Persephone

XI

She had to leave. He could not bear it.

He was washed and dried now, and standing under his favourite bough, shivering slightly. He had not fully reclothed yet.

Her face. She was scared of him. 

He shut his eyes and braced himself on the trunk of the tree, hand gripping the worn bark for dear life. 

She had to leave. He was deluding himself in thinking that she could stay here, that she was suited to stay here. That she might want to.

Enough.

Hades opened his eyes, and found himself staring into Aethon's blazing fiery ones, muzzle twitching slightly as a soul caught in the fine black whiskers protruding from the downy coat. He sighed.

"What is it, my messenger" he muttered, staring at a speck of dust blemishing the stallion's hoof. Aethon tossed his head agitatedly.

"My lord, I am not the only messenger to arrive here this day."

Hades looked up, the shadow of a frown passing over his brow.

"Hermes?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Here to collect -"

"Yes, my lord."

He closed his eyes and nodded, before pushing off the wood and slipping his robes of darkness over his head. His hand found his friend's back as he supported the god, now drained at the thought of the reversion to his normal existence. Aethon felt his sorrow, and gently butted his head against his master's shoulder. 

"It will heal, in time, my friend. Time heals all wounds."

Hades huffed humourlessly before murmuring, "Not ones that refuse to close," before abandoning the offered support and loping away from the pool, the stallion gazing after his lord in pitiful silence. 

He did not care.

He had to appease the Messenger.