Hades

Agony refuses me solitude. 

 Its embrace is stifling, though I am uncertain lonesomeness would have suited me best in its absence. Is that not the very reason I now sense desperation and torment bleeding their path into the very depths of the vessels through which everlasting vitality flows? 

Indeed it is, but seldom is anguish a pleasant companion. Present and insistent perhaps, but its visits pale in comparison to the yearning kisses of a lover intent on making known their undying regard. 

And deathless they are, for deep is my sorrow and immeasurable my woes at yet another moon spent in solace, another dim hour of contemplating the beauty of Selene's reflection of Helios' luminescence in harrowing forsakenness.

When will my misery be appeased? My affliction soothed?

"Why do you rejoice in my anguish, Inflexible One? Why have you clouded from me yet again the one sliver of brilliance permitted me?"

The ever presence of Destiny scorns me in still silence, but my agony is far too great to be addressed by sense or reason. Across the ages since Gaea's inception I have fulfilled my labors, awakening to the groans of lament of mortal kind who even within the bounds of my jurisdiction I was unable to aid in consideration for Zeus' laws. I held my breath in patience at the prospect Persephone would someday master the skill of deceit and convince me my earnest affection was reciprocated, and I did not once but utter a single word of untoward sentiment to the likes of my youngest brother in acceptance of my role.

I asked not for Fate to bring comeuppance upon my enemies, or to lessen the burden of my arduous undertaking, or even to ease my lonesome suffering. The Apportioner herself thought it wise to entwine threads of rose and golden splendor with lusterless sloe to incite the progression of human life upon the firmaments of the earth and beneath it, I need not have made a sound.

Why then, has Destiny tampered with my thread upon her spindle? If I have not encouraged her counsel, why then must I pay such steep due? Have I not done as they inquired of me? Why allow me to savor the saccharine linger of my infatuate's caress only to be left in pitiful longing of it on second occasion?

Certainly it has not evaded Fate that gods have none to pray to, none to appeal before in demand of answers to our misfortunes. How greatly they must revel in this, for who else do we  plea if not to them? Veritably, they rejoice in unforeseen circumstance and the hardship of their unsuspecting victims. 

My voice is slight, my fingertips a permanent aurelian as notched glass pierces through the flesh of my thumb, coercing forth the golden curse that resides within my veins. Despite the pain, my palm envelops the pitch stained flask that once harnessed my concentrated element, perhaps the only token of Samantha's I harbor. I refused to part with it in reminiscence of our reunion in the Meadows of Enna. How could I? Does it not represent the very notion that the Moirai themselves set to be eons afore-- that my lover would complement not only the liveliness of my strand but my very nature as well?

Something substantial and ardent dwelling from within me awakens and aches at this reflection. It bears my sorrow in cloaks of humbling grey. 

"Fate, I beg you reconsider my lover's absence. I've not the means to convince you otherwise, nevertheless I--"

 Centuries worth of disdain have lulled my pride.

"--I pray, relinquish my thread its better companion. Far more exquisite is it than mine, far more lovely to look upon."

Silence is my response. Only the muted sound of insects out to happen upon companions permeates the atmosphere about me. Cloaked in sunless disposition are the fields of Demeter, illuminated only by the subdued splendor of Selene's graceful impression-- a most suiting location for a lover's pair intent on intimate embrace.

Distaste burns my tongue at this observation. I see the favor of Fate extends to infectious vermin. To perdition with those of us cursed to bleed golden.

I know irritation does not become me, but scorn seems to have made itself my ally. Ever faithful, ever watchful is my venerable confidant. Its consequence is always present in the hidden despondence of my solemn stare, the bitter contort of my lips, and the aggravating sensation of my breastbone when upon happenstance, my hands have held the likeness of appeals of those inclined to expiration.

How fortunate are mortal kind. They do not suffer an ever lasting penance of conflict or burden. The loss of a lover or dear one is not an eternal torment-- once they expire, their sorrows and hardships are entombed alongside them.

But what can be held in consideration for the divine?

