#sephelle

HADES:

Hades rode on Haku’s back, clutching the fine aquamarine hair that flowed down the dragon’s spine, and he felt like he was swimming as they twirled through the sky, away from the inn, the smoke, the fire. The roaring of the wind filled him up from head to toe. He looked straight ahead.

Hades would never look back.

If he reflected, he would hear Haku’s voice, old and ancient as it washed through him.

What happened? What did you do? How did you do that? What do we do now?

And if he reflected, he would think about the moment of impact: the little crunch of Yubaba’s broken trachea under his fingers.

And if he reflected, he’d realize that in minutes, he’d see his sister, who he had only seen in what felt like a dream: the 50s, that person who he had been—different.

And he would think about Belle too, and the color and shape of her eyes, when he saw her.

He looked straight ahead and all these different thoughts he crumbled into nothing. The only thing he let himself think about was one, concrete word: Freedom. The wind sang with it. Haku danced through the air with it, his joy quiet and easy to digest alongside Hades’ own. He half-expected all this to evaporate underneath him, but he did’t let himself indulge the paranoia either. That would also be like looking back.

He looked ahead, at freedom, at tomorrow, toward his Gates, and his Destiny, capital-mother-fucking-D.

They landed with barely a thump in the back of the garden and Hades swung his leg over Haku’s side. He sank a little into the wet earth. One of his hands stayed gripping Haku’s mane, as he looked at the outline of Belle’s house, which looked smaller than he remembered. The moon above was a half-moon; Persephone’s garden in front of him was half-illuminated. But he knew it was hers, because it held all her favourite flowers, and they gleamed with the night dew as though the stars had kissed them.

And then the ghosts came back.

He had forgotten about the ghosts, because they could not penetrate Yubaba’s inn; she’d made sure of that. It had festered with such evil magic anyway, only the most ghoulish of spectre would have tried to wiggle their way in, and they would not be searching for him, who was a walking cage—tainted with that same magic and thus impenetrable. Now he felt Limbo shimmer a moment away. He felt the heartbeat of the Underworld under his feet, in his very soles.

And Hades felt his power amped the fuck up.

Look who it is.

The King doth returns—a ghost cackled.

“You better fucking believe it,” said Hades as he smirked, and then a light turned on in the house, as though the house had winked at him.

And he knew it was Persephone’s bedroom, and Persephone knew he was home. She, too, felt the Other Worlds quake for him.

He could go in now—unlock the door with his ghost hands and turn on all the lights, or maybe just go into the kitchen and put on the tea for his sister and for Belle, pretend like nothing had changed since the five months he’d been here. But he, for some reason, could not move his feet. Or he could—just felt reluctant to. His fingers curled in Haku’s mane. He didn’t know the name for the feeling that was pumping through him now, the one akin to looking at a ledge and feeling the urge to jump. He knew he shouldn’t jump. But he wanted to.

In the end, it didn’t matter if Hades moved or didn’t move, because it wasn’t even a minute later after the light that the door flung open and Persephone came into view. She was half in moonlight too. She made a choking noise and covered her mouth and then she began to sink to the ground.

And finally, Hades could move.

He let go of Haku’s mane and went straight to her. He was kneeling by her side at once, knees wet against the earth as he clutched at her shoulders. She was sobbing, pressing her hands against his chest, and Hades felt his heart for the first time all night—all—for five months. Even when the spell broke, his heart had whispered to him then. Now it screamed. It was running full speed toward Seph.

He pulled her close to her and clutched her tight. His baby sister. His Persephone. His one and only.

“You’re free, you’re free,” she wept. “How? How did you? Hades.”

Hades’ hand cupped the back of her head and he kissed her temple and closed his eyes.

When Belle came out, he heard her footsteps and the feeling of—jumping—returned to him.

It scared him enough that he kept his eyes closed for a few more seconds, gripping at his sister’s hair like it could root him to the ground. But he could hear Belle’s soft breaths, the way that they quickened, and all he had were memories of her, and the sad-eyed, pitiful version of her when she’d come to him in the inn, always with questions in her eyes he could never answer. And part of him wanted to smash those images to the ground and see her the way he once had—the girl curled up on the other end of couch. The one who was never scared of him.

Hades opened his eyes and looked at her over the top of Seph’s head. Their eyes met and he was glad Seph was between them. It made it easy to stop whatever was happening in his chest, to transform all of it into a smirk, crafted for Belle especially.

“Miss me?” he said to her.  

