The wind on the Shadow Haven's terrace was soft that morning, whispering through the silver-leafed vines that draped along the porch columns. Dawn light spilled faintly across the courtyard, washing the black marble floors in pale gold. The air smelled of rain—fresh, cooling, and quiet.
Hazel stood at the railing, her hair loose and silver strands glinting beneath the filtered sunlight. For the first time in two days, she could breathe without her chest tightening. Her body was still recovering, her skin pale but warm again. She took a deep breath, the faint ache behind her ribs a reminder of how close she'd been to the edge.
And yet, peace did not come easily.
Her heart still throbbed with confusion. She remembered the storm, the darkness closing in, the heat burning through her blood until she thought she might catch fire. And then Ares—his cold skin pressed against hers, the world slipping away while she drifted somewhere between pain and fevered dreams.
Hazel's hands tightened against the railing. She didn't regret it, but she could feel Hades' silence everywhere. He hadn't spoken much since she woke. He'd stayed beside her, brushed a strand of hair from her face, and told her she was safe—but something had changed in his eyes.
Possessiveness. Restraint. Fury he would never show her.
"Hazel."
She turned at the sound of her name. Ares stood a few steps away, his usual charm dimmed, his expression gentle but edged with something that looked dangerously close to longing. He was dressed in a dark open-collared tunic, the faint glint of a ruby pendant around his neck.
"Ares," she said softly. "You shouldn't be here."
"I know." His voice was low, almost tentative. "But you've been locked away for two days. Hades has been… protective."
She gave a weak smile. "That's one way to put it."
He took a slow step closer, his crimson eyes searching her face. "How are you feeling?"
"Better," she said truthfully. "Weak, but… better. Thank you, Ares. I owe you my life."
He shook his head. "No. You owe me nothing."
Hazel looked down, a strand of her hair slipping over her shoulder. "Had it not been for you, I might've—"
"Don't say that," he interrupted gently, his hand twitching slightly, as if he wanted to reach out but didn't dare. "I'd do it again without thinking."
Hazel exhaled. "You shouldn't have had to."
For a moment, silence stretched between them, filled only by the rustling of vines and the hum of faraway thunder.
Then Ares spoke again, his voice quieter. "I know you don't like me."
Hazel blinked. "That's not true."
He laughed faintly, bitterly. "You avoid me. You can't meet my eyes for long. You barely speak when I'm around."
"That's because…" Hazel hesitated, her gaze falling to the ground. "Because it's easier."
Ares' voice hardened with emotion. "Easier to pretend there's nothing between us?"
"There isn't," she whispered.
He took another step forward, the air between them tightening. "You can't lie to me, Hazel. I feel it every time you look at me. You care, even if you're too loyal to admit it."
Her heart stuttered painfully.
"Ares, I'm married," she said, forcing steadiness into her tone. "To your brother."
He gave a humorless laugh. "A political marriage. You were sold to him, Hazel. Your hand in exchange for your kingdom's protection. You didn't choose him."
Her jaw tightened. "Maybe not at first. But I stayed. That was my choice."
"And do you love him?"
The question froze her.
Hazel opened her mouth, but no words came. What was love to someone like her—a woman living another's life, torn between gratitude and fear? Between a husband who both protected and terrified her, and a man who made her feel seen in her most fragile moments?
Ares took her silence as answer enough. His shoulders slumped.
"I'm sorry," he murmured. "That was cruel of me."
"No," Hazel said quietly. "It was honest."
He smiled sadly, a flicker of pain in his eyes. "Then allow me one more truth."
Hazel looked up at him.
"I love you," he said, simply. "And I don't care about the consequences. I know you can't return it—but I'll never stop."
The wind caught in her hair. For a second, she couldn't breathe.
"Ares…"
He took her hand gently, his touch cold but careful. "You don't have to say anything. Just—know it's real. Even if it destroys me."
She swallowed hard, tears stinging her eyes. "You shouldn't love me."
"I can't help it."
Hazel's voice broke. "I like you, Ares. I do. But I can't—"
"Because of him."
"Because I gave him my word," she whispered. "And because somewhere along the way, I think he gave me his heart, too. Even if he'll never admit it."
