Long before...

Zerlinda was seventeen when she was first tempted to kill without Hades's blessing.

She verified the time on the pocket watch she had stolen from her last victim. Ten past midnight. Thirty minutes she had been waiting now, surrounded by all too many people in one of Eldoris's most packed pubs. With her patience slipping, so did her control over the heightened senses brought on by Hades's brand on her neck. She heard every pulse ringing in her ears as much as her very own, heard the voices of every person sitting at the bar nearby twice fold. The incoming headache she felt arrive was promise all on its own that she would never again agree to meet in such a disgusting place.

The bartender glared at her from across the room. Zerlinda figured his anger was directed towards the fact that, though she had been sitting at her table for a while, she had yet to order anything. That bartender could go to hell, for all she cared. She had little money on her as it was, and she would rather have been caught dead than have to spend it on his cheap excuse of alcohol. Manners be damned. It was business she sought, after all.

Zerlinda felt her guest enter the pub before she saw him. Looking up from her watch, she met eyes with him. From the ragged black cloak barely covering his shoulders to his poor posture and frayed clothing, Zerlinda could almost never have guessed that the man she had agreed to do business with was apart of the king's royal guard.

All the better for both her and him.

The man made his way to her from across the room. As he came closer, Zerlinda became able to discern his pounding heart from the rest of the crowd. Where the average drinker's heart beat with alcohol heightened excitement, William Blacke's heart pulsed with anxiety and fear. He looked over his shoulder once, then twice before even addressing her.

"Is it done?" He asked, his voice thick with emotions that conflicted one another too much for Zerlinda to fully comprehend them.

Zerlinda took out the watch she had taken from the dead body and tossed it at him. Blacke turned it over, as if uncertain of its authenticity. Dareios Joran, it read. All the confirmation the guard needed.

"He put up a bit of a fight, but it was no hassle." Lie. The nobleman hadn't so much as tried to stop her, almost as if he knew his fall would be inevitable. What he had done to deserve it, she did not know, and quite frankly, didn't care to know. All she knew was that she likely would not be there had he been prepared.

She could only hope it would be enough for Blacke.

She extended her hand out. Blacke quickly patted his clothing. After a few moments, he handed her a small pouch. She emptied it on the wooden table and counted her coins.

The realization only truly hit her once all ten silver coins were laid out on the table, but when it did, she saw red.

"This," she hissed out, "is hardly half of the sum you promised me." She heard Blacke's heart beat faster, and now fully understood why so much fear had been traceable in his pulse when he had first come in.

"You've been using me." She pounded the table with her fist. A few people turned, but she didn't care.

"You didn't ever plan to pay me my rightful sum, did you?" She demanded. His tardiness had probably been related to this idea of his. He likely wouldn't even have shown his face if it weren't for the fear that she would track him down as collateral.

"I have nothing else to give you." He said, his tone void of any emotion. She laughed a wholly joyless laugh. Such bullshit. She knew well how comfortably members of the royal guard could afford to live. Blacke knew it just as well. It had been one of the key elements in the agreement they had come to the month before.

"Nothing to give, and yet it didn't stop you that night, did it now?" She countered. A shadow fell over his face. Oh, she'd struck a nerve alright.

"There is nothing for me to discuss." He got up and pushed his chair back. She grabbed him by the collar, drew out a knife and pointed it at his throat before he could get anywhere. Blacke froze at the sight of the weapon, for it was coated in dried blood. Joran's blood. If Blacke held any doubt about the legitimacy of what she had done, it was surely gone now.

"You know the terms of our agreement. It's the money or the information about Hasani." She whispered through barred teeth. The pace of Blacke's heart quickened at the mention of the name.

"You've learned something." She breathed out. "Tell me, unless you wish to wind up in the same place I left Joran's body."

"There is no information I can give you without betraying my King." He replied, holding on to whatever illusion of bravery he put on. Zerlinda tightened her hold on the blade, clenching her fists.

"Why serve and die for someone who would never do the same for you?" She asked him. He answered with nothing but silence, his mouth set in a grim line.

