“Hola mis amigas y mis amigos! Just wanted to pop on real quick and tell you about my cute new outfit! It’s the first one I’ve ever gotten to promote, so I’m super excited. The Brand is Nuevo Luna -- created by my good friend Luna! They are a nonbinary native Avalorian who are currently in school for fashion design. This fit was made just for me, but they have similar ones in their store. Their brand is launching next week with an official runway and I am going to [dialogue drown out by a loud noise in the distance]. Dios mio, what was that?! [Another loud rapid bang]. I have to go.”

“Hola, I am sorry that I haven’t gotten on in a while to do this. Thank you all so much for your support. I am overwhelmed with how many people were sharing my photos and stories here and on Twitter. It’s been super crazy, both the exposure I’m getting and just...everything with my family. Both things are taking a while to adjust to, but know that I am so grateful to all of you! I will try to check in more often, but know that my family is...mostly safe. My papa is still in Avalor, but everyone else has been moved. I don’t feel comfortable saying where right now. I’ll let you know soon. Oh! Also, this bracelet I’m wearing is by Ambitious Avalor and all proceeds go to supporting Avalorian refugees right now. I’ll put a link in my bio, but please consider donating! Besitos.”

“Hola mis amigas y mis amigos! I know this page has been a lot about Avalor, but I hope you’ll understand my pivoting. Before everything happened with the coup, I have been working on being a conscious fashion brand promoter. That is my current passion and something I have wanted to get back into, in order to help support my family. Don’t worry. Information about the ongoing situation in Avalor will still be on this blog, but it won’t be the only thing! Starting with this outfit. Isn’t it so cute?! I just love these earrings. The whole fit comes from Spell!, a Magick owned fashion brand in London. They’ve invited me to Paris Fashion Week to walk for them, which is amazing! I will keep you all updated the whole time. I have got to go pack! Besitos.” 

“Hola mis amigas y mis amigos. I hope you are all doing well. Today is a very special and sad day for Avalorians, now all over the world. It is the year anniversary of the coup. In memorial, I am parterning with Arte de Oportunidad. This brand manages different refugees, focusing on Magick countries and populations. Every t-shirt with the Avalorian flag will go to supporting Pachamama, which is a rebel group working in Avalor today to free it. Please donate if you are able. The shirts are super soft and comfortable. It would mean a lot to me. Keeping all Avalorians in my thoughts today. Besitos.”

HOUSE OF HADES

“Unngh!” You groan as you awake once more in the pool of blood, back in your father’s House. Defeated once more.

“Gosh, looks like you took a beating from some Inferno Bombers. Hey, why don’t you try avoiding them next time?” chuckled Danny, god of sleep, from where he sat at the entrance of the House.

“Thanks. I’ll remember that for next time,” you scoff.

You stalk through the house, looking for your mentor—who may have some actual good advice for you.

“Candace,” you call to the anxious housekeeper when you spot her. “Have you seen Belle?”

“Oh! Hello, Prince Thomas.” The housekeeper jumps, then gives a little bow. “Yes. I-I believe I saw her in the alcove not so long ago.”

You find her playing a game of chess with a few shades.

“Belle.”

“Ah. I see you failed again.”

You scowl at her and then sit down on top of the shade, which makes an indignant sound and leaves. “And to think, I had this for you.” You hold out a vial of ambrosia.

Belle’s eyebrows raise and she takes it from you. “Thank you.”

“Why can I not escape?”

“You need to power up your weapon. And ask your relatives for their help. They should be able to do more for  you than I can.”

You sigh, but nod. “Is there something else?”

Belle is giving you a very strange look.

“Has anyone on your journey asked about me?”

“Er, no. Should they have?”

Belle shakes her head, looking out into the darkness for a moment, before taking another swig of her ambrosia. “No. I suppose not.”

“Right, er. Thanks.”

You leave your spot, avoiding your father at his work.

“Boy.”

You stop in your tracks as you turn to look at your father, Hades.

