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storiesoflilies · 10 months ago

Text

crimson reverie

synopsis: the gods had forbidden him from her, but they could not stop her from following the trail of pomegranate seeds that led her straight to him. w.c: 13k

pairing: hades!ryomen sukuna x persephone!f!reader.

warnings: trueform!sukuna. descriptions of bruising and choking (not the good kind). mentions of smut and greek mythology incest. sfw, but MDNI!

a/n: this piece was requested by the lovely @pinknipszz ! i want to thank my darling @neptuneblue for beta reading, and also to those who donated (@ficsforgaza) towards this fic!! you’re all very loved <3 (ao3)

it was spring, and everything was golden.

from the barley stalks swaying in the gentle breeze, their prickly feather heads tickling her as persephone ran her hands through them, to the light of helios’ sun as it made its way across the sky, to the dripping honeycomb offerings left for her at the edge of the fields from the local villagers.

life was golden, iridescent, and precious, and it was good.

birds chittered in the trees, and the smell of freshly churned soil and evening jasmine wafted through the air. it was the end of a hard day’s work for persephone, and though there was still much more to be done for the mortals that lived in this remote area, that was a task for tomorrow. for now, all she wanted was to do as she pleased.

and that was to wander through her meadows of narcissus flowers, bathe in freshwater pools of starlight, and feast on pomegranates while she rested beneath the trees that bore them. she would sleep underneath those very trees, with moonlight shining through the gaps in the leaves, tenderly kissing her brow. her meadow was her haven, on the edge of a deep, green forest, where only her playful little nymphs kept her company.

even now, persephone could hear the sweet moans of their lovemaking carried along the breeze, and she sighed in exasperation. she knew they would only reach out to her with sticky fingers and sparkling adoration, begging her to join them. they craved her so badly, yearning to offer her a different sort of ecstasy that nature could not, but persephone would not join them. she never would, for her mother demeter had forbidden her from ever corrupting her purity and from doing anything that might throw her virtue into question.

persephone was to remain a beautiful blossom that could only be gazed upon, but never ever touched.

and so, she avoided the shaded part of the meadow that met the outskirts of the forest, where the nymphs loved to congregate, and went to her favorite pomegranate tree where she would not be disturbed. persephone crouched down underneath her tree, stretching out like a feline catching the last warm rays of the day on its belly, saccharine and ostentatiously content. a light doze fell upon her quickly, her breaths coming out in light puffs, with the sounds of the birds twittering her a lullaby.

“dearest daughter, how lazy you are, napping at this hour when it is not even nightfall!”

her eyelids fluttered open as the golden light behind them turned black, the sunlight blocked by the overarching figure of her mother. with her rose-bloom shoulder, hulking figure intertwined with vines and branches, and a voice only audible through the mind, demeter inspired more fear in mortals than she should have. to them, she was a great and terrible protector of nature, and this greatly saddened persephone.

in her eyes, her dearest mother, known only to her as hanami, would always be beautiful and tender.

“i think it’s warranted after a hard days work, mother,” persephone yawned, sitting up and stretching her arms over her head.

hanami tilted her head in amusement, tiny red rose petals falling as she did so. “your humble work tires you greatly. your power has not grown as i expected it to in the time since i last visited you.”

persephone pursed her lips, avoiding direct eye contact with her mother, and replied with a stiff jaw, “it is has grown, mother. but there are many poor mortals living in these villages. hundreds of their fields need to be nurtured with my touch, otherwise they will not grow.”

she didn’t think her mother understood. demeter only cultivated the holy nature of the gods, the grand gardens of greek royalty, while persephone travelled far and wide across greece to ensure even the most remote places had a bountiful harvest. so that even the poorest of worshippers went about their lives content with full bellies and golden fields of barley. persephone knew that the other gods looked down on her, sometimes even hanami, thinking that all she would ever surmount to was a nymph tending to the flower beds of peasants.

her mother wanted to uphold that lowly picture of her beloved daughter, to avoid the attention of the other gods, and persephone accepted it. but if demeter didn’t understand that there was good, honest work to be done ensuring the welfare of lesser mortals, then persephone would still continue with the duty she had charged herself with regardless.

and so, she avoided her mother’s sharp gaze, lest she would see the spark of defiance in her eyes. a defiance for the confines of the cage that was her mothers love, and it seemed to be growing stronger with each passing day.

persephone felt demeter’s heavy hand on her head, its weight almost too rough as she stroked her affectionately. her mother’s chuckle reverberated through her head. “perhaps one day you will eventually be nearly as strong as i, my blossom, so you may continue to rest. i will not disturb your peace any longer.”

her defiance crumbled, and she felt guilty, because her mother did love her despite everything. “oh mother, you could never disturb my peace.”

a loud cry of ecstasy came from a distance, and hanami looked up, her lip curling in displeasure. “you’re too sweet, persephone. but rest well, and do not let the nymphs come anywhere near you tonight.”

persephone watched on as her mother called upon her nature, her fingers bending and beckoning the vines and narcissus as if they were long-lost lovers. within a moment, demeter was enveloped in a blanket of green and white, with only her face and neck visible.

“your father misses you, you know?” hanami murmured, almost fearfully. “he wishes to see you.”

her father zeus, satoru gojo as he was called by his brothers and sisters, was as unpredictable as the lightning he wielded with his bare hands. they were all at the mercy of his passing whims, something her mother knew well, as persephone was the product of one of his said whims. demeter tried to keep them both apart as much as possible, because she knew she could not keep satoru from having persephone if his attention settled on her for too long.

however, she also could not outright refuse the king of the gods either.

“then i shall see him,” persephone sighed. “i will go to olympus.”

“we shall go, my blossom. i would not let you face him alone. i will come for you in a fortnight, so be ready.”

and with that, demeter disappeared. persephone sighed loudly, slumping back onto the grass. although demeter held no ill will towards her brother, she understood that the gods were not like mortals, especially zeus, and did not bind or limit themselves to their marriage vows – much to hera’s rage for zeus’ many lovers. she had passed this sentiment on to her daughter many times, despite being an olympian herself.

“the gods of olympus are fickle, ever-changing, and that in itself is predictable. never stay in their company for too long.”

persephone never liked to visit olympus anyway. the gods were so very loud, ostentatious, and always bragging about the legendary achievements of themselves and their offspring. moreover, while her mothers love was endearing, it was also suffocating at the best of times. she knew demeter was always watching her every move with eagle eyes, daring any of the gods to try and come near her daughter.

save for artemis, her dearest maki, nobody else was allowed to say more than a few words to persephone.

she sighed dejectedly once more and turned over, plucking a particularly beautiful narcissus flower from beside her. with a long, slender stem, its orange center surrounded by snowy white petals, persephone admired its beauty as she leaned her back against the trunk of her pomegranate tree.

“mother will see sense one day,” she hummed, musingly, as she plucked a petal from the flower. “that i will become a goddess worthy of olympus, and do not need her protection.”

another petal plucked. “she won’t ever, and will hover over me for eternity.”

pluck!

“she will.”

pluck!

“she won’t.”

༚༅༚˳✿˳༚༅༚

it was close to midnight, and persephone could not sleep.

she spent what seemed like an age staring up at the moon, committing all of its ridges and craters to memory. if she squinted hard enough, she could make out selene’s silver and pearl chariot pulling it across the sky, her pale white horses snorting and charging through the stars of the night. beside her, the nymphs softly sighed and turned in their sleep, their nimble legs and arms entangled with each other, embracing persephone in a comforting hug to try and lull her to sleep. but it hadn’t worked this time; there was too much on her mind.

it had been ten days since she last seen her mother, and persephone’s nerves were becoming more frayed by the minute. in her meager three centuries of living, demeter had never once been hesitant about her meeting zeus. something must have changed, but what exactly, she couldn’t guess.

persephone felt a flush of warmth, the nymphs’ heat suddenly becoming too much for her to bear, and gently unwound herself from their grasp. the fresh night caressed the bare skin of her arms in a cool kiss of relief as she tip-toed through the small gaps between the scattered nymphs.

she broke into a light run across the meadow, her bare feet softly thudding against the grass, and her white toga billowing behind her as she headed to the refuge of her pomegranate tree. the narcissus were squeezed shut, as if the light of the moon bitterly stung them if they looked at it. persephone giggled, and with a tender wave of her slender fingers, the flowers unfurled their delicate petals, and their little golden faces turned towards their goddess.

she had made a meadow of minuscule suns amidst the midnight blackness of the sky. it was a small miracle, something that she could witness and cherish alone. persephone almost wanted to weep with joy, because she couldn’t remember the last time she used her own power to bring herself happiness. a particularly beautiful flower called to something deep inside her soul, and she couldn’t help but reach over and pluck it from the ground. she tenderly cradled it in her palm, cooing and whispering sweet nothings to it as she spied another gorgeous bloom, and plucked it too.

and another.

and another two beside it.

she picked and picked until a whole armful was practically overflowing from her arms, somehow weaving themselves into a delicate long dress that trailed behind her as she walked back to her tree. persephone laughed, carefree and as light as birds feathers, wrapping her indulgence around her like silk. tonight, she would sleep on a bed of flowers, and nobody could say anything to stop her.

the flowers dropped to the ground at the foot of the tree, as if a magic gust of wind had told them to arrange themselves into the perfect blanket for persephone to lay on. she dropped to her knees and laid out, rubbing the apples of her cheeks against the petals.

that was when she saw him.

he stood there, his looming figure visible from this distance, and his eyes.

oh, his eyes.

four of them there were. she didn’t need to strain to see them; they glowed iridescently, shimmering like blood-red rubies that reminded her of a deep bowl of pomegranate seeds. a promise of a messy feast, dripping messily from her chin onto her hands, coating them in red, red, red.

persephone instinctively sat up, her body going rigid, as if the very essence of her life had left her. the stranger stalked towards her, and in the light of selene, his form became clearly visible. he was a god, that much was clear, for his large body was adorned with the black markings of death, seeming to swirl and move by a trick of the moonlight. he had two pairs of arms, one of which carried an obsidian bident that whispered of violence and horror.

this was undeniably hades, the god of the underworld himself.

persephone knew who he was because hermes had told her stories of his frequent descents to the underworld, whenever her mother wasn’t around, of course. of how hades sat atop a throne of black diamonds, with the viscous cerberus at his feet, unfeeling and unforgiving as hermes guided both the lucky and unlucky souls to wherever hades had judged them to go.

why was he here? hades was known to reside in his halls of blood and bones, and never left it. the last time he had even been to olympus was sometime before she was born. he stood before her now, looking down at her with an expression she couldn’t decipher. his lower pair of eyes were flicking back and forth between different parts of her, as if sizing her up. she stared up into his eyes, her heart hammering against her ribcage like a trapped bird.

“do not look at me that way,” the god rumbled, his voice carrying something ancient, as old as the depths of the earth. he was carved from war, a god who had struck down titans, and it was obvious.

persephone’s heart skipped a beat, and she clenched her fist, accidentally crushing a poor narcissus. “in what way?”

