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labellerose-acheron · 2 years ago

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'Til Death Do Us Part *** [Helle featuring Toulouse]

In which Belle and Hades get a glimpse of their future...[December 20, 2023; December 1, 2024; December 13, 2024; December 6, 2025; December 24, 2025; December 25, 2026; December 25, 2032]

alternately titled: what the hell has been going on with helle?

a continuation of An Echo in the Bone...

@trip-downtheriverstyx, @lou-bonfightme

[tw -- none really, sad, a dissolution of a marriage]

DECEMBER 20, 2023

BELLE: “Bonsoir,” Lou said when the door opened. He had an armful of shopping bags and an armful of Opal, who was asleep on his shoulder.

“Come in.” Belle opened the door more, stepping aside.

Lou entered and moved to lay Opal on the couch before arranging the bags beneath the Christmas tree in the corner of the living room. Belle went to lay a blanket over Opal but she opened her eyes.

“Maman?” She lifted her head and smiled. There was still chocolate in her teeth. “Hi!” She scrambled up into a sitting position.

“Hello, cherie, did you have a good day?”

Opal nodded enthusiastically, waving her hands about as she spoke. “Tonton bought us so many presents! And he bought me a new dress!” Opal put a sticky hand on Belle’s shoulder pushing her out of the way so she could scamper off the couch and over to Lou.

“Tonton, show Maman my dress.”

“Alright, let me find it.”

Opal turned back to Belle, spinning in a dreamy circle. “It’s so pretty, Maman! And so soft! Tonton says it’s bell-bit.”

“Velvet,” Belle corrected.

Opal nodded absentmindedly and then turned back to Lou. “Tonton! Hurry up.” She poked him in the side.

“Opal!” Belle scolded, raising her eyebrows.

The little girl giggled.

Lou pulled out the dress and showed it off over his arm to Belle. It looked lovely and expensive, the deep red velvet glimmering in the light of the Christmas tree. Opal went to touch it, but he moved it out of the way.

“Hey!” she said and lunged for it, but Lou stood up and out of reach.

“Your fingers are dirty,” Lou told her. “You don’t want to ruin your dress, do you?”

Opal pouted for a moment, looking like she was going to argue. “Fine. I wash my hands!” And she skipped off to the sink in the downstairs bathroom.

Lou turned to Belle with a smile. “She’s very excited for Christmas.”

“Mm,” Belle hummed awkwardly, crossing her arms over her chest. “Did you all eat lunch?”

“Yes, around noon. And then she wanted some chocolates when we passed the shoppe in the mall, so she had that.”

“When?”

“Just before we left.”

“She’ll have ruined her appetite,” Belle assessed with some annoyance.

Lou didn’t say anything to that, just went back to fiddling with the gifts he’d bought. They swallowed all the ones that were already under the tree.

“Okay!” Opal said, reappearing, her hands still dripping and chocolate in the corner of her mouth.

“Opal, say goodbye to Tonton.”

“Oh.” Opal’s face fell. “But we we’re going to play dress up! And he is staying for dinner!”

“He isn’t staying for dinner. Maybe next time,” Belle said, running a hand over Opal’s soft hair. She pulled away from Belle and scampered over to Lou, jumping up into his arms and kissing his face.

“Can’t you stay?” Opal pleaded, squeezing him around the neck.

He kissed her head. “Not tonight. Maybe another night, hm? I will see you next week Caillou, oui?”

“Oui,” Opal warbled, her lip pouting.

Opal slid down Lou’s body and ran off again as soon as her feet touched the ground. Belle smiled again at him, though it was the same kind of smile she gave customers at Chapter Three. Or particularly difficult clients.

“Tell Hades I said hello.”

“I will. Bonne nuit,” Belle said, opening the door for him.

“À bientôt.”

*** *** ***

“Hello,” Belle said when Hades appeared in the kitchen, having arrived home from work. The children were already at the table eating. Except for Opal, who sat pouting without a plate, in her underwear because she had insisted on wearing her new velvet dress until dinnertime.

“Your daughter won’t eat. Someone gave her too many sweets right before supper,” Belle said with clipped irritation as she moved about the kitchen, preparing a plate for herself and Hades now that he was home. “And she won’t put on any other clothes besides the new dress she was bought.”

“Hi, Daddy!” Aidan waved.

Bellamy glanced up and smiled too, but Opal continued to pout at the empty spot on the table where her plate should be, silent tears streaming down her face.

HADES: For Hades, the day had been busy. But it always was, ‘round Christmas time. He had thought perhaps he’d have more time since he wasn’t running for office, but preparations for next year with the new Board began as soon as the Election ball was over. Had to get the newbies up to speed, eh? So there were meetings and tutorials, not to mention the financial reports he had to get together from last year so everything could be sorted before working on the new budget in January. It was all paperwork, numbers, and tedium. In many ways though, Hades excelled at all these things.

But he was happy to be home. In a few more days, he’d be off. He’d never appreciated Christmas before, but now it meant no work and time for family. This was the true meaning of holiday cheer, wasn’t it?

And Lou was going to come around. For the children, of course.

But it gave him hope.

He walked in and smiled an exhausted smile, a smile that transformed into one of surprise at the sight of little, pouting Opal. He chuckled as Belle informed him of exactly what had happened to cause this. He should be more irritated. But he’d just walked in the door. He didn’t want to be irritated.

Hades kissed Opal’s forehead. “Is that so, my darling? Ah, you must have had a busy day–”

“Maman wouldn’t let Tonton stay!” Opal exclaimed. The tears kept coming. “We– we were playing. I wanted to keep playing!”

“Oh, don’t cry. Tonton will be back.” Hades said as he wiped his daughter’s tears.

This helped, just a little. Opal sniffed. “R-really?”

Hades actually didn’t know. He glanced at Belle as he took his seat, finally. “Ah– I think so? When is Lou coming back, I don’t remember.”

BELLE: Belle rolled her eyes at Hades’ coddling. It wasn’t like she enjoyed seeing Opal upset either, but she was doing it entirely to herself. She hadn’t been playing with Toulouse, he was just dropping her off, after a whole day together. And Toulouse had told Opal herself he was going to be back! Belle knew that Opal was just a child still and she didn’t understand the intricacies of the delicate nature of the…relationship between Toulouse and her parents, but--

It hurt, just a little, to see how happy Opal was with her tonton. She was never that happy spending the day with her. (Belle, honestly, didn’t remember the last time she and Opal had spent the day together and that hurt too.)

“I don’t know,” Belle said with a huff, setting Hades’ plate down in front of him. “Sometime next week.” She sat down herself and gave Hades a pointed look before turning to help Aidan get the food in front of him from the highchair to his mouth.

“We need to go through what he bought for the children.”

HADES: Next week. This was another good sign. Earlier in the year, Lou had only stopped by to see the children once a month, the visits always short and somewhat stiff. But now the time was shrinking. Lou was getting comfortable here again– comfortable being a presence and a parental figure in the childrens’ lives. And that’s what they all wanted, wasn’t it? That’s what Hades believed they all wanted. They just had to go slow and steady. He knew that Belle was the most cautious, considering how it had all gone last time. But they were learning from their mistakes. There wouldn’t be any more this time around. “Hmm?” Hades glanced up from his plate. “Oh, I’m sure it’s just dresses for Opal and books and things.”

BELLE: “Well, I still think we need to go through it,” Belle replied coolly. “Because I don’t know what they are and I don’t want any of them spoilt by too many gifts.”

Maybe it was simply jealousy speaking. The jealousy of her children—especially Opal—always so happy to see Lou. To spend time with him. She didn’t want to deny Lou that. Just because he didn’t love Hades or Belle anymore (or more accurately—didn’t know how to love them), didn’t mean he should be kept from the children whom he had his own, special bond with.

However, she did not want boundaries crossed. It wasn’t jealousy. She felt territorial.

“He isn’t their parent,” she reminded Hades.

HADES: “Alright, fine,” said Hades– perhaps more dismissively than he meant, but he was distracted as he reached over to wipe at Bell’s face. Both twins were much messier than Opal had been but for opposite reasons, it seemed. Aidan ate with a mouth wide open and shoved everything into his mouth as quickly as he could. Bell, on the other hand, took apart his food like he was conducting a surgery. Hades was never sure how much actually got into his mouth as opposed to the front of his clothes.

Setting down the napkin, Hades grabbed his glass and took a sip of water, and then back to a still pouting Opal. “At least you and Tonton had fun, eh?”

This appeared to lift her mood. She nodded. “We saw Sandy Claus!”

“Ah. Did you tell Santa what you wanted?”

Opal nodded. “It’s a secret!”

“C’mon now, you’ll tell me, won’t you? Me and your mum? We can keep a secret.”

The first smile of the night appeared on her lips as she shook her head. Hades just chuckled.

BELLE: Belle’s eyes narrowed at Hades’ back as he assisted Bellamy. She sighed and turned back to Aidan without saying anything else. At least he had agreed. It was best not to push it. Things with Toulouse were touchy. When he had first started coming around again a few months ago, Belle hadn’t been happy about it. She didn’t trust him. What was there to say that he wasn’t going to break Opal and the twins’ hearts again? Absolutely nothing. Toulouse acted on whim alone, without any care for anyone else. Even the children.

Hades, of course, only saw the good in his visits. Looking like a kid on Christmas himself any time Toulouse asked to stop by. As if all the hurt had just disappeared. It was infuriating.

She tried not to let her own jealousy get in the way, but that wasn’t all it was. She was protective of all of their hearts. The children, as well as Hades’.

Belle didn’t say anything to encourage Opal’s secrecy. Santa Claus wasn’t even something they raised the children with, so any impression of the myth that she got was from Toulouse, Belle would imagine. Which was also annoying.

“Don’t encourage that,” she said to Hades instead. “It’s ridiculous.”

HADES: So Belle was cross.

He’d known since he entered, but he’d assumed it had more to do with Opal’s bad behavior than anything else. Now that Opal wasn’t dribbling all her tears though, he realized the mood was more than just a frustrated reaction to their silly, overdramatic daughter.

It was probably a reaction to Lou.

Hades didn’t necessarily want to have that conversation at the dinner table. Actually, the idea was exhausting to think about. They’d already went back and forth on it. But Opal loved Tonton, as did the boys. Hades and Belle had both grown up without parental figures– the last thing he wanted to do was deprive his children of one. He understood her point of view, but it had been almost a full year now. Lou was proving himself. Belle–

She needed to get over it, in Hades’s opinion.

