Part Four

Persephone loses track of how many hours they have been riding on their second day in the realms of Mèso, the lands of Lord Atlas.

She has heard the stories of Lord Atlas just as she has heard the stories of all the other Great Men of the war. Some say of his valor, while others tell of their fear of him. It is all nonsense, Persephone thinks to herself softly, glancing at Hades out of the corner of her eye and the way his hair tangles from the wind of Mèso's stripped lands. They fear Hades when they never should; he is better than King Zeus so revered.

"It is getting dark," Hades says after a while, Helios laying to sleep as his sister blinks bright in the sky like a Cheshire's smile. "We should bunk for the night."

"Alright," Persephone says, nervous bite of the lip as she wonders if they will share a sleeping mat again.

They did the night before; it feels natural after their night with Artemis– Hades rocking Persephone to sleep as they keep the cold away from one another. She knows it is wrong. She knows it will just tie her to him all the more, but when he offered again last night to save her from the nightmares, she felt she had no choice but to let him. It is like he is in her bloodstream now, a constant that she does not want to blood-let.

I am doomed for it, she tells herself. Just a few short days and he is already a part of me. Whatever shall I do to be able to leave him?

"Where will we stop?" Persephone asks after a moment, patting Fury's mane to get the horse's attention so she will slow.

"I was thinking we may stay at an inn tonight," Hades says, dark eyes watching carefully for her reaction.

Persephone simply blinks at the offer, turning to raise a brow at him. "How?"

"There is one just over that ridge; I saw a sign for it a mile back," Hades says as he points a gloved hand to the hill before them and what supposedly lies beyond. "It is not much, but we could have a real bed and some decent food."

"Sounds…nice," Persephone says with a waxing smile. "But, will anyone notice us?"

"No," Hades says, shake of the head. "I will wear my hood, and your name is the only thing recognized in these lands, not your face."

"Then what shall I call myself if someone asks my name?" She likes the idea of trying it out, now– a pseudonym. Once she leaves Elláda she will have no choice but to call herself something new, and she could use the practice. The title of Persephone Manthanos is so deeply instilled she thinks it may take an eternity for it to be erased.

"Whatever you like," Hades says. "What is a name that is favorable to you?"

"Cassandra," Persephone says, the first name to come to mind.

"Like the cursed prophet from the stories of old?" Hades asks, brows furrowed in amusement.

Persephone blushes, gives the tiniest shrug. "I always liked her. It is not fair she was cursed just because she could not love a God."

"Some say she teased him," Hades murmurs.

"That does not give him the right to ruin her life," Persephone snaps despite herself. "The whims of men are brutal; they think they are the Gods' gift and women their simple companions. We are no more than dogs to them, and the moment we bite back they chain us. It is…it is–"

"Wrong," Hades supplies for her with dejected expression as Fury and Charon bring them over the hill, prairie spread out before them with a single glowing beacon in the distance.

"Yes," Persephone answers, expression falling at the hurt she has laid upon him. "I am sorry; I made a generalization. Not all men are that way. You are not, Hades."

"You see me in too bright a light, my Lady," Hades says, leading their horses down the narrow path towards what Persephone guesses must be the inn he intends for them to stay at. "Even I have my skeletons in the keep."

"But that is from war," Persephone says, watching the impassive air that takes over Hades' entire being. "No one can blame you for doing as expected."

"I killed many men then, Persephone. I left their families without them, all for the simple conquer of land," Hades says, eternal scowl deepening. "Serves right that they disfigured me for it."

"You are not disfigured," Persephone says, nose twitching. "Did we not just have this conversation a few days ago? You are handsome, Hades. Stop acting like a ninny about it. The scar distinguishes you, and that is all."

"How is a creature like you real?" Hades answers her, shaking his head with a chuckle. "It is like you are the sweetest flower in all the grove, yet when one reaches for you, you bite their hand off."

"I am a tad too much like my mother in that respect," Persephone laughs, thinks about the implications of her words for a moment before the giddiness in her chest falls and she exhales softly. "I do so hope she is not too distraught with my absence."