“as if i was about to strike you down this instant,” hades replied, his tone resonating with chilling authority.

her eyes flicked pointedly to his bident. “why else are you here then, lord hades?”

hades glowered at her, seemingly displeased, and tightly gripped his bident before throwing it a distance away, never taking his eyes off of her. “better?” he asked sneeringly, a slither of fire, and squatted down right in front of her.

she could only nod her head, his proximity alarming and unnerving her. despite him lowering himself, hades still looked down on her, looming over persephone with the promise of death.

“so,” he started, his tongue swiping over his lips. “you’re my brother’s elusive daughter.” persephone gaped, shocked he even knew of her existence, and hades chuckled darkly. “hermes likes to talk, especially to me.”

he grinned, a hint, no promise of madness, like knowing the grass would be kissed by water droplets overnight. she knew she had to tread carefully as she stared into his eyes, and accepting that she may not survive this night completely unscathed. hades adjusted himself into a sitting position, his powerful legs crossed over each other, his movements causing persephone to flinch. he rolled his eyes, displeasure flashing in them again.

“i must say, you look nothing like satoru,” he continued, his bottom eyes still observing her so very closely. “definitely not like my sister either.”

persephone asked, perhaps foolishly, naively, “does that please you?”

with a flash of crimson and jasmine-scented air, heat rose to her cheeks. she placed her hands delicately on her lap, as if behaving more placidly and curling in on herself would save her from him. hades tilted his head amusingly at her, pink-peach curls rolling to the side.

he knew she was inexperienced, clearly reveled in it, soaking himself in it, dipping his fingers in and licking them clean.

persephone hated it.

and unexpectedly, she hated her mother for making her so inexperienced, for sheltering her, and pruning her so that she was always prim and proper.

his crimson eyes flashed mirthfully, lips curling upwards. “you care what pleases me, little flower?”

hades’ words only added to her inner turmoil of embarrassment, and she refused to allow him even a glimpse of her vulnerability. so, persephone maintained a somewhat composed exterior, refusing to answer, and a fragile silence enveloped them, save for the hum of crickets in the bushes. hades turned his attention elsewhere, supporting his chin with one of his hands, seemingly gracing her the dignity of not responding to his taunt.

“a goddess should not be fraternizing so closely with mortals,” he said suddenly, a sour look on his features. “especially a daughter of zeus.”

“i do not mix with them,” persephone corrected gently. “it is my duty to help their grains grow.”

hades scoffed, white fangs flashing in the silver moonlight, and one of his smaller eyes fixed solely on her. “your duty, or the one placed upon you by demeter? you should know, mortals do not deserve the power of a goddess.”

persephone didn’t know what to make of the god of the dead. here he was, never having met her before, yet referred to her as a goddess, as if she belonged on olympus drinking ambrosia with the rest of her family. she felt somewhat honored, acknowledged, that hades seemed to be able to see her meager power for what it was worth.

“why do you think they are so undeserving?” persephone asked rather curiously. “they worship the very ground we walk on, pray to us, and turn to us in times of need. have they not earned our help?”

"sweet little flower, they would defile and hurt you the very first chance they got. mortals are ugly, infesting creatures that care for nothing except themselves. they serve only as a means to an end for my kingdom."

the grass underneath hades suddenly wilted, as if he had let his power run free for just a moment. something seemed to have snapped in him, something dark. for whatever reason, he seemed to loathe the very souls that inhabited his kingdom. perhaps he had judged them for far too long, had heard and seen all they had done in their short little lives, and deemed the lot of them unworthy of anything good at all.

and still, hades would carry out his duty and pass judgment, allowing the very same mortals who shirked and shunned his name to avoid his attention to pass onto a happier afterlife if they so deserved it. she couldn’t imagine how spiteful she would grow to be if the villagers trampled on the barley she grew for them.

despite her initial apprehension, it made her heart ache for him.

it was pure instinct, but persephone reach out and placed a narcissus right next to one of his hands.

all of his four crimson eyes were fixed on her, and she felt another flush of heat wash over her body. how strange, she imagined being close to death would be like ice, cold and empty, instead of fire and the rushing of her godly blood through her veins and arteries.

“you are a strange one,” hades murmured, pinching the stem between his fingers, sniffing the bloom almost suspiciously with his nose upturned. “tell me your name.”

“hermes did not tell you?”

“he is a trickster, and speaks in riddles. he would not give your name to me willingly.”

“then it is persephone, but my mother calls me kore.”

“and what do you prefer to be known as, little flower?”

she hesitated for a moment. “persephone.”

hades repeated her name, tasting it on his tongue and between his teeth, in the same way she savored a gem of pomegranate seed.

was it sweet to him?

something told her that it was.

the ghost of a smile played on his lips, something old and perhaps long since forgotten until this moment. hades stood up, brushing the dead blades of grass from his toga. “well, persephone, i must leave you. i cannot be away from my kingdom for too long.”

she understood that. the underworld was his home the way the fields of golden barley was hers. but why hades had even come to the surface, persephone didn't understand, and perhaps never would. "farewell, hades."

"ryomen," he correct, almost insistently, one pair of his arms folded over his broad chest in a display of strength. or was it vulnerability? perhaps protecting his heart from that which would seek to harm it? “you may call me ryomen."

with that, the earth beneath his feet cracked and split open, and a deafening rumbling reverberated through her eardrums as she clapped her hands to cover her ears and squeezed her eyes shut. when she opened them again, the god of the dead had all but disappeared.

persephone could not help but feel a touch of disappointment.

༚༅༚˳✿˳༚༅༚

demeter was enraged.

it had only taken a single whiff for her to mother to know. she could sense the unmistakable aura of her brother, the essence of death clinging to persephone like a shroud. it was a like a smell that permeated every crevice of her body, one that no amount of scrubbing or soaking could wash away.

"how dare he approach you?" demeter seethed, gripping persephone's face so tightly she thought her bones would crack. "did you encourage him? have the nymphs corrupted you? did you lay with him?”

"n-no, mother," persephone sputtered, struggling against demeter’s hold, her feet wriggling as they dangled uselessly in the air. "i would never do so."

demeter's wrath was rare but quick to build, like dried kindling catching fire, "you lie," she sneered, teeth bared in a snarl as she shook her. "you must have done something to entice him to approach you."

“ah! no, hanami!” she cried, milky-white tears falling like shining pearls from her eyes. “i never encouraged him once!”

her mother scoffed cruelly and dropped her to the ground in an ungraceful heap, pacing erratically back and forth as she muttered to herself, “zeus will hear of this! oh yes, he must be told at once.”

persephone painfully rubbed her cheekbones, feeling a dull ache spreading throughout her face. the trees of the forest were screaming bloody murder whirled madly in a chaotic dance, the very essence of nature responding to her mother’s rage. vine tendrils lashed angrily like whips of fire, and persephone flinched to avoid being struck. she had seen this sort of anger before, always directed at foolish mortals who dared to lay a finger against nature.

but never her. never once had it been against her.

it shifted something within her, and persephone knew it would never go back to where it belonged. she had done everything her mother asked her whole life, been obedient, never complaining as she followed her rules and carried out her duties. as the tendrils of resentment tightened around her like poison, persephone was beginning to understand one thing.

nothing would ever be enough to please demeter.

(somewhere in her meadow, a narcissus petal fell, and the god of the dead stirred in his throne.)

eventually, demeter’s rage calmed, like a hurricane settling into a somewhat pleasant sea breeze. she looked at persephone, who hoped to sense some semblance of remorse or even sheepishness for what her mother had just done. yet, there was nothing – only the remnants of simmering anger, now settled enough for demeter to think clearly.

“forgive me,” demeter murmured, placing a stiff hand upon her head. “you are still young, and i must protect you from the gods. they would only seek to corrupt you, especially hades.”

and what about you? what about zeus?

but persephone said nothing except, “there is nothing to forgive,” the sting of a lie thickening her voice. “i understand.”

even though she most certainly did not understand, for hanami should know better than anyone that persephone was good and pure, and would never actively encourage any of the gods of olympus – or underworld , for that matter – from pursuing her.

she should have known.

and so her apology meant nothing, for it was obviously false.

the fire in persephone’s godly blood was igniting into something foreign, something full of fury, something maybe even ugly, but she didn’t care. not anymore.

demeter knelt down in front of her daughter, pinching her chin and placing a kiss on her brow. “fret not, kore. i will speak with zeus tomorrow when we visit him. let us deal with hades.”

a flash of fear made persephone’s bones tremble at the thought. she very much doubted the power of nature would stand a chance against the underworld and all the death in it, against hades himself.

against ryomen.

with a gust of wind and falling rose petals, demeter vanished into the forest in a purposeful flurry of energy, leaving the shattered pieces of herself for persephone to pick up and put back together. the nymphs peeked out their frightened faces from behind the bushes they had hidden in, taking in persephone’s crumpled figure with a mixture of apprehension and pity. they had been the initial target of demeter’s wrath, for they had failed to keep an eye on their goddess and call for demeter when she was needed.

a mistake they would not be repeating again.

she felt the dark vines of her cage tighten, closing in on her more, and persephone knew it would be rare for her to get any sort of alone time from this moment onwards.

“come,” persephone whimpered, barely above a whisper. “i must tend to the fields.”

she collected herself from the ground, dusting the dirt from herself, and began her familiar walk to the barley fields, with the nymphs trailing not too far behind. the birds were whistling stories of things that had happened in the night, and the bees were flitting about in between the honeysuckle flowers. persephone wished she was one of them; drinking in nothing but sugary sweetness all day, and still being known for her sting.

the mortals kept away from persephone as she worked. they were grateful people, gifting her with more honeycomb and burning incense in her name. she could smell it in the air, a smoky mystery; powerful and deep. her thoughts trailed back to ryomen, and what he had said about the mortals. persephone didn't believe these men would hurt her, but what if they did?

what sort of punishment would defiling a goddess warrant in death? what sort of things would hades do to them if they even so much as touched her?

would he mercilessly set his vicious cerberus on to them, or would he do it himself? relentlessly rip them apart until they were only ribbons of flesh, and suck their blood from his fingers with a grin on his face, only to put them back together and do it all over again.

persephone almost didn’t want to know.

and yet, she did. with a sick and twisted fascination that was a small seedling sprouting inside her.

when the sun almost touched the horizon, persephone wiped her brow and halted the flow of her power into the fields. she was done for the day, bone-weary both emotionally and physically, and wanted nothing more than to be cleansed and taken care of by her nymphs. they were waiting for her at the edge of the fields, still sheltered by the border of the forest. their faces brightened every so slightly at the sight of her, then dipped upon seeing her weariness and sadness. persephone could only manage a half-hearted smile before silently making the trek to the bathing pool.

upon seeing the pool, the nymphs rushed to it, unable to contain their glee. some remained by persephone’s side, gently helping to remove her clothes, and slowly setting her down into the pool. they cupped water between their palms and let it trickle down her hair and ridges of her spine, and cooed and praised her beauty as they washed her.

persephone was only half-listening to them, completely ignoring their gentle kisses to her hair and hands, as white noise gradually became all she could hear. she wanted to drown in white, she thought, as she felt more of her milky tears slip from her eyes. would they fill the pool until it was a deep lake? she imagined she would fall back into it, her vision filled with white as she sank to the bottom lined with blood-red poppies, and demeter would scream and wail as she tried to find her.

an acute silence suddenly snapped persephone out of her escapism.

the birds had stopped twittering, and the nymphs were as still as deer in the face of a hunter. the only movement was the water ripples moving to the edge of the pool as they slowly settled and the water stilled. persephone felt a tingle, her hair raising at the back of her neck. she turned her head over her shoulder, sensing an intruder amongst them.

and there stood hades, doning the same dark toga as before, his dark pupils dilated and blown as he locked eyes with her.

the nymphs squealed and hissed at him, flocking around persephone, gripping and covering her protectively, their nails almost scratching her skin. hades looked down at them, his nose turned up as he ordered darkly, “leave us.”