“She knows it’s a story,” he said. “And Opal loves stories.” More than reality that was for sure– she got that from Belle.

Then he hedged it, “Is something else the matter?”

BELLE: Belle sent Hades a cross look from the other side of the table.

She couldn’t help herself. Perhaps she should be--grateful and generous, because Hades had picked up on her mood and actually asked about it instead of ignoring it, which he often did, but--it should be obvious, shouldn’t it? And he should feel the same way, in her opinion.

Of course he didn’t, though, because whenever Toulouse was concerned, he was blinded.

“I just don’t know how appropriate it is, him buying all these gifts. It is too much and he spoils them.” The children. She didn’t want to say names, because Opal had finally started picking at her dinner, unconcerned now with what her parents were saying, even if she wasn’t really eating, still full of chocolates from earlier.

“I was the bad person, because he had to leave. I had to deal with a poor attitude all afternoon for no reason other than I wasn’t him.” Belle’s voice tightened and she looked away to help Aidan with another bite of his dinner.

HADES: “It’s a special occasion, love,” said Hades.

Yeah, maybe Lou did spoil them– certainly he always took them out to restaurants or got them candies or ice cream. Hades could admit this. He glanced at Opal as she pushed her food around and thought that maybe Belle did have a good point.

But it wasn’t that big of a problem. It was a small problem that they could fix easily– with one simple conversation.

“But we can talk about it with him next time, how about that?”

BELLE: Belle wasn’t sure what Hades was going to say. She wasn’t sure what she wanted him to say. It wasn’t fair to keep Lou from the children just because it hurt her feelings when Opal lit up at the sight of him in a way she didn’t do for Belle as much anymore. He was good with the children and he would drop anything to come watch them if Belle or Hades ever needed. Which was nice and convenient and there weren’t many people they trusted with their children.

And despite everything, Belle did trust Lou to take care of them. Just not…be there consistently. She didn’t trust him not to break their little hearts one day.

It felt like she was the only one with that opinion too. Hades was just like Opal. He tried to hide it, but whatever spell Toulouse cast over the little girl, he cast on Hades as well. Hades was so eager to have him back in their lives that he resisted any criticisms. He made excuses for his friend.

So, his acquiescence surprised her somewhat and did wonders for mollifying her mood. She smiled a little at him and nodded. “Alright, we can do that. Thank you.”

*** *** ***

DECEMBER 1, 2024

HADES: It was a frigid cold night in Swynlake.

Hades had been working late– preparing for the Election Ball, which was only days away. This election season had rushed like water all the way through him, and he was grateful for the end of it. Though he knew what it meant. Next year, it would be his turn. He wondered if he was going to be out of practice by then, if he’d have the energy to really give it all he could give. Right now, he wasn’t sure. It loomed in the distance. But perhaps that was just the late hour.

He was on his way home at least, and he was not walking alone.

Lou was with him.

It had been rather accidental. He’d run into him on the way– Lou had left something at the cottage, a particular colour of paint, which he’d brought over when he was painting with Opal the other day. It was possible that this was just an excuse and Lou was simply feeling lonely, wanting the childrens’ company and the warmth of the Acheron cottage. If this was the case, Hades would not point it out. He would also not point out that Lou was over nearly every week now. He would also not point out that it was beginning to feel the way it did before.

Instead, he simply walked side-by-side with his oldest friend in Swynlake and they spoke of simple things, such as the children, and then work, and then Lou’s siblings. They walked at an idle pace, but still, the cottage appeared like a candle in the distance, much sooner than he thought.

He paused on the cobblestone steps that led down to the door. Hades wasn’t sure why– it was just a feeling that told him to look up.

And when he did, his lips parted. Oh– he hadn’t even realized that the first snow had come so late.

A soft laugh left his lips. “Oh, look at that, Lou. It’s snowing.”

TOULOUSE: Generally, Toulouse did not like the cold, but he hardly felt it now as he walked side-by-side with Hades down away from town. In the darkness, he could hardly make out his friend’s face, but it didn’t matter, he could hear the emotion in his voice. Content. Warm as their shoulders brushed every now and then.

He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t have come to the cottage tonight. But, he did anyway. Kept getting pulled there as if by some invisible force. And he had stopped trying to resist it. Hades always seemed happy to see him. Belle was…cordial, at least. Neutral. He knew that he just had to work on getting back into her good graces.

They ambled along, Lou with his hands shoved in his pockets, shoulders hunched against the cold. Ahead of them, the warm light of the Nook beckoned them forwards.

Until Hades stopped. Lou kept going for a step before realizing Hades was no longer next to him. He turned on his heel and looked up.

A flicker of a smile graced the corner of his lips as a snowflake fell on his cheek.

“Same day as when the twins were born,” he said before he could help himself. He looked back down at Hades, lit not by the warmth of the cottage, but the blue snow and blue night. Without meaning to, really, without much thought, he reached out and brushed some of the snow from Hades’ jacket.

HADES: By now, Hades knew all the stories about Swynlake and snow. There were plenty of rumours about who got to see the snow first, and what it might mean. Hades was not a man who liked rumours. He didn’t hold any superstitions close, nor did he indulge in lucky charms. Instead, he made his own luck. So he knew that this was all just coincidence. He probably hadn’t even been the first person to see the snow start to fall. But as Lou reached out to brush his jacket, Hades’s heart stopped. His eyes flicked back down, meeting Lou’s gaze. Maybe there was such a thing as luck. If not luck, then this was magic. Only magic could pause time like this and give Hades one moment, a special moment, all to himself, with Toulouse. He thought of the moon, then. That was the last time they’d had moments to themselves. It had been many, many moons though, since Lou had shed his human skin, and all his shields, and let Hades touch him. The urge to touch Lou back surged through him, like a powerful winter wind. He reached out too, and brushed Lou’s cheek.

TOULOUSE: Toulouse was still staring very intently at the shoulder of Hades’ jacket, where his hand lingered, even after he had brushed the snow off. He didn’t notice Hades’ hand rise to his cheek until he felt his warm fingers. His heart lurched so hard in his chest, that Lou felt off balance, like he was going to stumble forwards. His eyes raised to meet Hades’, lips parting slightly.

It would be so easy to let himself fall forward and kiss him. He wanted to. He could see that same want in Hades’ eyes too. At least, he thought he did. Maybe it was just a trick of the blue around them, the darkness and the bright falling snow. The orange light from the cottage was close enough that it touched Lou’s heels, but his entire vision was blue.

They stood like that for a very long time. Hades’ warm hand on his cheek, Lou’s on his shoulder, like two statues in a garden. At least, it felt that way. Snow had a way of suspending everything, like stars in the sky. He hardly dared breathe, not wanting to break the spell. It was what he had wanted this whole time. Acknowledgement. Affection. He shouldn’t have sought it here, though, he knew that. Hades and Lou didn’t work out. They’d already tried.

And Hades had a wife.

Lou looked down and away, his hand falling from Hades’ shoulder. Again, his heart lurched. This time, he felt like he was going to fall sideways into the snow. His hand clenched into a fist. His breath puffed in a large white cloud into the cold.

He lifted his head and it felt as if he was breaking from plaster that had dried around him. He stood tall again, shoulders back, chin up. “We should get inside so I can get home before the roads become impassable.”

HADES: In reality, they probably stood like that for five, maybe six seconds. It wasn’t very long at all, but it was long enough to be strange and tense and unusual and full of two years of longing. This was what Hades had wanted from Lou– acknowledgement. Affection.

For two years, he’d assumed that Lou had tossed all of that away, like they’d never been best friends, let alone lovers. That was the most painful part of losing him. It wasn’t even the physical closeness that Hades missed, nor the surety that came from coming downstairs to find Lou already up, sitting there at the breakfast table, flipping through the paper. He did miss those things, and thought of them every time the moon was full.

But it was the friendship most of all. They’d been friends first. That friendship had been under everything, built on the parts of themselves that they shared, that they could only understand about each other. Hades loved Belle, of course. Belle understood things about him that only she ever could. But the same was true for Lou, and those things had been– different.

Hades just wanted that back. And for these five or six seconds, he believed he could have it. With just a single touch of their lips–

But Lou didn’t lean forward and neither did Hades. The seconds drained through the hourglass and was gone. Lou’s hand slipped away, and Hades’ hand mimicked his.

“Er– right, yes. Dinner should be on the table– you can stay if you like,” Hades offered, as he stepped past Lou and went toward the front door.

*** *** ***

DECEMBER 13, 2024

BELLE: It was late when Belle finally got home. She was tired and ready to crawl into bed, her body aching from sitting in a desk chair all day. Opening the door, she entered the house, quiet as a mouse, not wishing to disturb anyone. She stopped in the alcove to lean over and take off her shoes, rubbing for a moment at the soles of her feet.

It wasn’t until she looked up that she noticed Hades sitting on the couch. She startled slightly, not expecting him there. Not because she felt guilty. It was simply a surprise.

“Oh, hello,” she said to him, offering a sort of wary-weary smile.

Are the ghosts keeping you up? Are the children? This was the sort of thing she might’ve asked him once upon a time. Last year but…now, she didn’t want to talk. Not really. She just wanted to go to sleep.

“I was just heading to bed.”

HADES: Tonight had been the Christmas Tree Lighting.

He’d been out for hours– it was always a busy day for the office, since everything had to be put into place. Hades didn’t mind, though. How could he mind? This was a lovely day, one of the few Swynlake traditions that he’d grown fond of rather against his will. But how could he not feel that way when, through Opal and the twins’ eyes, the lightning was miraculous? That was what he’d worked for today. He’d worked for the look in his childrens’ eyes when the tree came to life, like a smile.

And everything had gone exactly how it should. The centre of town bustled with tourists and townsfolk alike. There was plenty of food and good drink. The sky was clear, the moon was out, and it was the perfect temperature– cold, but not freezing. When his children arrived, he’d knelt down and spread his arms wide and Opal ran straight into his embrace. The twins came toddling after with happy squeals.

Then Opal said, “Where’s Maman?”

And that was where the illusion shattered.

Belle was, of course, supposed to come with the children. But it was Pepa who brought them. She smiled sympathetically at Hades, while he dug his hand into his pocket and tried to call her, but she didn’t pick up. Jesus, why not? Because she was busy, said Pepa. She hoped to make it. She was planning to.