"Lady Demeter is a tough woman if I have ever met one," Hades says, bringing Charon to a slowed trot as if almost to delay them reaching the inn, keep their conversation running for as long as he can. Persephone has noticed more and more these past few days of how he tries to draw out their time together, like he does not wish for it to end. Perhaps, she thinks, he has become as attached to her as she has to him.

If so, then they are truly in trouble.

"I still think she sent the entire King's Guard after me," Persephone says after a moment, a comment she has said to Hades hundreds of times during their trip. "How you have made sure we have eluded them, I still have no idea."

"I am the best at what I do," Hades says with a cocky smile.

Persephone clucks her tongue at him, reaches the short distance between their horses and shoves at his shoulder playfully, a sudden commonality of affection that has formed between them since that night with Artemis, the first time she touched Hades in affability and not necessity. When she leaves him, she knows she will miss it, the strong pull of leather and muscle under her palm and the little smile Hades reserves only for her.

The moment they reach the inn, Hades instantly pulls the hood of his riding cloak over his face to hide his scar, helping Persephone down from Fury and bringing her hood up as well. "I would say you should pretend to be a man so our explanation of journey would be easier," Hades murmurs, tucking her curls into the folds of her hood. "But you obviously are not a man–" his eyes move from her hair down to the rest of her body, lingering on the curves that identify her as female making her flush– "so I suggest we tell them we are married, traveling to take care of my sick mother in the Underworlds, if anyone were to ask."

Persephone nods, tugs her cloak tighter around herself and takes her satchel from Fury's saddle as the horse bends at her post to drink from the watering barrel below. Hades wraps his arm around Persephone's waist when she is all settled, to keep up the façade of marriage, she supposes as they slowly climb up the steps of the inn.

It is an old building, made of stone and pine wood with two floors and a smoking chimney. Persephone can see a small lake in the distance, the outhouse just to the right of the inn with a fat man lumbering towards it from a side door on the inn, humming a tune to himself under his breath. She recognizes it as a tune about the Sixth and smiles; her father used to sing such a song when he would cut fire wood in the mornings.

The inside smells of mead, sweat and piss. Persephone is virtually immune to it though, having dealt with soldiers' quarters in Eleusinian when her father went on trips to monitor the lands and took Persephone with him after much beginning on her part. She takes in the sounds more vividly, having become so used to the quiet of open road that the loud music of a fiddler and arguing of burly men is quite a shock.

Hades steers them to a table in the back, most of the men in the inn so drunk they do not notice the odd pair that has just entered. Persephone sits in a bit of a nervous heap, fingers drumming the table top as Hades tells her to stay where she is, that he will be right back with a room and warm food for them. She gives him the bravest smile she can muster, keeps up the confidence even after he leaves.

Pretend you are in Court, she thinks to herself determinedly. Do not let them see you fold. You are in the world of men now, Persephone. This is no time to crack like brittle ebony; act like Papa would.

And it all goes well, Persephone sitting and minding her own business with strong posture and still hands. That is until a man the size of an ox slides into the chair next to her, breath smelling of barely and spoiled meat as he breathes at her ear.

"What's a pret-ty lil' thing like you doin' here, sweetheart?" he asks, blue eyes glassed over from too much mead. He would be nice looking, she thinks, were it not for the air of threat rolling off of him in waves.

"I am with my husband," Persephone says, hoping this will deter the man before her and make him leave. "He shall be back any moment, and you sir, are sitting in his chair."

The man laughs at that, rolling tendrils of rudeness as he reaches out to grab Persephone's forearm. "Oh, come on, sweetheart," the man says. "I bet I can show you a real good time!"

"Let go of me, please," Persephone says, gritting the words out through the uneven gaps of her teeth; the man's grip is so tight she knows he will bruise her. Instead of afraid though, she is quickly becoming agitated, trying to pull away.

The man holds fast. "Hey– hey, just let me buy yous a drink, then it'll be all better."

"I do not want you to buy me a drink," Persephone says, raising her leg up under the table, free hand slipping down to the top of her boot. "Let. Go. Of me. Now."

"Now listen here sweetheart–" the man starts, reaching out with his other hand to grab more solidly at her, but quick as a snake, Persephone draws her father's old hunting knife from her boot and stabs the man's newly wondering hand into the tabletop with a sickening slice, blood leaking onto the wood an instant later as the man howls.

