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Satisfied with their meager attempts at ministrations, the scions finally left her alone to rest. Emet-Selch watched as Persephone pushed herself back up in bed, taking an extra moment to massage her temples. Her physical injuries were healed and the additional light within had stabilized. Yet he could see that the shape of her essence showed evidence of its fracture & how, by sheer will, it had been very roughly reforged. If she let him, he could smooth over those aberrant seams. But how to get close enough?
“After a millenia of tedious work, subduing headaches became something of a specialty of mine,” said Emet-Selch as he materialized at the table in Persephone’s suite. He examined a grape from the patter left there for her before popping it into his mouth.
She groaned, sinking back down into the bed, a hand over her eyes to block out the light, “I am in no mood, Ascian.”
“Spurn a gesture made in good will? You wound me! And here I thought I had earned some modicum of your trust.” He sauntered over to her bedside and pulled up a chair. “Were it my aim to harm you… in this pathetic state, do you truly think you could stop me?” He chuckled.
Persephone drew her hand down her face, allowing for one eye to regard him. He sat forward, elbows on his knees, chin resting on interwoven fingers. His expression was akin to something saved for addressing a precocious child.
Part of her considered if death were preferable to the stabbing sensation behind her eyes before she said, “Relishing the sight of my suffering? Or are you going to “magick” away this splitting headache already?”
“Really, to think you lack such basic social graces. Has no one taught you the word, ‘please?’”
“Uhg. Please, Emet-Selch, go away.”
In a firm tone lacking all its previous playfulness, he said, “No. Try again.”
Finally relenting, Persephone said in a weary voice, “Please, Emet-Selch… just please.”
“Good enough.” Had her eyes been open then she might have noticed the genuine warmth in his smile.
He extended his arms above her. One gloved hand worked to gather aether while the other focused it into a tool Persephone could neither see nor feel. Relief came in a warm sensation that reminded her of the waters at Camp Bronze Lake. How long had it been since she soaked there beneath the stars?
He saw her form relax as she let out a small whimper of relief before drifting into a deep sleep. When dreaming and defenseless, her years of hardship melted away leaving behind something of the young girl she once was. On impulse he leaned forward but then halted himself. Instead he touched a finger to her lips. Shhh. This endearing version of her was now his secret to keep.
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When Persephone awoke she found both the pain and Emet-Selch had had vanished. Someone had left her a plate of fruit at her bedside. Famished, she picked at the tiny crystalline like berries that stained her lips and fingers red.
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She was the feast on his table. Unnoticed, Persephone watched as he devoured a person that was somehow her yet not her. This separate figure was splayed before him, garments undone, bare thighs over his shoulders, a breast flushed with color as it was massaged by his hand. Her breaths became pants in rhythm with his caresses. Her back arched. She shook as she crashed over the edge of pleasure, her hands running through the snowy white head of hair at her core.
She called out his name, “Hades!”
And Emet-Selch rose between her thighs, a lopsided smile of satisfaction on his face. Placing himself above her, primed to lose himself to her depths, he paused and put a finger to her lips. Shhh, he whispered playfully, though there was no music sweeter than the moans she made under his touch. She let that finger slip between her lips.
———
Persephone came back to her senses as the echo faded from her mind. The heat of it yet lingered elsewhere. She set down her plate and slipped under the covers. Feeling embarrassed and confused, she tried to make sense of what she’d just envisioned.