But Belle never appeared beneath the twinkling lights. The tree lit up, his children clapped– but Hades saw Bellamy searching the crowd still for his mother. It made him furious, he hadn’t stayed for long after that.

Now, the children were bed and Belle still wasn’t home. He thought of a thousand dramatic things he could do. He was the most powerful man in Swynlake, after all. If he really wanted to, he could appear in her office from the shadows. He could drag her home. He knew better than to abuse that power, but the thoughts made nice company for his anger.

By the time Belle arrived, the anger had broken down into ember and ash. Still burning, but not as bright– and still hot to the touch.

“Where were you tonight?” Hades said to her.

BELLE: “I was working. I texted you,” Belle said, immediately defensive, immediately dismissive. It was not so much in her voice as it was in her body language as she pulled her shoulders forward, as she avoided looking Hades in the eye.

She knew missing the Christmas Tree Lighting was a big deal. In the last ten years of knowing Hades, they had never missed it once. They always went together. No matter what. No matter if Belle was sick as death when she’d been pregnant with Opal. No matter that she had just had surgery with the twins. No matter that Persephone had just died and they had needed something, some little spark of hope.

Maybe Belle was sick of sparks of hope. Flickers of moments that were how they had been before. It had been a long time since she had felt like Hades looked at her and really saw her. They worked like clockwork--the big hand and the little hand, only meeting at intervals when the hands aligned. Belle appreciated it, because it was dependable. Predictable. Comfortable. But--she didn’t want to talk to him. They didn’t talk anymore. Not really.

Would you like me to sit with you? Would you like to talk? The offer lingered in the back of her mind. The ghost of times past.

“I am sorry,” she apologized stiffly. The words were cloying on her tongue. “It was unavoidable.”

HADES: I was working. I texted you.

Neither of these things were an apology.

Perhaps that was all Hades really wanted. He’d like for Belle to have entered their home frustrated and upset, with her work, with herself. If she’d regretted it, or at least expressed anger at the fact her responsibilities kept her away, Hades believed he would have forgiven her. He knew Belle’s job was important. He loved that she loved her work. But she was also supposed to love her family.

Right now, she spoke to him like she was still at work, reporting an unpleasant update to a supervisor. It was unavoidable.

It meant that Hades did not believe her.

He hadn’t yet moved from the couch, which also created the dynamic that here Hades was in his office, and Belle had just walked into his space. But Hades didn’t want to stand nor invite her to join him. And so he sat like this as he grimaced.

“You couldn’t even spare an hour? The children were confused. This was important to them, Belle. And you know how important it is to me– to my campaign, next year.”

BELLE: At first, Belle felt a tiny stab in her heart like it had been pierced by an icicle. Though, it quickly melted as Hades followed up. His campaign. He wasn’t upset at her for missing it because he cared if she was there or not. He just cared about how it looked.

“No one is not going to vote for you because I missed one event. I have missed events before,” she dismissed flippantly.

“I am sorry the children were upset but I don’t know what you’d like me to do. My work is important.”

HADES: “I never said it wasn’t important. But so are other things, Belle,” Hades shot back, the irritation plain in his voice.

These days, it was always about her work. She kept working longer and longer hours. She missed more dinners. Did she realize that? She might not, because Belle was often so focused on her own projects that she couldn’t look up and see the bigger picture. Granted, perhaps Hades had not complained until now but should he have to?

“Things like my campaign, and things like our children and our family. You’ve never missed the lighting before. I don’t understand how you couldn’t come out for a half an hour, or an hour. There’s no excuse,” he said swiftly.

BELLE: “There is an excuse, actually,” Belle replied at once, her voice filling with venom.

She immediately felt defensive. Of course her family was important to her. It was the most important thing to her, but by working she was providing for them. She made more money than the bookstore had ever made. And while she wasn’t someone who valued money, she did where her children were concerned. It felt good to be able to do that. At least, when she wasn’t made to feel guilty about it.

Not to mention that it wasn’t like she was just sitting behind a desk all day. Her work was creating a better, more fair world for Magicks. For her children, who were marginalized Magicks and who could face discrimination and outright violence in the world, just because of who they were.

“I have been working on a project to make sure that homeless Magicks have a legally safe place to be—at the very least for Christmas, if not permanently. And the owners of the building we’d secured were trying to back out of their contract. So that was what I was dealing with and no I could not spare half an hour. I will be at the next one. The children won’t even remember my absence by next year.”

HADES: “I didn’t ask for a lecture,” Hades snapped. “I know your work is important. I never said it wasn’t. You’re not listening to me.”

And that wasn’t like her. Belle was a good listener– better than Hades had ever been. If she wasn’t listening, it was because she did not want to listen. Because she did not want to see his perspective, because she knew that he was in part, right. That she owed him at the very least an apology.

What was done was done. But she could at least admit that.

BELLE: “I heard you!” Belle’s voice climbed now to a proper shout. She rarely actually raised her voice and certainly not first. As soon as she did it, she looked startled. Even at herself. But she didn’t let it stop her. She forged ahead.

“You said other things were important. Like your campaign. Like your work. Like our family. Missing one event doesn’t mean I’m not prioritizing them! Besides, I’m not the only one not prioritizing our family.”

Prioritizing us. That was what she wanted to say, but she only just stopped herself. Mostly because it was simply too embarrassing.

HADES: Now what the hell was she on about now?

Everything Hades did prioritized their family. Belle’s work was important; it made the world a brighter, fairer place. But Hades’s work made this town a better place for their children. He’d never argue who made a bigger impact because that was all apples and oranges, but his job was more directly connected to the benefit of the Acherons. And Belle knew that.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about!” he argued swiftly, and scoffed at her, like she was being ridiculous (she was.) “Stop trying to twist this conversation. We’re not talking about me, we’re talking about you.”

BELLE: “That’s a lie and you know it!” Belle said, unable to contain herself.

She couldn’t decide if Hades was trying to hide it from her, or if he really was that dense. And she couldn’t decide which option hurt worse. The lying or that he was ruining them on complete and utter foolish accident.

“It is about you too. I saw you with Toulouse the other night. In the snow,” she told him, eyes blazing with hurt. “I see you with him all the time. If he’s in the room, it is like I don’t exist.”

For a whole year, Belle had been holding that hurt. Trying to make room for it. They rarely talked about Toulouse, except to navigate his relationship with the children. They were both in agreement that he should be in the children’s lives if that was what he wanted. But Belle had made it clear a year ago, when Toulouse had started coming around more, that she didn’t trust him. That she didn’t like it. He had never apologized. Never explained himself. And she did not want any sort of relationship with him outside of cordiality. Hades had agreed and that had been that.

But over the past year, she had watched as Hades’ self-control had eroded. He wanted Toulouse around for more and more things. Birthdays. Picnics. Town events. Always with an excuse (they needed more hands, it was a party and lots of people would be there, it would be nice to have the help…). And every time, she had watched the two of them--getting closer and closer, like birds circling each other in the sky. Belle had watched it all and stayed silent, because it made Hades happy, because it made the children happy, in ways that she couldn’t--but now, she felt as if she had lost him without even realizing it.

HADES: What?

Hades froze. The mention of Toulouse was like a stone thrown through the window. It made a terrible crash, stunning Hades for a few seconds that, inevitably, proved he was guilty of something.

But he wasn’t, was he? No– no, he wasn’t.

No, he hadn’t told Belle about Toulouse and the snow, because there had been nothing to tell. They’d walked to the cottage together; they’d done that before. Lou brushed some snow off of Hades, and Hades did the same. There had been no kiss, even if Hades had thought about it, or missed it, or wanted it. He hadn’t betrayed his promise to Belle to keep things with Lou platonic.

As the shock wore off, in fact, Hades no longer felt like the guilty party at all, but the injured one. Belle had been spying on him? Belle had seen such a thing and not said anything, until now when she could use it against him?

Hades’s shock faded, and then he scoffed. Finally, he stood from the couch.

“So that’s what this is about? Toulouse? My god, Belle–” he scoffed a second time. “That was nothing. I know you’ve got a jealous streak but if you saw us then, then you know that nothing happened. We were talking, that’s all. We’re old friends. Of course we look comfortable with each other.”

BELLE: Really, Belle hadn’t meant to say anything, because part of her had tried to tell herself the same thing that Hades was lying about now. That he hadn’t done anything. Technically. There had been no kiss. Just a touch, which could be something that was passed between friends. There were plenty of times Merida had laid her head in Belle’s lap the way Hades sometimes did. Or moments when Belle felt the urge to kiss Ber’s forehead, very tender and gentle, as if he was a lamb.

It still felt different. She couldn’t shake it. And she couldn’t stand to look at Hades and think about how, even though she had been right here, the whole time, she wasn’t enough. Hades wanted someone else too. Someone who had hurt him far deeper than Belle ever had. Who had broken their hearts. Their children’s hearts. And never apologized for it or took responsibility. No matter all of those things, Hades still wanted him. She knew he did, because she knew Hades. No matter what he was saying now.

“It’s not nothing and you know it!” she snapped with more ire than she thought capable.

There was a possibility that Hades didn’t know it. That he didn’t think he was lying. But Belle thought if that were the case, Hades was more stupid than she had ever thought him. Maybe he was just denying it. The way Belle had tried until she had seen them in the snow.

Her eyes filled with furious, hurt tears. She threw her hands up in the air and shook her head.

“No. You know what? If you don’t want to admit it. If you refuse to admit it. Fine. I am so sick of feeling this way. I don’t have the energy to do this with you. But I am not the only one hurting this family, Hades. You cannot always blame everything that goes wrong on me.”

HADES: There was nothing to admit.

Hades did believe this. There was nothing to admit– yet. Was his biggest crime that he hoped Lou’s affection meant that things could change in the future? Perhaps, considering Belle had been very clear about her distrust of him and setting boundaries. But that conversation had been a year ago, and things were changing. It was a conversation they should revisit, now, with new information. People made mistakes, after all. He made mistakes. Belle had made mistakes. Lou should be allowed to make mistakes, and then make up for them. In Hades’s mind, that’s what Lou had been doing all year– and last year too.

Right now it was clear Belle was not in a place to talk about it. It was late; she was hurt, and that hurt was, in part, probably not even because of Hades. He imagined that the long hours she worked were clouding her feelings, just a little. When she rested, when she was in a better mood, when she had more time– they could have a more productive conversation about all of it.