“Where are you going?”

“I told you, Father. I am leaving. I want no part in this anymore.”

“Fine. Go back to your fruitless endeavor. There is no escape.”

You head once more back into the darkness…

FIRST RUN -- TARTARUS

Tartarus is dank and dark. Ghosts float every which way and your father’s minions are immediately alerted to your presence. You fight through them, swinging the great sword of Peleus as you go. It’s gold pommel flashes in the low light.

Up ahead, through a door—

There is a beacon sparkling silver. Etched upon its surface is a jagged stone wall.

“In the name of Hades.”

“Hello, Thomas.” Before you appears your aunt Elinor, goddess of the home and hearth. “Please accept this boon from me to aid you on your path. We are looking forward to meeting you properly,” she smiles and then vanishes.

You earned “Crazed Rage”, any damage you inflict is doubled.

“Thank you, Aunt Elinor.”

Through more doors, battles ensue. You take a few good hits, but you are feeling all right as you come upon the final door. Just before entering, another beacon appears.

There is a beacon shining bright and gold. Marked upon its token’s surface is a sun with curled rays like smoke.

“Olympus, I accept this message!” You call.

And then, Simba, god of the sky, appears with a hearty chuckle. “Tom! Nephew. I heard you were trying to make a break for it in order to join us up here on the clouds. I guess I could help you out. Join us soon, eh? It’ll be good for your complexion.”

You earned “Simba’s Aid”, this call blinds enemies for up to ten seconds when fully charged.

“Excellent.”

Through the door, there is a woman, hovering with large, dark pink wings stretched out behind her.

“Hello, Thomas,” Isabela, goddess of jealous rage, smiles beautifully at you. “You never returned my calls…”

And then, without warning—she attacks.

The fight was swift and brutal. Her wings cut fiercely. There is a struggle over your sword. You cannot see from the shadows she lays out before you. You are inexperienced, disoriented. She has the upperhand. She has fought a million times before. She is fury personified and you do not stand a chance. It does not matter that you are prince of darkness. Or a god more powerful than her. She has her rage on her side and you fall swiftly upon your own sword...

“Blood and Darkness!” You curse as you are sent back to your Father’s house.

SECOND RUN

This time, you are better prepared. Once again, you earn Simba’s Aid and battle through to the gates of Asphodel. Before you enter, Elinor’s boon once again appears before you. This time, however, in return, you give her ambrosia that you had found.

“For you, Aunt Elinor. To thank you for your help.”

“Thomas. How lovely, for me? You shouldn’t have. I do so wish you would hurry up. Your cousin once successfully escaped from the depths of Hades’ kingdom and I know that you can too. Please hurry, nephew, we are waiting for you.”

BOND FORGED

When you face off against Isabela, she is not alone. Her sisters: Mirabel, goddess of endless anger, and Luisa, goddess of vengeful destruction, are at her side. With the aid of Simba and Elinor, you beat the three sisters and continue onwards.

Asphodel is hot and full of igneous rocks, black and melting. The foul creatures there are skeletal and noxious. Battling them took much of your energy. Thankfully, just ahead: another boon. This time, in the form of a cow head, shining bright with long, curled horns.

“In the name of Hades!”

“Oh, hi, cuz,” Vixey, goddess of agriculture, her arms full of grain, says as she smiles at you. “So excited for you to make it up with us! Here is a little gift I hope will help you on your way!”

You earned “True Aim”, this boon allows whatever strike you make to land true and deal maximum damage.

“Thanks, uh, cuz.”

Through to the next monster you need to face.

“Well, well, well. Look who got this far.” Gem, god of lava and fire, sits on a throne of bones. “No matter, You won’t be getting through me.”

Again, the fight is swift and brutal.

The lava is hot, you cannot see from the sweat. The fire Gem casts in your direction is enough to melt mortal flesh. You smell the singe. Your feet are slow among the mud. Even though you cast Simba’s Aid and blind Gem, it does not last long enough. You are far too close to the demon’s outstretched hand and he grabs you around the throat.

