EVERYTHING HURT.

Everything that touched me was pain.

It was unyielding, restless, fitful - the blanket of sleep haunting what I was, where I was. It ached all over. It hurt all over. It simply refused to leave.

My body was a thing not of this world.

I could feel them - feel the spasms rocking it. Feel it shake and writhe and twist and contort, feel it stretching, stretching, stretching... trying to accommodate. Trying to be more. Trying to adjust even as whatever it was that brought him back was much, much more than anything I had to give - and that the cost of it was being wrecked all over my body - hurting it, punishing it, twisting it. As if demanding it to give back what it took - took when I grasped at his palms and pulled him over from that brink of death. As if him being a god had cost me - had cost us.... our baby.

Another spasm.

And then, my stomach roiled - toes curling even as my skin threatened to stretch, to tear, to turn completely inside out. The weary, bone deep ache was settling in fast, leaving me unable to even move, or open my eyes, or speak.

My throat felt like sandpaper. Even swallowing - just once, was a mistake - it felt like a thousand needles were lodged in there, prickling and prodding and probing even with the slightest of moments.

There were people around me, I realised. Movement in the room. Something cool on my head. And - hands. Hands clawing on the sheet beneath me. Silk sheets that felt like a bed of sand.

The baby - the baby the baby the baby.

Some sort of sound left my lips.

Someone moved to place a hand on my brow, touch oddly familiar. A moment later, the wet, cool thing moved. I cried out, back arching. Please. Please. It was replaced by something soft, colder than before... the scrape of metal somewhere in the room rang into my ears as hands busied themselves at the strings of my petticoat.

No. No. Please no.

I tried to clutch at those hands, those familiar hands - begging. No.

There was something warm, something slippery pooling between my legs, even as I gripped those fingers harder. No, no, no.

"Gods. Gods - she's lost too much blood already," a female murmured somewhere above me, regret lining her words like a coat of heavy velvet. "Get some more cloths, do it quickly-"

"No... o - no," my fingers clawed at anything I could touch, trying to plead, to beg them to stop - to make it stop - to save the baby. "Ple... please - please!"

A male snapped somewhere at someone outside the room, even as more hands shifted my body, holding down my arms - another wave of pain washed over me as I screamed.

"You will make it through this. I know you will," that familiar voice sang to me, quiet and gentle against my warm body.

And then I fainted again.

"If you could... you know," Poseidon motioned to the well worn carpet, raising his brow with a shrug, "...stop pacing?"

I simply glared at him. One look at my face and he raised his hands in surrender. Another long stare from me had us both turn to our left.

Hades had crumpled to a heap against the wall, his knees curled against his chest, his entire being shaking - stuttering, almost in near sobs. He looked at me, the fury of the devil in his eyes even as a single tear leaked down from it. The bleeding had stopped a while back, but he wouldn't let us look at it - only hissing and cursing like a very feral, overprotective wildcat any time I tried to touch him.

"You know, man. I didn't know you and Dem had such issues-" Poseidon began again. I shot him a burning glare as Hades looked up, darkness rolling in his angry eyes.

"Just shut your damn mouth," he let out a hiss. "You don't know a thing."

"You both can work out shit with Perse, you know. Just share-"

"Poseidon," I ground out, nearly a growl. "Not. Helping." Now was not the time, now was definitely not the time for this.

"But you both can-"

"Shut up! Fucking shut up!" Hades shouted, his voice a near sob as he choked on his own tears. "Fuck you and your damn ideas, Poseidon!"

"Just-" I took in a deep breath, trying to hold together. "Just. Just don't. Not now."

"Not ever," our youngest brother hissed from behind us. "Just get out of my home. Both of you. Get out."

"Oh? Umm... okay." Poseidon curled into himself, eyes glimmering, almost stammering. He made for the door as I curled my fingers in a vulgar gesture, frustration and exhaustion both overtaking me. "But he told us to get out of his home!"

"He didn't mean it, you idiot," I slammed my palm into my face. "Just keep your mouth shut. And sit."

"Bu-"

I shot him another glare. Be nice. For once.

"Um... I can get you snacks if you're hungry. Are you hungry?"

I threw up my hands in defeat. The frustration had won. Poseidon simply did not know how to be helpful, since his concept of being a kind immortal seemed definitely, crudely different from ours.

"No, and for the last time, I am not hungry," Hades' voice strained, teeth clenched tight. "Don't make me say it again, brother."

Somewhere behind the door, my daughter screamed.

The sound made my blood run cold, fear chilling in my veins - and it was enough to make Hades curl into himself, shaking so violently that I could feel the tremor along the floor tiles. His knuckles were bone white as his fingers dug into his palm, angry tears spilling over his eyes.

It had been nearly three hours since we got here, Apollo's warning giving me ample time to arrive just as my brother crumpled onto the floor. The very sight of him motionless - unmoving, unflinching on that cold marble sent shivers down my spine. And when - when that light went out of his eyes, and that... that festering wound spread that poison into his veins. The horror on Persephone's face, the horror in her eyes - even as my dying brother locked up the Gates taking his last breaths, the horror of it all... I was not going to be able to sleep for a while to come. Not with those images imprinted into my brain.