“no, you are the one who must leave,” one of the nymphs snapped bravely, yet foolishly. “we will call for our goddess, and she will drive you away.”

the earth rumbled loudly, ominously angry, and the nymphs cried out in fear, clinging to persephone. “is that so?” hades smirked before it fell abruptly, and he snarled. “out of respect for persephone, i will not kill you for your insolence. leave us, now.”

his last words were like molten fire, an echo of an ancient power rolling over hills and mountains, the grass and flowers wilting and dying as death touched and halted right before persephone. she gasped as she felt its warmth tenderly caress her face, sliding along her jawline and down to her neck, brushing over her arms crossed over her bare breasts.

the nymphs did not receive such gentle touches of hades’ power, it seemed, as they scrambled away from her, splashing and screaming bloody murder. persephone simply observed their fear, feeling a sort of detachment and almost indifference wash over her.

she knew it was only a matter of time before her mother arrived.

“you’re hurt,” hades remarked, but not unkindly, stepping over fallen tree logs as he made his way closer to her.

she said nothing, remaining perfectly still, hoping the water was deep enough to protect her modesty below, and tightening her arms around herself. he kneeled in front of her, his breath wafting over her damp face. some part of her was still dissociated, her soul drifting above them, looking down, and persephone wasn’t sure if it was because she was frightened or simply not afraid at all.

hades seemed to hesitate for just a moment, and then his fingers were cupping her jaw, gently moving her to each side as he observed the blooming shadows of bruises on her cheeks.

“demeter,” he stated lowly, and it was most certainly not a question, but persephone nodded nonetheless, a snowdrop tear running down her cheek and onto his hand.

crimson anger flashed in all of his eyes, and his jaw tightened and clicked, a sliver of his teeth visible between his lips. her stomach lurched as hades licked her tear from the back of his hand, and he closed his eyes, as if savoring the taste of her on his tongue.

“i must go to olympus tomorrow,” she blurted out suddenly.

hades cracked a single eye open, and it narrowed suspiciously. “what for?”

“zeus wishes to see me. my mother says he misses me,” she replied, moving away from his touch on her jaw and looking down to the side. “and i do not know what it is, but something is… different.”

he sighed deeply, and she gazed back into his eyes as he gripped her chin. “zeus has waited patiently for all this time, but demeter can no longer keep him at bay. he will have his way with you, and soon. he most likely wishes to see you to try and seduce you into his bed.”

persephone felt her heart drop as hades all but confirmed her worst fears. she had some sort of inkling that this would happen eventually, and guessed that her mother had been shielding her from zeus and his urges. however, some naive and childish part of her had hoped that he would remain as her father and cherish her as his daughter forever. her breathing becoming erratic, and her body started to shake as the trees around her started to rustle loudly, heralding the imminent arrival of demeter. hades hushed her softly, cradling both sides of her face now.

“what if i could stop this? ryomen whispered, with a tenderness she didn’t think the god of the dead could ever have possessed, as the tip of his nose touched hers.

persephone blinked rapidly as the wind stung her eyes, utterly perplexed. “you cannot stand against zeus.”

he laughed at this, throwing his head back as if it were the funniest thing in the world. “oh, how you doubt me so, little flower.”

“i don’t understand. what can you do or say against the word of satoru? he is our – your – king?”

“only understand that i am owed, little flower. for fighting with against the titans many centuries ago and faithfully serving my duty in the underworld for all this time. i am owed, and zeus knows this well.”

his thumb stroked her left cheek, and persephone instinctively leaned into his touch. the wind howled louder, and the trees seemed to be screaming at them to tear themselves from each other and run, run, run.

“you are stronger than you know, persephone,” hades murmured, pressing his forehead to hers, as if they were already lovers who had been together for many years. she heard a great thudding noise, like the footsteps of a giant running, and he gripped her a touch tighter. “light that spark again in your eyes, and say you will fight.”

“hades.”

demeter was very close. their time was running out, and persephone instinctively grabbed his hands holding her face. her soul seemed to snap back into place, and her eyes widened as fear seized her. “ryomen,” she gasped, urgency lacing her words. “you must go.”

“not until you say you will fight,” he repeated, steady as a boulder against her trying to push him away, not even budging an inch. “i will save you, but you must give me your word that you will fight until i can reach you.”

“sukuna! how dare you lay your hands upon my daughter?!”

her mother’s voice was like a thousand thundering horses, their hooves smashing into the earth with all the force they could muster. persephone screamed as the trees rocked back and forth, their roots ripping free from the ground and poised to strike hades. as fast as a snake, hades grabbed a root that was a second away from slashing them both, wrenching it in two and hurling it far away. he snarled defiantly as he turned his back to her, glaring into the forest.

“i promise!” persephone exclaimed as her demeter’s figure came into view from the forest, barreling towards them. “ryomen, i promise! please, you must leave.”

hades turned to look at her, with a mad grin and gleaming teeth, as his crimson eyes flashed brightly. with a great swing of his arms, his power came crashing into demeter, sending her flying back deep into the forest. there was an explosion of shadow, only inky blackness seeping into persephone’s eyes and bones, flooding her head with dark whispers and promises.

promises of the dead.

and the dead were known to keep them.

༚༅༚˳✿˳༚༅༚

persephone felt as if she were approaching her death sentence.

the grand halls of olympus were no less than resplendent, with tall white marble columns and lavish golden decorations. the very air was alive with the energy of the gods that dwelled there, and their laughter and music always echoed throughout the pantheon. this place had once felt like home, its splendor familiar and warm, but now it only felt oppressive, like a cage who’s cold bars she had only just registered.

persephone could finally see it for all of its faults and how deep its rotten ugliness actually ran beneath the surface.

she felt her soul detach once again, keeping her numb to everything around her. perhaps it was a defense mechanism, to perhaps keep her fear at bay, or to shield her from feeling too much all at once.

either way, it was a blessing.

demeter was in an uncharacteristically somber mood. persephone had found her mother completely unconscious after hades had used his power against her. when she woke, all her anger had been replaced by a slumped and defeated sort of exhaustion. demeter had spent the night with her, placed beautiful blooms in her hair that morning, and helped her dress to travel to olympus, all the while not saying more than a handful of words.

it seemed as if the goddess of nature had been drained of all life, her petals falling faster, leaving a trail of red behind her, like blood.

it unnerved persephone, who was no longer sure how to act around her mother.

as they entered the dining hall, persephone was first greeted by the sight of a long table draped in white silk and laden with a feast of various meats and salads. the golden goblets of the gods sparkled in the warm, soft afternoon light, no doubt filled with ambrosia and sweet nectar.

and there was zeus, seated at the head of the table, his legs and arms spread comfortably, exuding both carefreeness and power. so assured was he in his authority, absolute as the king of the gods.

“welcome, my daughter!” zeus announced, his booming voice echoing like thunder, his cerulean eyes twinkling with mirth and lightning. “come and join us; we have missed you greatly.”

there was once a time, not so long ago really, that she would have been moved by her father’s words, believing that he truly missed her and loved to spend time with her. but now it was tainted, and all she could think of were hades’ words from last night, and her perfect image of zeus was forevermore ruined.

the olympians were in full attendance, their gazes resting on persephone and demeter, before they all raised their goblets in acknowledgment, then resuming their conversations and merriment. she spied a seat next to artemis and tried to rush over to it as inconspicuously as she could, leaving her mother to take her seat elsewhere.

“persephone!” artemis exclaimed happily, her fierce eyes glinting like the shiny, rich wood of her hunting bow. “it has been too long.”

persephone smiled, feeling a slight weight lift off her shoulders, and embraced her earnestly. “it has, my beautiful huntress.”

maki pulled back, tenderly stroking her cheek before frowning. “you were hurt,” she noted, gently prodding over the places where her bruises had been. “right here, and here.”

she sighed, hoping that artemis would not have noticed at all, for her bruising was all but gone overnight. “fret not, it is healed now.”

“was it a man? a god? tell me who did this, and i shall hunt them down,” artemis vowed, her untamed ferocity blazing forth.

“be at peace, sister,” urged the light voice of apollo, his golden hair rich and radiating with the energy of the sun. “it was neither a god nor a man.”

maki turned to glower at her brother beside her. “then who was it, nanami? do not keep it from me.”

apollo leaned forward in his seat, peering at persephone expectantly with honey-brown eyes. “do you wish me to say? helios has already told me all he has seen.”

persephone hesitated. would it really be wise to expose her mother’s abuse to maki? she shook her head, deciding that it would only escalate the tension with demeter. artemis growled and said no more. she abruptly stood up and stalked off somewhere, her hunting bow in tow, and apollo slid into his sister’s unoccupied seat.

“pay no attention to my sister, kore,” he hummed, strumming his lyre absentmindedly, his voice a beautiful sing-song melody. “would you like me to play you a song? i have thought of something especially for you.”

“since when did you need to ask for permission to play your music, apollo?” persephone asked, reaching out and sipping on a goblet of ambrosia, hyper-aware that demeter had not interrupted them already.

“since i am in the presence of a beautiful blossom such as yourself, i cannot help but seek your approval,” apollo purred, an easy, saccharine grin on his face, and heat rose to the back of her neck.

there was a loud thumping noise across the table, and they both turned to look at hermes, still appearing as an adolescent boy, banging his fists against the table as he gulped down the contents of his goblet.

“now, now, apollo! you are not to pursue persephone. she is promised to another,” he chided, childishly indulging in his own proclaimed self-importance.

apollo raised a brow. “is that so, ui ui? tell me more of this suitor, for helios has seen nothing. he must be possess a certain prowess to avoid the all-seeing sun.”

hermes giggled, his quicksilver tongue mischievously sharp as his gaze knowingly pierced her. “oh, that he does, and he may be among us already, or perhaps not. what say you, persephone?”

she glowered at the young god, saying nothing as he taunted her, and drank more ambrosia. apollo grumbled, plucking the strings of his lyre to play a somewhat fast-paced tune. “ever evasive, hermes. one day, the sun will burn you as you fly.”

hermes cackled, red wine messily dripping down his chin. “i would like to see you try.”

persephone’s mind strayed as the two gods engaged in playful banter, and she further dissociated from her body, merely a spectator in the midst of her family. she could still feel the linger touches of hades’ shadows, promising her that he would come for her. a knot formed in her stomach, both from apprehension and anticipation, as she wondered how the god of the dead intended to keep his word.

she looked up at all the olympians sat at the table, observing them indulging in their feast and flowing ambrosia and wine. apollo and hermes were now playing their music together, their voices harmonizing as they sang about the stars and sun. zeus was heartily clapping along to them, his wife hera watching him with eagle eyes, wearing a bemused smile at her husband’s antics. poseidon sat at zeus’ left, his long silky black hair flowing like a river down his back, his gold trident leaning ominously against his chair.

ares was there, his emerald orbs shining as he gnawed on a meaty rib, his handsome face and raven hair speckled with blood, no doubt having just returned from the heat of battle. all the while, aphrodite was a vision of grace, her long golden hair tumbling perfectly over her exposed back, swaying sensually to the music. persephone dared to steal a glance at demeter, who sat beside hera, wearing a slightly sour expression as she watched the performance.

all these gods have gathered here, feasting and drinking without any care, without any consequences. what is the point of it all?