He is right. You did not get through him.

Once more, you are sent to your father’s House…

THIRD RUN

In the house of Hades, before you continue on your next run, your sword begins to change. It’s long blade curves and contorts. The once smooth polish is now etched with intricate design. It grows in your hand, longer and heavier. Instead of silver, it is now the color of bone. Its pommel is ivory, intricately carved. The blade is now more of a scythe than anything you have ever seen before. But you have seen this before. You recognize it as the harpe of Perseus. Used to defeat Medusa, the gorgon.

Belle had said you needed to upgrade you blade and here it is.

With it at your side, and your family’s bountiful boons, you make it easily through Tartarus and Asphodel. Isabela you defeat in a single blow. Gem takes longer to vanquish, with his multiple respawning forms and the multiple lava pits that he creates along the ground, but you manage to make it to Elysium.

Despite the monstrous archers and possessed chariots that you face in Elysium, it is much more beautiful than you expected or remembered. You spend a little time exploring. Near a rushing waterfall, you believe you hear voices.

“I was a king once.”

Yes, someone is definitely talking, but to whom? You wander closer.

“She was so beautiful. I’ve never been able to replicate her likeness again.”

You round the corner and see a lost soul, a chisel in his hand. All around him is a graveyard of statues. Different parts—fingers and calves and clavicles, all lovingly crafted. There is a pair of lips. Half a face. You recognize it.

“Hey, what are you doing sculpting my mentor?” You say, approaching the spectre.

“Your mentor?” The spectre says in its confused, melancholy, spectre way. “No. This is my wife. She was taken from me. I thought I could craft another, but I cannot. I cannot.” The spectre falls to his knees and weeps. You back away slowly, unsure what to say.

“Here, take this. Take this and give it to her for me. If you know her, if you see her.”

“Oh, uh, alright. Er, you gonna be okay?”

“I must recreate her.” He does not appear to hear you. He goes back to his chisel, you hear the sculpting of marble as you leave the clearing with a haunted feeling in your chest.

You are close now. Only one level to go. Just before you enter, another token appears. This one is black as night. A star is etched on it with so many points it looks almost like nothing at all. How strange, you have never seen this sigil before…

Hesitantly: “Olympus, I accept this message!”  

“Hello, Prince of Darkness. Prince of Light. Prince Thomas.” The voice is not one voice but many, echoing throughout time. It is the goddess of Primordial Chaos, Evangeline. “I am here to offer my assistance if you do not mind falling on your sword. Give me one of your boons: Simba’s Aid, True Aim, or Crazed Rage – and gain the ability to push your enemies away.”

“Er, right. Okay. That’s a…fair trade.”

You sacrificed “True Aid.”

You gained “Chaotic Range”, which allows you to push away enemies when you land an attack.

Through to the gates of Elysium you go and into a stadium of cheering shades. They are chanting the name: Thistle, Champion of Athens.

“Huh. Thought the shades didn’t really get worked up about anything.”

“My good opponent, they love and adore me. Thistle, Champion of Athens, and my deer friend: the Swamp Stag.” They laugh heartily at their own joke.

“Right. Let’s get this over with.”

Thistle is a champion for a reason. He is cunning and has the power of the gods on his side as well. He strikes you with a wave from the sea goddess Attina’s strength and you stumble back in shock.

His stag has great antlers that slash and stab at you. Between the two of them, even you of swift-feet are outmatched. Yet, you push on. You have something more than glory you are fighting for.

For a moment, you think you are winning and then—

“There is no escape.”

In disgrace, you are sent back to your father’s house.  

FOURTH RUN

“Someone did ask about you,” you say as you approach Belle cautiously.

“Oh?”

“Toulouse the sculpture? Do you know him?”

Belle sighs and moves a piece on the chessboard. “Yes, he was my husband, once upon a time. Until he thought that he might create another like me and I left him. I died shortly after and we never reconciled.”