(But would there be such a time? Why were those slices of time, for just himself and Belle, happening so infrequently now?)

Anyway.

Anyway– Hades didn’t want to fight. It was close to Christmas. And so he took a breath and sighed and held up his hands, in surrender, before he took a step toward her.

“I’m not blaming you for everything. Look– I’m sorry. I was too dismissive just now,” he said. “I’m sorry. But I swear, it really was nothing. You are still my wife, and tonight, I missed you. That’s why I’m upset.”

BELLE: Belle didn’t want to fight, but she also wasn’t sure what to do with Hades’ apology. It seemed genuine. Of course it seemed genuine, because Hades was a genuine sort of person. Except for the fact that he often didn’t understand himself. It was always Belle’s responsibility to point it out to him. He had matured emotionally in the last decade, but that hadn’t quite changed.

She didn’t want to fight but nothing had been resolved either. All she had wanted was to hear she was missed…but now that she got what she wanted, she realized it didn’t mean anything. It didn’t matter.

Maybe, in the morning it would be better. She would not be as tired. He would not be as angry. They could talk properly, maybe after breakfast, during the children’s nap. It was the weekend. They would have time. Tomorrow.

“I am sorry too,” she said, taking a step towards him and closing the gap. She popped up on her toes, her hand resting on his bicep. Her lips pressed against his cheek. “I’m exhausted, I’m going to bed. Good night.”

*** *** ***

DECEMBER 6, 2025

HADES: Hades had lost.

The election had come and gone and just like that– he had lost. When the results were announced, he waited for his fire to burn– for the anger to come, the indignation, the disappointment. He had run a good campaign. He had been a good mayor. It was something that Hades deserved.

But that wasn’t how Hades felt.

Instead, the results came, and in the back of Hades’s mind, he thought of course. He was an intelligent person– a chess player. He had seen this coming, even if he might never say it out loud. He had been a good mayor. He had decent support. But his campaign hadn’t been good. His message had been too split– as Hades tried to play every angle and thus ended up playing none.

But there was no sitting and wallowing. On the day of the election ball, Hades got dressed in a fine, midnight blue suit and he showed up to shake his competitor’s hand and lose graciously, like a good once-upon-a-time mayor should.

He didn’t feel sad, really, until he was here. It was the kind of sadness he’d felt after he finished a good book and there was no way to read it again. Here he was, at the end of his own book. No longer mayor or board member. Just Hades, for the first time, in years.

At least Belle had come with him– for once, putting her work aside. He got her champagne now. “Here you are,” he said. “You look lovely tonight.”

BELLE: Hades had lost.

Belle wasn’t prepared for it. She had simply not thought of the possibility. It had seemed too far-fetched. Too villainous. Too horrible. And yet: here it was.

Now that it was here, she couldn’t help but wonder how much of it was her fault. If she hadn’t tried hard enough. Been more present. All of Hades’ criticisms over the course of his campaign (because there had been plenty) ringing in her ears. It was silly to think that someone would not vote for Hades just because Belle had missed an event here or there over the years. Or they didn’t like that she was a lawyer. That it seemed she didn’t spend enough time with her children. That she was a bad mother.

It didn’t matter now, because Hades had lost. Although Belle was shell-shocked, she knew that it was now her responsibility to comfort Hades. To help him lose gratefully. And to help him start planning for this new future of theirs.

So, she had donned her gay apparel--a lovely, shimmering blue gown in the same deep midnight shade and took the champagne glass with a practiced, lovely smile.

“Thank you,” Belle told him, taking the glass with one hand and reaching out for his arm with the other, placing her hand on his elbow. “The new mayor certainly isn’t as handsome. Or well-dressed.” Not normally a comment she would make, but she knew, at the very least, it would fluff her husband’s ego.

HADES: Hades didn’t need ego-fluffing, he didn’t. He didn’t care about how young or old the new mayor was. He certainly didn’t want to win any elections because he was good-looking (though he’d take those votes– he always had). And so Belle’s comments didn’t reach him, not really. They simply melted like the smallest of snowflakes.

But he could appreciate why she said them, at least. She was trying to be supportive.

So he smiled, snorting just a little. “Ah, I suppose I’ll always have my good looks.” He smiled. It didn’t reach his eyes.

“But it’s fine. She was a good opponent,” allowed Hades, which was true. “I don’t think Swynlake is in worse hands, necessarily, even if I think I could do better.”

Did he, though? Did he really?

BELLE: “You could,” Belle said at once.

She didn’t say it loudly. Didn’t want to be overheard. Didn’t want to accused of being a sore loser, even if that was very much how she felt. It was ridiculous in her opinion that Hades hadn’t won, he’d done plenty of good and important work since becoming mayor. And the new one was a Mundus, again! As if Swynlake hadn’t learned anything. It was insulting.

“People simply don’t know what is good for them. They’re like the children.” That was harsh, but if Hades’ couldn’t be angry about it, Belle would be for him. Even if that probably wasn’t what he wanted or needed right now.

Not that she ever knew what that was. Never had. And in the last few years, it had only gotten worse. Not better. Even now, she felt as if they were on different pages. Still, she sighed a little.

“Sorry. I just think it’s bullshit.”

HADES: Hades glanced at her and he smiled again. It still didn’t reach his eyes, but that was because it was the sad kind of smile. But it was also grateful and fond. It felt too intimate for this large room with all the people he knew were looking at him, wondering if he was going to make a scene or something. He had a reputation after all. Wasn’t the nicest. His antics from his first few years in Swynlake still followed him around, usually for worse. Why wouldn’t a large group of people expect Hades to act out? They might even expect that of Belle.

But Belle had more freedom to do it. Even if Hades still wasn’t sure how he felt– perhaps he was just in denial about the whole thing, a part of his brain clicking off to protect his pride – he was glad that she was here, saying the things he couldn’t.

“Well– yeah. It is.” The smile grew, just a smidge. “But I suppose important things never come easy. My winning streak was too long. Maybe it meant I got complacent. Losing can be an opportunity too.”

BELLE: “Oh? Is that so?” Belle asked, raising her eyebrows, slightly playfully.

She had noticed the slight uptick in his attitude and she wanted to follow the thread of it. Hoping they could at least coast on facetiousness until this dumb ball was over and then they could go home, where they'd say good night to their children and maybe, hopefully, he would remember that at the end of the day, there was still someone who looked to him for answers.

"I wouldn't know, considering I always win." She leaned into him slightly, nudging him with her arm.

HADES: This was how generals approached war.

It was both a nice thought and a tiring thought. Hades didn’t really want to go to war, after all. His early life had been a war, and now he wanted his adulthood to be something better. But sometimes war was necessary. If he thought about a new campaign that way, one that was far off, he might be able to generate some excitement for it, after feeling so burned out over the fall.

Mostly, he knew that Belle would like the reference. And as she nudged him, he felt that old desire to answer her quiet challenge. He’d not felt that for a while.

“The supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting,” quoted Hades. “Sun Tzu. That’s what the next four years will be. Or maybe the next few months. There’s always the Board elections in the fall.”

BELLE: Board elections in the fall. Now, that was more like it. Belle thought getting back on the Board was the perfect strategy. Sure, it was a hit to pride and definitely a step down, but Hades would be able to prove that he was necessary to this town. That he was a good leader. And that he cared about the town and wanted to see it thrive.

It also made her worry less, to see some of that spark come back. She didn’t expect him to immediately be bouncing back--but the promise of it there meant that they could get through the loss and come out of it on the other side. Which was a good thing, considering that things had already been difficult. They were both busy. The children took up most of their time and they simply didn’t have any left over. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. It simply was. Belle had gotten used to it. She didn’t want this rocking their status quo.

Maybe that was selfish, but it was true.

“That’s true.” Belle smiled at Hades, more real and more affectionate. “We can restrategize and come back stronger,” she plotted, her brain already starting to whir with the possibilities. You could almost hear it ticking along like a clock.

HADES: Yes, that’s what they would do.

And since it was far away– it felt doable. This whole year, Hades had been…uninspired. He hesitated to use the word burned out because that felt dramatic, like something that happened to more unstable and emotional people. That wasn’t him. There had just been quite a lot on his plate, and he hadn’t had enough time to focus on the campaign. But in the new year, he’d tackle the next challenge. Yes, the new year.

For now, he’d let himself relax and enjoy himself. How satisfying would that be, eh, to see the looks on his enemies’ faces when they realized they hadn’t hurt him at all?

“Exactly, my love,” said Hades. He smiled smoothly and then he leaned down to gently kiss Belle’s temple. It was the closest he’d been to his wife in days and a flicker of that warm, familiar flame reignited in his chest, something he hadn’t felt for a very long time.

There’d be more time to nurture that too – in the new year.

*** *** ***

DECEMBER 24, 2025

BELLE: Hades was sulking like a ghost haunting the attic. He’d barely been present the last few weeks since the Election Ball was over. It was starting to get infuriating to Belle. She didn’t like a Hades who wallowed. Who refused to pick himself up and get on with the thing. What she really didn’t like was having a partner who seemed to have simply given up because of one setback. She didn’t like having a partner who didn’t have any sort of ambition. Who went to the bookshoppe and came home. Who shrugged when she asked him how work was.

Honestly, she couldn’t remember the last time they’d had a conversation. They’d talked. No one was giving anyone the cold shoulder, but when was the last time they’d sat down and talked--just to talk? The conversation meandering from one topic to another without any plan or sign of ending.

They hadn’t even started a new chess game when the old one had finished a fortnight ago. Belle wanted to point out this broke their nearly ten year streak but…she simply didn’t because what would be the point?

But--tonight, the children were asking for their father. They wanted to see him. So, Belle climbed the stairs. She went up and up and up, to the fourth floor. The little library. A singular, circular room. She knew she would find him here. That he would not be in their office because their office was too…homey. Too together. It was the place that they once had both escaped to avoid the whole world together.

Now, Hades was just avoiding her.

She found him with a book in one of the plush armchairs. He had heard her coming. Or the ghosts had warned him. Her arms were crossed over her chest as she stood in the doorway.

“The children are asking for you.”

HADES: If asked, Hades would not say he was wallowing. He was recuperating. He was taking time. He was figuring things out. He was– taking a break.

Hades hadn’t had a break his entire life, you know. He’d never really wanted one, granted. But now for the first time in his life, he had no clue what he’d be doing the next year. 2026 was yawning, large and strange in front of him. It was intimidating but also rather nice and he sank into the unknowable, embracing it, letting himself be, for once, directionless.

