a slight shake. "It's nothing serious, but her body is exhausted. She's been pushing herself far too hard. Rest and fluids will bring her fever down."

"Is that all?" Hades pressed, frowning. He didn't sound convinced.

"That's all," Agapios confirmed with a slight clatter of his jaw. "But if she doesn't rest now, it could be far worse next time."

Beside him, Euryale lowered her gaze, her voice barely a whisper.

"It was my fault."

Hades glanced at her from the corner of his eye but said nothing. Now wasn't the time for blame or apologies. Without a word, he stepped forward and gently pushed open the door to reenter the room.

"Leave us alone," he ordered without turning back.

Pain and Panic, who had remained quietly in the hallway, exchanged a worried glance. They wanted to stay—to be there for Erianthe—but they knew better than to disobey Hades. Lowering their heads, they slipped away without a sound. Euryale let out a quiet sigh before following them, casting one last look at the girl from the doorway.

Hades closed the door behind them. Silence settled over the room like a shroud.

He walked slowly to the edge of the bed, where Erianthe lay. Her cheeks were flushed with fever, a damp cloth resting on her forehead. Her breathing had calmed slightly, and though her eyes remained closed, her face no longer held pain. She was calm.

Hades sat in the chair beside her bed, elbows on his knees, fingers laced together, his gaze fixed on her.

He was restless and irritated.

"Damn it, Erianthe. Why do you keep everything to yourself? Why?"Of course, there was no response. "Rest now… but we're going to have a long talk later." He sighed, resigned.

No matter how long it took, he would stay by her side. Watching over her.

He didn't know how much time passed, but at some point, he found himself holding her hand, checking for any change. Still the same.

The Lord of the Underworld sighed and dipped the cloth into the bowl of cold water Euryale had left. With care, he ran it across her forehead, hoping to ease her fever. Every so often, he lifted her head gently and helped her drink small sips of water.

More time passed, and then he noticed it.

Erianthe was trembling.

At first, he thought it was the fever, but the trembling grew stronger. Hades furrowed his brow.

"Eri…?"

No answer. Her body curled instinctively beneath the blankets, trying to find warmth.

He snapped his fingers and conjured a thick quilt over her—but it wasn't enough.

His jaw clenched, and he summoned his fire to warm the room, raising the temperature steadily, hoping it would help.

Still, the shivering didn't stop.

Frustrated, he dragged a hand through his flaming hair.

"What in Tartarus… why isn't this working?" he muttered, irritation mixing with worry.

He didn't have many options left. Hades looked at the bed, at Erianthe. And he knew what he had to do. With a snap of his fingers, he changed his robe for a sleeping tunic and slipped into bed beside her.

At first, he lay still, feeling more uncomfortable than he would ever admit. But then Erianthe trembled again, and instinct took over.

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close to his chest. The effect was immediate. Erianthe snuggled into him, as if her body instinctively recognized the warmth he offered. Her face came to rest against his neck, and her breathing began to slow.

Hades felt her shivering ease. The fever was still there, but at least she wasn't trembling from the cold anymore.

With a resigned sigh, he closed his eyes.
"You're giving me a headache, brat," he whispered before sleep finally claimed him.

Sometime during the night, Erianthe woke with a strange sensation of being wrapped in warmth. It was comforting—perhaps even too comforting.

She blinked slowly and found herself face-to-face with a sight she hadn't expected. Her breath caught in her throat.

Hades was fast asleep, his brow relaxed. His ashen skin had a softer tone under the gentle light of the room. His sharp jawline, the curve of his nose, the slow rise and fall of his chest… Even the flickering blue flames on his head danced calmly, casting a serene glow on his face.

Erianthe flushed bright red.

She was sleeping… in the arms of the god of the dead.

She tried to move, but the moment she did, his arm tightened instinctively around her waist, pulling her even closer.

