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The first thing Hazel felt was warmth. Not the suffocating heat of fire or battle, but something steadier, like a shield wrapped around her. When her eyes fluttered open, the familiar shadowed arches of the Citadel ceiling came into view. She lay in her chamber, the faint glow of enchanted lanterns dancing on the stone walls. Her body ached, but not as sharply as before.
"Don't move, my lady." Miriam's soft voice reached her first, followed by the gentle press of cool cloth against her forehead. Hazel blinked to see her maid kneeling beside her bed, eyes rimmed with exhaustion but steady with care. A basin of crimson-stained water sat nearby; she had been working tirelessly.
"You're safe now," Miriam whispered, dabbing Hazel's temple. "It's over."
Hazel swallowed, her throat dry. She opened her mouth to ask—but then she saw him.
Hades stood at the far side of the room, a towering shadow carved against the dim light. His armor was gone, replaced by dark robes, though faint streaks of ash still marred his hands and jaw. He had not moved since she woke, except to shift his stance slightly, arms crossed like a sentinel unwilling to yield. His crimson eyes never left her.
The silence stretched, heavy, almost unbearable.
Hazel finally broke it. "How… how long have you been standing there?"
"Since I brought you back." His voice was rougher than usual, low and edged with something unspoken. He didn't look away, not even for a moment.
Hazel's chest tightened. "You shouldn't—"
"Don't." His tone cut through the air, sharper than the steel of his sword. "Do not tell me where I should or shouldn't be, Hazel. Not after you walked straight into death."
Her lips trembled. Miriam looked down, pretending to busy herself with rinsing the cloth, giving them space.
Hazel sat up slowly, wincing at the ache in her ribs. "I… I didn't think you'd find me in time."
"You shouldn't have been there at all." His hands curled into fists at his sides, though his face remained unreadable stone. "If I had arrived even a heartbeat later…" He trailed off, his jaw tightening.
Hazel's throat burned with unshed tears. "Then how?" she asked softly. "How did you find me?"
For the first time since she woke, something shifted in Hades' gaze. The iron edge cracked, and beneath it was a raw honesty that startled her.
"The vow." His words were quiet, almost reluctant. "When you spoke those words before the altar—demon vows bind. I felt it, faint but unyielding. A tether. Wherever you are, if your life is threatened, I can feel the pull."
Her breath hitched. "So… even if I had tried to hide…"
"I would still find you." His eyes burned, softer now but no less intense. "That bond—whether you wanted it or not—makes you mine to protect. Do you understand?"
Hazel's heart pounded. The word mine should have angered her, but instead it curled in her chest like warmth, confusing and terrifying all at once. Tears slipped down her cheeks before she could stop them.
Hades' expression hardened again, as if the sight of her tears threatened to undo him. He stepped forward at last, crouching beside her bed. His hand hovered over hers, not daring to touch, but close enough that she felt the heat radiating from him.
"Why?" His voice was quieter now, rough with something raw. "Why must you always run toward danger? Do you want to get killed?"
Hazel couldn't answer—not with words. Her throat closed, her chest ached, and instead she leaned forward, pressing her lips against his.
For a moment, everything stopped.
The kiss was soft at first, trembling with fear and exhaustion, but beneath it was something deeper—relief, desperation, the unspoken truth that both had been holding back. Hazel's tears mingled with the warmth of his lips, and though Hades remained still for a heartbeat, the bond between them flared, undeniable.
When he finally responded, it wasn't with his usual controlled fire, but with something gentler, a surrender he rarely allowed himself. His hand came to the back of her neck, steadying her as if she might shatter.
Hazel felt his fury, his fear, and his need all tangled together. He was a king forged of shadows and flame, but in that kiss, she felt the man—the one who had nearly lost her, who had stood guard by her side all night because he could not bear to leave.
When they parted, her chest heaved with unsteady breath. She pressed her forehead against his, whispering, "I wasn't trying to die. I just… I didn't want to be helpless."
Hades' eyes closed briefly, his breath hot against her lips. "Then let me be the one to keep you safe. Even if you hate me for it."