"Kill me now, and all will know the identity of Hades's Huntress." He stuttered out.

She paused.

Looked around her.

A blond man stared at her from across the room. The armor he wore sold him as another guard. Zerlinda swore under her breath. The threat of being discovered was the only leverage he had against her. She was all but done for if Blacke truly had revealed her identity. She stared the blond man down, refusing to break his gaze. He did the very same, his own stare hard and cold as ice.

"This isn't over." She told Blacke, releasing her grip on his shirt. He breathed out a sigh of relief before scrambling away like a filthy little bug. She would see him again one day. And when she did, there would be nothing to stop her from collecting her rightly earned reward and squashing him under her heel.

She knew he knew this, even as he said nothing, leaving the bar as quickly as he had come in. She had other business to take care of first.

~

The cold had set in earlier than usual this year. October in Nerissa was never particularly comfortable, especially not in northern cities such as Eldoris. Still, as Zerlinda walked the streets, she wondered if perhaps the wind at her back had anything to do with the way she had been more inclined to take up work from the people than she had been in listening to Hades. The mark at her neck felt cold, but she found that it burned less and less lately, as if Hades knew how little his calls to her meant.

Still, she had sworn allegiance to the King of the Underworld, and knew indefinitely running from his orders was a fool's game. Did it make her a fool, then? Perhaps, perhaps not. She had long stopped debating the idea. Damned waste of time, it was.

Her stomach grumbled. She walked on and ignored it at first, but it only worsened. It gnawed at her, taking control of every thought, every move. Her legs were limp, her entire body hit with a wave of exhaustion no will could ever hope to silence.

Hungry was normal. Rare were the times where the hunger didn't let the body slowly consume itself, desperate for something that would numb the pain, even if that something didn't exist. How long had it been since she'd last had a bite to eat? Ten hours? Twelve?

A small restaurant appeared in the distance. Her body begged for some reprieve, just for a few hours. It was unlikely for her to be able to walk on home if she hadn't listened.

The aroma of onions filled the air soon as she walked in. It only gave fuel to fire. She walked on shaking legs to the hostess, a blonde, rather pale woman dressed in a one-shouldered chiton.

"I'll have a table, please." She quietly said. The hostess gave a small smile and scribbled something on a piece of paper. Zerlinda's eyes glanced down to the artistic swirls and curves of ink eternally marked on her skin. They flowed gently, like the ocean, a sign of eternal, blind loyalty to whoever sat on the throne of Nerissa.

The woman's smile fell as soon as she followed Zerlinda's gaze, down to her own wrists. Bare as those of a child. A sort of horror filled the woman's eyes as she glanced back up to Zerlinda.

She'd gone completely silent, as if in disbelief of what her eyes showed. The people surrounding must have sensed the tension in the air, for they too looked at Zerlinda.

Then at her smooth, bare wrists.

"She's an Unbranded." Someone whispered, whether to themselves or to company. That certainly drew attention. The people around her took a few steps back, away from her even before she could do or say anything. Silence fell over the restaurant, with her at its twisted center.

"We're all booked this evening." The hostess said, tentatively breaking the silence. Hades's brand pulsed in impatience and anger at her neck. Zerlinda glanced around to the many unoccupied tables around the restaurant. Indignation rose up in her chest. She forced it back down with effort, reaching for the coins in her cloak pocket.

"Something to eat, if you so kindly could get me that." She muttered through hissed teeth at the hostess, dropping the coins directly into her palm. The woman hurried off like an animal caught by its prey.

Zerlinda whirled around. Fear dripped like ink from the gazes of those watching her. Among the crowd, a few wore curiosity. Words were written across all of their eyes. Killer. Rebel. Rogue. The crowd parted as she walked through, but even then their eyes didn't leave her.

She sat down at a corner at the back, away from all of their judgmental opinions. The woman found her with a small tray of food minutes later, leaving as quickly as she'd come as though she feared Zerlinda would kill her for sport.

Had she not been so hungry, the thought might have crossed her mind.