BELLE:

Belle’s sleep schedule was a disaster, as was most of her life at this point in time. The only good thing was she’d gotten really quite good at ignoring the disaster. It was like a part of her brain had shattered, had had a bomb dropped on it, it was ugly and broken and full of painful things on which to cut herself. But, she had hung up a sheet—locked it away, and it could not harm her that way.

Of course, the spell had knocked it back down—had healed her up a bit, only to make the rubble the next time around that much worse. It felt more broken, more cracked and painful.

The little bit of hope in her heart, that little flame she kept alive that Howl and Mel would be able to do something, that life would soon return to normal and she would feel—less attacked by her own head, it dwindled every day. It became exhausting to try and keep it alive; to keep it from the winds that whipped around her and the water that she wanted to pool in her head to wash out all the pain. It was a good thing the flame was housed in her heart. She could shut her brain off, turn its volume low, and still keep the feeling in her heart. That little bit of hope.

She thought about it often, when she was alone, which was also often—but she thought about it most in those quiet hours, the ones she usually spent with Hades. Belle hadn’t been able to sleep properly since he’d left, half afraid that someone would come to steal Persephone away too and half afraid that Persephone would steal herself away in the night.

Belle was thinking about that little flame, as she tossed and turned, trying to sleep. She’d never had trouble sleeping before. Well, after Christmas, of course, what with the nightmares and such. But that had only lasted a week or so and after New Year’s, they hadn’t been as bad. And after New Year’s she began staying up later anyways, and her sleep schedule had changed. It had changed so easily. Now, she had no reason to stay up until midnight. She just did. And she thought about her little flame of hope and the person it was for as she tried to drift off to sleep.

She’d be glad she couldn’t sleep this night, though, because otherwise she wouldn’t have heard Persephone’s door creak open or see the light flood, golden, under her door, and she wouldn’t have heard Persephone’s heavy steps careening down the staircase and she wouldn’t have heard the back door open downstairs.

Her heart flipped and she immediately was pushing her covers off of her and, wide-awake, springing out of bed. She went to her window, which overlooked the garden and the forest beyond, and she saw Haku in the warm light that flooded out from the back door—and there, with his hand in the dragon’s mane, was Hades.

Her heart flipped again and Belle turned on her heel, hair flinging wildly about her shoulders as she snagged her cardigan off the end of the bed and yanked her door open. She flew down the stairs, heart lodged in her throat and only slowed her steps when she heard Persephone’s sobs echo back to her. She hesitated for a brief moment, in the mudroom that led out to the garden. There were only feet between her and the Acheron siblings and she wondered if she should turn around—if she should leave them to their reunion.

Her heart urged her forwards and she couldn’t ignore it—it was beating far too loudly. She came to the doorway and stood there, perched slightly forwards as she felt that little flame in her chest unfurl, the hope with its wings as it spread into every part of her. Her cold toes curled over the wood floor and her arms came around her own chest. Part of her wanted to run to Hades, to throw her arms around his neck—just like she had wanted when she’d seen him at the Inn for the first time. But, just like then there was something holding her back, or, someone—Persephone already there, in her brother’s arms. Where she should be.

Belle felt tears in her throat and they shimmered in her eyes, though she had gotten very good at not letting them fall.

You’re not allowed to cry.

She twisted one of her hands into the fabric of her sweater and then, Hades looked up at her over Persephone. He smirked—and it looked like him. Hades hadn’t looked like himself in months. Every time she’d visited him, she was reminded of just how not him he’d been. There were very seldom smirks or him teasing her by pulling her things away from her. There was no fire. She saw it dancing in his eyes now and she couldn’t help but beam at him in return, a smile so big it hurt her cheeks.

It lasted only for a moment before she bit at her lip and tapered it down, shrugging and leaning against the door frame.

“You wish,” she said, though her voice was wet and her eyes were still shimmering. She sniffed and looked down, cheeks still red, smile still firmly in place.  

PERSEPHONE AND HADES: Persephone could feel Hades’ heart beating boldly in his chest, its certain and heavy beat marching directly toward her. She clung to his shirt and cried into it too, and she cried and she cried until she wasn’t crying anymore because of her own feelings. The tears that fell, with each heavy sob that moved through her throat, were not hers.

They belonged to Hades.

Hades didn’t cry.

