"You didn't kill him," Hades observed, as if this was not obvious.
He was sprawled on a stone kline, appearing to read the men's magazine he'd pilfered from Dylan Stanford's kitchen. He flipped nonchalantly between the glossy pages of cologne advertisements and raunchy articles, pausing momentarily when something caught his attention.
Daphne was perched cross-legged on a lush patch of moss. Her hands moved idly as thin vines wove betwixt thin fingers. Spores of
Ophiocordyceps unilateralis
still clung to her palms. She thought of how quickly the fungus had spawned at her command. In just a split second, Dylan had gone from a sauntering smart-ass to an empty shell entirely in her control. How easily she could have let the fungus continue to take over his body. She could have left him to rot right there in his home, surrounded by wasting luxury. She wondered if anyone would even miss him...
"I wanted to," she muttered. Daphne urged the spores into the soil beneath her.
Hades nodded as he turned another page.
"You would not have been unable to kill him if you had attempted to do so," He added casually.
Daphne shot a harsh glare in Hades' direction.
"I could have if—" she began, voice raised.
"Of course, you are
strong
enough to have slain him," he said carefully. "It's just not in your nature, my love." Hades folded the magazine carefully and set it aside.
Daphne opened her mouth to retort.
"Give me a moment to explain, if you will." Hades paused until Daphne's temper settled. "As Spring deified, it is in your nature that you create new life. That is why your vocation as a botanist came so naturally. You were able to grow even the most stubborn of flora. On the contrary, the taking of life is contradictory to your purpose in this world. Can you remember ever taking the life of any organism, even accidently? Did you ever smash an ant or overwater a houseplant?"
Daphne frowned, but perused her memory nonetheless. There wasn't a time that she could remember killing anything, even a bothersome fly. She found it strange, for it wasn't as if she had never tried. She had swatted plenty of mosquitoes and overwatered a few plants in her life, but none had ever perished.
"I suppose it's for the best," she conceded, smiling sadly. "I would be just as bad as him, wouldn't I?" Daphne ran her fingers over a patch of furled fiddleheads. She would never find it in herself to destroy them. They were like faithful companions, each unique in their own way.
"You would not be yourself if you had done it. You are meant to give life, not take it. Perhaps, there is some comfort to be found in that. For thousands of years, I have kept company with the ghosts, nymphs, and a handful of bats. Consider yourself lucky," he chuckled.
Daphne couldn't help but to smile in earnest. Hades was trying to lift her spirits; that much was clear in his thoughts. The Olympic god arose from his place of lounging to sit next to his consort. He grasped her hands as thin vines wove between both their fingers.
"Are you feeling unsettled? I know that you were not expecting to see him. Perhaps, I acted to rashly." Hades searched her deep brown eyes for any semblance of anger.
"Why did you bring me to him?" Daphne, too, searched for answers in Hades' storm-grey eyes. She wished that only he had warned her before taking her there. She was unsure that she could properly describe the mess of emotions ransacking her body and mind. Instead, she decided to think as clearly as she could, so that Hade could understand:
Seeing Dylan standing there, as arrogant as ever, made me feel like the a poorly adjusted teenaged weirdo all over again. When he looked at me, it was just like that night. He looked at me like he was deciding what part of me to tear apart first. I went from feeling exposed, on display...to feeling like something to toss out. Brown hair. Green eyes. Beer breath. Sweaty palms. Tangled clothes. Bruised throat. Torn skin. No one will listen, no one will believe...it's my fault my fault my fault my fault my—
"Persephone, I," Hades' voice was strangled with guilt. "I was foolish. I had hoped that your seeing him would make you realize just how insignificant he is when compared to your beauty and power." He reached up to stroke her cheek, vines still creeping along his fingers. He cleared his throat to keep his voice from faltering. "I hurt you...again."
Hades looked down at their now intertwined hands. His, the color of alabaster, and hers, warm as mahogany, were Bound both by fate and an eager bit of field bindweed. He had an eternity to lavish her with love and care, but he couldn't help but to feel he was off to a shaky start.
The pensive deity was pulled from his thoughts as Daphne slid into his lap. Her full hips melded against his, the thinness of her attire doing little to cover her warm folds. She draped her arms around his neck and gazed steadily into his storm-grey eyes.
"I'm strong, Hades. You said it yourself. I'm fine, really." She sighed as her brown eyes drifted to his lips. Her thoughts had clearly shifted from past pain to possible pleasure. He was reminded of Spring showers that quickly led to blinding sun. Her moods were no different.
Hades again cleared his throat in an attempt to stay focused. Her dampening folds were positioned atop his length with just a few layers of thin fabric between them.
"What is it?" she asked, her fingers twirling a particularly curly lock of his hair. Hades was being stoic, but he couldn't entirely obscure his thoughts from her. Daphne could sense that there was something that he wanted to tell her, but she wasn't sure quite what.
Hades cleared his throat a final time, causing Daphne to roll her eyes.
"You're stalling, Hades! Whatever it is, I can ta—"
"You can return to see your family," Hades blurted out.
Daphne's hands stilled. Her breath caught in her throat. Her thoughts were a chaotic mess. Even her scent was impossible for Hades to discern.
Hades decided to ramble on, sure that Daphne would soon have too many questions all at once.
"As our Bond has grown in strength, you can now tread through the mortal realm without the fear of death. I believe that winter has passed, so you ought to be able to harness new elements of your power." Hades turned his head, gazing over the precipice at the swirling river. His dark brow furrowed behind the thickness of his ebony waves. "You should have no trouble leaving. I only ask that you return before the next winter, or autumn, if you can. You will find that your abilities will be greatly lessened during that time...without me."
Daphne sat stationary in Hades' lap. She was, all at once, elated, dejected, and perplexed. She stood quickly, causing the thin vines to finally draw away from her skin.
"What do you mean 'without you'? You're just gonna drop me off?" she queried, rising and standing over him indignantly.
Hades looked upon her resolutely, leaning back on his hands, "I am quite confident that you will not follow the fate of your past incarnations. And the release of my seed inside you will allow you to return, if you wish."
Daphne planted her tightly balled fists on her hips. She huffed, her face settling into a glare. "You don't have to be vulgar."
Hades smirked. His dimples gave him a boyish quality, but his mischievousness lay just beneath the surface.
"Dear one, we both know I can
much
more vulgar than that." Hades stood. He brushed Daphne's hands aside and gripped her hips. "Would you like me to show you?"
Daphne swatted his herculean chest. "Focus, you brute!" Her eyes dropped low, "How can I see my family?"
"It is no silly rite or ritual like the Lampades conduct. You must simply leave through the Underworld gates and visualize your destination. Simple as that." His hand crept into the assemblage of her curls. "I wouldn't be 'dropping you off', as you say. I expect you to return after harvest season."
"And what if I don't?" she pushed.