Hades was never good at emotions, so naturally he wouldn’t realize this was a symptom of depression.

No. He was fine. Or he would be fine. For now, he enjoyed himself by escaping into books or playing his games. He had one open when Belle came in. He hadn’t even heard her knock (actually, he was certain she hadn’t) and so when she appeared, he couldn’t help but feel slightly irritated, as if she’d stepped in a puddle and got mud on his shoes.

He glanced up at her and down again at the book. “Ah, just a moment. I’ve nearly finished with this chapter.”

BELLE: “Did you not hear me?” Belle asked, voice sharp. “I said your children are asking for you. What am I supposed to tell them? That you’d rather read a book than spend time with them? It’s Christmas Eve, Hades.”

She moved further into the room, her brow furrowed. Belle wasn’t even sure if she was even angry or just confused. It had been a long time since Hades had acted like this and never for such a…silly reason. Not that losing was a bad reason to be a bit upset, but Hades was not a loser. Where was his drive? His passion? His anger.

The children deserved better. She deserved better. And he deserved better.

HADES: His irritation gathered steam. He hated being interrupted. He hated it when he had been the mayor, and never hesitated to snap if someone poked into his office when they were not welcome.

He hated it even more when it was his wife, encroaching on his privacy.

He still didn’t put the book down, nor look up at Belle. In fact he did this on purpose. He wanted her to feel ignored, because she was irritating him, like a pesky fly that wouldn’t stop buzzing in his ear. “I said, after I finish this chapter. It won’t be but a few minutes more.”

BELLE: Belle wanted to argue.

No, that wasn’t quite true.

Belle knew that she was supposed to argue. That her role here was to snap back. To put Hades in his place. To remind him of his duty to his family. This was what they did. Held each other accountable.

They were also supposed to lean on each other, but Hades hadn’t done that at all. Not now. Not after he lost. Not during his campaign. He didn’t discuss his worries about losing and he didn’t discuss how it had felt to lose. There was a wall there between them now and Belle hadn’t noticed it being built.

She was too tired to climb it, though. For what reward? Hades would simply resent her for making him confront his feelings about the matter. It was exhausting. She didn’t have the patience.

“Fine,” Belle told him. The word was sour in her mouth. She spat it out like it was spoilt milk. “You can explain to them what you were doing up here.”

She turned on her heel and left. When she creaked down to the bottom of the stairs, the children looked up with smiles that were replaced with creased brows when Hades did not appear behind her. Belle’s anger flared all over again, but she smiled anyway.

“Where’s Daddy?” Opal asked, skipping up to her. She was so tall now, nearly at Belle’s waist at six years old.

“He’s coming.”

“What’s he doing?”

“Reading.”

Opal’s face crumpled slightly. “Oh.”

“Maman,” Aidan shouted to get her attention. He’d had a bad habit of doing that. It was probably her fault. Though, considering Hades’ recent behavior, maybe they could share the blame.

“Oui, chere?”

“Play.”

“Alright, we can play for a bit until Daddy comes down and then we can all unwrap a gift before bed, hm?”

“Okay!” Opal, Aidan, and Bellamy all chorused.

HADES: Hades finished his chapter. And as he promised, he went to play with the children. They each opened a gift, but quickly tired after, and Hades carried one twin, while Belle carried the other up into their bedroom. The twins were much better at going straight to sleep than Opal was, who demanded, of course, several stories before bed.

Through it all, Hades and Belle did not talk about their fight. Hades had already forgotten it. It didn’t seem important to him. In fact, it felt as ordinary as one of Opal’s favourite stories, the ones he had to read over and over. Routine. Part of life. He figured there would be another argument tomorrow, and the day after that.

With the children asleep, Belle and Hades got ready for bed in silence. Perhaps Belle was still mad; she held onto her anger like a petulant child who refused to give up her toys. But she’d wake up tomorrow and the anger would vanish.

They exchanged a few words about their plans for tomorrow. These conversations were perfunctory. The timing of things, what Hades would make for breakfast.

They pulled up the covers, and Hades turned off the light.

Then, Hades died.

His eyes snapped open at the shock that ran through his body, a heart clutched by fate and yanked out of his chest. It felt like a single second had passed from the moment of Hades sleeping, but it was in reality longer. He gasped, spasming in bed, shouting Belle’s name. But she didn’t stir, because she couldn’t hear him. The comfortable darkness of nighttime had already been changed for the eerie otherworldliness of–

“What the fuck?” Hades gasped again into green, foggy Limbo. Arthur sighed by the door. Hades sat and saw the Fates standing at his bed. “What the fuck?” he repeated again.

It was Clotho, the Spinner, who spoke. “You have broken your vows, and thus, the spell.” she said and tutted at him.

“What?”

Atropos snipped her scissors. “Belle no longer loves you, and you no longer love Belle.”

“That’s not true,” said Hades. “That’s a fucking bloody lie–”

“Love often lies, but fate does not. You’ve clipped the thread and untangled the knot,” went on Lachesis. “You’ve made your bed. And so the curtain fell. Death beckons you back into–”

“Hell,” said Hades.

He sat there, motionless, as Limbo’s currents moved around him, murky and strange. Everything looked different here, even as he stared at his own chair, his own dresser, his own watch on the bedside table. His home was already far, far away. And although he wanted to argue– and arguing was supposed to be Hades’ great strength– he found there was nothing to say.

He glanced toward Belle. She slept perfectly still. She looked younger in her sleep, more beautiful, more like the girl he had first met. Something stirred in him and he reached to touch her. His hand passed through.

That something, he knew, wasn’t love exactly. It was the echo of it. What year had it died? How long had the ghost of it lived inside him? Why hadn’t he noticed before now?

“It’s time to go, my lord,” said Atropos and she snipped her scissors two more times. Snip snip.

“Let me– I’ll go,” Hades said in defeat. “But I can’t go without saying anything.”

“Hurry up, I’m getting bored.”

And in a blink, Hades was downstairs, at their Christmas tree. Even in Limbo, it shined with its hundreds of lights, piercing the green-gray of this otherworld. There were the presents his children would find in the morning, lined up tidily under the tree. He would not get to see them open it this year. But next year. He’d come back next year. And he’d come back the year after that– he’d come back as many times as he could until he found a way to come back, and stay, and never leave again.

In the meantime, Hades wrote a note. It only contained a few words, but Belle would understand it. Perhaps they were not in love anymore– but she still knew him. He still had faith in her.

He signed it Hades and left it there on the tree like a brand new ornament, where it was until the next morning, when Opal came down the stairs, pointed at it, and exclaimed, “Maman! What’s that?”

*** *** ***

DECEMBER 25, 2026

BELLE: Over the last year, Belle was not sure if she missed Hades or if she missed that he used to help her with the children.

Belle was not made to be a single mother. She felt crushed under the weight of it. She could not stay late at work, because she needed to pick up the children. She was often late to work, because of the children. She had no life outside of them. Hardly saw her friends, unless she was asking them to babysit for her.

Even with Toulouse’s help, which she had selfishly, necessarily, accepted, it was not the same. Lou did not live with them. He could not wake up with the children when they had bad dreams. He had a life of his own. She was grateful for his help, yet sometimes, she still felt herself missing Hades.

At first, she had felt like she was missing a limb. Both literally and figuratively. She didn’t have as many hands to handle the children, all of the chores seemed to double. She didn’t have enough hands to hold all of the children’s when crossing the street. And there were also moments when something happened, when Belle opened her mouth to say something to Hades and she remembered he was not there. It was habit. A habit that faded…

It had taken nearly ten years to build that habit, but it had taken less than a year for it dissolve into nothingness. Just like their marriage had. Without her even noticing.

The stages of grief had come and gone. She had not fought as hard as she probably should have, but she was tired. Besides, she’d done this song and dance with the Fates before. No one could help her. Not Howl. Not Snow, the innkeeper turned necromancer that she’d been led to eventually. There was nothing to do.

Belle was guilty, of course. And she was sad, of course. And she was bitter and furious. She hated that she was in this position now, alone. These children she’d had for Hades--because he loved them so much, now they would never know him and there were times when it all felt completely stupid and pointless. All those years. All the horrors they’d faced had only ever made sense in the context of the promise they’d made each other to never leave.

It had been a year of horrific grief and painful growth. None of it had been pretty. Belle felt disfigured. She felt ugly in a way she’d never felt before. And it had nothing to do with the fact she hadn’t washed her hair in three days or the bags beneath her eyes, or--even though she hadn’t seen her husband (technically) in an entire year--she hadn’t even managed to get dressed this Christmas morning, still in her pajamas as she gathered the children around the tree.

It was because of her anger. Because of her overwhelming anxiety as she stared at the door while the children wiggled on their hands, whining about not being able to open their presents.

“Not yet,” Belle told them, more sharply than she should, that ugliness rising like a viper.

There was a knock on the door.

“Who’s that?” Aidan asked, his head turning towards the door.

“Tonton!” Opal beamed.

“Tonton has a key,” Bellamy pointed out.

Opal stuck her tongue out.

Belle got up stiffly from the couch and forced cheeriness into her voice. “I don’t know--let’s open it and see, hm?”

On the other side of the door was Hades--looking exactly the same as the last time she had seen him. Because he was. Frozen in time, while she had gotten on with her life.

And Belle--

She did want to hug him. The feeling rose up like someone waking from a long sleep and stretching inside of her.

“DADDY!” Opal pushed Belle out of the way and slammed into Hades, wrapping her skinny arms around his waist. The boys just behind her, piling on top of their sister.

HADES: Time in the underworld moved differently, which was to say, it barely moved at all. It was easy to forget time completely. If Hades let himself, he could spend a year like it was a day, or spend a day like it was a year. If Hades let himself, he might have never realized it was Christmas.

But this year, Hades was diligent. He did not intend to stay down here forever. He would find a new path, make a new deal, link together a new chain to drag himself out of this place. And to be honest– Hades thrilled at the challenge, which was a far cry from the doldrums of his days as a mayor or a board member. The fire in his belly lit and grew.

A year passed in a blink of an eye, Hades consumed with his task. He hadn’t found the answer– yet. But for one day, he’d have a reprieve from reading the histories of histories and from the riddles of the Fates. It was Christmas. And on Christmas, Hades was alive again.