“are you well, kore?” athena asked softly, pulling persephone from her thoughts. her lavender eyes gazed at her with gentle concern behind a veil of her white hair.

she managed a faint smile. “of course, than-”

“loveliest kore,” an all-consuming voice interjected, and persephone felt two large hands covering her ears as zeus placed a great big kiss on her head. “it has been too long since we have spoken. come, walk with me.”

persephone’s heart pounded, her body instinctively reacting fearfully, but she nodded and rose from her seat. she glanced at her mother, and could sense her concern and growing despair emanating. hera’s gaze bore into her with mixture of suspicion and barely concealed jealousy, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

hera’s punishment for laying with zeus would be almost as horrifying as the actual deed itself.

“excuse us, shoko, my love,” zeus mumbled, pressing a kiss to the back of his wife’s hand, and then urging persephone on with a hand to her lower back.

he led her to a secluded balcony, the music and laughter of the dining hall fading into a faint noise. night had fallen, and it was pleasantly cool. the view of the mortal cities below seemed like a dream, for they appeared so small and far away that they couldn’t be real. persephone shivered as zeus’ broad arm brushed hers, lingering for a moment too long, as he leaned over the balcony.

“you have grown into a remarkable goddess, kore,” he murmured, his tone uncharacteristically low and husky. “i have missed you here on olympus, and i told demeter that you must spend more time here.”

persephone’s discomfort was growing, but she steeled herself, and remained composed. “i’m sorry, father. i should have visited more, but my duties are rather demanding.”

zeus’ eyes darkened just a touch, his snowy hair reflecting starlight, as he moved just a touch closer to her. “your place is here, with your family. with me.”

she felt the full weight of his words and implications bore down on her, causing a sickening sensation in her core. the torches lining the balcony flickered, casting dancing shadows with a nervous energy. she remembered her promise to ryomen, to stand her ground, and so persephone gritted her teeth, steeling herself for what might come next.

zeus reached out and gripped her hand, his thumb rubbing circles. “look at me, kore,” he ordered lowly, squeezing her hand in an attempt to force her attention. “it’s only me, your satoru.”

“i don’t want to,” she whispered, her lip quivering as her body betrayed her, behaving fearful despite feeling almost nothing inside.

“no?” he tilted his head, his expression predatory.

the torches suddenly dimmed, casting the balcony into near inky blackness, save for the light of the moon and stars. the shadows loomed large, a dark mist collecting just a foot away from zeus, who moved into a more protective stance in front of persephone.

a flash of four crimson eyes gleamed between the shadows.

teeth bared in a display of madness and the sort of bravery that only the dead could possess.

“hades,” zeus greeted, his expression morphing into a forced veneer of pleasantness. “how unexpected! what brings you to olympus?”

“brother, i believe we need to have a word,” hades returned, his voice deep and resonating with the power of the earth, cutting straight through the night like an assassins blade.

a blood-red eye locked on persephone, slowly blinking at her as if trying to communicate without speaking. she tried not to show any emotion, even though her very soul was shaking with relief, gradually sinking back into her body as if the god of the dead had decreed that it must return to her.

ryomen is here. he’s here.

zeus’ hand fully slipped from hers as he crossed his arms over his chest. the tension between the two gods crackled, and persephone felt the familiar hum of her father’s power radiating through the air. and still, hades showed not an ounce of fear. his dark essence emanated in rhythmic waves, pushing back against the electric sparks.

“demeter has already asked me to keep you away from kore. are you really ready to challenge me for her, sukuna?” zeus dared, his jaw clenched.

hades’ lips curled into a sly smile. “no, but i do propose a conversation to settle this little… issue.”

the universe seemed to hold its breath for a fleeting moment. then, with a begrudging nod, zeus conceded, motioning for hades to approach. persephone bit her lip, feeling that familiar rush of blood through her veins as the god of the dead stood beside her, as if staking his claim, one of his hands dangerously close to hers. her father pursed his lips disapprovingly.

“well, what do you wish to discuss?” zeus all but growled, his tempestuous nature rapidly wearing down his patience.

hades breathed out, slow and steady. “persephone belongs with me, and i her. long ago, you asked me what i wanted for fighting with you against our father, and i wanted for nothing. and now, brother, still i am owed, and i have come to claim what i want, and it is her.”

persephone’s heart stuttered, and a swarm of butterflies flew in circles in her belly. his words had awakened something deep, something she dared not name just yet. ryomen’s eyes flicked over to her, his features softening just a touch, as if sensing her inner turmoil.

“you dare try to claim her when our sister has forbidden her from you? while she is still under my protection as my daughter?”

“i did not come here as your supplicant, zeus, but as your brother. i will only ask you once for this favor.”

“kore is a goddess of life and growth, and you would only subject her to death and decay. why should i allow you to have her?”

“because i refuse to let her be trapped any longer between you and demeter. she deserves more than that, and far more than either of you could ever give her.”

suddenly, demeter burst through to the balcony, her breathing frantic. “zeus! do not let him take her, brother! please!” she cried, her knees buckling. whirling to face hades, her expression twisted with anger, and she snarled, “you will not take my daughter! she belongs with me.”

lightning bolts lashed through the clouds, and crashing thunder reverberated in the air, ringing through persephone’s ears. “enough of this,” zeus boomed, his rage transforming the sky into a fully fledged storm. “you will not have her, hades. you are never to come near her again, or you shall face the full extent of my wrath.”

hades’ expression turned grave, and he rumbled, “keep her from me, and there shall be consequences.”

“you dare to threaten me, brother?” zeus exclaimed, his brows raised incredulously. “you dare and threaten me here, in my home?”

persephone looked fearfully at hades, who set his dark gaze upon her, the whispers of the dead breathing into her ears as he smirked. with a great clap of his hands, persephone found herself thrown backwards, her senses dulled by a blinding flash of light as a mighty lightning bolt bore down on hades. when she reopened her eyes, her savior had vanished, leaving only a scorched imprint on the marble balcony where he had stood just moments before.

“demeter, take kore and leave here,” zeus ordered, his tone dangerous and leaving no room for argument. “find artemis and order her to keep watch over our daughter. she is never to leave her sight, is that understood?”

persephone stumbled dumbly, her breath catching in her throat as she stared transfixed at the spot where hades had been, the echoes of thunder still reverberating through the air. demeter huffed impatiently as she swept persehone into her arms, whisking her away from zeus and his almighty anger. the dining room was deathly quiet, all the chairs empty and abandoned, as the other olympians had scattered, knowing all to well that the jovial feast was over.

she rolled her head back, the ground passing swiftly beneath her, her mother’s feet thudding against the ground in a swift, determined rhythm. artemis’ loyal dogs had materialized, their fur glinting in the moonlight as they ran ahead and behind them, the pack forming a coordinated and protective circle around them as they descended back to the mortal realm.

was this it?

was this ryomen’s mighty stand against zeus?

it seemed that whatever his grand plan had been, it had failed.

persephone’s heart cracked in two.

༚༅༚˳✿˳༚༅༚

from then on, the days were dull and dreadfully monotonous.

persephone moved through her days like a ghost, her soul roaming the skies high above her, and it had not landed since she had been to olympus. every morning, she awoke to the feeling of metaphorical vines tightening around her throat, binding her tighter to the life demeter wanted her to live.

she never smiled, not anymore. not even to artemis, who looked at her with such palpable pity that it was almost unbearable. the huntress never left her side, watching over her as she tended to the barley fields, her hounds sniffing and growling at the onlooking mortals. even during the night, maki dutifully kept her vigil, silently keeping watch against the encroaching shadows. and still, despite her dearest friend’s constant, heavy presence, persephone’s despair was ever-growing.

demeter visited almost every day, always arriving during the night. sometimes, she would sleep with her amongst the nymphs, one hand reaching out to persephone as if zeus himself might descend from olympus to steal her away, or as if she might run away and disappear into her dreams.

and oh, how persephone wanted to do just that.

she would dream of ryomen and his deep crimson eyes, a reverie of passion. he had shown her just a little taste of what it was to live as she pleased, and although persephone was shy to admit it even to herself, she missed him – fiercely. she missed that comforting rumble in his voice, and the way all of his eyes looked at her as if she were the most precious thing to him. persephone’s heart ached with longing every time she woke, the sort of pain that carved out a hollow space inside her, one she felt that only ryomen could ever fill.

but she was an empty vessel for all the flowers and seeds she had ever grown, always giving and giving, never able to take anything for herself to fill that hole.

miraculously, there had been no word from zeus, but persephone knew it was only a matter of time. sometimes, in the dead of the night, with only the sounds of the nymphs soft snores and crickets chirping under the light of the fireflies, she imagined what it would be like with hades. the thought ignited ignited a low thrum in her core, making her lower stomach flutter with pleasure.

the dreams started soon after that.

dreams of the underworld. of ryomen holding her in his arms, his bare skin flush against hers, tenderly kissing her neck and shoulder. of him telling her that she was the only one for him, that it was always her, and how he had been waiting for her his whole life. how his hand would drift lower and lower, tracing little circles and swirls down her navel, and…

persephone would always wake up at that point.

and she’d be in a crimson hue of deaths essence, thinking about how much he must have loved her to try and bargain with zeus for her, even going so far as to threaten him. persephone’s heart would flutter with warmth, but she kept her sudden happiness hidden, lest artemis would sense her desire and raise a questioning brow at her.

perhaps if i close my eyes and imagine it is ryomen instead of zeus, it won’t be so bad.

until a cold splash of ice-cold water doused over her head, and persephone was painfully reminded that she hadn’t seen him in so long. consumed in a fit of petulant anger, she wondered how could ryomen have forgotten her so easily. had she not meant that much to him after all? perhaps she was just a passing whim to him, in the same way that zeus had many.

surprisingly, but bitterly nonetheless, she thought that maybe demeter was right.

that the gods of olympus – and the underworld, it seemed – were fickle and untrustworthy.

one afternoon, after once again dreaming of hades and the underworld, persephone woke up in a fluster. deciding not be caught up in the rose haze of her fantasies, she maneuvered out from amidst the nymphs, who had gone for a nap to escape the heat of the sun. artemis was nowhere to be seen, but persephone knew she could not be far, for her hounds were resting closely to them and keeping a watchful eye.

one of the nymphs stirred, slowly sitting up and rubbing away the sleep from her eyes. “kore, where are you going?”

persephone angled her face away from the nymph and rolled her eyes. “i want to bathe. it is far too hot.”

the nymph gracefully stood up, rousing a few of the others with her, and together they all went to the bathing pool, with the ghost of artemis’ shadow following through the treeline. they gently lowered persephone into the water, cleansing her body and hair, while she struggled to keep her thoughts from drifting towards hades.

