[E D I T E D... barely]

PEACE OF MIND
❝life is simply a mix of mayhem and magnolias, so embrace this gentle riot and gather flowers along the way.❞

01. Dancing with the Dead

im not going to lie. i haven't edited this. my brain is numb. this is a 3600 word pile of horse shit. really did just write what came into my head and left it to that. ill probs read this tomorrow and cry so read at your own discretion and expect disappointment, confusing sentences, and random tense changes. i honestly apologise for the amount of waffle in the chapter.

❝And who may you be, child?❞

She's in a field. Almost as though woken from a deep slumber, she is walking with a bones-deep idleness towards the horizon, and no memory of ever beginning said journey. It's only with a jolt, that Elizabeth is snapped back into her own body. Hands swaying unsteady by her side, fingers delicately kissing the tops of rough harvest, her entire weight is caught momentarily off balance. Pupils constricting. Breath stuttering. She could have sworn she hadn't been standing the last time she'd closed her eyes. Yet here she was, upright, when they opened.

There is a man ahead of her in this field. Elizabeth wanted to look behind her, to see where she'd been walking from, but no. It's not that she couldn't. She could. She could do it. Inch her head and see, but every time she went to, the memory fizzled into smoke. What's behind you? What isn't behind you? There was someone missing. A man. Eyebrows furrowed, Elizabeth thinks, and thinks, and thinks. There is a man missing to this scene. Who? He felt important. Why? She's still walking forwards. She's walking towards a man. When did he get there? Was he here all along, watching? The man is looking behind her with a pensive expression. What's behind you? Why am I still walking?

It is only when she is standing near nose to nose with the man, that Elizabeth stops walking.

The man is not who she'd expected. She didn't know quite who she had been expecting, but it wasn't this young man in front of her. He was around father's age facially. Father. Loki. That's who was missing. Where was he? Elizabeth falters again. How could I have forgotten about Loki? The man in front of her frowns down in disgusted confusion before letting out a noice of realisation. He waves a large, tanned, hand ever so gently down Elizabeth's temple, Elizabeth too deep in her own mind to barely register the unwanted touch, before- oh. Oh.

She remembers now. Katherine going missing. Talking with Loki. Leaving the Avengers. I'm so sorry, Tony. Entering a world of clouds. It was like a dream. Skies so blue, clouds caressing her feet, the foreign safety of being besides a God, the air so thin she could barely... breathe. She couldn't breathe. She remembers now. Throat bleeding red from nails clawing so desperately for air, a God at her side in blind panic, senses shutting down, organs shutting down, copper on her tongue, and skin burning blue. Then black. A black so desired that Elizabeth's last thoughts were begging for the bliss of Death. Death. Am I dea-

❝Apologies, I forget how disorientating dying can be for mortals... not that I've experienced it myself, nasty business, but I've seen more than enough reaped souls. I would usually be more understanding, you see, but this is technically out-of-business hours for me, and not exactly my realm, and I was just in the middle of proposing to my girlfriend, so you can see why this is a bit of a bad time?❞

The man says, eyes light with an immature humour, with an off putting awkwardness in his stance and startling white blonde curls. His hands are burrowed deep into his suit's trouser pockets, and Elizabeth can only feel slightly sea sick from the nervous way the man is rocking from heel to toe. 

The man awkwardly clears his throat.

❝Who are you?❞

Elizabeth says. She'd tried to go for demanding but, instead, her words failed her. Her voice comes out lost, weak, and exactly how she was pretending not to feel. This field they were in, there was something... dark about it. Now she looked closer at the oddly menacing scenery, it was almost as though there were wisps of presences just along the forest bordering around them. The scene which had been just a background was quickly pushing itself into the foreground with an imposing sense of dread.

  I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't be here.

The man sighs, eyes briefly turning to the sky in frustration, before softening.

❝I seem to remember asking you that first, little one.❞

He says in a tone laced with comfort and safety. Elizabeth blinks owlishly, thoughts suddenly cut off from their panic, as the man looks intently down. Her breath cuts short again, but only for a moment. His presence slowly brings peace to Elizabeth. Where once was turmoil and confusion, blooms into acceptance.

❝What are you doing to me?!❞

The man, whose height looms over Elizabeth's, quirks an eyebrow. He looks like a wolf pretending to be a sheep. Whatever he was, he was pretending to be human.