A shiver ran down her spine—but this time, it wasn't from the fever. It wasn't the first time they'd hugged, nor the first time she felt the warmth of Hades' body. But it was the first time they had slept like this. And she had to admit… it was a very pleasant feeling.

She couldn't look away from his face. It was the first time she had seen him so at peace.

She knew she hadn't been fair to him that day. She'd shut herself off, trapped in her fear and worries, and avoided him. Deep down, she was afraid that if she asked Hades to let her return to Thebes to warn them about Echidna's potential attack, he would say no. But another part of her reminded her that she could trust him. After all, he had shared his own painful past with her.

Without thinking, she lifted a trembling hand and brushed her fingers across his cheek.

His skin was warm—warmer than she expected.

She caught herself thinking how… attractive the god of the underworld truly was. Not in a conventional way, but in a way that drew her in deeply, even if she didn't quite understand why.

His intense gaze, his sly smile, that dry, dark humor… But what she liked most was his mind—how wise he was, how well-read. And how just he was with the souls in his care. He wasn't at all the tyrant her mother once described. He was hardworking, responsible…

And gods, he was strong. Muscular. No, he wasn't a classic hero—but he had a godly build and presence. She still couldn't get the image of him in that armor out of her mind—the one he wore to sneak past the monster lair. He had looked wonderful in it. His usual robes didn't do his physique any justice.

Her finger traced the line of his jaw, down the slope of his neck, where his skin felt even warmer.

What would her parents think of these thoughts? Of these feelings?

But she didn't care anymore.

And then, she whispered what her heart had been feeling for some time.

"I really like you, Aidoneus."

She leaned in and pressed a fleeting kiss to the warm cheek of the god.

The air in the room suddenly felt heavier.

Erianthe blinked rapidly, trying to process what she had just done.
"By the gods, what did I just say?!" Her own words echoed in her head, pounding like a hammer. Her heart was beating so loudly she was certain Hades could hear it.

"I really like you, Aidoneus."
Just thinking about it made her blush down to her ears.

She had said it! Her cheeks were burning—she must be completely red. Embarrassment crashed into her like a wave. Thankfully, Hades was asleep, but she had to get out of that room.

She couldn't stay there. Not after confessing. Her very first confession, and she had done it while the person in question was asleep. Brilliant. She couldn't have been more cowardly.

With the stealth of a thief, she began to move slowly, carefully sliding her body away so as not to wake him. She just had to shift a little, free her waist and—

Just as she was about to rise from the bed, she felt something warm holding her back.

An arm.

A strong arm wrapped firmly around her once again, keeping her in place.

Before she could react, she heard a deep, groggy voice behind her.

"Where do you think you're going, brat?"

Erianthe froze.

No.
No.
No way.

Her entire body went cold.

She started panicking, her heart pounding so hard she could feel it in her throat. Slowly, very slowly, she turned her head. And there he was.

Hades was looking at her through half-lidded eyes, his expression lazy but with a glimmer of amusement.

His flaming blue hair flickered softly, casting a faint glow, and his face looked relaxed, though his arm remained firm around her waist, keeping her from moving.

Once again, heat surged to her face in a flash.

"He's awake!" she thought, mortified.

She didn't know what to do—what to say. Her brain had short-circuited. But if she didn't say something, Hades would get suspicious. So, she tried to sound casual.

"I-I… I'm feeling much better now, so… I-I should probably get up."

Hades didn't look convinced.

"I don't think so," hemurmured, his voice still thick with sleep. "You've still got a bit of a fever. Rest a little longer. I don't want you fainting in the hallway again."

"No, really! I'm totally fine," she said quickly, though the quiver in her voice betrayed her.

Hades raised an eyebrow.

"Brat, you can barely talk without getting breathless," he teased, his lips curling into a faint smirk. "Or is there another reason you're getting all flustered?"

His teasing tone only made Erianthe want to bury herself under the covers and never come out. She tried to wriggle away again, but Hades didn't let go.

"Don't get up. Stay. Go back to sleep and rest. And don't wake me up again."