The room suddenly becomes silent, all music and chatter stopped, eyes turning to look at the spectacle of Persephone's table with registered surprise. She feels her cheeks flame not in embarrassment, but trepidation. Reaches out and grabs her knife out of the man's hand for new defense, who has switched from yelling to cursing her.

"You bitch," he spits. "I'm gonna kill you for this!"

Persephone keeps her eyes on him as he abruptly stands from the chair he was sitting in, sends the piece of furniture rolling backwards. He is holding his injured hand, blood dripping to the floor in red rivulets.

"Seems you like to play with knives, huh? Well, I got a knife for you," the man says, before bellowing the name, "Theseus!"

A new man steps out of the crowd, golden hair and twinkling eyes. He looks back and forth between Persephone and the bleeding man at her side. "Yes, Perithous?" Thesues asks.

"Seems we got a wily one," Perithous answers. "How about we teach 'er a lesson, huh?"

"Why not?" Theseus asks, taking a new step forwards. "I am just drunk enough it may be fun."

Persephone feels ice in her spine as Theseus takes the side of Perithous, both of them leering at her. The rest of the men in the bar are still simply staring, not moving an inch as Persephone bares her teeth and grips her father's knife tighter in her hand. I should have just stayed with Mother, she thinks for a split second as the men lunge at her, hands going towards her throat.

She is able to bite one of those hands, gets herself a slap to the face for it and spits blood, striking with her knife and catching flesh, tearing hard. The man she cut yowls, pulling away for an instant to clutch at the injury in disjointed state, spray of vital blood all over. Persephone turns her attention to the other man grabbing at her hair, pulling her towards the floor by a fistful of curls.

It is Perithous, of course. And when Persephone lands at his stamping feet she does not let herself stay on the ground helpless, turns around to kick him in the shin and have him cursing backwards, only for a second before he strikes at her once more. She closes her eyes, waiting for a blow that never comes.

When she opens her eyes again, it is to the sound of struggle, of a neck being broke. Perithous' body fall lifeless at her feet, followed by Theseus', which is bleeding all over. Persephone blinks at the two dead men, much like the rest of the people in the room are doing. At last she looks up, finds Hades breathing steam through his nose as he clenches bloodied fists at his sides. His hood has fallen off, face revealed to the whole of the inn and she knows that everyone recognizes him.

Another breath and Hades turns to the rest of the room, threat of ended fate in his tone as he says, "You all dare to just stand there while she is assaulted? I should have your heads for this!"

The men in the room stammer, shift on drunken feet because they know the warning holds true from one of the Great Men of Elláda. Yet some men look prepared for fight, while others have a foot out the door, ready to run. It is only a short man with pressed robes that breaks up the rage in Hades, the fire in the room.

"My Lord, oh my Lord Hades, please forgive– we did not know!" the man says, clipped mustache serving as his upper lip when he holds his hands up to Hades and begs on bowed knees. "Please, do not bring your wrath here. I am truly sorry for what has happened to your companion, my Lord, but her attackers are now dead and no other harm may come in my establishment, I beseech you!" Persephone realizes this must be the inn keeper, and wonders how such a tiny man can handle his business with so many thugs lurking around; he cannot possible be doing so on his own.

"Some establishment," Hades snorts, kneels down next to Persephone and glowers at the blood he finds on her split lip, the swell of her cheek from where Perithous hit her. "Are you alright?" he asks her, barely contained anger in his tone.

"Yes," she says, taking the hand he offers to help her to her feet. "Thank you."

"Do not thank me," Hades says, malice not directed at her, but himself. "It is my fault this happened. I should not have brought you here; left you alone."

"You cannot keep watch over me all of the time," Persephone says, shake of the head and blinding pain in her temple. "Besides, I was handling myself well."

Hades' expression shows no amusement at her crack of humor, though he does allow her a small, "You were," as he looks at the deep gash she left gaping in Theseus' stomach. "I wish I had not killed them so quickly; I should have made them suffer longer for even touching you."

"No need for that, my Lord!" the inn keeper says in a rush, small hands flying out in panic. "As I said, I am so very sorry for this debacle. If you simply allow me to lead you to your rooms, then you will no longer be bothered, I swear it."