“He is trying to create your likeness still. He wishes you to know that he only wants to recreate you so that you may go back to him.”

Belle sighs again.

“He gave me a letter.” You hold it out to her.

“Oh?” She reads it quietly. You do not know what it says. “Excuse me. I must go.”

You must go too, you know. You must keep trying. Escape is near, you can taste it.

Through Tartarus, through Asphodel, through Elysium. Up and up through all of the bosses: Isabela, Gem, Thistle. In Asphodel, you see Belle upon a stone by the waterfall, sitting for Toulouse’s portrait.

With all your boons from your relatives: Simba, Elinor, Vixey, Evangeline, intact, you make it to the surface.

Only to find your father waiting for you.

“Why won’t you just let me go?” you curse him.

“We need you here. In my House.”

“Your House is corrupt and horrid. I want no part of it. Let’s end this.”

You blind him with Simba’s Aid. Your aim strikes true. Your crazed rage allows you to attack with more damage than you had thought possible. Through it all, you manage to bring your father to his knees. This is not the end. He cannot die. There will be retribution. But for now, you run—

You run and run until your lungs are burning and you feel faint.

“Thomas!”

You hear a chorus of voices calling you but you feel faint. You know this feeling.

“Blood and Darkness!” you curse as you feel yourself fall once more through the earth.

Levi fiddled with his cufflinks. Tom fiddled with his. Neither of them spoke. That was probably Tom’s fault. He had never been someone who said a lot of things. Even when Levi was little. And, unfortunately, Levi took after Tom in this way. It wasn’t such a bad thing, Tom thought, except for in moments like this, when both of them were at a loss. The emotion in the room far too big for either of them to really…be able to acknowledge.

Tom shifted a little. From one foot to another.

Levi looked up at him expectantly.

“I was just—coming to see how you were doing,” Tom said, finally. He cleared his throat, ran a hand through his graying hair. The single streak had spread through the rest, leaving most of it the color of ash. His wife said it looked distinguished. Tom tried not to care.  

Levi’s lips twitched in a small smile. “Yeah, I figured.”

He didn’t say how he was. Tom wasn’t sure if he should ask. Maybe that would make things worse. Maybe it meant that he was fine and, therefore, had nothing to say.

Instead, Tom glanced around the room. It was a small chapel room, off the side of the Cathedral. It was small and a bit drafty. Cold and damp. Not exactly the place for festivities, in Tom’s opinion. Maybe it was good, though, to take a moment in a cold, drafty space before meeting the person who made you warm on the other side of the ceremony.

There was no one else there. Levi’s groomsmen had flocked off somewhere. Perhaps to join the bridesmaids before the walk up the aisle. Though, then again, they were doing some modern thing where everyone walked in on their own. Tom didn’t understand that, but there were also boys with the bridesmaids and girls with the groomsmen, not to mention everyone just sitting wherever they wanted in the crowd, so, at some point, he’d just stopped paying attention to what was going on. It was all too strange for him.

He didn’t mind, really. His son was his son. He was going to do what he wanted. That was something that Tom had given him. At least, it was something that he had tried to give him. The ability to speak his mind. And he’d certainly done so. On many colorful occasions as a teenager, specifically. But, ach, Tom could never be that mad at him, considering he wanted him to be the kind of person who stood up for what he believed in. Even if that meant saying no to Tom or Annie.

“Mama came by earlier.”

Tom’s gaze moved back to his son’s face. “Oh?”

“Yeah. She was blubbering. Talking about how when I was just a baby and stuff.” Levi twisted his ear. It was a nervous habit he’d picked up from Tom. Whenever he did it, Tom had a moment of remembering that his son was part of him. It sounded silly, but after all this time, it still felt like a little miracle to him.

“You want me to do that?”

Levi released his ear and straightened up some. He snorted. “No. Not really. Unless you have something about that to say?”