When she realized this, that she was crying for him, it felt like someone had just slammed a door inside her. She started in his arms and pulled away fast so she could stare at Hades with her owl eyes red-rimmed and swimming with the tears he was putting inside her. She’d expected to see him mirroring her: his blue eyes a thousand different shades of blue as he sobbed, too. But he was clear-eyed. He smiled at her. He touched her cheek and pressed his lips to her forehead, lips the same shape as she remembered, smooth and gentle.

“H-hades—“

“I’m alright now,” he murmured against her skin and Persephone knew that he was lying. She burst into another round of tears and she couldn’t say one way or another, if they were Hades’ tears or her own. She wept for the both of them and returned her face to his chest, in hopes of keeping the cracked pieces of her brother’s heart together.

It took a long time for her to stop crying.

When she did, it was because she’d emptied herself and so had Hades. He was quiet underneath her hands. His heart still beat the same, just as strong, just as steady. But when she looked up at him, she could not read his eyes the way she used to be able to.

He rose and gently lifted her to her feet too.

“What’s wrong?” she asked him in her broken voice.

“Nothing anymore,” he lied to her with a smile. He looked away then—back to Belle by the door, who had stood there still through it all. Persephone felt a flash of guilt; she’d forgotten Belle was there. She had been selfish.

Because she knew, the same way she knew that Hades was in pieces before her, that Hades and Belle loved each other.

She took a step to the side to clear a path for them.

But she felt Hades’ hand rest gently on the back of her head and he didn’t take any steps toward her. “You should sleep, Seph. And so should you,” he said toward Belle.  

Her heart seized inside her and she forgot Belle again. “N—no, not—” she gripped at his arm. “I—I won’t be able to.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Hades said. “It’s over.”

“Wh—what happened?” she blurted next, before Belle could. But she knew. There was only one way that Hades was here with them now.

“I won,” he said simply. “Now let’s stop standing in the garden,” his voice clipped—patience thinner. “I’m fine.”

BELLE:

Belle felt like an intruder again as she sat there and listened to Persephone cry.

She almost wanted to turn and go back into the house, because she was intruding on this moment—brother and sister, family, reunited. Because she wasn’t family and she didn’t feel like crying. In fact, she felt like shouting for joy and bouncing on her toes and—she let the thought trail off into silence, feeling guilty for even thinking it with the sounds of Persephone’s sobs the only thing in the air besides Haku’s deep breathing.

And she wasn’t a fool. She knew that things would not be easy as they were (if they had ever been easy.) She remembered the earring and the way the room Hades had been in smelt so foul to her sensitive bird nose and the dead look in Hades eyes, crystal clear without a bit of fire. How’d she’d lain on his chest for near an hour in silence and listened to him breath and almost thought him dead anyways.

She knew.

It didn’t stop her from feeling that unbridled joy bouncing around in her chest. The feeling kept her feet selfishly planted on the doorjamb, toes curled over the edge. Because half of her thought she was dreaming—complete with the dragon and the fire in Hades’ eyes, even if it simmered low. But there was a slight chill to the air that gave Belle goosebumps and she just knew in her heart it was real.

So, she kept standing there, biting at her lips and trying not to smile, until Persephone’s sobs trailed off and she sniffled and then Hades stood and so did Persephone and Hades turned and looked right at her.

Belle felt her stomach twist and she knew he was lying, she could see it in his eyes, but she didn’t say anything. She wanted to let him have his triumph. Because that was what this felt like—a triumph. And for once, she didn’t have any questions, because, for once, she didn’t care how it had happened, just that it did, and Hades was back and he was in one piece.

He told her to sleep and Belle simply raised an eyebrow at him. Of course she wasn’t going to sleep—hadn’t been asleep, wasn’t going to sleep anytime soon. And she didn’t even need to argue with him for him to know that.

Hades’ voice got taut and Belle glanced at Persephone, feeling her heart pinch tightly. She knew she would have questions just like that soon, but right now she just felt—the shock of it all, like a ticking time bomb in her chest that hadn’t exploded yet.

The siblings moved towards her and suddenly, Belle felt a wiggle of doubt and uncomfortableness move through her chest. She didn’t know what that was about, but she slipped away from the door and farther into the house, turning her back on them to hide the blush on her cheeks. She was so happy that Hades was home it burning in her chest—so why didn’t she want to be near him.

Tucking a piece of hair behind her ear she turned to glance over her shoulder as she moved through the entryway back into the main part of the house. “I-I’ll put the kettle on,” she muttered quietly, moving off towards the kitchen to do just that, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear as she did.