The temperature in the room felt like it had risen.

"How did I end up in this situation?" thought the daughter of Hercules and Megara.

The day before, she had already felt something wasn't right—when her body began to weaken, and dizziness overtook her—but she never imagined she'd end up unconscious on the floor of one of the palace's hallways in the Underworld. She had spent part of the afternoon in a quiet corner overlooking the River Styx, distracting herself by drawing to calm her thoughts.

And now, here she was. In Hades' room. It wasn't the first time she'd been there, but it was the first time she'd woken up in his bed, pressed against his muscular body.

"Let me get up," she tried again, although her voice didn't sound as firm as she'd intended.

"No," came the god's simple reply.

"What?!"

Hades rested his chin on his free hand and studied her calmly, as if he were genuinely enjoying watching her squirm.

"You can't leave."

"And why not?!"

Hades gave her a crooked smile.
"Because I don't want you to."

Erianthe opened her mouth to protest but stopped short when she realized something. The god's grip on her waist wasn't tight or forceful. She could leave if she really wanted to, but for some reason, she would rather not move. Was it the warmth?

Her heart continued to race in her chest, but Hades didn't miss the shift in her expression.

"What's wrong, brat? Realizing it's not so bad being here?" His voice held a teasing note, but there was something more in his gaze—something that made her shiver.

Erianthe pressed her lips together and looked away, thoroughly embarrassed.
"Don't be an idiot!" she snapped.

Hades chuckled softly, a low, genuine sound, before leaning back against the pillow.

"Alright, alright," he said with a relaxed tone. "But at least sleep a bit more. I'm not letting you run away from me again."

Erianthe wanted to argue, but exhaustion quickly overpowered her. Her body refused to move. So, she took a deep breath and let out a sigh of defeat.

There was no escape.
Not this time.

Slowly, she allowed herself to relax against the mattress, though her nerves still tingled from his presence at her back.

She closed her eyes, letting herself be enveloped by the warmth that Hades radiated. And before she knew it, her breathing began to sync with his.

It didn't take long before she drifted off again. Her breaths grew slow, and even, her body was finally at ease after the fever that had drained her.

Unconsciously, in the middle of sleep, she cuddled once more against the warm body beside her.

Against Hades—who lay wide awake.

He felt her instinctively nestle closer, her face pressing gently against his chest, and the arm he still had around her waist tensed slightly as he remained perfectly still so as not to wake her.

Erianthe sighed softly, her forehead resting against his gray-toned skin. And unknowingly, she mumbled a small confession under her breath, barely audible:

"Aidoneus…"

Hades held his breath. That name… The way she said it always sent a chill down his spine. The way it rolled off her tongue made something in his chest burn.

It was ridiculous, even foolish.

But he liked it—no, he loved it. More than he could ever admit.

The god exhaled slowly, trying to calm himself. But he couldn't ignore the fact that Erianthe was now fully wrapped around him. He could feel the warmth of her body pressed against his. He felt the way her breath gently grazed his skin. Not only that, but he could even sense every curve of her body. And most surprisingly of all, he could feel his heart racing—a heart he thought had withered long ago.

He couldn't sleep.

Not after what he'd heard.

"I really like you, Aidoneus." His mind repeated those words over and over again.

Hades glanced down at the sleeping girl in his arms.

Erianthe's face was peaceful, her expression completely relaxed, as if for this one moment, not a single worry existed in her world.

And the god felt a warmth bloom deep in his chest.

He liked seeing her like this—calm, unafraid, and free from the weight of her family, her friends, and Thebes.

He couldn't deny it.
That brat drove him crazy. He liked her so much that it hurt, and he desired her with an intensity he hadn't felt since his relationship with Persephone.

He loved how strong she was, her stubbornness, her courage, her kindness, and the joy she radiated. That sweetness and passion she put into the smallest things. But most of all, he loved that she wasn't afraid of him—that she didn't find him repulsive.