“your ichor runs hot, kore,” one of the nymphs hummed thoughtfully, rubbing the pads of her fingers deep into persephone’s scalp. “why are you so flushed?”

persephone remained silent, her attention firmly fixed on the hounds circling the pool, while the nymphs continued their ministrations.

“you are aroused, kore,” one of the nymphs whispered intimately into her ear, so low so that the others couldn’t hear. “i know these things. who is it you think of? the lightning god, zeus, hmm?”

she made a face of disgust, and the nymph giggled, almost a little too knowingly, her eyelashes fluttering not so innocently. the nymph sensually trailed her fingers down persephone’s arm. “but of course, death has you in his clutches, and you do not want to be let go of, do you?”

“enough,” persephone snapped, whirling to glare at her as her godly blood flushed once again.

the nymph did not taunt her anymore, and after they had finished washing her, persephone took off towards her pomegranate tree, all but growling at them to leave her be. artemis stepped forward from between the trees, the curve of her bow gleaming in the golden light of the hour, her hounds bounding freely through the grass, snapping playfully at each other. she said nothing to the huntress, something her dearest maki had probably come to expect by now, for persephone spoke very little at all these days.

she laid down in the long grass in front of her tree, little daisies tickling the supple skin of her shins, and set about weaving a flower crown made of narcissus. a hound bravely flopped down in front of her, its heavy, wet tongue lolling from between its fangs, rolling into its back and exposing its belly to her.

“that one likes you,” maki commented, a rare softness in her tone. when persephone didn’t reply, she sighed, setting her bow leaning against the tree trunk. “persephone, what is wrong?”

“you already know, maki,” she muttered, piercing the stem of a flower with her fingernail.

artemis shook her head disappointingly. “i only wish to keep you safe from hades. this has all been necessary to ensure that, but that does not mean that i enjoy it.”

persephone ignored her, deftly continuing to weave the stems together, to which maki huffed. it was unwise to antagonize the goddess of the hunt, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. she decided to indulge in the fleeting sense of rebellion that seemingly stemmed from her youth as a young goddess.

she held out the crown, both admiring and critiquing her own handiwork. it needed a crowning jewel, persephone decided – a large and most beautiful blossom to be placed right in the center.

when she looked up, there it was.

the most ethereal narcissus blossom stood proudly in the middle of the meadow, with petals so vibrantly yellow they were almost pure gold. it was complete perfection, the most gorgeous bloom she had ever seen.

persephone clutched her crown tightly, her heart racing as she sprinted towards the blossom. it seemed to sing to something within her, a haunting song she hadn’t heard for an age. the grass beneath her feet seemed to urge her on, whispering words of encouragement. artemis watched her with a furrowed brow, a scowl etched on her face as she ripped clumps of dirt from the earth.

the universe went eerily still as her fingers gripped the stem.

artemis pricked her head up, her hounds suddenly bristling and alert.

the earth let out a mighty groan and trembled, a deep rumble reverberating through the meadow as it trembled beneath her. persephone screamed as the ground split open and rocks cracked and gave way under her weight. the very earth seemed to be opening its jaws, yawning wide to swallow her whole.

this is it, this is my death.

until she found herself ensnared in a scorching embrace, her ear pressed against the warm, bare skin of a chiseled chest. persephone couldn’t move, the steady heartbeat of death soothing her.

“oh, persephone,” ryomen rumbled, his lips pressed into her hairline, his words laced with a desperate sort of affection. “my love, my life. how i have missed you so.”

he pressed quick kisses to her forehead, as if every one could say all the things he wanted to say. “why did you leave me for so long?” persephone couldn’t help but ask, her voice cracking like marble. “i thought you had left me forever.”

a swoosh of an arrow sliced through the air, and with a speed she had never seen before, hades caught it with his bare hand, its wood splintering as he crushed it. persephone heard artemis’ hounds howling, and the huntress’ threatening shouts at the god of the death, unflinching and unwavering. hades’ black stallions snorted and pawed the ground, his menacing obsidian chariot glinting in the sun.

“my love,” he cooed, cradling her face with two hands and forcing her to look deep into his ruby eyes. “i am ashamed of that, but i am here now to break you free from your cage.”

persephone reeled, shock gripping her in its cold clutches. “i– but zeus has forbidden us from each other. there would be war.”

“then let there be war,” he hissed, then quickly softened, tenderly rubbing her cheek with his thumbs. “come with me persephone. let me give you a crown of bones that can never die like your flowers. be my queen, be my wife.”

she paused, sucking in a breath.

could persephone really do such a thing? did she have the strength to not only disobey her mother, but zeus as well?

ryomen bent his neck down closer to her ear and whispered, “are you afraid?”

“no,” she replied as steadily as she could, wetting her lips with her tongue. “i could never be afraid of you.”

another arrow whizzed past dangerously closer to his ear, his curls fluttering as the wind from it rushed through, and still hades did not flinch. he smiled softly, kissing between her brows. “then say you will stay with me, my sweet flower. let me give you the power you were born to wield.”

persephone nodded slowly, the gravity of her decision weighing heavily on her, but there was not an ounce of hesitation that it wasn’t the right one. with a great grin on his face, hades cracked a magnificent whip and his stallions lurched forward deep into the earth, as artemis screamed promises of vengeance.

she didn’t care.

as the earth swallowed them both, the golden sun disappearing entirely and the first glimpse of the underworld came into view, all persephone could feel was an astounding sense of just one emotion.

freedom.

༚༅༚˳✿˳༚༅༚

persephone had finally blossomed into full bloom, unfurling her radiant petals to show the world that she was a goddess after all.

the underworld had not subjected her to death and decay as zeus had once predicted. instead, she flourished into who she was always meant to be. ryomen had always seen persephone for who she was, even before she saw it herself, and he had only helped her flourish. he had declared that she was not bound to a singular fate of a lowly wood nymph, but rather embrace duality as both a goddess of nature and queen of the underworld.

they had married the very same day persephone descended into his domain, their union blessed by hecate, or uraume, as hades often fondly referred to them as. persephone’s days were then spent in a wondrous bubble of discovery, wandering through the underworld with uraume as her guide, learning all its secrets and inner workings. then, when she felt ready, she judged the souls of the dead alongside her husband, sitting atop his lap as if he were her throne. together, they would listen to the pleas of all that stood trial before them, with persephone running her fingers through his curls, and the unyielding god of the underworld would allow it.

their nights together were tender and vulnerable, both of them baring themselves to each other with all their faults and discretions in plain view. and still, it was full of love and acceptance. persephone would never change her husband’s ways, just as ryomen would never try to tell her how to live her life.

the god of the dead was true; his love steadfast and searing with passion, nothing at all like the cold fickleness of the olympians.

persephone didn’t know how long she had been in the underworld, and she didn’t care to count. there were no mealtimes to mark the passing of the day, for there was no need to eat in the underworld, and hades was vehemently against her ever eating a thing. instead, she marked the passage of time whenever they retired to their bed, where she lay in his arms, talking about everything and anything at all.

“ryo, why do you not allow me to eat?” persephone finally asked him, her curiosity getting the better of her, tracing her fingers over the strange black markings on his biceps.

hades sighed, one of his hands gently squeezing her thigh. “because… it would bind you forever to me.”

“but we are already husband and wife,” she rebuked, frowning. “we are bound through our vows to each other.”

“this is different, my love. you would be chained to the underworld as i am, and you could never leave it.”

“would that be so terrible? i never want to be parted from you.”

“it would. i do not wish for you to be in another cage, even if it is with me, and even if i also wish for you to always be at my side.”

hades gently maneuvered her beneath him, his crimson eyes trailing over her body. “let us not speak of such things anymore, persephone,” he murmured, planting kisses along her bare chest.

she was then lost in a haze of pleasure, and they spoke no more of it.

until one fateful day, when the air carried the taste of snow and change, hermes paid a visit to the rulers of the dead.

“your mother has covered all the land in frost and ice in her grief,” the young god solemnly said, staring straight at persephone, his very hair seemingly touched by the very same cold he spoke of. “the people of greece are suffering.”

persephone shifted uncomfortably on ryomen’s lap, and her husband’s grip on her hips tightened. “do not try to guilt my wife as if demeter’s actions are hers,” hades growled at the messenger of the gods.

“the people of greece are suffering,” hermes continued defiantly, his head bowed and all traces of his usual mischief gone. “the very essence of nature is dying. everything you have toiled to ever grow is dying, oh queen of the dead.”

her bottom lip trembled, and her eyes glistened with a milky white sheen of tears that threatened to spill as persephone’s body tensed in an effort to control her whirling emotions. ryomen hushed her softly, his hand gently stroking her back, as if he could sense her anguish.

“it is my fault,” she whispered, more so to ui ui than hades. “it is my fault my mother thinks i have perished, and nature is now doomed to die because of my decision.”

hermes shook his head, his face crumbling with regret. “it pains me to bring you this news, but zeus has instructed me to carry this message to you both.”

“a message from zeus?” hades snapped questioningly, his breath hot against persephone’s ear. “he knows she is here?”

“helios witnessed persephone descend with you into the underworld, but he has kept this knowledge to himself for a time, as he knew you had not kidnapped her. but now, the earth is dying, and the people pray and cry for mercy.”

hermes took a deep breath before continuing. “and so helios has told zeus of what has transpired, for the sake of the mortals. demeter cannot accept that her daughter has chosen death over life. she refuses to cease the endless winter until persephone is returned to her at once.”

the ground rumbled, and persephone could feel her husband’s anger growing as her guilt did. her heart tore as she thought of the golden fields she had so carefully tended, now withering and buckling under the weight of an unnatural winter. she thought of the mortals, who had so kindly offered her honeycomb and incense, always praying to her for fertility of the land and womb. she thought of her mother, whom despite everything, persephone still loved deeply. she could not begin to imagine the sort of pain hanami must be enduring since her disappearance.

“i do not wish to cause you this sort of pain, persephone,” ui ui said earnestly, a hand over his heart. “you already know that i have kept your secret for these past six months.”

six months…

“what does it matter if the mortals are dying?” hades grunted, waving a dismissive hand, leaning back against his throne. “the more souls that reside in our realm, the stronger we are. zeus knows this.”

hermes’ face scrunched up in discomfort. “zeus… acknowledges that fact, and he is imploring for you both to see reason.”

has it really been six months?

“reason?” hades scoffed. “riddle me this then, trickster. is it reason or jealousy that drives my brother to ask me to give up my wife, hmm?”

“he knows not that you are married, so let me help you strike a bargain with the god of lightning,” hermes proposed, his hand ominously disappearing into the folds of his toga.

he procured a whole pomegranate in his palm, holding it out to them both like some sort of salvation. persephone sucked in a breath, and hades stiffened, his muscles hardening into marble at the sight, as if he were almost afraid of it.

she knew that fruit; it was from her tree.