❝Merely calming you down, child. Okay, I'll start with the introductions, I suppose. You're... Midgardian, by the looks of it, correct? Right, you mortals should know me as Hades. At least that's what you called me when I last ventured to Midgard... that was a few centuries ago, I do concede. Technically Hades was a mistranslation tha-❞

❝The God of Death?❞

Elizabeth states hollowly, fingers going numb. With an unsettling crawl, her brain becomes nothing but static. White noise fills her thought, and Elizabeth can only vaguely notice when her eyes unfocus onto the field behind Hades. I'm dead.

Death, there's a tragic sense of finality about it. There's no coming back once you've been chosen. It's the one thing in life that is fair in the fact that it is unfair to everyone. It is cruel, and yet it is a kindness. It is neither evil nor good. It is an unfortunate eventuality that takes whomever it is destined to. It was a dream to some, and a nightmare to others. It had once been a comfort to Elizabeth. The idea of dying had once been the only thing capable of lulling her to sleep, that and the soul deep exhaustion, before she had met Katherine. Death had seemed so gentle, in a world filled with harsh edges. That was another lifetime, however. She'd finally ceased her lifelong pursuit for Death. It wasn't fair.

Elizabeth didn't want to be dead.

Hades sneers slightly and rolls his eyes.

❝The God of the Underworld. Thanatos would be whom you're thinking of. I don't handle the killing bit, not a fan of blood, believe it or not, but rather the administration of said killings. A glorified secretary.❞

❝Does it make much difference? I'm still dead.❞

Elizabeth responds sullenly, and Hades lets out a humoured snort. Now confident she is back in control of her body, Elizabeth moves to stand besides Hades as to get a better view of the field behind him. She was soon becoming annoyed by the flickering tricks of light along the seams of the thick woodland surrounding the farmer's field they were on. It almost looked as though there were people watching from the corners, pacing around in unrest, but her eyes could never properly focus on the outlines.

Hades watches her with an amused interest, turning as she walks to his side to face where she is facing, before squinting over in direction of the tree line.

❝I suppose not... At least you kept your spirit about you! The dead can be painfully boring, monotonous, really. Begging to be alive, denial, asking about family I don't really care about, it all gets a bit dull after a millennia.❞

He replies, sounding optomistic to the degree of it becoming mean-spirited given the situation, and quickly goes on another monotone tangent. Elizabeth got the impression Hades' natural voice was the mind numbing drone he entered when rambling. Any emotion or humour was probably more for her sake than his.

❝That's nice to know. Where are we?❞

They both spend a second in mutual silence. Looking out across the field of wheat, Elizabeth can't distinguish anything important or interesting about the scene. They were simply in a field of gold crop surrounded by a dense forestry. The sun, however, was most definitely not the sun, Elizabeth concludes. It hovers in a perpetual sunrise, giving off an artificial heat, but never rising. Elizabeth is pretty sure she looks wildly unimpressed. Katherine would probably of agreed with Elizabeth's disappointment. In fact, knowing Katherine, she'd probably of already been complaining.

This was hardly the Heaven she'd been gunning for, and she'd had a friend to find.

Death really was inconvenient.

❝I imagine...❞

Hades scowls slightly at the landscape before pursing his lips in finality.

❝I imagine we're in the Fields of Elysium.❞

Elizabeth lets out a short bark of disbelief, shaking her head venomously, and sharply looks to Hades with eyebrows furrowed.

❝You imagine? You don't even know where we are?❞

Hades' eyebrows shoot up.

❝It's not the realm under my protection - don't shoot the messenger.❞

He says in a tone of admonition with a dismissive shrug. Elizabeth's fingers itch, balling them into tight fists, and she turns her hard eyes to the forestry. Glaring at the unfocused outlines, she swears her ears twitch with barely-there whispers. It was the same as with the pacing figures along the trees. She could hear hints of words, words old and forgotten and nearly recognisable, but then she'd listen too hard and it would turn into nothing but smoke. It was like looking at fog - try too hard, and your eyes will naturally filter it out.

❝Isn't the Fields of E-Elium-❞

❝Elysium.❞

Elizabeth scowls.

❝Aluminium, whatever. Isn't this place meant for heroes?! I hardly look like a hero.❞

Elizabeth is pointedly not looking at Hades as she feels him stare holes into her side profile. He does so for an unnervingly long time. Enough time, in fact, that Elizabeth can't help but finally glare defensively back.

Hades is not looking in judgement, however, but a deep conjunction of thought. For the first time, she sees the God hesitate. He tilts his head ever so slightly to the side, face pinched, before turning said expression to the orange hue of the synthetic sunrise. He goes to speak, but falls flat. Elizabeth suddenly feels terribly self-conscious.