~

The streets were vast and empty. The only sound to be heard was of the waves as they crashed against the nearby shore. Zerlinda breathed in that sound as she walked home, let it wrap its arms around her and hold her close in infinite peace, reminiscing of calmer days by the waves, before she had become aware of the lack of brands on her skin.

Footsteps sounded in the distance, dragging her back to reality with a sudden jerk. She dared a glance over her shoulder. Squinting, she was able to make out the silhouettes of two men. She reached for the blade tucked at her waist. Paused.

The men followed suit.

She quickened her step.

The men did too.

Her blood went cold instantly. Don't turn around, don't turn around, don't-

They were a few feet from her within what seemed like seconds.

"Aren't you a beautiful one..." One of the men spoke lowly to her. The other one was already at her neck, wrapping a curl of her hair around his finger. She moved back instantly, breath catching in her throat.

"What's wrong, pretty girl? Too ungrateful to accept a simple compliment?" He drawled. Zerlinda's hands trembled, shaky grasp on her hidden dagger. His breath smelled of alcohol. Chances are they'd followed her from the bar. Her eyes darted about. There was no one else in the street. No one to stop them, to keep them away from her. She swallowed. If there had been only one of them, she could have fought them off. But two against one...

"You're one of those dancers, those...what do they call them...those Gitanas, aren't you?"

She froze.

"I know plenty about Gitana women." The other one chimed in, stepping dangerously closer to her. Every step back she took, he came closer. "How about I show you just how much I know?" It wasn't long before he had her backed up against a wall.

"Get the hell away from me." She spat at him. His friend smirked and approached her too.

"Such a beautiful woman...it's really a shame she's got to be such a bitch about it, don't you think?" He murmured to the man trapping her. They exchanged looks that made her stomach churn.

"But you know, pretty girl..." He came even closer to her face. Sobs formed in her throat.

"I like them fiery." He whispered in her ear. Everything trembled. She couldn't feel the blade at her hand anymore. She wanted to scream, to cry, but bit those screams back down. It was useless. The law wouldn't save her. It didn't care for those who didn't wear the brands. No allegiance, no protection. No allegiance, no humanity. No humanity, and the crown didn't care if you burned in the depths of Hell.

Only Hell itself did. The brand at her neck pulsed, uniting as one with her heartbeat. She took a deep breath in and gave herself up to that pulsing, let it carefully guide her movements. Her fingers wrapped around the hilt of the dagger in her pocket.

She had the blade at the man's gut before he knew it. He stumbled backward, his friend jumping back in shock. Blood dripped down Zerlinda's hand. She wiped it on her cloak and broke into a run. She didn't care if the man lived or died. Her every thought was focused on moving the other leg in front of the other, wind pushing at her back to go faster, faster, faster.

Nothing but instinct told her where to go. She grabbed on to that instinct, that heightened, sixth sense like it was her last lifeline until the cold pavement beneath her feet was replaced by sand. She stopped then, catching her breath and looking over her shoulder to clear any doubt that the men had followed her. They hadn't. Relief coursed through her bones.

The cave called out to her. Zerlinda pushed aside a few stones before stepping into total and utter darkness. Zerlinda hesitantly glanced about for a torch. A light flickered out of nothingness a few feet away, bursting through the night. She walked to it, sand slipping through her sandals. Icy water washed away the sand as she approached, almost biting into her skin. By the time she picked up the torch from the stone wall, the water had reached her knees.

The torch illuminated the passage enough for Zerlinda to notice a boat out of the corner of her eye. She walked through it and climbed aboard, wringing the cold water from her skirts.

The boat floated on a silent current, pulled to destination by a calm wave outstretched like a hand. She breathed in that silence then, letting it smooth over the jagged cuts the adrenaline had left in her soul as she'd been torn between the paralyzing fear of fight or flight.

If she hadn't gotten away when she had...She tried not to think of it. Silence had never felt so calming. And then, that silence shifted. It twisted into something entirely new. Colder. Emptier. Less human.

