When he was young he hid beneath his brother’s shadows, the eldest yet forgotten. Never spoken of in tales, merely a passerby within his own tales and tragedies even within his own Kingdom.

Perhaps you did not see the world as he did, you were naive due to your mother and her gardened walls. You flourished in the sun and the petals that adorned you.

The story was well told. Spoken of by shades and those within the upper world. You were ripped away, ruined by the God of The Underworld and made a forced bride.

Tricked, defiled, ruined for all other mayhaps mortal or godly men.

If you loved him, he did not know. You averted his gaze, scorned his name until your throat burned, cried until tears could no longer do so. Yet he still took his time, steps were… hard to come by with you.

Yet they did come by.

He saw you soften, you were never shown a man’s love nor touch. He knew that. Tension seemed to evaporate within your thin shoulders, you did not move away when he sat closer, or curse him when he spoke of his own heart.

Hades held counsel his councils, and often did he find you roaming with boredom to the steps and melancholy in your youthful eyes.

The son of Cronus had himself a plan, guiding you through Erebos’s lands and just behind that of his palace—a garden did rest, of blossoms and greenery that his eyes did burn from the light.

“Here, fair daughter of Demeter, a gift for that of you.” He murmured, his dark eyes of their ebony colors with licks of purple embers.