Everything about her, pulled him in like a magnet, in a way he couldn't resist. She was a light too bright, too alluring, and impossible to ignore. Lysander had been right about her smile—it could illuminate every dark corner of the Underworld.

But all of this was dangerous.

He was a god. And not just any god—the one everyone hated. The one despised by Olympus, even by her parents.

And she was the daughter of his nemesis.

They were total opposites. Hades clenched his jaw.

He shouldn't desire her. He shouldn't see her as anything more than a subordinate—or, at best, a friend. Furthermore, he shouldn't want to taste her lips or crave to hear her voice whispering his name again and again.

But damn it, he did. And he couldn't ignore it—or worse, he didn't want to.

The god ran a hand down his face, then dragged his fingers through his flaming hair, as if that might clear his thoughts.

Just then, Erianthe let out a soft sigh in her sleep, snuggling deeper against his chest. And Hades felt his last shred of resistance begin to crumble.

He couldn't help it.

He gently brushed a lock of her orange hair away from her face, allowing himself a closer look.

By the gods, she was beautiful.

Her slightly parted lips, her skin flushed with warmth, her lashes resting delicately against her cheeks. And the worst part? He knew she felt the same. She was his.

Not in a possessive way. But because Erianthe had chosen him. She had accepted him for who he was and told him how she felt.

Yet, he didn't know what to do with that truth. He didn't know what to do with her. But one thing was crystal clear at that moment…

He would rather not let her go.

Not now. Not ever.

And with that thought, as night still wrapped the room in silence, Hades stayed still, holding her closer, resting his chin against her hair, and breathing in her scent.

Even if he couldn't admit it out loud…

Erianthe really did mean the world to him.

The night passed. The Underworld remained in a deep, undisturbed silence.
In Hades' chamber, the only sound was the steady rhythm of two interwoven breaths—that of the god and the mortal who still lay asleep.

The King of the Underworld didn't know when he'd closed his eyes again, or when Morpheus had pulled him to sleep.

Erianthe still slept in his arms, her warm body curled against his. The heat of her skin, the way she fit so perfectly against him, the rise and fall of her breathing in sync with his… it was comforting. And very, very pleasant.

Which is why, naturally, Hades was the first to wake.

He slowly cracked his eyes open, heavy with sleep, and the first thing he saw was Erianthe's face—peacefully asleep, just inches from his own.
He stayed still, watching her in the dim glow of the room. She looked so calm, so vulnerable, and so beautiful.

Her slightly parted lips, her tousled hair spread across the pillow, the soft glow of warmth on her skin…

Tempting. Far too tempting.

Hades swallowed hard and looked away. "Don't think about it. Don't think about it."
It was far too early to be dealing with the intensity of those feelings.

But just as he tried to shift, Erianthe let out a soft whimper and snuggled deeper into his chest.

Shit.

The King of the Underworld let out a silent sigh, feeling his self-control girl was like a damn barnacle, clinging to him with total trust—completely unaware of the chaos she was stirring in him.

An idea crossed his mind. What if he gave her a little payback?

A mischievous grin tugged at his lips. Without warning, he slid his hands along her sides and began tickling her.

The reaction was immediate.

"E-Eh!" Erianthe jolted awake, stifling a scream between involuntary bursts of laughter. "No! Aidoneus, stop!"

But the god had no intention of stopping.

"What's wrong, brat?" he asked with a mocking grin. "Ticklish, are we?"

"Aidoneus, seriously! Stop, please!" she begged through her laughter, trying to push his hands away—but he was faster.

With a swift movement, he shifted his weight over her, pinning her against the mattress. Now she was in real trouble.

Erianthe was completely trapped beneath him, her chest rising and falling with her shallow breaths. Hades loomed over her, dark eyes gleaming with something unreadable. The playful atmosphere faded, replaced by a very different kind of tension.

Something more dangerous. And far more tempting.

