Hades Doctor

I am Done For.

Feeling the morning lights my eyes fluter open but I am deprived of the leisure of stretching. Almost immediately, I shut close my eyes readying myself for the worst case scenario my heart would have to face, the face of the god of the Underworld. But as I strain my neck to the side I find myself alone in the vast bed.

The disappointment I feel makes me wonder if I actually liked being forced immobile by a certain god who sleeps in my hair.

The answer soon reveals itself as I try to pull up my hand to brush away the hair partially blinding me only to find myself unable to move it by even an inch.

WHAAAAAT?

I look down to my body wrapped upto the neck in a soft blanket, its ends skilfully tied in knots to my sides caging me in a neat cacoon. And inside my hands were over my chest, crossed and palm down, and my posture strictly straight like a mummy. A cute mummy!!

Not dwelling on the conclusion that this was the after effects of a failed murder attempt I try to wiggle my way out like a caterpillar but the bounds were too tight like the person responsible was dead serious in not letting me escape.

And after two minute or so, I reach the edges of the bed and its only then that I spot a certain Ruler immersed in a book with its title in bold red letters in greek as he lazily sat crowned by the soft falling light by the windowsill.

"Excuse me." I almost laugh in sympathy for myself as the god places the book down on his lap only to turn his gaze towards me in nonchalance like the situation I was in was only natural, nothing new.

"How did I end up here?" I ask and then with the flawless composture still in place, he stands up with the book magically disappearing and as he walks towards me assessing my frantic state he finally seems to realise something must haven't been right the same moment I narrow my eyes at the amber eyed culprit.

Inhaling a deep breath I calm myself trying to believe there was a rational reason for me to be mummified alive as the god remains quiet without attempting to explain.

Cryptic, his expression remains as reaches my side and, his black attire unlike its usual crisp self, with the cloak once adorning his shoulders left by the chair he sat on and his long sleeves creased with the tunic over his torso fastened without care as it revealed the jade like skin of his collarbones before ruffling to the sides to part in a thin line of pale skin running down to his upper abdomen, giving a sense of extreme laziness.

What happened I wonder, but my mind pulls up images of my struggling self in his hands, how I had pulled and tugged at his clothes till I got what I want, his attention.

And if my hands were free I would surely have covered my face to stop myself from gawking so rudely when stray strands of silk like hair slip past long fingers that weave them in place to fall over amber eyes.

This is...TORTURE!, I find myself thinking.

But he luckily seems blind to the drooling teenager and finally breaks silence regarding his actions. "The temperature drops relatively during the night in Olympus and you rolled around too much."

A swarm of bees could have managed to buzz through my mouth the time it remained slack open before I knowingly grin.

My eyes narrows in teasing, my smile cat-like "Ohh, I see. The God of the Underworld was trying to tuck me into bed."

In the long years of his existence I doubt whether he has ever been placed in a situation where he had to tuck someone to bed and maybe due to this same lack of experience opted to tie me up inorder to keep me warm and covered and never really realised that his methods were not entirely right.