Why was she here?

Hades finally risks one more look in her direction, with curious eyes, before being satisfied.

❝Now, I wouldn't say that. A soul destined for the Asphodel Meadows would hardly warrant my presence now, would it? I've seen much more unlikely heroes.❞

Elizabeth scoffs, jaw tight, and is unable of meeting Hades' thoughtful stare.

❝That's.. a nice sentiment... look, if it's not even your realm, then why are you here?❞

She can't help the way her voice turns aggressive, uncomfortable with the amount of attention being given to her morality, but it definitely cuts through the air with a razor sharp edge. It almost sounds accusatory, as though she were blaming Hades for this. Hades seems to know a sore spot when he pokes one, though, because he takes it on the chin and looks back towards the sun.

He sighs.

❝I dare say you'd have a better idea of that than myself. It is, after all, you that is dead. I was just the unfortunate God that got harpooned half way across the galaxy mid-proposal. Though, you probably did me a favour. Cronus knows where that speech was going. Eros was right- ❞

Hades rambles, using his thumb and forefinger to gingerly pinch the bridge of his nose in frustrated embarrassment. Elizabeth observes that the man, God, is actually wearing a formal suit of an oily black material. Like he was dressed up to propose, her brain interjects. His white locks are flattened awkwardly in parts, as though he'd run his hand through them so much that the curls had been separated, and Hades' other hand is toying with a flash on silver.

❝I don't really remember.❞

She interjects. Hades seems thankful, nose crinkling up into a badly masked cringe, and pockets the silver before inhaling deeply.

They stand in silence, both unsure of what to do, for a while. It was almost... peaceful.

She could almost forget she was standing besides an ancient God.

Their silence is broken, however. The whispers from those along the borders, the whispers that had once travelled along the sounds of the wind that none could feel, were becoming louder. Syllables were becoming more distinguished. Hades seems to take notice of said whispers, for the first time since his arrive. He cocks his head to the side curiously, almost as though he were trying to listening, and when Elizabeth looks up in questionable curiosity, his once blue eyes had taken on an unerving milky white form.

❝What-❞

His tone is nothing shy of indignant anger. It takes Elizabeth by surprise. In fact, she had been so lulled into a sense of false safety that she feels her entire brain have to do a full reboot to keep up with the panic flooding her system. Whiplashed by the change of mood, she looks to Hades nervously and takes a stumbling step away from the God.

❝Dying. I don't really remember dying.❞

❝Silence.❞

Hades snaps, voice tense with barely concealed fury, as his milky eyes close into slits in concentration. Elizabeth's breath stutters, catching at the back of her throat, as the background whispers of the forest's outlines begin to pick up in volume. They sound almost... angry. Hundreds upon hundreds of whispers fill the air as they get louder, and louder, until eventually they are howling. Speaking in a language long dead, Hades seems to understand them perfectly. From the murderous expression on his face, Elizabeth doubts he likes what he is hearing.

Hades looks almost tired for a moment, as a sweeping realisation coats his features, before his eyes take back their original blue appearance. With an incredibly deep breathe, almost as though trying to calm his growing anger, Hades turns his hard gaze to Elizabeth.

Elizabeth can't seem to get her breathing under control. Perhaps it were sad that Elizabeth feared Hades less for being a God and more for being a man, but either way she was quickly feeling her hands shake with the adrenaline her body was pumping through her veins. Even in death, her body, spirit, knew how to protect her. Maybe, it would never forget.

Stepping away is no use, however, as Elizabeth finds her trembling legs tripping backwards. She never lands, though, because Hades' hand, the one that had once so delicately cradled the ring he'd planned to give to the woman he loved, quickly find itself a home on either side of Elizabeth's neck. Grip not far from a chokehold, he drags her back into a standing position and moves his hold to grip harshly at her cheeks.

His thumb and forefinger smear the tears that have leaked from Elizabeth's eyes across her cheeks, but he doesn't seem to notice. He's almost unrecognisable. Gone is the man who found humour in Elizabeth's every word. Gone is the man who had comforted her. Now, there is just a God remaining; all harsh lines, and wrathful shadows, and a  barely constrained divine power. His facade had slipped, and it was truly terrifying. Elizabeth flinches back, his face mere centimetres away, but he only tightens his grip on her cheeks, and shakes her head slightly.

Elizabeth can feel her face beginning to bruise.