Hades turns to glare at the inn keeper, opens his mouth with probable threat but Persephone grabs his arm, gathers his attention and shakes her head. "I am tired," she says, the words rolling off of her tongue like compelling honey. "Let us not fight anymore and simply go to bed."

The anger in Hades fades softly at her pleading gaze, posture loosening as he nods his head and wraps his arm around her waist once more, a warmth spreading through Persephone's belly at the comforting contact.

And the moment they leave the inn's main room, there is clamor once more. Men begin to laugh as workers drag Perithous and Theseus' bodies away for burial, no formal law needed since it is known exactly who the men's murderer is: Lords are above such common rules of trial.

Music drifts up the stairs after Hades and Persephone as they follow the inn keeper to the second floor, lead to a room at the end of the hall where they are let inside and promised anything they need free of charge for their troubles.

"Like that makes up for it," Hades grumbles under his breath after the inn keeper leaves, door to their room shut behind the small man.

"Hades, stop being so sore," Persephone sighs, setting her satchel and cloak on a chair in the corner of the room. She cleans her knife with a rag from the washing table near her and sets it inside her boots once they are taken off. "I am simply scratched."

"They hurt you," Hades argues, clears the small space between their charged bodies in tempered stride. Though the softness of his reach betrays the fury, fingers brushing the swell of her cheek as his eyes shine. "I am so sorry, Persephone."

"It is okay," she assure him, pressing his palm more fully to the wound and refusing to wince at the sing. He took his gloves off sometime between dismounting Charon and entering the inn, just the callused press of his skin against hers. "But what I am worried about is what they shall all do now that they know who you are?"

"Keep their bloody mouths shut and stay out of my way unless they want put to death," Hades answers her, expression cross. "Just because these lands are not under my jurisdiction does not mean Lord Atlas will not hang them from attacking a high ruler."

"But what if they recognize me," Persephone says worriedly. "You may not be tried with the murders of those men downstairs, but even you are not immune to the laws of the King. And we will both beheaded for running from my engagement to Lord Ares."

"I will not let anyone touch you, I swear it," Hades says. "I will kill Zeus before he even gets anywhere near you."

"You speak treason, my Lord," Persephone smiles, the gesture quickly falling as she adds, "And it is not me I am worried about; it is you that my concern is for. Like I said, I handled myself well tonight; what is a few King's Guard in comparison to savage brutes?"

Hades' scowl shifts at the corners of his mouth, like he wants to smile but his anger will not allow him. "I would imagine you could have killed those buggering bastards yourself, even if I had not stepped in," he says after a moment. "The one you stabbed in the stomach would have bled out in a matter of minutes had I not snapped his neck."

"I stabbed the other one in the hand, too," Persephone says, glowering at the memory. "He put his hand on me and would not remove it when I asked him; had he not called for his friend I may have just cut the appendage off if he reached for me again."

This time Hades cannot contain his dark chuckle, the graveled sound stammering off into a sigh as he leans down and presses his forehead to hers. Persephone stills, feeling almost frozen before her body takes over in the intimacy of the gesture, eyes sliding closed as their noses knock together, Hades' hair tickling the sides of her face.

"I do not know what I would have done had I gotten there a second later and they had hurt you anymore," he breathes, one hand still on her cheek and the other tangling in the fabric of her jerkin. "I am afraid I will not know how to let you go once our journey is over, Persephone."

She knows she should push him away in that moment, regret taking root in her chest when his lips touch hers.

Persephone has never kissed a man before; the strength and passion with which Hades touches her is too much. His hands bring fire to her skin and she does not know what to do with her mouth, simply whimpers as he moves his own against hers, chapped lips and awkward draw of saliva as their tongues touch. She thinks he tastes a bit like the earth and ash, the steady pull of a grave as he steals the breath from her lungs as his own.

She buries her fingers into the fabric of his tunic, pulls until her knuckles turn white to keep him pressed against her, bow of plaint body and need. Hades groans into her mouth, hands sliding around her waist to lift her up so he does not have to bend so far to kiss her. And she thinks she could die like this, right here and now. Just the two of them so fused together, love in her veins like a livewire.

Love?

