The leaves were losing their colors again as the autumn approached inevitably. The wind was turning colder — so different from the summer breeze you were feeling on your cheeks each day. Nights turned dark for longer, not so safe for the mortals anymore.

And you could almost taste the pomegranate on your tongue again.

The moment the first leave fell on the ground you were back down there again.

Underworld didn’t change since you last been there before the first flower bloomed. It never changed. The Styx was as turbid and grey as always. The palace in the distance as always looked unpleasant, cold and unwelcome. The only thing growing there as always were… trees with pomegranates hanging from them — like a cruel reminder of your oppression.

The one to greet you was Cerberus — nuzzling one of his giant heads into you like he missed the only warmth that ever appeared in the Kingdom of dead. At the entry to the castle the loud, clear silence embraced you. You felt the piercing coldness on your skin when your dress finally changed — not a light, slight one, but dark ad heavy, meant to keep you somehow warm in those words.

Aemond sat in the throne room, unmoving. Only with a long scroll of… Gods please not souls, sipping wine? Pomegranate juice? Who knew.

“Back already?” He asked raising his gaze to you. Slowly, lazily, like he hasn’t been waiting for your comeback since… the day you disappeared — but it’s not like he would ever tell you that. “Thought you would lounge up there for longer.”