“i offer you a choice t-”

“you overstep, hermes,” hades hissed, recoiling and ready to strike. “you do not offer her a choice, only to lock her in a cage with me.”

“stay calm, ryomen,” persephone finally interjected, her voice but a mere drop in a turbulent ocean of salt and sorrow. “what if this is the only way?”

ryomen’s gaze snapped towards her, a whirlwind of confusion and unmistakable panic in his eyes. “what way, persephone? i will not have you bound to only this realm. it would just be another cage.”

“but it wouldn’t be a cage if i was willing. it is you, after all,” she returned, tears of pearls running down her cheeks.

“my love, my sweet flower, you would only resent me after a time,” he whispered reverently, his forehead touching hers. “and i would rather be thrown into the depths of tartarus than have you hate me.”

six months…

“please, then let me do what i believe is right,” persephone implored desperately, her fists clenching his toga. “you promised me that you would let me be free to do as i wish.”

persephone watched on as her beloved, her ryomen sukuna, seemed to wage a war within himself. his deep ruby eyes, usually so alight with a stout sort of resoluteness, were now a tempest of uncertainty. lines were etched deep into his forehead like scratchings on a stone carving, and each fleeting change of emotion spoke volumes of how much he was struggling.

until the god of the dead finally crumpled, his shoulders growing slack, and his entire demeanor going so very still.

“do what you must, my love. my soul cannot refuse you, nor can it stand to limit you,” his voice quivered with raw emotion, heavy and unbearably low with defeat.

persephone kissed the bridge of his nose, a salty tear landing on her husband’s cheek, and slowly, agonizingly, untangled herself from his tight embrace. she strode towards hermes, the gold jewelry adorning her arms and neck – opulent gifts that ryomen frequently showered her with – clinking as she did so.

the messenger of the gods quirked his eyebrow expectantly, and he further extended the pomegranate towards her, its smooth skin reflecting the dim light of the underworld. her fingers itched to reach out and touch it, a mixture of longing and dread washing over her.

persephone wasn’t sure whether or not to grasp it or run far away from it.

she cleared her throat and thoughts, and asked, “what sort of bargain would ever stand with zeus?”

“i propose this to you, loveliest persephone,” hermes began, cracking open the pomegranate in his little hands. “you have spent six wonderful months with your husband, and so your mother is owed six months in return.”

anger flashed in her irises, and the ground shook once more. “you are full of mischief, ui ui. you speak so very boldly for your age.”

ui ui seemed to shirk in shame, curling into himself ever so slightly, as he removed six ruby gems of pomegranate seeds from the shell of the fruit. “i propose a bold claim, and therefore i must speak in the same manner.”

“well, what is it then?”

“eat six of these seeds to bind yourself to the realm of the dead. you will be forced to return to your husband for six months of the year, and there will be nothing zeus nor demeter can do about it. i will go to olympus and inform them of what you have done, and will say that you threaten to eat another six seeds if zeus does not vow to never touch you while you are away from hades.”

thorns grew beneath the soles of persephone’s feet, her ichor and power manifesting its detestation over the injustice of it all, a painfully silent protest against the weight of the choices before her.

how could she possibly make a decision to willingly leave her husband for half the year?

she couldn’t. she wouldn’t.

but could i abandon the golden crops of my labor to die because of my choices?

behind her, she could sense ryomen’s grief growing wildly – a sorrowful groan echoing through the earth as it responded to his pain.

ui ui grabbed persephone’s hand, dropping the seeds into her palm, and curled her fingers to cover them. “i never wished for you to ever be in pain. i have always thought of you very fondly, and i hate for you to be coerced into such unfair choices.”

she unfurled her fingers, staring down at the glimmering gems from her tree as if they beheld all the answers of the universe.

“you have much to learn, ui ui, as do i,” persephone murmured, her voice suddenly imbued with all the wisdom of the gods before her.

she had grown this tree from a mere seedling to what it was now. how could she have not noticed that it had always revealed the true nature of her soul? it had always known her intimately, as its branches curved and tilted towards the earth, and persephone had never understood why it had until now.

it had always been guiding her.

persephone looked over her shoulder at her husband, her ears sinking as she took in ryomen’s crushed posture. he was stooped over, a pair of arms crossed protectively over his chest, the other pair gripping his throne in support.

persephone hated how utterly exposed he looked.

“but you must always know to listen to your heart,” she said, her voice steeling as her ichor pulsed in her veins. “know that it cannot lead you astray from what is right for yourself.”

with a tip of her head, persephone pressed her palm to her mouth, the seeds falling between her teeth. she bit down slowly, their burst of tart yet sweet flavor spreading over her tongue, their red juice staining her lips and trickling down her chin in rivulets. her husband stirred, and she felt her soul meld with his, intertwining and caressing each other as persephone sealed her fate.

two gold strings tied together, shimmering threads of destiny, never to be undone until the end of time.

༚༅༚˳✿˳༚༅༚

taglist: @tadabzzzbee @wannapizzamymindposts @stromynight

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lizzyiii · 8 months ago

Text

His Lady Love (5)

pairing | aemond targaryen x vampire!mikaelson!reader

taglist | to be added to the taglist just add your username to this DOC

word count | 6k words

summary | aemond goes to reader for comfort after murdering luke. aegon throws a feast and reader and aemond sneak out.

tags | mentions of death, angst/comfort, vampire powers, tensionnnnn, mentions of incest, SMUTTTTT (MDI), oral (f), unprotected sex, vaginal sex, p in v

note | born to give aemond heirs, forced to write fanfics about him. also I loved writing aemond's pov, though it is way more difficult than reader's. also I might be projecting with that finn incident.

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated✨

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 - 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

In the dimly lit chambers of the Red Keep, the oppressive weight of the night enveloped you. The velvet drapes fluttered slightly with the soft summer breeze that whispered through the open window, a rare moment of tranquility. However, your slumber was a mere illusion, your mind cloaked in the abyss of darkness, devoid of dreams and visions that now troubled your sleep.

But your heightened senses—bathed in the echoes of vampiric instinct—felt the air shift, heard the soft footfalls quicken in the shadows. The atmosphere crackled with apprehension, jolting you into awareness. You turned, just as the chamber door burst open to reveal a figure cloaked in night and anxiety.

“Aemond,” you breathed, relief washing over you as you recognized him despite the disarray surrounding his presence. Yet, the relief was short-lived, for the anguish etched on his face struck you like a dagger of ice.

Without a second thought, you flung the silken covers aside, the fabric whispering against your skin as you stood, a vision of natural beauty in your nightgown. It was a modest garment yet beguilingly elegant, the way it clung to your form had no intent to seduce, but it still felt unseemly for him to be here.

“Aemond,” you intoned once more, your voice laced with concern that echoed in the silence of your chamber, frantic to breach the bubbling tension, “What troubles you?”

He remained mute, his expression haunting—a specter in the moonlight. Each heartbeat that passed deepened your worry, and so you closed the space between you, tenderness guiding your hands to cradle his sharp, angular cheeks, your thumbs brushing against his skin with a gentle intimacy. You sought to anchor him within your presence, as if your connection could dispel the shadows that clung to him.

“Please, Aemond,” you urged, your voice softening with each plea, like a lullaby meant to calm a frightened child, “Speak to me.”

At your touch, something flickered in the depths of his violet eye, swirling with shock and unutterable things. “I… I did not mean to,” he stammered, his breath coming out in ragged bursts, as though each word was a struggle against a tide of despair.

“Mean to what?” Your heart raced as you searched his gaze, desperate to uncover the truth beneath the turmoil. “Aemond, tell me what you have done that weighs so heavily upon you.”

He leaned into your touch, surrendering momentarily to the comfort you offered. “I have damned myself,” he breathed, a confession laced with the weight of the world upon his shoulders.

“Please, Aemond, tell me,” you implored, your heart thundering in your chest.

Aemond shook his head violently, his silver hair cascading like a waterfall of starlight, wild and untamed. “I cannot! You will condemn me.”

You withdrew your hands from his face, your fingers intertwining with his as you drew them toward your heart, your palms cooling against his warm skin. “I could never. Please, reveal it to me, Aemond,” you whispered, your voice insistent yet tender.

His breath hitched in his throat, a harsh swallow betraying the turmoil within him. As tears glistened in his violet eye—he turned away, shame etching deep lines into his brow. “I did not mean to. I did not mean to take the boy’s life, you must believe me.”

The air froze around you, a chill creeping in as your breath caught in your throat. You slowly led him toward the intricacies of your bed, pulling him with you into the sanctuary of silks and shadows. “What boy, Aemond?” you pressed urgently, your heart aching for the truth, a desperate need to understand the depths of his torment.

His voice broke, drowning in hysteria, a stark reminder of his usual composed personality made from steel, “I didn’t mean to— I swear, I didn’t mean—” he stuttered, desperation pouring from him like the dark tides of the sea.

Frustration welled within you, sharp and biting as the chill of autumn winds crept into the chamber. You pulled him down beside you, urgency fuelling your movements as you grasped his face, forcing his haunted eye to meet yours. “Aemond,” you said firmly, your tone dripping with the magic that came naturally to one of your kind. The allure of your compulsion wrapped around him like a silken trap, gently commanding his frayed emotions to still. “Calm yourself and tell me.”

Gradually, his breathing steadied, though the tremors of his fear still lingered. You held his gaze, and through the dark storm of pain reflected in his eye, he managed to choke out the words. “Lucerys. He was at Storm’s End. When I laid eyes on him, all I felt was fury—so I chased him through the skies, on Vhagar’s back…” His voice cracked like the thunder that often heralded the tempestuous nights, and he swallowed hard, “And then… I did not know Vhagar would react so violently.”

Your heart plummeted at the mention of Lucerys—Rhaenyra's beloved son. The weight of his loss hung heavily in the air, and the grim reality sank in; Aemond had killed him. The Blacks would demand retribution, blood for blood. "Tell me you lie, Aemond," you pleaded, your voice barely above a whisper, desperation seeping into every syllable.

He turned his gaze from you, shame encasing him like a shroud. There was a slow shake of his head, and it felt as though the world around you had muted, the chaos outside overshadowed by his revelation. "I cannot bring myself to lie to you. There is no penance that could ever atone for what I have wrought."

The sadness in your heart twisted anew as you murmured his name, "Aemond," the pain manifesting in your voice like a lamentation for the boy lost beneath the weight of his rage.

In the stillness that lingered between you, it seemed he had finally drawn a breath of composure, yet he refused to meet your eyes, speaking softly as if confiding a terrible secret. "I went to Aegon first, and he laughed... whilst Mother..." He faltered, the memory flickering like a dying candle. "She looked upon me as if I were a stranger, as if I were no longer her son."

Your heart ached for him, your hands clasped in his, both a comfort and a tether to the boy he had once been. Finally, he looked up, his eye reflecting a glimmer of vulnerability. "May I stay here with you?" he asked, almost timidly, as if fearing your rejection.

In that moment, you were transported back to another time, a fleeting memory of innocence—of the boy who had fled from the ignoble raucousness of a brothel, a shadow of the boy who once sought solace in your presence. You nodded, and the words flowed freely, tenderly, "Of course."