It is then there is a knock on the door of their room. Persephone abruptly pulls away from the kiss, wild gasp and hand covering her mouth. Hades looks at her imploringly, confusion etched into his features as she looks down at the floor, shaking her head. His hands clench now that he is no longer touching her, stares for a beat more before going to answer the door, the inn keeper on the other side offering them dinner.

"Shit," Persephone whispers softly, knowing she has just made the biggest mistake in all of this mayhem she has brought upon herself. "Shit."

Because if a kiss does not spell out unneeded attachment, she cannot figure what else would.

Hades closes the door softly after the inn keeper has left, a tray with two steaming bowls of stew and fresh bread and wine sitting on the main table of the room. Persephone steadily keeps her eyes to the floor, refusing to speak. Hades does not break the silence, instead simply looking at her, letting her be the one to make the first move in this– her decision.

"I am sorry," is what she finally says, still not meeting his eye; for all her bravery that is the one thing she cannot do. "We should not– we should not have done that."

"It was my fault," Hades says, much like he said down on the inn's main floor. "I am sorry if I overstepped my boundaries."

"It is not that," Persephone says in a rush at his crestfallen expression, not wanting for him to believe her rejection is because of him personally– it is not. It is simply because she cannot become attached any more to this man than she so stupidly has. "It is…it is…"

"It is alright, Persephone. You do not have to censor yourself for my benefit," Hades says, giving her a sad smile. There is a strong silence in the room once more, Hades the one not able to meet her eyes this time.

After a while, Persephone cannot take the silence. What was once amiable quiet has turned to an impending sense of discomfort. "I think I will go to bed," Persephone says after a moment, taking off her jerkin and nothing else before climbing under the covers. "My head hurts."

"Of course," Hades says, and does not offer to keep her warm despite the draft in the room.

She closes her eyes moments later and feigns sleep, trying her hardest not to cry as she thinks about their impending departure, the way her lips still swell from his kiss. It does not help that she can hear him moving about the room, taking off his boots and cloak and setting his belt on the table. He tests the dinner, makes a small sound of dissatisfaction and leaves the stew alone, eating only bread instead.

Eventually Persephone falls asleep to the sound of him simply breathing, having never come to bed.

When she wakes in the morning it is to the welcome of the sun, Helios calling her to the realm of waking. The side of the bed next to her is still bare as she reaches her arm across it, cracks her eyes open and rolls over to the edge, peeking down at a sleeping Hades who looks worse for wear, like he could not catch sleep for a long while last night.

She still remembers his kiss, the heat of him pressed against her and it makes her ache. Shoulders pressed to the mattress, she stares at the ceiling and hopes they will be out of Mèso by the end of the day, and that the lands will keep their memories when they are gone. She does not want that kiss in her head– it will tempt her more than it should and she cannot give into what longing offers.

Silently, she gets up from the bed and washes her face, frowning at the swell of her cheek and bloody cut of her lip. She looks awful with sallowness to her dark skin that brings the freckles across her nose she so hates to attention. With a sigh, she puts her boots and jerkin back on, knife secure at her ankle as she glances at the cold dinner on the table.

Her share of bread is still there, and so when her stomach rumbles she walks over to it softly as to not wake Hades and takes a bite. It has staled through the night, grinding against her teeth as she chews. But, she knows, beggars cannot be choosers and so she sits down and reaches for a glass of wine to soften the crunch, takes one sip and instantly spits it out.

She knows the taste of nightshade; in the smallest doses it simply puts one to sleep. But with quantities this large, she knows she would never wake again if she were to consume it. Panic sets into her chest as she drops her crusts of bread to the floor, leaning down to sniff at the soup. The deadly smell is barely discernable over the parsley and basil in the concoction, but Persephone is an expert at the scents of nature, especially the dangerous ones.

Instantly she pushes up from the table, rushes to where Hades sleeps on the floor and realizes his pallid complexion is not from sleeplessness, but poison.

"Hades!" she calls, smacking his cheek and trying to rouse him. "Hades, wake up!"

He stirs, only a moment with crack of blood-shot eyes and a groan of her name.

"Hades," she says, shaking him. "Hades, how much soup did you eat?!"

"Persephone," he coos, sweat on his hairline and drenching his clothes.