Tom thought about it. It was a good question. Was there anything from when Levi had been a baby that would prepare him for this moment? Or something that Tom had thought about…that would give Levi some comfort?

“I think it’s pretty fekkin weird,” Tom gruffed out eventually.

Levi laughed. “Yeah. Yeah, I can imagine.”

“You used to be so small,” Tom said, before he could stop himself. He didn’t usually talk about things like this. Even saying it felt odd to him now, made his throat tight. It was such a simple, true statement. Once, Levi had been so small.

Once, he had fit along Tom’s forearm, his head in his hand. Once, he’d been small enough to fall asleep on Tom’s chest. Had been small enough to sit on his shoulders. Tom had, over the years, tried to remember the last time he had done these things, but it was impossible to know. Moments in your life, he had learned a long time ago, slipped away before you were ready all the time. Half the time, you didn’t even know they were slipping away because they were so normal. You thought they’d never be over. And they always ended. People grew up. Or they died. Or they turned to hating you. Or they simply moved away, lost contact, became a ghost in practice.

Growing up, you learned these things. Tom didn’t want for Levi too. It was a kind of ache that everyone felt, though, he supposed. Part of living. Maybe, one day, Levi would stand in this position with his son. And he’d remember when he stood there with his father. Tom was glad to give him this memory. He didn’t have one from his own wedding. Another thing that Tom thought, and felt grateful for, that he was here on his son’s wedding day. The way his own father wasn’t for his.

“Can’t believe this is my first wedding and I’m the groom,” Levi said, shaking his shoulders as if a shiver had just run up his spine.

Tom’s brow furrowed. “Eh? That can’t be true.”

“It is. I wasn’t in Harlynne’s wedding. And none of my friends have gotten married.”

“You were in my wedding,” Tom protested.

“Da. I was a baby. I don’t remember that.”

“You were there,” Tom insisted. “You were the ring bearer.”

“Yeah, I know. I saw the pictures. Mummy likes to pull them out whenever she can.”

Tom chuckled. That was true enough. “I am just sayin’, you’ve done some version of this before. Though—" Tom paused; his brow furrowed. “This looks not a damn thing like my wedding.”

Levi laughed at that. “Yeah. Uh, vibes are very different.”

“Yeah. The vibes.” Tom raised his eyebrows slightly.

There was another pause. Levi looked away shyly, fiddling again with his cufflinks. Tom wondered if he had put them on right. If he wanted help, but wasn’t going to ask for it. Levi wasn’t very good at that. He was constantly making Tom guess what he wanted. Though, his mum said that Tom was like that too. Sometimes, he didn’t even realize something was bothering him until she pointed it out.

Tom had to do that with Levi…except he wasn’t as perceptive as his wife. He never knew what the bloody hell was going on in his son’s head. You would think raising someone would give you a pretty good idea, but they changed so much. From day to day, from week to week, from hour to hour, sometimes, it seemed. They were different people. And, because they were behind you, and you were growing too, those pieces never quite seemed to click together. At least, not for Tom and Levi.

It wasn’t like they didn’t try.

They were just different.

Tom still loved his boy. His first boy. His eldest, but his baby all the same. The person who had made Tom a father. The greatest thing that had ever happened to him.

“Aye.”

Levi looked up on command. It was instinct, probably. Knowing his dad had something to say with just a word. Sometimes, Tom wondered if Levi knew him better than he knew his son.

“You know I’m just taking the mickey, eh?”

“I know.” Levi’s gaze darted towards the window. It was gray outside. Rain was splashing lightly against the windowpane. “Mummy said it’s good luck for it to rain on a wedding.”

“Well, I don’t know about any of that, but if she said it, it’s probably true.”

“You think?”

“Rain ain’t great out on the water. Bad omen. Sailors are notoriously superstitious, you know. But on a wedding? Sure. I don’t see why not.”

Levi nodded. He still wasn’t looking at Tom. “You’re okay with this right?”

Tom blinked. “Okay with what?”