Yet, unease lingered in the air, evident in the way he fidgeted, lost amidst his thoughts. So slowly, you knelt before him, taking his leather boots in your hands, gently easing them from his feet. He remained poised on the edge of the bed, lost in his struggles. Next, you reached for his finely crafted doublet, peeling away the layers that held the weight of his distress. He remained clad only in his trousers and a simple cotton shirt, the stark contrast highlighting the tension etched into his features.

Your fingers found their way to his tousled hair, and with a tender caress, you could sense him leaning into your touch, a semblance of solace in the storm raging within him. But when your hand drifted towards the eyepatch concealing his scar, he recoiled instinctively, shaking his head as if to banish the very thought.

“Please, Aemond,” you urged softly, noting the flicker of resistance in his eye. “Remove it; it cannot be comfortable.”

His response was a stubborn shake of his head, reminiscent of a petulant child, “No, it is… hideous. You will turn away from me, repulsed.”

A sorrowful smile etched across your face as you cupped his cheek. Your thumb traced the remnants of his scar. “I have seen your truth before, Aemond,” you promised, sincerity tethering your words. “I swear on my mother's grave, it will not scare me.”

There was a moment of taut apprehension, then, led by both fear and a flicker of hope, he slowly lifted the eyepatch. You fought against the shock that threatened to break through your calm facade, for nestled where an eye once was, a sapphire gleamed—brighter than the sky itself. It was an iridescent gem, the very one you had gifted him just before you had left.

Slowly, you led him with great care to lie beneath the sanctuary of your blankets, cocooned in the warmth of your bed. After a moment's pause, you nestled beside him, drawing him close to your chest, his face instinctively burying itself in the curve of your neck, your arms enveloping him in a protective embrace.

After a time, Aemond's voice broke the silence, a mere whisper against your collarbone. "Do you hate me?"

A heavy sigh escaped your lips, your grip tightening around him. “I could never hate you, Aemond.”

He offered no reply, but the silence spoke volumes as you held him resolutely, the weight of his unspoken thoughts pressing down upon both of you. In that moment, it felt almost surreal, how intimately connected you were to his emotions.

Gently, you began to hum, your voice weaving through the stillness like a soft breeze. The lullaby your mother once sang to you, a sweet melody birthed in the warmth of her embrace, flowed from your lips as if casting a spell of solace.

You wished, with every fiber of your being, to take all his sorrows and put it upon yourself, so he might find peace at last. You longed to envelop him fully, to draw him into the depths of your heart, to safeguard him from the malevolence and peril that lingered just beyond your chambers.

Aemond Targaryen loathed this wretched place, the shadowed halls of King's Landing, where the very stones seemed steeped in whispered betrayals and the lingering scent of ash. The oppressive weight of recent events pressed upon him like a heavy cloak; the death of Lucerys Velaryon hung in the air, suffocating him with its bitter aftermath. His beloved mother, Queen Alicent, having made her choice, had cast him aside, suspending him from his seat on the small council as if he were some wayward pup rather than the proud dragon prince he was.

Now, as the flickering torchlight cast dancing shadows upon the walls, Aemond found himself trapped within a feast thrown by Aegon — a disgraceful celebration in honor of Aemond’s brutal deed. The hall was alive with the raucous laughter of lords and ladies feigning joy, their revelry a cruel mockery of the bloodshed that had transpired. How could they toast to this, when the realm itself was a tapestry of grief and strife?

Aegon, reeking of wine and folly, reclined upon his gilded seat, a silver goblet clutched in his hand as he guffawed with a drunken abandon that made Aemond’s skin crawl. With each passing moment, the king grew more intoxicated, rejoicing in his own foolishness while the kingdom itself threatened to unravel under the weight of his incompetence. Aemond could hardly bear to watch. How could they hope to usurp Rhaenyra and her support when Aegon was unfit to rule, lost in a haze of mead and merriment whilst the fires of war devoured their domain?

As the raucous clamor swirled around him, Aemond's thoughts turned treasonous. He was the prince with blood of the dragon coursing through his veins, rider of Vhagar, the mightiest dragon in the skies; he had wrested mastery over sword and word alike. His studies had taken him deep into the philosophies of Targaryen history, strategy, and the art of war — all knowledge he wielded like the sword strapped to his side. Why must he remain the second son, languishing in the shadow of a brother who was more a child than a king?

The Grand Hall was stifling, heavy with the clamor of lords and ladies engaged in mindless revelry, their laughter slicing through the air like blades of Valyrian steel. The goblet of deep red Dornish wine— he had forced down his throat—now boiled in his stomach. He stood abruptly, ignoring the wary glances of curious courtiers, and stormed toward the moonlit balcony, pursued by a dread that felt all-consuming.

Upon stepping into the cool night air his breath hitched in his throat as his gaze fell upon you. There you stood, framed by moonlight, leaning against the aged stone balustrade of the balcony as you gazed at the stars above. In that moment, the world around him faded, the cacophony of the court silenced, as if the realm had been reduced to just the two of you—two souls adrift in the sea of night.

The moon cast a silver halo around you, illuminating your features as though the Seven themselves had blessed you. You appeared ethereal, a vision of solace amidst the tempest of his thoughts. You were an otherworldly being, a divine presence—you reminded Aemond of an angel gazing longingly at her heavenly home.

You wore a divine gown of crimson, its fabric clinging to your curves and accentuating your remarkable beauty, stirring memories of the first time he had beheld you in childhood innocence. Your hair was artfully braided, interwoven among the strands were glimmering rubies, and nestled between your breasts hung a necklace bearing your family’s sigil, a house still entirely foreign to him.

The last time his path had crossed yours was after the wretched deed had been done—when he had barged into your chambers, a storm of pain and regret in his heart after slaying Lucerys Velaryon. You had held him tight, drawing him into the warmth of your embrace, while your gentle whispers—sweet reassurances—had washed over him, as soothing as a dragon’s breath on a winter’s night. He recalled the way you had traced fingers through his hair, the delicate caress of your breath against his skin, and how he had surrendered to your comfort.

When dawn had broken and shadows had retreated, he woke before you, overwhelmed by that precious moment, and with the lingering scent of lavender and warmth still clinging to him. He had kissed your forehead tenderly and slipped away, haunted by what he had done and striving to shield you from the darkness that threatened to engulf you both.

"Are you not enjoying the feast?" Aemond murmured, his voice a soft cadence as he moved closer to you.

You turned, meeting his gaze with a fierce intensity. "Am I meant to revel in a celebration held in honor of someone's death?" With a sharp breath, you averted your gaze, a flicker of regret crossing your features. "Forgive me."

Aemond’s eyes remained locked on you, the truth like a weight upon his heart—he had taken Lucerys' life, a shadow he must now bear. “You speak only the truth,” he admitted, the gravity of his words mingling with the cool night air.

You shook your head slowly, those captivating eyes piercing through the veil of his turmoil. “It is Aegon’s folly to throw such a feast given the circumstances,” you replied, your tone laced with a mix of frustration and sorrow.

Aemond couldn't suppress the smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth at your disdain for his brother's decision. "You tread upon treasonous ground," he teased, though there was an undercurrent of approval in his tone

With a resolute lift of your chin, an unbidden smile danced upon your lips, illuminating your beauty, "Do you intend to tell?"

In that charged moment, Aemond closed the distance between you, the space that once separated you now laden with tension. He leaned closer, whispering with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine, "You know I shall never."

With a soft sigh, you began to turn away, “I think I shall retire to my chambers now.” Aemond feigned indifference, though he struggled against the urge to let out an exasperated breath at your obvious attempt to distance yourself from him.

“Then I shall escort you,” he declared, a hint of determination flaring in his violet gaze. He noticed the way annoyance shadowed your features but sensed no protest forthcoming.

The two of you slipped away from the feast, indifferent to the lingering glances that followed your hasty exit. Festive laughter faded into the background as you walked side by side through the dimly lit halls of the Red Keep,

As you walked side by side, silence hung heavily between you, punctuated only by the soft rustle of your dress against the stone floor. Aemond cast furtive glances in your direction, grappling with the right words to breach the gap between you. The tension was palpable, and eventually, he settled on candor. “I wish to know more about you."

“Aemond,” you replied, and he could detect the undercurrent of hesitation in your tone as you reached your room.

With a sudden, almost frantic motion, Aemond pivoted to face you, his fingers brushing against your forearm, a firm yet gentle grip that sent a shiver down your spine. “Why do you persist in keeping yourself at a distance from me? You are like an angel I am forever barred from touching,” he implored, desperation edging his voice.

You yanked your arm away from him, your gaze fierce, betraying no hint of the storm brewing inside. “You must not perceive me in such a way! I am not the paragon of virtue you think I am.”

“Then share something,” Aemond pressed, his violet eye locking onto yours with an intensity that threatened to unravel your resolve. “Something dark, something impure.”

You scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “Is that what you seek? So you can soothe your own conscience?”

“Perhaps,” Aemond admitted with unvarnished honesty. He was, after all, a man well aware of his own self-serving tendencies, and he would not shy away from using emotional manipulation to achieve his desires. “But if you hold any affection for me, you will grant me this.”

Your eyes blazed with righteous indignation, and for a fleeting moment, he questioned if he had ventured too far. Yet, as the heat in your gaze began to dim, he felt an uneasy tension settle in the silence.

You drew your arms around yourself, a familiar gesture that he now observed closely. Your gaze fell away as you began to speak, “The Targaryens... Your customs are indeed strange. Some might even call them sinful or abominable. Yet there exists a rationale behind them, no matter how obscure.”

“There can be no justifiable reason for my desires,” you whispered, Aemond's brow furrowed in confusion as he sensed the shift in your tone. But when the next revelation slipped from your lips, it left him reeling with disbelief. “I once harbored unnatural feelings for my eldest brother.”

A surge of jealousy twisted in Aemond's chest at the mere thought of you harboring feelings for another. He cleared his throat, the taste of bile rising, and asked, "Did anything come of it?"

"A fleeting kiss—one I initiated. He loathed me for it thereafter," you murmured, your gaze falling to the ground in shame.

A grimace contorted Aemond’s features. "Loathed you?"

"He could scarcely bear to look upon me after that moment," you replied, your voice heavy with sorrow. Aemond felt a visceral urge to take vengeance upon your brother, to avenge the hurt he had caused you. "That was the moment I realized I had lost the only one who truly loved me."

"I recall you speaking of your mother’s grave," Aemond said softly.

You nodded, a glimmer of sorrow passing over your face. "She is gone," you said, and a bittersweet smile flickered briefly. "And I dare say, my family may be worse than yours."

Aemond shook his head with an amused glint dancing in his violet eye. “Impossible,” he replied, the word rolling off his tongue like the soft murmur of waves against the rocky shore. Then, in softer tones, he pressed, “Do you still harbor affections for your brother?”

“No,” you murmured, the admission barely escaping your lips, “Not anymore. Not for ages.”

Aemond studied your features, the interplay of moonlight illuminating the subtle lines of your face. A low chuckle escaped him, like the rustle of leaves in a breeze. Your brow furrowed, an indignant spark igniting within you. “What?"