Neither of them moved; their gazes locked with fierce intensity. They were far too close. Hades's lips hovered mere inches from Erianthe's.

The soft blue flame atop his head flickered gently, reflected in the wide, clear eyes of the girl. If he just leaned in a little more… Hades felt his breath hitch.

Erianthe didn't look away.
She didn't flinch.
She didn't run.

Instead, she closed her eyes, waiting.

The god's gaze dropped to her lips—so tempting, slightly parted. The moment he had longed for, imagined over and over, was finally within reach.

Just a little closer—

"Boss!"

BANG!

The door burst open.

Erianthe and Hades flinched simultaneously.

She froze completely beneath him, and the god tensed like he'd been caught committing a crime.

At the doorway, Panic and Pain stood staring at them—faces a mix of confusion and terror.

"WHAT IN THE NAME OF TARTARUS ARE YOU DOING?!" roared Hades, leaping off the bed, absolutely furious. The flames on his head turned bright orange as he hurled twin fireballs at his idiotic minions, scorching them on the spot.

Erianthe buried her face in her hands. She must've turned bright red. The shame of being caught in such an intimate moment overwhelmed her. She wanted to disappear right then and there—but at the same time, she was frustrated. She'd been this close to kissing Hades, and gods, she really wanted to.

The soot-covered imps shook themselves off, blackened from head to toe.

"We didn't mean to interrupt!" Panic whimpered, trembling under the weight of Hades's glare.

"But it's important!" Pain added, flailing his arms frantically.

Hades shot them a deathly glare, his flames still flaring with rage.

"It better be important, or next time I'll reduce you to ash!" he snapped.

The imps swallowed hard and took a step back before finally delivering the bombshell:

"The Fates showed up unannounced, and they want to see you!"

Hades blinked.

The Fates?

"And what the hell do those three want now? Come for tea, have they? If so, tell them to come back another time. I'm busy."

Pain and Panic exchanged nervous glances before one of them muttered:

"They said… they want to see the daughter of Hercules."

Silence fell over the room.

Erianthe sat up abruptly, eyes wide with shock. Hades, meanwhile, felt a cold shiver crawl down his spine.

He knew better than anyone—when the Fates came calling, it was never without reason. And if they had come for Erianthe, it meant something big was about to happen.

Something that could change everything.

"Fine," he muttered, a humorless smile tugging at his lips. "Let's not keep the old hags waiting."

Erianthe nodded slowly, still not fully processing what was happening. Hades got out of bed and held out a hand to her.

"Come on, Eri," he said quietly, a rare seriousness in his voice. "Let's see what fate they've woven for you."

Erianthe swallowed hard and took his hand. Together, they walked out of the room, fingers interlaced—unaware that beyond that door, the threads of destiny were about to unravel before them.

Well, well… surprise! Another update in less than a week. I know this chapter isn't very long, but here it is.

To be honest, I've had this chapter in mind for a while, and I was excited to write it. Poor Hades and poor Erianthe—they were just about to kiss, especially now that they've accepted their feelings. And even more so for Eri, who's been more impulsive and said it out loud, even if she doesn't know Hades heard her.

I'm glad that I got out of the slump I was in. The other day I sat down and organized the upcoming chapters of the fic, so I've now structured the second part of the story. I'm happy about that.

I also want to let you all know that I will update as soon as possible, and that the relationship between Hades and Eri is a slow burn. Keep in mind that Erianthe is inexperienced when it comes to love, and she's still young—that's why she's more impulsive. Hades is impulsive too, but he's more cautious and mature, especially since he's had past relationships before Erianthe. Moreover, I want to mention that their story won't end when this fic is over. Their journey will be divided into multiple parts, so you'll have plenty of adventures ahead with these two.

Anyway, I won't ramble on. I hope you enjoyed the chapter. From here on, expect a bit more drama and action—so get ready! As always, if you're enjoying the fic, leave your reviews—they're always appreciated! You can also support it with a like or a follow.