My fingertips continue their pursue of piercing glass. The reptile remains intact, its precious stones of onyx glittering in dazzling arrays of uncut glory, though its feathered counterpart has not fared quite as well. Its gems too remain untouched, but its metal edges have been chipped about by anxious fingers, eroded by their perilous uncertainty.

"My Lord?"

The summon of Death brings forth my gaze from the gleaming water. The dull reflection of sorrow's countenance remains impressed upon my mind even as my irises befall a solemn Thanatos. 

"What news have you brought about, Death?"

"I have sent urgent word to your brothers, my lord, now all we must do is wait."

Irritation bests me to reason.

"We will sooner see chaos unleashed upon the cosmos before they favor my concern."

Death is grave as he nods in assent.

"Far more successful we would have been summoning Hera and the lady of the seas."

"Unquestionably."

Silence bleeds between us with relative ease-- its enchantment broken only by the thinly veiled waver of my voice as after several instances our travels' object appears to mind.

"The child?"

Thanatos hesitates, weighing his response.

"Safe." 

Quietude swiftly succeeds our exchange, prompted forth by contemplation, exacerbated by the egregious notion brought about in the earlier morrow. Illness writhes alongside the taste of disgust lingering the dryness of my mouth.

"Thanatos."

"Yes, my lord?"

"You understand I bear you to the highest of esteem?"

"Yes, my lord."

"And you would provide me response of utmost sincerity should I demand it?"

"Yes."

The fields still in their praise to the blessings of Demeter-- the touch of plentifulness. It seems their liveliness is such that they are in tune to the happenings about their environment, stilling in assent or caution, or swaying and intoning songs of worship to their giver of life as reflection eludes my memory.

"Do you think me an unscrupulous man?"

It seems, the winds too sense my distress, for their howl mellows to a muted groan.

"No."

A swallow precedes my proximal query.

"Then you believe me righteous in character?"

"My lord--"

"Pray relinquish me response, Death."

Death denies me answer, eyes shifting elsewhere briefly, no doubt considering the assertions brought about by the very lips of a youthful, very forthright Spring not yet one diurnal course prior. Certainly, ignorance rivals her beauty. 

His silence is tainted by unspoken accusation. Scarcely has stillness become so potent my very eyes perceive it.

"The boy bears your likeness. It is unmistakable."

My will fails me. No sound slips forth from my lips. Agony enraptures me, she is my sole lover. Has she not proven to me her undying devotion? Has her embrace not shown me that it will seldom part from me of its own volition? 

My memory too eludes me, disappearing alongside the resplendence of my infatuate's countenance. Doomed was our fate the second her irises of sapphire befell me. 

"Surely--"

Bitterness captures the entirety of my defense. No, no. Foolishness precedes my thought. Verily, it is self loathing which prevents me from uttering acrid exoneration.

"Fate shows no kindness differing from contempt, does it not?"

 Thanatos once more favors silence. Tendrils of the shadows cling to his form as a cloak of ever moving spouts of venomous vapor, awaiting his movement as Destiny does calamity. He can not alter the fabric of his nature. And I can not escape my own.

"You have given me your word, Death. I demand an answer."

His countenance betrays him, he is aware of it. He bears the decency of confronting my gaze of enmity with his own.

"No, my lord. It does not."

My palm enriches itself with golden fluid as knuckles of ivory forcibly acknowledge glass and stone. The pain is not enough. It does not satisfy the measure of my angst, I seek its fulfillment from an alternate source.

"Should Samantha see me once more, she will surely abhor the very whisper of my name."

She will spurn my affections and find solace in the arms of another. And what fitting punishment that will be. How suiting the consequence of her lover having lain with another. Her thread of blushing splendor will compliment the spiritedness of a more suiting companion, whose life source will glisten in cerulean or emerald alliance.

"Only Fate knows, my lord. We are not privy to their understanding."

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Thank you all for reading this chapter! I apologize if it was confusing or anything. I feel like I've been leaving hints for everyone to pick up on in previous chapters as well as all throughout this one, so hopefully the last couple paragraphs don't hit you all like a brick, lol!