❝Who is your Godly parentage?❞

He says in a low, dangerous, seethe. His spits the words out like they're poison.

❝What? I-I don't understand.❞

Elizabeth isn't lying, either. She's past the point of comprehending words. Her body is pumped full of adrenaline, and her ears are ringing so loudly that she can barely make out what the God has said. All she can do is writhe in terror.

For moments, she's kicked out of her own reality.

For a few moments, she's back in the basement. She's back with those men. She's under them, choking, salt on her lips. They're laughing at her, as she spits out their finish, before she feels a grip on her cheeks tighten and she's in front of Hades who has spit dripping from his cheek. As Hades shakes her head again, Elizabeth can swear she's in a fever dream because her head connects with the rough concrete of the basement flooring and she's back again. She's back there for what feels like minutes staring in fear into the dirty hazel eyes of the first man she'd had, but then she's looking into the iced blue eyes of a vengeful God.

❝Let go of me!❞

She screams at Hades, but it's not the man she means it for. She becomes feral with her movements. Even Hades seems confused by how viciously she attacks back.

❝Who are you here for?!❞

He bellows, so loudly that Elizabeth is sure it sounds like thunder, and the hand upon her cheeks begin to dig its nails into her flesh. She's fairly certain she's bleeding. A small part of her, locked behind bars of blind panic and hallucination, recognises the slow warmth that drips down towards her chin. The larger part of her, however, screams. It's a scream which could split Heaven in two. It's a scream that only the very desperate can dislodge from their vocal cords. 

Elizabeth knew it all too well.

She screamed until her voice went hoarse, and only then did the hand from her face get ripped from her. They got ripped so brutally, in fact, that Elizabeth is distantly aware that chunks of her flesh had gone with the prying nails. 

❝Aidoneus? What is the meaning of this?!❞

Elizabeth crumples to the floor. Hands not even bothering to soften the drop, as they're too busy grasping at her neck in terror. Her legs kick out violently, desperately trying to get her into a sitting position, and she feels herself lunge forward. Pieces of wheat tangle into her hair and add resistance to sitting up which only causes Elizabeth to cry harder.

I can't breathe. I can't breathe. I can't breathe. I can't breathe.

❝She's not of Greek blood! She's an intruder!❞

She can hear Hades roar, but she isn't too certain if that's Hades or her own blood roaring in her ears, as she continues to let out hoarse sobs and her vision whites out.

❝Preposterous! Aidoneus, have you gone positively mad?!❞

❝A foreign soul has never penetrated our judgement before. Are you seriously proposing that we have made a mistake?!❞

❝Listen! Listen to the spirits, Rhadamanthus! Minos! If you don't believe me, listen to your own fucking charge!❞

When Elizabeth can finally catch her breath again, coming out in sharp wheezes, she hears nothing. There's just the cutting sound of her own laboured breaths and, for a moment, she hopes she is alone. When her vision comes back, no longer clouded with tears and panic, she discovers, however, that she is not.

Instead, she is in what had once been the wheat field. With trembling breath, Elizabeth looks to the piece of wheat trapped between her fingers and marvels momentarily at the beauty that had been surrounding her. Paradise hadn't lasted, however. What remained of the golden crops is nothing more than a terrible stench that makes Elizabeth gag. Birds plucked from the skies above lay dead, decomposing, across the blackened char on wasteland. Where once was forestry, lay moulded land for as far as the eye could see. Where once was a sunset, there was only a terrible dark scorch mark . Where once was wheat, now held mountains of rotten crop. Where once was life, now held death and only death. With a dry heave, Elizabeth goes to support herself but her hand falls through the ground as the piles of mould yield under her weigh. There is nothing within her stomach to vomit so she, instead, coughs wetly. She stares at the half-decayed corpse of what might of been a rabbit as she fights another tsunami of bile.

Elizabeth only turns when she hears a sharp inhalation from behind her. She isn't alone. She discovers just as much when she turns to face whatever made the noise, trying hard to ignore the way the spores on the ground swallow her hands whole, and finds herself looking up at four towering Gods. All of which stare at her in barely concealed horror, and Elizabeth has to look to her own hands, as she realises with a sinking feeling that it had been her to cause so much chaos. 

When she looks down, however, she is met only to find her own skin decaying and slipping with greying, bloated, flesh.

❝What are you?❞

Hades bites out, unable to meet her eyes as he focuses only on her rotting hands, but Elizabeth doesn't blame him because that is too where she is staring.

❝I don't know.❞

Elizabeth wakes up screaming, with cheeks stained red.