THE DAWN THAT FOLLOWED WAS MISERABLE AND GREY.

We buried the remains under the ancient silver oak.

It had been but a few hours since it happened.

Since all of it happened.

Since my mother destroyed my life. Since she destroyed my child. Since she wrecked my home, killed my husband - made me watch as the life bled out of his eyes.

I couldn't even remember what happened next. It was nothing but a blur. Couldn't remember, as Hecate said - the bloodcurling scream that ripped from my throat as death claimed its master. Couldn't remember my palms on the fading heat of his chest. Couldn't remember breathing that life back into him. The strain of it, pulling out more and more and more of that life giving essence... the grief in me desperate to not give up. The floor slipping from under my feet as he blinked, his eyes widening - the jolt of steady heartbeat hammering again under his ribs.

I could not remember anything with the lightheadedness swirling in my skull.

But I remembered this - the blood between my legs, hungry and wet and warm, the punishing hand inside of me struggling to keep that life alive. The twitching, writhing, the twisting of my body like it was a living thing, something with a mind of its own. The struggle - the painful, heartbreaking struggle to keep that soul growing in me alive... pulling it back frantically, screaming at it to stay.

And I remembered what it felt like to lose that grip, to feel that helpless life float away.

I remembered.

And I would never forget.

I had tried again, desperate with grief, mad with it - tried again when that consciousness jolted me awake. Tried to bring it back. Bring my child back. Bring my boy back.

Hecate had had to hold me in a gentle grip, wincing even as she did so. Let him go, my child. Let him go. Because what it had taken to bring Hades back had drained my body of far too much. Left it too weak.

Not enough to bring my dead child back. Not without losing my other one.

He had wept at my side the whole night, into the early hours of the morning. His fingers clutched mine with desperate urgency, even as hot, fast tears dripped down my cheeks. I didn't even try to stop them. That night. I would never forget that nightmare.

She stole the life of my child.

She paid the cost of her obsessive revenge with the blood of my offspring.

And I would never, never, ever forget that.

"Perse? Persephone?"

And Hades was peering into my face, deep bruises under his red, swollen eyes. Nearly black shadows in their hollows. He had aged a century in the last few hours - his face was now a dead, lifeless thing -

"Perse - Perse, you're scaring me," his voice was breaking, even as my eyes stared mindlessly into oblivion, lost somewhere I didn't know. I was in this world, and I wasn't. I was here, and I was far away. Far away, where I saw a dark haired man and his bride of spring frolicking in an orchard with two toddlers climbing in their laps.

And then the tears were back, hot against my fevered body - head spinning again as he took hold of my shaking arm. I couldn't think. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't remember. I could feel my palm on my belly, trying to feel, to call out to that sole, remaining life left alive - I was going to faint again, and I was going to hit that jagged rock under the tree, and I was going to lose my other child, and I was going to live the rest of my life weeping for the loss of my unborn children, for the loss of the love, the life that could have been-

"Perse, love - you need to sit down... please. Please," Hera's voice was washing over my incoherent thoughts, and then my father had conjured a chair out of some hell, Thanatos bringing it over as someone helped me sit.

I plopped down on a nearby rock instead, still shaking.

My body felt hot all over. Felt warm, like a stove, even as goosebumps erupted on my skin with the breeze. I felt frail, like a glass thing that could break with the slightest push. Break into a million pieces with the next gust of wind that was going to topple me over into the mud.

"Hurry up, Hecate. I think she's about to faint again."

I wanted to scream.

I was - I was - I was going to scream.

"I need - I need to try again," words formed from my helpless lips, a near groan. Even speaking was too much of an effort, my voice rasping along a dry, swollen throat fraught from grieving. "I need to try again. I need to - please."

There were tears in his eyes again as he held me gently by the arms, helpless against my protests. The look on his face tore my heart.

"Let me try again. I can bring - I can bring my baby back..."

"Sweet girl, no," Hera breathed softly, looping an arm around my shoulder. Her usually bright eyes were dark with shadows under them.

I tried. I really did.

But they refused. They refused to let me.

"You don't have the strength," Hecate's gaze was forlorn, hopeless. "You don't have the strength, Persephone. Your child - your baby," her voice cracked, "your baby needs you."

Your living baby needs you.

The tiny bundle of fabric lay still in my arms, a motionless swaddle of white cotton. A month old. Barely a month old. And I had not had the courage to - to -

"Rhadamanthys."