“A mere infatuation does not alter the truth of my feelings, nor my perception of you,” he said with an air of certainty, the tension between you thickening as he took a step closer, almost as if the distance between your hearts diminished with every passing heartbeat.

“Then you must be a fool,” you whispered, breathless and yet emboldened, as his presence encroached upon you like the tide reclaiming the shore.

“A lovesick fool, indeed,” he replied, his lips tantalizingly close to yours, a mere heartbeat away. The memory of your last kiss flared in your mind— so in that fleeting silence, Aemond’s voice lowered, almost reverent. “May I kiss you?”

He could see the tempest of emotions raging within you, wrestling against reason and desire, your heart at war with itself. Aemond, sensing your internal struggle, began to withdraw, the flicker of disappointment clouding his striking features, but in a sudden rush of bold resolve, you seized the collar of his embroidered doublet, drawing him close, your lips colliding in a swift, fervent embrace.

His breath hitched at the warmth of your touch, and he instinctively cupped your face, anchoring you both in this stolen moment as if the world around you had ceased to exist. Tentatively, his tongue brushed against your lips, seeking entry, a question hanging palpably in the air—one you answered with the soft, desperate parting of your mouth.

Aemond’s heart raced, a primal longing igniting within him as he explored the depths of your mouth, each caress of his tongue inviting a sweet sound of pleasure to escape from you—a sound that intoxicated him, filling the air with a heady blend of passion and unanswered yearnings.

In that dimly lit hallway of the Red Keep, time lost its meaning, turning to mere whispers around you. The world outside faded, and all that remained was the intoxicating exchange of breath and soul, each sweet caress a vow sealed in secrecy and yearning. But the moment was fleeting; the distant sound of approaching footsteps pulled you both back to reality.

Without hesitation, Aemond seized your hand, urgency painting his every movement as he pulled you into the sanctuary of your chambers. You could not stifle the startled gasp that escaped your lips at his haste. Before you could utter a word, his mouth found yours again, this time with a fervor that struck like wildfire. It was wild and fervent, a collision of passion tinged with desperation.

He broke the kiss, his breath mingling with yours, heavy and frantic. "I need you," he murmured, his gaze dark and intense, searching your face for any trace of doubt.

But all resolve melted away in the warmth of his presence, and you nodded quickly, breathless and eager. "Take me, Aemond."

Though reason whispered for him to temper his passion, to shield you from the storm he bore and not taint your innocence, the dragon's need screamed louder still. His lips found yours once more, his hands exploring the fabric of your gown, tracing the soft curves beneath the layers of silk and lace.

A soft whimper escaped your throat, the sound intoxicating him as it echoed in the chamber. You tugged at his doublet, your voice a barely contained plea, “Get this dress off me, Aemond.”

A wild grin spread across his features, the kind that promised mischief and fervor. “With pleasure,” he declared, the words a fervent vow rather than mere amusement. In a swift motion, he spun you around, deftly severing the laces that bound your dress. You gasped as the fine fabric slid away, pooling at your feet, leaving you clad only in a tantalizing shift that clung to your form like mist in the moonlight.

Without hesitation, Aemond gathered you into his arms, your surprised laughter ringing like bells in his ears as your legs instinctively locked around his waist. He carried you with ease, the weight of expectations and honor forgotten in that moment as he made his way to your bed.

He laid you down gently, his gaze a blend of fierce devotion and raw desire, like a dragon surveying its treasured hoard, and he leaned closer, whispering a question that weighed heavily on his mind. “Tell me, sweetling,” he began, his voice a low rasp, “are you still a maiden?”

You nodded, your wide eyes sparkling with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. The confirmation sent a bolt of need through him, further arousing him as he hastily shed his own garments, baring himself to you. He crawled over you, a predatory grace to his movements, and as you reached out to caress his face, he halted, your touch grounding him.

"I wish to see all of you, Aemond," you whispered.

His lips twitched with a mixture of hesitation and determination. With a deft movement, he removed his eye patch, exposing his scar and sapphire. In response to his bravery, you leaned forward, claiming his mouth once more, the warmth of your kiss wrapping around him like wildfire.

As his lips trailed away from yours, they descended to your neck—his warm breath sending shivers cascading down your spine. His hands roamed freely over your body, caressing and squeezing as if memorizing every curve. His fingers brushed against the hem of your shift, lifting the fabric with deliberate slowness, savoring the moment.

As his hand ventured beneath the fabric, his fingers brushed against the delicate curls of your mound, a low moan escaping your lips, raw and unbidden. "What treasure lies hidden here? Hmm?" he murmured against your skin, his voice low and intoxicating.

His smirk deepened as your hips instinctively lifted, surrendering to the ghostly touch of his fingertips gliding over your wet slit. In a moment of tantalizing tension, he withdrew slightly, seated back as he used two fingers to part your folds, exposing your glistening cunt to his keen gaze.

He was captivated by the sight—your essence glistening, beckoning him forth like a siren’s call across the sea. His breath hitched as he lowered himself, savoring the intoxicating scent that wafted from your cunt; it was a heady blend of desire and vulnerability. With a swift flick of his tongue, he brushed over the tender bud of pleasure, eliciting a startled gasp from your lips as your hips jerked in delightful shock.

Aemond’s dark laughter rumbled softly in his chest, a sound that resonated with satisfaction at your response. He ventured further, dipping into the folds of your drenched warmth, his tongue dancing along your slit as if tasting the sweetest of wines. Each movement of his mouth sent shockwaves of ecstasy through you, prompting your fingers to clutch at the silk sheets in desperate need of tethering.

You were ambrosia made flesh, a divine fruit of the gods that rendered him intoxicated with longing. He lost himself in the act, the rhythm of his tongue reflecting the primal hunger within him, driving him to worship at your altar without restraint or decorum. There was no pattern in his movements, merely the frantic need of a man raised in the crucible of ambition, now reduced to a ravenous beast by your taste.

His low moans vibrated against your skin as your fingers tangled in his silken hair, urging him closer, deeper. Each sound that escaped your lips heightened his fervor, sending him spiraling further into a haze of lust, where only the two of you existed.

He thrust his tongue deeper, igniting fires within you that threatened to consume all sense. A tremor raced through your body, a shuddering gasp escaping as his tongue flicked over your most sensitive peak. The intensity of the moment left him breathless with longing as he stole glances at your rapturous face, seeking the delight in your face as he skillfully coaxed you towards the precipice of ecstasy.

In one final surge of fervor, he took your pearl between his lips, sucking with fervent need. Your voice rang through the air, calling his name like a battle cry as your release washed over you, your body clenching and shuddering beneath his eager mouth, leaving him lost in the euphoria of your pleasure.

Spent and quaking, you fell back onto the sheets, your chest heaving, eyes fluttering shut as the final ripples of ecstasy coursed through you. Aemond watched you with an entranced intensity, his lustful gaze drinking in the sight of your debauchery, before he positioned himself between your thighs, claiming his rightful place.

With a swift, possessive motion, he grasped the neckline of your shift, ripping the fabric asunder with a growl that echoed his primal desire. The cool air met your flushed skin, and a fresh wave of longing washed over you, eliciting a soft moan as your hardened nipples strained against the chill. Aemond, unable to resist, descended upon you, drawing one of your peaks into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue, relishing the way your whimpers filled the air. He felt your fingers weave into his silken hair, tugging him closer, urging him on with your breathless pleas.

He reveled in the contrast of your previously cool skin, now warming deliciously beneath him, the heat of your body igniting a primal fire within him. He pressed his hardness against your lower belly, the friction sending jolts of pleasure through both. “I could be so good to you,” he murmured, his voice low and sultry as he nipped at your shoulder, “So fucking good. So why do you deny the need that lies between us?"

Your breath hitched, interrupted by a soft moan as he pressed against you with deliberate intent. “I do,” you gasped, desire flaring within you as his cock pressed against your pearl. “I do need you.”

“As I need you, sweet girl,” Aemond murmured, a predatory glint in his eye as he continued to grind against you. Though he was no man of debauchery, the fiery knowledge instilled by whispered secrets and that one fleeting encounter coursed through him.

You responded to his movements with an intoxicating sigh, rocking your hips to match his rhythm, a melody of desire unfolding between them. Aemond’s breath caught as he pressed the tip of his cock against your entrance, and with a slow, deliberate thrust, he breached the sacred barrier that had kept the two of you at bay. A yelp escaped you, sharp and sweet, and he immediately softened, pressing featherlight kisses across your face, murmuring apologies as he reveled in your warmth.

Gripping your hip with a fierce intensity, he drew a sharp breath through his teeth as he buried himself deeper, engulfed in the sensations of your tight, welcoming embrace. You were exquisite—so wet, so warm, so perfectly crafted for him. Aemond began at a measured pace, savoring the glide of his cock within you, the exquisite stretch as you enveloped him, but the fire within quickly ignited into an unquenchable blaze.

Once he'd found a rhythm, he succumbed to the recklessness of desire, thrusting with urgency, the sound of your bodies colliding echoing in the chamber, a rhythmic drumbeat of passion. His hips snapped against yours with fervor, each thrust sending ripples of pleasure cascading through both of you, an unravelling of control as he sought to claim you in the way that dragons claim their territory.

Your moans echoed within the room, each sound a sweet melody, a heady mixture of fervor and abandon that filled the space with a primal energy. You had long since discarded any pretense of modesty, your voice rising like a songbird caught in a storm. His name spilled from your lips, fervent and loaded with longing.

With an urgency born from need, you surrendered yourself to him, your touch igniting a fire along his torso as your hands freely roamed, fingers tracing the hard lines of his muscles. You clung to him, wrapping your arms around his neck, pressing your body against his with reckless abandon. Your lips found the curve of his neck, the warmth of your breath a tempting promise. There was a strange thrill to your bite, and Aemond swore your teeth felt unusually sharp, as you nibbled delicately at his skin.

Yet even in the throes of ecstasy, an insatiable hunger gnawed at him, a need for greater possession. He withdrew slightly, capturing your gaze with his own smoldering gaze. His hand gripped the delicate expanse of your throat, sturdy yet tender, while his other found purchase on your stomach, fingers pressing into your soft skin. “You are mine,” he growled, the primal command taking on a life of its own as he increased the fervor of his thrusts. “Say it.”

The intensity of his possession ignited a fire within you; you instinctively pressed against his hand, urging him to hold you more tightly, to claim you wholly. “Yours,” you breathed, “all yours.”

“Good girl,” he groaned, the phrase rolling off his tongue like a hot brand onto your skin. Your body responded eagerly to his words, an electric shiver rippling through you as you arched your back, another desperate whimper escaping your lips.

It was not long before the dam broke, your body convulsing around him, the tension unfurling like the petals of a flower awakened by the sun. Your breath hitched in a final, breathless moan, and in that moment of exquisite surrender, you tightened your grip around him, pulling him deeper into the abyss of pleasure. And with a primal roar of ecstasy, he followed you into that dark, consuming void, painting your insides with his seed.

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As the last waves of pleasure subsided, your smile glimmered like the stars beyond the castle walls. Reaching out, you traced your fingers along his jaw, drawing him back into a kiss that spoke of unbridled passion and afterglow—a sigh of contentment escaping your lips as you two joined once more.

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