Her breath comes in rapid pants as she uses all of her strength to make him stand, lays him on the bed with fretted worry. "You stay right here," she says, the threat of hysteric tears as she stumbles to the door, pulling it open with flourish. "I will be right back!"

Downstairs, she finds the inn keeper behind a counter serving men ale. "Help," she asks the small man, her face blatant with worry. "Please, someone help! Lord Hades, he has been poisoned!"

And no one dares to even look at her; they simply keep their faces to their tables and the inn keeper acts as if she is not even there. Blinking, Persephone takes a step backwards, realizing just where the poison came from.

She rushes up the stairs in fear, slams the door to their room closed and finds Hades right where she left him. Without thought, she straddles his waist and pats at his cheek again, trying to rouse him. "Hades, Hades, wake up! We have to leave. We have to go!"

"Hmm," he says, hands gripping loosely at her waist. "This is a nice surprise."

Persephone sighs at his fever-slicked delusion, pushes herself away from him and grabs their things, trying her best to sling his cloak and belt back around Hades so they will not be lost. Getting him to move is the hardest part; he mumbles incoherent things through fever and wobbles with every step.

As they nearly fall down the stairs, Persephone takes the knife from her boot for help, looking at the bloodstain on the floor where Theseus fell from her attack last night. A few men stand from their chairs as she tries to leave, one even walks towards her. She tenses, limbs pulled taught like a bowstring and ready to fight.

The man that stands before her is a new face– was not here the night before. He has a crafty look about him, the glint of gold in his wide eyes. "Are you in need of some assistance, my Lady?" he asks, and Persephone sizes him up for battle.

It is then two men charge at them, coming with knives and snarls. The golden-eyed man in front of Persephone does not even flinch as he turns with a dagger of his own, elbows one of the attackers in the face before turning on the other, grabbing his wrist and breaking it when the attacker tries to strike. The attacker shouts, punches out with his uninjured wrist but the golden-eyed man simply slits his throat with the flick of a wrist. The other attacker has recovered by now though, going for the golden-eyed man with brute force, only to earn a dagger to the gut.

Persephone gasps, staggers under Hades' buckling weight as two new men surge forwards. The golden-eyed man smiles at the challenge, shoves one away and stands off with the other. The shoved man lands at Persephone's feet, and before he can get up to try and attack anyone anew, she quickly kicks him in the head. It bashes against the counter at her side, the man passed out in front of her.

Motion out of the corner of her eye catches her awareness, the inn keeper drawing a crossbow from under the counter. Persephone drops quickly to the floor with Hades, stays still and shouts to the golden-eyed man in warning, who has taken out his newest attacker plus another when the inn keeper fires.

The golden-eyed man drops to the floor near Persephone, rolling away to avoid being hit. In adrenaline fueled rush, Persephone ducks around the corner of the counter, spies the inn keeper's feet and lunges forwards from a crouch, tackling the small man to the ground and batting his weapon away, holding her knife to his throat.

"Answers," she growls, because by now the golden-eyed man is finishing off the last advisory in the room and there is no one left to help the inn keeper from bleeding to death under Persephone's blade.

"Lord Hades is not liked in all places," the inn keeper quickly stammers, his frame trembling beneath her. "I work for his enemies, and they did not want to waste the opportunity of killing him after he was recognized when killing those two men last night!"

"And so you poisoned him?"

"Please don't kill me; I was just doing what I was told!" the inn keeper scolds.

"Aye, my Lady," says a soft baritone behind her; she keeps her knife to the inn keeper's throat as she turns to face the golden-eyed man who is kneeling next to Hades, checking him for injury. "He was doing what he was told– but he did not do it well. Hades will survive if we get him the help he needs soon."

"Why should I trust you?" Persephone asks, watching with trembling attention as the golden-eyed man stands, walks over next to her and stomps his foot down on the inn keeper's face. Persephone scrambles away in the spray of blood, shoulders hitting the counting as bile threatens to rise in her throat when the golden-eyed man next stomps on the inn keeper's throat. "Because," he says after a moment, turning to look at her with a dapper smile like he has not just trampled a man to death and stabbed five others. "If not for me, you and Lord Hades would be dead right now; not to mention the fact I took out the men who ordered the kill in the first place. If you do not believe me, I can dig up their graves out back for you as evidence."