The third judge of the Underworld stepped forward.

"My Lord Hades."

My husband turned to me, sorrow gleaming in his eyes. Gently, he took my palm, fingers softly wrapping mine. His hand felt so cold. He felt so cold.

"Perse," he whispered softly. "Rhadamanthys lives in Elysium, the paradise of our Kingdom."

My eyes widened, hand shaking harder. No. No. I would not - could not part so soon. My lips moved, trying to say something, to stop him from taking my child from me so soon.

"As per your new rules, newborn spirits go to deserving shades in Elysium, my Queen," Thanatos whispered. "To live... live a life that was taken unfairly from them-"

"Our child - our child will live in comfort, Perse," Hades continued. His voice broke again, catching in his throat. "If... if you wanted to," he gulped. "Perse," he bit back, trying to keep himself together. "Perse."

I clutched the bundle harder, fingers gripping the cotton so hard that it threatened to tear.

"Perse," Hades dropped to his knees, his face white. Fear gripped me like a vice as I turned away, guilt and shame and grief blurring through the tears in my eyes. My baby. My tiny little boy. "Look at me," he whispered, fingers gently stroking my warm, wet cheek.

My heart - my heart - he was going to take a piece of my heart from me, rip it off from my chest, give him to another person-

"He will be loved. He will live. He will live a life, Perse. He will live a life," his voice was a near plea, almost begging, reverent.

"A dead life. He's... he's dead, Hades. Our baby - our baby is dead. Our baby is dead," another sob ripped from me, and then I collapsed onto myself, shoulders hunched, my tears mixing into the mud and dirt and earth of the forest, his hands gentle on my back. I remembered - remembered clutching him hard, refusing to let go, even as someone had to gently pry the swaddle of cotton from me, even as my howling, breaking sobs echoed in the air.

"Perse," he softly wiped a tear clinging to an eyelash. "Perse. My love. My life-" and then his arms were around me, shuddering as more hot tears dribbled down my chin, his touch the only thing keeping me upright - even as my body itched to throw itself onto the ground, beat my fists on it, and weep.

Hecate recited her hymns, her prayers, her chants, her voice unwavering, her tired green eyes dark against a pale, bloodless face. Over the words she spoke, her gaze would occasionally flick to me, guilt shining in them like a vehement, mournful monster.

I failed you, she seemed to say, the unsaid lines between the words she chanted. I failed you both.

"You did no such thing, Hecate."

Because I knew. Knew for a fact - that without her, without Hera, even without Apollo - there would be two graves here today, not one.

Hearing a father's sobs as he weeps for his dead, unborn son is not something someone should have to hear. Not now, not ever.

And yet, and yet - I had never imagined. Never imagined losing a child. All I could dream of, all I could think of - were two, young skinned, tender haired twins playing in the sunset, frolicking in the garden, toppling over each other in their parents' laps. My children. My children belonged in my arms - not in an iron box under the ground.

I held that memory in my head, that silk painted dream that would never come true. A slice of paradise. In a perfect world, a better world, a world where mothers didn't lose their children.

I wanted to bring him back - my son. I wanted to try again - to wait until my strength came back, to bring my dead child back. But I did not know how long that would be. If ever. And I would not let his spirit linger in the world, restless, wavering, lost - in search of peace in the time I took to regain my strength.

I would not let him suffer. Not like that.

Not after I had seen what harm an obsession of love could do. Not after I had witnessed, had experienced, had felt that loss in my bones, settling down to reside in them like a weight of lead. He would have his peace.

And I would give it to him.

Even if it killed me.

I nodded. Nodded to Hades, to Hecate, to Rhadamanthys, who bowed deeply, eyes moist. As they lowered that body into the ground. As we placed a single white rose on the dirt over his iron coffin, my tears watering the soil. As the third judge of the Underworld slowly lifted the shade - the shade of my unborn child - in his arms, and turned to take him home.

It had broken Hades. Had put him on his knees, shuddering, shaking, trying to take his breath in deep, deep gasps, eyes rimmed with red. Zeus bent over him, a hand on his shoulder, turning as I approached.

I wrapped a hand around him, letting my warmth seep into his frigid, shivering body. Wordlessly, I took his palm, pressing it right over my stomach, letting him feel. Feel his little girl grow inside me. Cursed be I if I let any god or mortal harm my daughter.

The rain poured around us as I held Hades to my chest and let him cry.