Ares dropped her hand, the air thick with unspoken ache. He turned away, looking out at the silver fields beyond the walls. "Then I envy him," he said softly. "And I pity you both."
Hazel blinked back tears. "I'm sorry."
He shook his head. "Don't be. I'd rather be cursed with loving you than forget what it feels like to want something pure."
Her throat tightened. "Ares, please—"
But he only gave her a faint, broken smile. "If fate ever gives you a way out, Hazel, promise me you'll take it. Even if it's not me waiting on the other side."
She didn't know how to answer. So she simply turned and walked away, her heart heavy, her mind spinning with guilt and longing.
Neither of them noticed the faint ripple of power above.
High in the air, Hades hovered silently, cloaked in shadows. His eyes glowed faintly beneath his hood, the muscles in his jaw clenched as he listened. Every word had cut through him like a blade.
Ares' confession. Hazel's hesitant answers. Her apology.
He had always known there was tension between them—Ares' fondness for her had been no secret—but hearing it spoken aloud… that was something else entirely.
For the first time in a long while, Hades felt human.
He floated there in stillness, eyes fixed on the woman who had managed to stir both wrath and tenderness within him. A thousand thoughts collided in his head.
Their marriage—arranged, political, a contract born from necessity.
Her loyalty—unwavering, despite everything.
His own failure to tell her the truth—that somewhere along the line, she'd stopped being a bargain and had become his reason.
Would she ever truly choose him if she had a choice? Or would she run—to the light, to freedom, to someone like Ares who could love her without the weight of a crown or prophecy?
The wind howled softly around him.
He could destroy kingdoms with a single command, yet in that moment, he felt powerless. The fear that she might slip from his grasp settled like poison in his chest.
But one thing was certain.
He would not let her go.
She wasn't a possession. She wasn't a pawn. But she was his—his queen, his flame, his undoing.
And when all this was over, when the dust of war and prophecy settled and every threat to her life had been burned to ash…
He would marry her again.
Not as the King of the Underworld, and not as part of an alliance.
But as a man who had fallen irrevocably, painfully, hopelessly in love.
And this time, he would make sure the whole world bore witness.
Hades' eyes softened, the fury beneath them fading into quiet determination.
He descended from the shadows, unseen, and whispered to the empty air—
"You are not leaving me, Hazel. Not now. Not ever."
The wind seemed to answer him, carrying the faint echo of her voice from below—gentle, uncertain, and achingly real.
And for the first time in centuries, the King of the Underworld prayed—not to the gods, not to fate, but to her.
That when he finally asked her to stay… she would choose him on her own.
.
.
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Hazel's POV
The air grew strangely still as Hazel reached the doorway leading back into the quiet corridors of the Shadow-Haven palace. Something made her stop.
Her fingers brushed against her chest—her heart was beating fast, too fast. A sudden warmth bloomed beneath her skin, a pulse she couldn't explain. She turned slightly, her eyes scanning the balcony where Ares had stood only moments ago. The porch was empty now, quiet except for the sound of the breeze whispering through the vines.
And yet… she felt it.
That presence. That familiar pull that seemed to tether itself to her very soul whenever he was near.
Hades.
Her breath caught. For a heartbeat, she thought she saw a shadow move high above, a ripple across the morning light—dark and almost invisible. The air thickened around her, heavy with something unspoken, as if the world itself held its breath.
Her hand curled at her side. "Hades…?" she whispered, though no one answered.
The faint hum faded as quickly as it had come, leaving her alone with the soft rustle of her gown and the echo of her heartbeat. But she knew what she felt.
He had been there. Watching. Listening.
Hazel exhaled slowly, her chest tight. She didn't know what frightened her more—the idea that he had heard everything… or that he might have seen the part of her that still didn't fully understand what she felt for him.
When she finally walked back inside, she paused once more and glanced over her shoulder.
The porch stood silent beneath the dawn, but the vines trembled gently, as though touched by unseen hands.
Somewhere beyond sight, Hades lingered in the distance—unmoving, unreadable—his vow lingering in the air between them like smoke and shadow.
—"Not now. Not ever."
And though she couldn't hear the words, Hazel's heart answered anyway—an instinctive whisper she didn't fully understand.
—"Then make me want to stay."