Hazel's heart throbbed painfully. She didn't hate him. That was the problem.
From the corner, Miriam quietly rose, bowing her head. "I'll bring more water," she murmured, slipping from the room and leaving them alone.
The silence that followed was thick, filled not with distance but with something fragile—something neither of them dared name yet.
She let herself linger in the warmth of his arms, the tension of the last hours slowly easing. For the first time in days, she felt truly protected, the shadows of betrayal and danger tempered by the iron certainty of his vigilance.
Hades' hand lingered on hers, thumb brushing lightly across her knuckles. Neither spoke. Words were unnecessary; the intimacy of shared survival and unspoken understanding filled the room. Hazel's breathing slowed, her pulse finally calming. She could feel the bond between them, strong and unwavering, a tether of life and protection that neither storm nor rogue could sever.
The silence was comfortable, sacred even, until Miriam returned quietly with a small tray of water and healing herbs. She placed it carefully beside Hazel, bowing her head with a faint smile. "Rest, Your Highness. You've earned it."
Hazel offered her a weak smile in return. "Thank you, Miriam… for everything."
Miriam's eyes softened. "Always, my Queen."
Hades did not move from her side. He remained a silent guardian, an immovable presence, until Hazel finally closed her eyes and let sleep reclaim her, if only for a few precious hours.
---
Outside the safety of the chambers, however, the echoes of treachery had begun to ripple through the Citadel. Rumors of Gavriel and Velia's betrayal spread like wildfire among the Elite men and the council, and whispers reached Hades even before he returned to the strategy hall. The King moved with his usual deadly calm, summoning his closest generals and advisors.
The council awaited, uneasy, their respect for Hades mixed with the tension of knowing that betrayal had struck so close to home. Hades' gaze swept across the room like a blade, his fury restrained but palpable.
"Queen Hazel has reported," he began, voice low but cutting, "that the miners of Nxymoor never received the response I approved. Their grievances, the envoys, the concessions we sanctioned—interfered with. Gavriel and Velia sabotaged it."
A hush fell over the hall. The Elite generals exchanged glances, shock and outrage mirrored in their faces.
"Explain," Hades demanded, his hands curling at his sides.
One of the strategists, Darius, spoke carefully, "It appears Gavriel and Velia plotted to intercept the envoys. Their movements suggest they wished to incite further rebellion, possibly to destabilize your authority and undermine the Citadel from within."
Hades' eyes narrowed, crimson flames flickering at the edges. "And the attempt on Hazel?"
Murmurs ran through the council. "It seems she discovered something… they tried to lure her outside the Citadel walls," another advisor added, voice tight with unease.
Hades' fists clenched. His fury, barely restrained, radiated through the room like a storm about to break. "They thought to play with her life… my Queen's life. And for what? A petty coup? To destroy what I have built?"
"No… worse," Darius said carefully. "They planned to frame it, Your Majesty. Make it appear as though her death was an accident. Rogue demons were involved, recruited to finish what they could not."
The room was silent, the weight of betrayal settling on every shoulder. Hades' jaw tightened, and his eyes, normally unreadable, burned with raw, lethal intent.
"Prepare the Citadel," he finally said, his voice slicing through the tension. "Any trace of their influence must be eradicated. Guards on all key posts. And send word to Nxymoor: their grievances will be answered immediately. Queen Hazel's instructions must be followed to the letter, as if Gavriel and Velia had never existed."
A wave of relief passed through some of the council, but all knew better than to speak freely. Hades was not one to forgive easily, and the memory of how close Hazel had come to death would linger in every corner of the Citadel.
Even as the council dispersed to carry out his orders, Hades remained in the hall, his gaze distant yet calculating. The betrayal had been contained, but the ripple effect would take time to repair. And one thing was clear: Gavriel and Velia's names would never again find purchase in the Citadel's walls.
For Hazel, the Citadel had returned to a fragile safety. For Hades, the fires of vengeance and protection burned hotter than ever. And in the quiet moments between strategy and duty, he would not leave her side—not while the bond of that vow tethered their fates together, fierce and unbreakable.
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