A cold, desolate breeze flew through her hair, leaving its imprint as goosebumps on her skin. She knew then she'd reached her destination.

The boat passed through a large archway at the end of the tunnel. It lead into a circular room, with cave walls bathed in blue flame.

The flame of Hades.

At the end of the room, she met Hades's gaze. Or rather, the gaze of the unsettlingly human-like skin Hades took in her presence, knowing that no mortal such as her could witness a creature such as him in his true form. What creature this was, Zerlinda wasn't quite certain. They called him one of the Old Gods, even though no story she'd ever heard from her father had declared him as such. No, no God would so carelessly play with the lives of mortals for entertainment's sake. Still, the lack of a better word left her to use that term in reference to him.

He draped a leg over the armrest of a throne of stone, head resting in his palm. Such monstrous throne was one carved for a King greater than life itself. Etched in the throne's stone was a skull and bones curling to the very top of the throne itself, looking as real as if they'd been ripped from a dead body. A chill went through her spine.

"What surprise it is to find you here, Zerlinda." His thunderous voice echoed from across the room, the edge of sarcasm in it making her flinch. "After all, though you've been in the city for a month and a half, you've obstinately refused to visit me. I was starting to miss my favorite handmaiden." The crown sitting atop his head had ends sharp as a sword. A constant reminder of what he was and exactly what he'd do should she make a wrong move in the endless game of chess he played. She tried not to think of it, to push those thoughts away to the deepest corners of her mind. But always, they found their way back to the surface.

Hades rose from his throne and made his way over to her. With hair black as a midnight sky framing his face and skin just a few shades darker than freshly fallen snow, Hades looked well like the personification of death. Quite fitting for the ruler of the Underworld. It didn't make his pale, lifeless eyes any less bone chilling.

"Do tell me, Zerlinda. What's kept you so occupied that you put no thought into coming to me?" He asked, his gray eyes leaving a piercing feeling in her soul.

She quickly bowed her head to him in apology and bit back words that would have been sure to harm her should they ever have been spoken. What was the point of an apology, she wondered, if she only felt its remorse in his presence?

"I've been...hunting," she spoke. Her lie echoed throughout the vast emptiness of the cave. "A fulfillment of my oath to you." She added, almost as an afterthought.

Hades raised a brow at her in a mocking gesture. "Hunting, you say." He scoffed. "If it was hunting you were doing, then do tell me why so few souls have come to me directly from your hand as of lately?"

"It takes a while to find the perfect time to strike. Doing it rashly could very well lead to my own death." She gulped. He'd know it was a lie, knew whenever she tapped into the well of power the brand granted her. And once she dove into that well, it was hard to ever fully return to the surface without committing more murders. It had been the reason her business with Blacke had taken so long.

Hades said nothing, a heavy silence falling over the cave. She found solace knowing that he wouldn't kill her. Not yet, anyway. If she died, there would be no one to serve him the same way she did. Or at least, no one quite as desperate as she had been when he had first come to her.

"How is young Adalia faring?" He suddenly asked. Her stomach dropped. The desperate need to go home rushed through her veins.

"She is...doing well. Her previous fever has faded." Zerlinda eventually stuttered out, clenching shaking hands into fists. The more she said, the more he could use against her. Besides, it wasn't as if he couldn't see Adalia for himself if he wished.

"Good. We wouldn't want the poor girl's health to deteriorate again, would we now?" He asked, pretending that he'd ever for a second cared for her sister's fate. She shook her head all the same, as though it would shake away the reality of what could in fact happen. The oath she'd taken to Hades had never promised Adalia would live in the long run. Only that the symptoms of her illness would be lessened.

"You may be dismissed. I have no use for you at the moment." He declared after a long moment of looking into her eyes. Zerlinda said nothing, bowing her head one last time before turning around to the boat.

"Oh, and Zerlinda?"

She turned back around. A cruel look flashed in his eyes, mouth curling into the slightest of smirks.

"You may want to find another place for Dareios Joran's body. It is highly unlikely that guards wouldn't search the alleyway behind his manor."

♛ ♛