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Hades put the decanter on the arm rest of the bench, the glass scraping pleasantly on the rough stone, before walking to the tree. It glowed from within, a slight blue tinge to the white glow it emitted. He ran his hand down the white bark, leaning his forehead against it as he gently caressed the tree and murmured a greeting.
Silent, Hades finished his wine, relishing in the warmth that had started to spread through his throat and chest, before throwing the glass over his head back toward the palace. He shut his eyes, listening to it smash on the stone floor of his home, the shards shattering across the room and down the hall.
Looking back at the poplar was difficult, his head was heavier than before, his eyelids drooping further with every too-long blink. For the moment he was able to open them widely again, they lost focus and blurred, the poplar becoming a streaky image of black and white on a green background.
Exhausted, his chin dropped to his chest as he lost consciousness.
§
Hades watched her colourless – “White!” she had always exclaimed before tapping his nose with her fingers – hair land softly against her bare back as she quickly sat up, the blankets tumbling down to rest in her lap. He ran a hand up the center of her back to her neck and gently dragging his fingers through the soft strands, catching lightly on the small knots as he combed through.
She beamed over her shoulder at him, twisting a piece of her beautiful hair between her finger and thumb. Her dark brown eyes and big, bright smile brightening the room.
She leaned toward him and he snaked his arm around her middle, pulling her closer as she kissed him on the corner of the mouth. His grip on her slackened as he reached for her face, but she’d jumped out of the bed already.
“These floors are freezing,” she said, jumping from foot to foot.
“Stone is quite cold.”
“And here I was, thinking you were the most powerful god and could easily warm a cold stone floor. My mistake,” she said, a hand resting on her chest. She raised one perfectly shaped, thick eyebrow at him.
Hades laughed and reached across the sheets to grab her and pull her under the deep purple blankets covering the bed. He pulled her against him, both arms wrapped around her in a tight embrace. He faked a shiver, shaking them and the bed, “Are you sure it’s the floor that’s freezing?”
Her arms were pinned underneath his grasp, but she managed to lift her hand enough to smack his thigh. Despite her demeanor, she snuggled in closer to him, pressing her back and rear firmly against him, stealing his warmth.
Pale blonde hair fell onto his face and he breathed in her sweet, peppery scent. Just as he was drifting back to sleep, thinking up ways to make the entire palace smell like her all the time, she started to squirm out of his arms.
He grumbled against her shoulder in protest, pressing as many little kisses as he could before she could free herself.
“I’m stronger,” he said, after she pushed against his arms with all her strength, panting a little from the exertion. She kicked her legs at his own when he said it, clearly unimpressed.
“I hear being immortal for centuries does that to you.” She snorted and stilled, letting him nuzzle his face into her neck for a moment. “I’m only going to be in Thera for a few hours. You have to part with me for so little time; I know you can handle it,” she said mockingly. She tried to pull away again, flailing her body as a last resort. “Let me go!”
He released his grip, and she tumbled off the side of the bed, landing gently on the floor.
“Oh!” She said, still laying on the ground. “It’s so warm.” She made a content sound. “I could stay here all day,” she said in a dreamy tone. Her head popped up from the side of the bed, only visible to Hades up to her chin. “Thank you.”
“For letting you roll off the bed? You are not welcome. Get back in this bed.” He pulled at the air as if there was a rope attached at her waist that he could yank on hard enough to pull her back into the bed.
“For catching my fall,” she said, standing up and walking to the chair near the hearth, where she’d already piled her clothing and jewelry for the day. “And warming the floor.” She was dressed and bejeweled in an instant, already walking back over to where Hades’ remained laying down in the bed. “And letting me leave without too much,” a wink, “of a fight.”
When she leaned to kiss him, Hades debated undressing her and pulling her back into the bed again, but only grabbed her arms, holding her in front of him. “Do you remember what you said that day we met?”
“Yes,” she said without having to think about it. “Ugh, you were so handsome – nothing like you are now,” she laughed as Hades feigned being hurt by her words. “I was so afraid when you pulled up beside me. Four night-black horses,” she said, holding up four fingers, “trailed by golden reigns and a matching chariot, both blinding in the sun. And you standing at the reigns.” Her eyes shone brighter with tears and she freed one of her arms from his hands to rest on his leg. “Scarier than anyone I had ever met, wearing a huge crown embedded with more bright coloured stones than I would have thought possible. But it worked on you—”
“I know,” he interrupted, receiving a deserved tap on the nose.
She sat on the edge of the bed, and said, “Anyways, I was going to say you only stopped there because my horse was the perfect white opposite to yours. Without that horse you never would have stopped on your way to that meeting on Olympus.” Hades opened his mouth to contest, but she raised her hand to his mouth and said, “I’m kidding,” she scrunched her nose, “mostly.” She shrugged and stood up, stepping out of his reach and bending at the waist to kiss him. “I’m leaving!”
As their lips touched, she slowly dissolved like a drop of wine in a glass of water. He blinked, everything suddenly hazy and dim, his bedroom had vanished and he seemed to be floating in a void of darkness. He couldn’t tell up from down or where he was, and when he stretched his legs down to stand on whatever ground was surely beneath him, he landed hard on his ass on the floor.
He shut his eyes as he fell over, his shoulder slamming into the unforgiving stone, the pain subdued but sharp.
When he opened them again, he was laying on the drying rug at the foot of his large tub with his cheek pressed against the cool stone floor, a pool of saliva growing under his face. He pressed himself up, getting to his hands and knees was difficult but he managed, and stopped there.
He wouldn’t be able to stand, he could tell by the way the floor swayed under his hands, the stone warping before his eyes. He blinked slowly, drunkenly, and started to crawl toward the open door and into the hall.
Only it was not the hall across the threshold; it was the rose garden.