"Why help us?" Persephone finds herself asking, knife clutched anxiously in her grip.

"I am a friend," the golden-eyed man says. "Now if you would follow me, my partner has our ride waiting outside. We shall take Lord Hades to get the proper medical attention that he is in need of."

Persephone weighs the risk of this strange, golden-eyed man's proposal in her head, as confused as it is. She could stay here in a practical burial ground and try to nurse Hades back to health herself, probably letting him die in the end, or she could choose to trust this strange man in front of her and hope he is being truthful in his offer of help for Hades. Persephone supposes that Hades is dead either way if the golden-eyed man is lying, but at least in the latter option she can probably go with him; and she knows she could not live with herself if Hades were to die because of her.

"What is your name?" Persephone asks after a moment, weary eyes and torn heart.

"Hyperion, my Lady," says the golden-eyed man, sticking out a charcoal hand in proposition.

Persephone takes it and Hyperion helps her to her feet. "I am choosing to trust you," she says after a moment. "Do not let me down."

"I will not," Hyperion promises, and helps her carry Hades out of the inn and into the light of the morning.

Persephone is surprised to see the fat man she remembers from last night standing by Fury and Charon (she is ever glad no one tried to kill the horses). There are two unfamiliar horses near the man as well, one attached to a cart bedded in straw.

"Lord Hades cannot ride in his condition," Hyperion explains at Persephone's questioning lift of brow. "Shall we?"

She helps him settle Hades into the back of the cart, brushing stray strands of hair away from Hades' sweat-ridden face. "The fever has hit him hard," says Hyperion. "Soter, do you have anything to help him for the journey?"

Persephone glances at the fat man then, who must be Soter, the quirk of his lips beneath his graying beard. "Sure I do, 'Ion," Soter says, reaches into a bag at his side and pulls out a bottle of reddened liquid. "Oops," he says, staring at it with one eye opened and the other closed. "Wrong thing." He rummages through his bag some more before settling on a bottle of blue liquid and smiles. "Here we are!"

"What will that do?" Persephone asks suspiciously, hovering at Hades' side as Soter prepares to get the sickened man to drink the liquid.

"It should bring his fever down, my Lady," says Soter; Hades chokes on the liquid a bit at first but eventually it goes down smoothe. "Most assuredly I ain't gonna poison him anymore. Lord Atlas would have my head if I did that to one of his trusted acquaintances."

"You work for Lord Atlas?" Persephone asks, glancing back and forth between Hyperion and Soter.

For his part, Hyperion gives a soft shrug of broad shoulders. "Somewhat. We take care of…sticky situations for the Lord, and watch out for the people, my Lady."

"Oh," Persephone says, shakes her head at her minimal ignorance before settling on composure. "How long until we can get help for Ha– Lord Hades?"

Soter grins, one of his front teeth golden-shined. "It is about a day's ride my Lady, so we must go now. Except I cannot get Lord Hades' stallion to cooperate."

"He only lets Lord Hades ride him," Persephone says, glancing fondly at Charon. After a second's thought, she takes a timid step towards the blackened stallion. Charon does not fret at her touch, but whinnies softly and sniffs her hair, satisfied.

She mounts him with a surprised blink, smiling softly as Charon stomps just once before settling. "Seems Lord Hades is not the only one with fondness for you, my Lady," says Soter with a large smile.

Persephone blushes, tells Soter that he can ride Fury since his own horse is now pulling the cart Hades rests in. The group prepares to embark rather quickly after that, but not before Persephone watches Hyperion with wide eyes as the man strides back to the now silent inn, and sets the entire structure on fire with just one touch.

"How did he–?" Persephone asks, astounded and newly fearful.

"The Gods bless some more than others, my Lady," Soter smiles at her as Hyperion mounts his own golden stallion and they begin to ride away from the blaze of the inn, smoke curling into the morning sky along with the smell of charred dead flesh.

Persephone tears her eyes from the flames only when Hades murmurs her name from where he lies in the cart as she rides Charon next to it, Hades' hand reaching for her. She strains to wrap her fingers around his softly. "It is okay," she whispers to him, hoping her words are true. "Everything is going to be okay."

It is the first time she does not worry for how she will leave him, but how she will make him stay instead.