As she placed her hands on his chest. My sweet, innocent child. My poor, fragile child. The quiet calm of her as she poured her heart and soul and spirit into him - even as the life inside of her pulled the opposite way.

She knew the cost.

Knew the cost of opening those doors. Knew that he had trusted her to make the right choice. Knew that it would end in pain - one way or the other. Knew it all, and chose to make the hard choice. The choice of a Queen.

And I had watched in horror as she pulled back the brother I loved even when she did not have enough. Enough of what it took to resurrect an immortal. Enough of what life force answered to her, danced to her orders. More, too much more than what the life inside of her needed to survive. She gave it to him - all of it. All of her love. Without even realising the cost. The sheer cost.

And if - if she did - if she lost the child...

I did not know what I would do. I did not know what Hades would do. All I knew was that I was going to give Demeter such a bone wracking, soul ending punishment that she could leave Olympus forever for all I cared.

I had my wife, Hera brought in even as they carried my poor child off the floor - Hades sobbing with her in his arms as she gasped, twitching, her back arching, her very form paling away into a shadow of what it was.

As if she were a fish, flopping about on the sand - straining to breathe.

As if the light glowing in her had been burning too bright, too long. She was - she was clutching at something none of us could see even as my brother begged her to keep from drifting off. And I could see the pain in her eyes as she struggled to refill her powers like a dying flower.

And her hair... her beautiful, beautiful hair.

I still remembered when she had been a child, when Hera sometimes paid them both a visit in that cottage of theirs. When she'd skip about in the Olympus gardens with roses tucked into her dark tresses, flowers lost in a waterfall of midnight.

And now, the only thing I could see in my brain, over and over, was this: the hem of her robes, wet with crimson as they dragged a bloody trail across the shimmering floor. The lifeless limp of her neck. The brittle ends of her hair, bleached of color.

They'd shut the door, Hera and Hecate - kicked out a half screaming, half sobbing Hades who had to be hauled back by Poseidon and me. It had not been enough. And even when we got him to back off - if it wasn't bad enough already, they called Apollo in to help with the healing. I had had to grip him tight, my grasp iron, wincing as he cursed and cursed and cursed.

"I'm sorry, Hades, but I need Apollo to help him do my job. You can decide if your vengeance against him is greater than the life of your child," Hera murmured quietly. He'd waited this long to trick Demeter, had fuelled her taste for fury while millions starved. And even then, he'd made an honest effort of warning me. Even if it caused this chaos that set everything into motion. There was no way to forgive him, no way to punish him either - so I simply gave him a curt nod as Hecate beckoned him into Persephone's chambers. Even if her face was full of nothing but undisguised hatred. But she let him in. And to his credit, he didn't gloat even once. I'd deal with him later.

Hades had collapsed against the wall by then. Face blank, eyes dull. Even the tears had stopped, although I supposed locking Demeter into a cell awaiting trial had done that.

I supposed he was spending the time thinking of all those different ways to torture her. Ways to make her hurt, to make her pay for what she did to his wife in the name of love. A level of obsession gone too far.

I looked at him again. Even that manic, cunning gleam, that calculating cold of his eyes was gone. Only tears swam in their depths, their gaze darting every now and then to the door behind which they were working on her.

"Hades," I quietly touched his shoulder, feeling it shake and shudder. He flinched. "Let me look at that wound."

"I'm fine."

Poseidon shot me a warning glare, a quiet shake of his head. Don't provoke him, not now. Heaven knows it'll be the end of us.

The door slammed open behind us.

"Is she awake? Is she alright? Can I see her?" He was first on his feet, nearly tripping over with worry, balance almost lost from the ordeal even as I braced a hand on his shoulder.

Hera was out, and a tiny bundle covered in white muslin was in her arms.

Hades stopped at once, his eyes drowning in horror as he looked at her face.

"What - what is that?"

Her gaze was a sea of sorrow.

My brother had gone paler than snow. Through the half open door, Hecate looked like she was going to throw up again. My wife met my eyes once, shaking slightly - and I had to steady myself on the staircase as realisation dawned on me.

No.

"H - Hera - what is... what happened?" he stuttered, words breaking apart like breadcrumbs.

"She was..." her voice trailed off, eyes faintly gleaming with tears. "I'm so sorry, Hades. Hecate - she thought Persephone was having a girl, but... she wasn't."

"Hera, please," he croaked.

"Twins. She had twins. Was. Was having twins. A boy and a girl. But the boy was - he was too small. Too... too weak," she shuddered, and goosebumps rose on my skin. "We tried our best to keep them both from slipping away - but - what she did was too massive, too enormous to keep those lives nourished. And - and," her words broke further apart, "I'm so sorry. The boy did not survive."

∞