At dawn, he appeared in the darkwood. His footsteps were the only ones that crunched their way to town, as the critters of the forest remained curled up in their dens. He emerged into the farmlands with the sun cresting over the horizon, the pink beginning to fade for clear, stark blue. It was cold, but Hades was not cold. He picked up the pace when he saw the smoke rising from the chimneys of the farm houses.

And then he was at the door, relishing the heavy beat of his own heart and the weight of his body. God, he missed this. There was nothing like being alive. He understood demons more now– in many ways, he’d become one.

But the door opened, and Hades was a demon no more. He was simply a father.

“My darling!” Hades’s laugh echoed as he scooped Opal into his arms and twirled her around. Opal squealed and squeezed him tight. “Look at you! Bloody hell, you’re tall now, aren’t you? Where are your brothers?”

“Daddy!” Aidan came howling next, scampering toward the door. Bellamy trailed after, his big eyes wide as he looked up at Hades.

Hades knelt down, opened his arms wide. He hugged all three of his children and kissed their little sweet-smelling heads, then their cheeks. He felt as triumphant as a soldier returning from war– even if he knew that wasn’t the case. He’d have to go back.

Finally, he managed to wrestle himself from Opal, Aidan, and Bellamy’s enthusiastic arms. He stood up straight again and got a good look at Belle. She looked– wonderful. To him, at least, who didn’t get to change, who was never tired now, who could wear the same clothes for years and never soil them. Yes, she looked tired and frumpy in the pajamas, but she was still Belle, still the person he loved most on Earth, even if he was not in love with her (a stupid and annoying delineation).

“Hello,” he said, his eyes gone soft. “Merry Christmas, Belle. It’s bloody good to see you.”

BELLE: The moment where Belle wanted to hug Hades came and went, so by the time he stood up and looked at her properly, it felt as if she had missed her opportunity.

Looking at him hurt. The missing was so sharp, it felt like that old knife wound in her chest had rent itself open and was bleeding out all over the floor. She felt exposed. Hades looked at her and saw her. Knew her better than anyone else. She had missed being seen like that. She had missed him. It was a relief to realize, but it also brought horrible guilt.

She didn’t know what to say. Looking at him made her want to cry. Tears shimmered in her eyes. She blinked, sucked in a breath. There was no time for this.

“Merry Christmas,” she managed, her voice watery. “It’s nice to see you too.” She couldn’t help herself then. She reached out and brushed her hand against his shoulder. Just to confirm he really was there.

“Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!” Opal was tugging on his arm. “C’mon, I gotta show you all my presents.”

HADES: ‘Nice’ and ‘good’ were the incorrect words, Hades knew that. But he could not grasp another one. Was there a word that could capture how painful this moment was? It seared in his soul, looking at Belle, not only missing her in the most straightforward meaning of the word– because he had not seen her for so long– but also missing what she once meant to him. He felt the hole where his love for hers had been nestled, like a cat curled up by the fire. It had been a comfortable feeling. A feeling of peace.

That was gone now. Coming back had not summoned it from the dead. It was not enough to miss Belle– that was what that feeling told him.

But he could not linger on it or try to pick out a different word or even apologize properly, because he had three children. They were constantly in the way, which didn’t have to be the case. He and Belle simply had let it become the case, and even now, it was hard not to fall back onto the habit. Opal needed him and he missed Opal too, missed her in all the different ways. He would not deny his daughter.

So his eyes left Belle’s face. He chuckled, and a smile brought Hades’s face new dimension. His whole body felt much lighter than it had in months. “Alright, alright. Let’s see ‘em!”

He went after Opal who took him to the tidy piles.

“Ah, look at that! You must have been a very good girl this year. So many presents!”

“Want one?” Opal said brightly. She went to her pile and picked one from the top. “I’ll share with you, Daddy!”

Hades’s smile went soft as butter. He put a hand on top of her head. “That’s kind of you, darling. We can open it together, how about that?”

BELLE: Belle drifted behind Hades and the children as they scampered behind him to the living room and Christmas tree, set up there next to the hearth, crackling natural red and orange flames for once. There was no more eerie, ghostly blue. It warmed Hades’ skin, brought out the color of his cheeks and he seemed so…alive. It was like watching a movie, or being in a dream. The children crowded around Hades as he knelt with them, like puppies, scampering over each other.

The scene made Belle feel absolutely wretched. In the last year, she had felt absolutely sick with grief, but even more: she had been sick with guilt. Holding her children when they cried, wanting their father. Nothing comforted them when it happened. All Belle could do was try to hold them tight and apologize to them. Knowing that it was her fault. That Hades had every right to change their deal: to take her life, the way it should have ended years ago and return in her place. But he didn’t. And Belle was grateful for it.

Until a moment like this. The smiles on her children’s faces, so big. So excited. Rapturous, miraculous joy and eagerness. Knowing that tomorrow, they would scream and cry and make themselves sick and they wouldn’t understand why their father, who said he loved them, was never there. You couldn’t explain to a seven year old that their father was the King of the Underworld and that his mother had died many years ago and that there was a promise broken, strong and ancient magic unraveling their family’s tapestry.

Belle’s heart shuddered and tears burned in her eye, turning the lights on the Christmas tree into multicolored starbursts. She turned her head away as tears forcefully lept from her eyes and onto the back of her hand as she raised it to stop them.

“I-I’ll make tea,” she said, disappearing into the kitchen.

“Daddy! Mine!” Aidan said forcefully, not noticing that his mother had left the room. He was trying to take the present out of Opal’s hands.

“Aidan!” Opal screeched back.

Bellamy put his hands over his ears.

“I want present for Daddy,” Aidan demanded.

HADES: “Children,” said Hades, not loudly, but firmly. Instantly, Opal fell silent, a pout on her lips, but she let the present go. Aidan clutched to it fiercely.

And this was familiar and strange all at once. Aidan and Opal had always fought the most, a little rivalry emerging right before Hades had been pulled into the Underworld. He’d broken up fights before and so in many ways he felt like he had finally woken up and returned to the Christmas that had been stolen from him. But that wasn’t true. Opal was taller. She also gave in much more easily. It made him wonder about the squabbles he missed, about how Belle might handle them, of if Opal only gave in now because she had missed him. This wasn’t the Christmas he missed. This was a year later, and Opal had been waiting for it.

He kissed her little head. “Thank you,” he murmured to his daughter. She brightened again, looking up at him with wide, watery eyes.

“There’s plenty of presents for everyone, eh? Let’s all do it as a family.”

“Yes, Daddy!” Opal said.

“Yes, Daddy,” Aidan repeated, and he put the present he was holding on the ground, pushing it toward Hades.

Hades glanced toward the kitchen, hearing the rumbling of the kettle and wishing Belle had not disappeared so soon. They should wait for her too. He wondered if she didn’t want them to.

Still, Hades did wait until she came back with tea. He met her eyes and smiled. “Alright, children. Now we can open presents, eh? As a family.”

And they did.

It took most of the morning because of course they were still corralling three young children with varying control over their flighty attention spans. Eventually though, the presents were unwrapped and each child made happy. Opal immediately put on another princess dress and then arranged her toys for one of her epic plays, enlisting Aidan as her loyal steed. Bellamy refused to play along, but was very happy with his picture books, which he’d flip through all on his own.

For a brief moment, the children all played happily together, any squabbles from earlier forgotten. And Hades and Belle got to have a moment alone.

“Perhaps we should play a game of chess,” said Hades to her. He smiled again, the same sad smile that had become habit when looking at Belle. “For old time’s sake?”

BELLE: The tea was made quickly. She wished for more time to compose herself, but she didn’t have it. Not that it mattered. All year, she had practice of composing herself. From suspicious police interviews to concerned friends to gossiping neighbors. Belle was grateful for all the years of keeping secrets, it prepared her for this. But it was different when you were keeping a secret with someone else. Sharing the burden instead of shouldering it alone.

She took a few breaths, so that by the time the kettle whistled and Belle poured two cups--knowing exactly how Hades took his tea, not even thinking much about it (it had taken her a month or so to get out of the habit of getting two mugs down from the cabinet).

The tea grew cold, sitting side by side on the end table, out of the way of excited children, overjoyed and clumsy with Christmas magic. By the time things had settled down and Belle had reached for her mug, more out of habit than anything, it was no longer drinkable. The ring it had left on the table was pronounced. She was staring at that ring, brows knit together when Hades spoke to her, his voice soft, just for her.

Her gaze met his and lingered on that small, sad smile. She smiled back but she didn’t feel it inside of her. She was as cool as the tea.

“Sure,” she said. “The chess board is where it’s always been. I am going to make more tea.”

So, she made her tea and Hades set up the chessboard on the little table in the corner that Belle hadn’t sat at in a year. They sat in the same chairs they always sat in, Hades with his back to the window, Belle looking out it. Though, she turned her chair, just a little.

“Maman, regardez!” she demanded, waving her imaginary wand in Belle’s direction.

“Je suis, mon chere.”

Satisfied with the new angle, Opal went back to playing.

Belle contemplated her first move, her fingers dancing over the heads of the chess pieces: rooks, bishops, knights. Queen. King.

“I am sorry,” she said softly, her eyes filling with tears again but she breathed them away. “I never realized…” It was impossible to articulate falling out of love. Just as it was impossible to feel.

She moved her left knight into the center of the board and looked up at Hades.

HADES: Hades did not rush anything.

He was enjoying the slowness of life. He knew that mortals could not feel it the way he did now. For him, the morning had lasted eons. He’d loved the tedium of it, and how his children had turned a task that might have taken a half an hour for diligent, well-behaved adults, into a two hour obstacle course. He arranged the chess pieces with care, missing this too– and only then did he bother to check the clock and see that it was a little after noon. It was a sunny day outside. Right now, Hades felt as though he would have a year or more here, plenty of time to catch up with his children and to– to talk with Belle.

This was not true though. The practical part of Hades felt that. Soon it would be dark and the pieces of sand in his hourglass would run themselves out. He’d be dragged back to hell. Stuck there. For an entire year. So he shouldn’t be idle here. He needed to make the most of every second.

But he also wanted to relax.

Hades found himself indulging that sentimental side of himself as he moved his own chess pieces and glanced up at Belle. He’d been angry at her at first, but mostly angry at himself. Now though - he was looking forward.

“There’s no need for that,” said Hades. “We’ve overcome worse. There will be a way to fix things, even if things between us…” he trailed off here, spontaneously sensitive to it. It was strange. Hades was not used to having an ex. He’d never been good at it with Lou.

“I mean, we can find a stronger solution than romantic love,” mentioned Hades. “I still believe that.”

BELLE: If things between us do not change.

That was what Hades was going to say. At least, that was the blank that Belle filled in for him, since he did not finish the sentence himself. The sentiment burned through her anyway. Either he thought it was incapable of being fixed or he did not want to--uninterested in her now as anything besides the mother of his children. For an entire year, she had mourned their relationship, the wound of it the worst thing she’d ever felt. Worse than her father leaving her, because her and Hades had been equals. Their love was equal, their time and their care, the effort they put into one another. Worse, even, than dying because death was a final thing. You took your last breath and that was all.

Living when the person you loved, the person you had once loved, no longer loved you--and was dead, functionally if not literally, because of you--that was hard. Some days, it felt impossible. She didn’t know what she would have done if there were not children to take care of. If she had not had Lou’s constant, steady help.

His words made her realize that she had spent no time at all on that riddle.

“Have you tried?” she asked, no malice in her voice. It was devoid of any feeling really. Just a simple question, but the answer would reveal so much.

Why hadn’t she tried? Because she had been busy with the children. With picking up the pieces. The land of the living was not like the land of the dead, it kept moving. Always moving. The children grew. Work demanded. And Belle’s life moved on.

HADES: Hades had not meant it personally. He had meant it practically. He was always practical first, and everything else second.

Because oh yes, it would be, perhaps, ‘easiest’ to fall in love again. Easy in that they knew it would work, easy in that Hades had loved Belle before and knew what it felt like and was certain that he could turn the love he still had for her into this other kind of love, the love that the vows had been built on. He could fall in love with her. It would not be immediate. It would be very hard work, because love always was. But they could.

But Hades wanted to find a different way, because if anything, he’d learned that love was not eternal, or immortal, or everything the poets wrote about it. Love was fragile. Love could break. They could find another solution, something better, something they could rely on no matter what.

And if he was honest… perhaps there was a part of him that doubted they’d ever love each other again in the way the spell required. Now that Hades had died, wouldn’t there always be the spectre of his death hanging over them? There would be guilt. Stipulations. Selfishness. These things would surely interfere and stain their love.

And so that was why Hades turned away from it.

“Of course. Every day– or the equivalent of it in the Underworld. Belle, it’s all I’ve been doing,” he told her, leaning forward a little– and then daring to reach out and take her hand. He held it gently in his own. She felt warmer than he remembered, but maybe all living things felt like this.

“I want to come home. You’re all still my family. I won’t stop until I’ve succeeded.”

BELLE: Belle turned her face away.

She couldn’t look at Hades while he said these things. Too much shame burned in her heart. His hand in hers was cold, startlingly so—but it was a stark reminder of the facts. That Hades was dead. That it was Belle’s fault.

It would take both of them to fix it. Love could not flow one way. Belle knew that. She’d loved Hades for years and years. She knew how much work it was. She knew how much it would cost. Belle just wasn’t sure if either of them were in a position to pay the price.

That didn’t stop what Hades said from being true. This was his home. They were family.

She watched the children playing, even as her vision blurred. They were content and happy, as happy as she’d seen them in the last year. And tomorrow—they would be destroyed all over again and all she could think about was how tired she was, but how much that wouldn’t matter because she had to be there for her children. Because Hades wasn’t. Because he couldn’t be.

Her hand stayed limply in Hades. She had the urge to pull it away. The feeling made her want to squirm. Eventually, she looked back at him.

“I know,” she told him. She didn’t make these promises back. Belle didn’t think she could keep them. They had already broken so many promises to one another. “You’re my family too.”

HADES: And shouldn’t this be enough?

Hades could look back and curse his own wretched romantic self for the deal he made with the Fates in the first place. He hadn’t been thinking clearly. Who could blame him? Belle had been dying in his arms. There wasn’t much time left. He had struck the deal they offered, let Fate once again thread its needle and weave the story and so the promise became one life for the other, only joined properly by marriage. When they’d figured it out, Hades and Belle had both laughed, in delight but also at the stupid mundanity of it all. Marriage– an answer to a riddle. Not a true promise.

This should count instead. Hades had tied himself to Belle beyond mortal contracts and dealings. He was her family and she was his. They had children together – pieces of Hades that lived on now that he was in the Underworld. He couldn’t fathom why this wasn’t enough. He couldn’t fathom why he could sit here and hold Belle’s hand and appreciate her, and for nothing to change.

The hourglass was still turned over. The sand still slipped away. He could feel it, under his skin.

Fine. Hades was still beat the Fates. If he had done it once, then he could do it again. Though he heard the lack of Belle’s promise in the air - something he’d depended on, perhaps taken for granted, and was confused to find missing now.

But emotions were high. It had been a year and maybe he needed to ask her. And so he asked her.

“You’ll help me, won’t you?” said Hades. “If we work together again, I’m sure we’ll find the solution.”

BELLE: “Yes, of course.”

It wasn’t a lie. Or a promise already broken. There was no word, she supposed, for something you wanted to be true--something you wished you could make true--but something you also knew had very little chance of being true. Was that breaking a promise? Or was it simply pessimism? Belle’s whole adult life had felt like a series of bargains. Her entire married life had felt that way too. Hades’ magic was too powerful--it permeated through everything, it disrupted everything, and it was unavoidable.

Part of Belle wondered if this was what the Fates had wanted. That was why they’d given Hades his choice all those years ago. It hadn’t been a choice. They had known one day Hades would neglect his duties, more man than ambassador. And they had known that one day, they would have their king again.

It had all been a trick and a lie. Hades and Belle caught in the tide of Fate. Belle was tired. It felt pointless to fight against it. She had tried so hard, for so long and lost far too much. But how was she supposed to say that to Hades--when he was, right now, the Hades she had once loved most: defiant and sure and ready to confront a challenge without surrendering.

She gave him the softest, saddest of smiles and squeezed his hand once before pulling away with the excuse of fixing her hair.

“It’s your turn,” she mentioned, her gaze on the chessboard.

*** *** ***

DECEMBER 25, 2032

HADES: Time in the underworld moved differently. And so seven years passed, and it was Christmas again.

Hades nearly forgot.

He had been busy. There was a war in the City of Dis (there was always a war in the City of Dis) and although the ambassador usually stayed out of these things, this year, Hades plunged into it. There had been a purpose to getting involved, one that he had since forgotten. Now he was wrapped up in the politics of demons, in negotiations and contracts and territory disputes. He might have missed Christmas altogether if it were not for Clotho, who told him but mere hours before. He’d had his head bent over a stack of papers and felt an odd sense of deja vu, as Clotho pestered him. When he glanced up at her, she looked at him with pity. He contemplated killing her (again. He had bonfired the Fates at this point many times, but they never stayed dead for long).

“I fear you have forgotten,” said Clotho. “And now you’re more king than man.”

“What?” said Hades. He snorted at her. “I don’t have time for your riddles. Like you said. It’s nearly Christmas.”

He regrettably closed the stack of documents and then rose from his desk to prepare for ascension. Once he’d looked forward to it, craving breath the way an alcoholic craved a drink. But it had become more painful rather than pleasurable lately. It hurt to love life. That was why the demons fought so much. Because he was above them, their betters in every way, he had decided sometime during this long immortality to fall out of love with life the same way he had fallen out of love with his wife.

But he would always love his children. When he got up now, he got up for them, his heart clenching in that uncomfortable, alive way.

When Hades appeared in the wood, that uncomfortable clench became as painful as a heart attack. He gasped, clutching his chest, trembling on the floor. Every year, it got so much worse. At least no one was here to see him whimper like a pup.

The pain passed eventually. And when it did, Hades rose and made his way to the cottage.

He knocked on the door.

BELLE: Over the last few years, Belle and Hades had finally fallen into a comfortable routine. They texted. Belle sent photos of the children from all their various accomplishments. She discussed the big things with him: Opal doing a summer theater camp in London; Aidan wanting to play rugby. She tried to include him in as many decisions as she could. They were still partners. Even if every time she saw him, Hades grew more distant. More unfamiliar to her.

At first, it had hurt. Now, Belle was different too. They were no longer the people who had once loved each other enough to die for one another, to create children together. But, they still loved their children and they still wanted the best for them.

It simply was what it was. It worked.

The last year, however, so much had happened.

Yet, this remained the same. It always would. As long as Belle was alive. Once she died, maybe it would be different. Maybe Hades would come back. Belle had a feeling he wouldn’t. That he would choose to stay in the Underworld. At least he would be more free to visit the children any other time besides Christmas.

Belle opened the door.

Unlike most years, the children did not rush to beat her to the door. Aidan was in the kitchen, pouring himself a cup of tea. Bellamy was reading a book in the window. He’d been too absorbed to see his father come up the path, or hear the knock on the door.

“Hello,” Belle said, and despite herself, she did hug him. Wrapping her arms around her waist and squeezing him tight. “I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, Dad!” Aidan called coming in from the kitchen. He gave him a little salute but just plopped down on the couch. “If you’re wondering where Opal is, she’s throwing a fit. Won’t come down from her room.” He took a sip of his piping hot tea.

HADES: The longer Hades spent in the Underworld, the more it felt like the Underworld had always been his life, while his memories of time spent here, the world of the living, shrank down. Now, it had been so long– years that felt like lifetimes– that his trips here were mere moments to him. He looked back at his near thirty years as a mortal and felt it was barely a blink. He’d been so young, so childish, thinking he was smarter and more mature than he was. That was why he’d had children so young and why he’d fallen out of love with Belle. Perhaps, if he met Belle now– she an accomplished lawyer and himself practically a god– things would be different.

But they weren’t. And so every year he came here, stepping into a role that he had, in many ways, outgrown. The further he got from his children, the more it hurt to come back to them. The ache was a shadow that clung to his heels as he walked into the room and found there were no children to greet him.

He didn’t expect them either, though.

Hades came into the kitchen and his hand briefly touched the back of Aidan’s neck in greeting. Aidan looked up at him with a smile, his eyes sparking the way Hades’s eyes once had. “Ah, well, she will in a moment, I’m sure,” he commented. “She likes her fits to be public.”

He wondered what his precocious daughter was upset about now. When he peered through the veil to watch his children, he found that it was always something these days. School, boys, girls, friends, her future, her brothers– most of all, Belle.

She could be angry at Belle again. Or angry at Hades. Or angry at Lou.

Hades withdrew his hand from Aidan’s neck.

“Bell, what are you reading?”

Bell did not look up; this was typical behavior and not at all offensive to Hades, who admired Bellamy’s mind, and his penchant for multitasking. “Prometheus Bound.”

“Ah, more classics.” Bellamy loved classics, but he was also getting more and more into art books these days. “I’ve brought you something.”

This got Bell’s attention. He snapped his book shut. “A book?”

“From the library of Dis.” Hades smirked. In this way, he could do his children no wrong. No one else had the access he did to the scholarship of all worlds.

Bellamy scrambled up immediately as Hades held out his hand. Shadows swarmed like hungry insects for a moment, looking like they were consuming his flesh. But when they cleared, the book laid in his palm.

“Thank you! Oh my god!” Bellamy exclaimed as he held the book.

“I’ve got gifts for you too, don’t worry,” said Hades to Aidan, whose eyes hungered after the book. “And Opal too, if she’d come down.”

From around the corner– “YOU CAN’T BRIBE ME.”

“It looks like she’s already down,” said Hades.

Opal came stomping in, tossing her hair. “I want tea,” she said through her teeth.

BELLE: Hades said nothing to her but hello. She watched him from the doorway as he moved through the house--her eyes searching his face like she could find the man she once knew in it somewhere. He wasn’t to be found. Belle wasn’t exactly sure when he had faded, replaced by someone who one could tell, just with a look, was not of this world.

In this warm little cottage, he didn’t fit.

And he didn’t know or didn’t remember and Belle’s heart broke all over again to think that was true. The last few years had hardened her heart against many things. Opal’s insults and promises of I hate you. Aidan’s acting out in school. Bellamy’s distance. Hades’ nonexistence. She could handle all of these things, but watching Hades’ smile curl like the tail of a cat somehow crashed through all of her defenses.

She simply watched, feeling as if she had suddenly disappeared. Opal didn’t even look at her as she stomped down the stairs and into the kitchen.

Belle drifted after her daughter into the kitchen, not saying anything until Opal had flicked the burner on the kettle.

“Your father is only here today,” she said, even though Opal knew that. “Please--”

“I don’t care. He’s barely even a dad. Like sure he provided some DNA or whatever but that’s it.” She said this loudly. Loud enough Belle was sure that Hades had heard.

“Opal Grace.” Opal scoffed and rolled her eyes, leaning back against the countertop and fixing her mum with a glare. “I know you’re upset with me but--”

“I’m upset with him too. This is his fault too.” Her eyes shimmered with tears but her jaw set stubbornly in an expression Belle recognized as one of her own.

HADES: Hades was very used to being hated. He’d been hated his whole life, and he’d been hated in death too. Demons despised him, especially now that he was– in many of their opinions– overstepping. After all, an ambassador was not supposed to play at ruling. He was a diplomat, meant to pass between factions of the living and the dead and the undead, too. He kept order, and order was neutral. But in the boredom of his exile, Hades had started to embrace his namesake. He would be Hades– king resurrected. And so he was hated. And so he had enemies.

These days, Hades found hatred interesting though. It was not particularly offensive to him, because it meant someone cared very very very much about what Hades was doing, all the time.

And so he just raised his eyebrows at his daughter, seeing Belle’s best traits in her. And his own too. She was more like them than she’d ever admit. If she hated them, then it meant she had a mind of her own.

“You know I don’t control Fate. I’m as much of a pawn in their hands than anyone else.”

Opal’s eyes grew even harder. “Only because you let yourself.”

“I have a present for you too, you know.”

“I told you, I don’t want it. You know what I want.”

Hades did. But he meant what he had said - he could not turn back the clock, could not persuade the Fates. He had done that once and the deal ended up unraveling, Hades back in hell again. He had no more pieces to barter with.

Hades’s silence to that sent Opal off again. “Ugh, I HATE this family!” She shrieked again, grabbing her tea, sploshing some water onto the floor. And then she stamped off.

Hades met Belle’s eyes. “She’ll learn. It’s just because she’s young. I was exactly like her at her age.”

BELLE: Belle winced as Opal shouted and stormed out again. No matter how many times Opal did it, Belle never got used to it. It jarred so extremely against the sweet little girl she had once known. Who used to crawl into her lap just to snuggle, who was always excited when Belle came home from work, who sometimes had even preferred Belle to Hades or Lou, just because she was her mother. It didn’t even make sense when thinking about the sweet baby who had fed at her breast, who Belle had known before Opal even knew the world.

Each hate thrown her way was a stab in the heart and with each one, she could feel Opal trying to sever that bond between them like it was a physical thing being cut through. Belle held on, try to keep the pieces together, maybe out of nothing else but instinct.

It irritated her, then, Hades’ words. She looked at him sharply.

“Your guardian when you were her age was a racist, horrible, abusive man,” Belle snapped at him. “Do not try to tell me it is going to get better. You haven’t lived with your daughter telling you she hates you every day for the last seven months.”

HADES: Belle’s perspective was limited too. This wasn’t her fault; she was mortal, he was not.

It was why the distance grew between them, even when Hades had fought to stop it. At some point, he’d let go, figuring the distance could be helpful. If he committed himself to understanding the Underworld, then he’d inevitably discover escape. However, what he found instead, in the rivers and the shades, was knowledge that no mortal could ever touch, not without it poisoning them. It was knowledge that came with living outside life and death. Belle felt the burn of Opal’s hatred because she also knew her days with her daughter were steadily running out. Soon, Opal would be old enough to leave - to choose another family, if she wanted. Opal’s hatred came from a similar place, seeing only what she lost, not what she could still gain.

But Opal would learn and so would Belle. They were quite smart, even if they’d never had the perspective of Death. If anyone could overcome their mortal failings, it was them.

“Hate is not as bad as it sounds. Flip it on its head, my dear, it’s just love in a different coat.”

“Does noooot feel that way,” murmured Aidan.

Hades’s mouth twitched in amusement. “I once hated your mother very much and I think it turned out well. Just give her time.”

BELLE: “Turned out well,” Belle scoffed, feeling her irritation growing by the second, like little beetles multiplying under her skin the way it itched uncomfortably. “You didn’t hate me and you didn’t have a reason to, even if you did.”

Hate was a strong word. It was a word that Belle didn’t even fully comprehend herself. She had never hated anyone, she didn’t think. Hate was as sharp as it sounded. It was all consuming. It was brutal. Even the Order, even Urania, all her enemies—she found compassion in her heart for. She could look in their faces and see a being with feelings, with life experiences that had led them down their path. Despite living with Death, loving Death for so many years, Belle had never learned absolutes.

Hate was absolute.

And despite rationality, she could feel that hate from her daughter. Opal didn’t love her, that was certain. And the bitterness growing between them was turning sharp and ugly. The distance between them so unlike her distance form Hades—it was hot and poisonous, Belle felt it at all hours of the day.

The distance that Belle and Hades had was usually cool. Unattached. They shared memories. A family. A name. Facts that meant they could not be separated, but they had long learned to live this way.

Right now, Belle felt that distance from Hades as something with claws. She wanted to reach across it and shake him. Make him wake up. Remind him what it was like to feel. To burn properly. Not with the cold flame of Death, but the warm one of grief. Of love. Of life.

“She has a reason to hate me anyways,” Belle said bitterly, her voice suddenly wet.

“No she doesn’t, Maman.” Bellamy had appeared suddenly at her side, looking at her steadily and too wise for having just turned thirteen. She probably leaned on him too much. On both her sons. She did so now, unable to help herself, wanting comfort. She reached out to take his hand, squeezing it and pressing her arm against his. He was already as tall as she was and she knew that both her sons would be much taller than her. Perhaps as tall as their father.

“Yeah, she’s just a jerk,” Aidan agreed. “Besides, we all know the stories. People come back wrong. Death is inevitable and unchanging, blah blah blah. Right, Dad?” Aidan looked over at Hades, eyes wide and hopeful, hungry for praise.

HADES: Hades’s smile grew at Aidan’s comment. “Precisely, my son,” he said, and his voice was warm now, warm with pride.

He was always at his most human when he was their father– though he knew he’d pay the price later, when he descended again and the shock of dying would have him crying, moaning, curled up alone in his chambers like a child exiled to its bedroom. No one, not even Belle, knew about the pain that came from dying, over and over– how it got worse. How coming back to the world of the living was just as painful.

Well, that was a lie. The Fates knew. They probably thought it was very funny, to put Hades through something so human once a year, watching him squirm and grimace. They’d tell him it was the price to pay. Hades knew that without even asking, which was why he didn’t complain. He simply paid it, so he might get moments like this – to see his sons growing and his legacy expanding.

Opal was part of it too, even if this year, she might decide to waste on her petty anger.

Aidan glowed, smiling even brighter at Hades’s reaction. “Now, are we going to have Christmas?” asked Hades and his eyebrows raised. “If Opal doesn’t want to be a part of it, she doesn’t have to. But I see no need for us to bend to her whims.”

BELLE: Belle wanted to keep arguing. She knew it was pointless, and the urge had long ago gone away. Hades was only here for a day and then he would be gone again. A spectre, a memory, but nothing more. (At least, that’s what Belle told herself. That was what made it easier.) This time, though, things had changed too much and she wanted to see something from Hades. Some--regret or grief or concern for Opal or his sons in the wake of things. To show interest in talking to Opal, find some common ground around a person they both loved. Coax her down from her fit, the way he used to do when he was a little girl. Had he forgotten?

Instead, there was nothing. Hades was exactly the same as he always was. And Belle realized that he had truly departed from the land of the living. He had forgotten what grief felt like. He had forgotten what it was like to be human. To cling to life because it was the only one you really had.

Something about that was horribly sad. Something about it made Belle want to fight. But, she didn’t say anything. She just nodded her head a little.

“What did you get me?” Aidan asked, hanging on Hades’ every word as they moved back into the living room.

“Come along,” Belle said, putting her arm around Bellamy’s shoulders and guiding him into the living room too.

Outside the window, in that little unchanged cottage, the red sun rose slowly, indifferent to the passage of time.

#swynhades #swyntoulouse #helle #bellou #loud bell #til death do us part #otp: a person. in my life.#otp: you matter more to me than me #otp: i will always save you #otp: what's mine is yours #otp: we deserve each other #otp: what do you need?#alskdjglaksjdglkasj #that's all i have to say #this literally kILLED me guh #helleeeeee

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