“This. Me. Getting married.”

“What? ‘Course I am. Did someone say I’m not?”

Levi shook his head. He still wasn’t look at his father, but now he was looking at the tops of his shiny black shoes. He fiddled with his cufflinks again.

“Ach. Give me your damn hand.”

“What?” Levi’s shoulders jumped and his head snapped up, giving his father a startled look.

“Gimme your hand, boy.”

Levi held out one of his hands. Tom flipped it over, not exactly gently. He’d learned a lot about gentleness over the last twenty-four years, but there were something things that were in your bones.

“You put ‘em on backwards.”

“Oh.”

Tom unclipped the cufflink, fiddling with the small object.

“I’ve never put them on before.”

“You could’ve asked.” Tom glanced at his son again, searching his face. His freckles were bright against his pale skin. Tom couldn’t tell if it was just because he was so close, or because he was nervous.

Levi didn’t say anything, properly reprimanded.

They were quiet as Tom fixed his cufflink and then gestured for his other hand. Tom fixed that one too. He turned the little stars around thoughtfully with a thumb, sliding it over the thin skin of Levi’s wrist before dropping his hand.

“I just meant,” Levi continued from earlier with a little sigh, “I know this is all…really different for you. And I know how you feel about different.”

“I don’t feel any way about different,” Tom grunted, his own cheeks heating slightly.

Levi actually looked at him to give him a doubtful glance.

“I don’t feel any way about you being different,” Tom said. “Hell, the way the world is going—everyone’s bound to be different these days.”

“Da, you can’t say that. It’s homophobic.”

“What? I’m not sayin’ there is anything wrong with that.” He snorted in amusement and shook his head. “Is this why you wanted to see me? I told you when you got engaged, I didn’t give a fuck. Actually, I told you when you started dating.”

That was true enough. Tom had grown a lot in the last years. Had learned a lot and seen a lot. He wasn’t perfect. He didn’t always say the right thing. But he’d always meant what he said. He meant that he loved his son, no matter what. He’d love him through magic and mistakes and this too. The idea that he wouldn’t was frankly too bizarre to him to put into words.

What kind of father just stopped loving his son?

Not the kind of father that Tom could ever be. He loved Levi too much. Loved him since he’d been big enough to fit his head in the palm of his hand. The only thing that could change that is if Levi hated him first. And even then, Tom would love him. He’d always wondered about his mother.

If she had still loved him. Even at her funeral a year ago, he’d wondered. She’d been sick. He’d tried to go see her in the hospital, but she wouldn’t see him. His name hadn’t been on the list.

Tom couldn’t ever imagine taking Levi off the list.

“Listen,” Tom said, reaching out to grab his son’s shoulder. Then, he dragged his hand up to clap him on the other shoulder.

“Since you were a wee bairn, before I ever even held you in my arms all I ever wanted was for you to be safe and happy. I have spent the last twenty-four years making sure you were safe. I dunno how well I did with the happy part.”

Levi frowned a little and his lips parted, just the slightest, as if he was going to say something, but Tom shook his head.

“If that bloke out there makes you happy, then God bless. That’s all that matters to me. I promise. And—I’m sorry if you felt any other way about it. If you thought I felt any other way about it. I am proud of you. I love you.” Tom didn’t say those words much. Not to Levi. Not to his kids. He said it to his wife more on instinct than anything, because she said it to him first.

But when Levi was a baby—when he was small enough that he fit along Tom’s forearm, his head in his hand—Tom had told him he loved him all the time. He’d made sure that he knew it. Sometimes, the love had been so big that there wasn’t anything else for Tom to do but say it, unless he had wanted to cry. And yeah, he’d done that too, sometimes. It had subsided over the years. That raw, painful ache in his chest whenever he thought about Levi—about any of his children—but in this moment, thinking about how Levi might not know the acute pain of that affection, his eyes watered. His hand moved from his son’s shoulder to grip the back of his head, bowing it forward so their foreheads touched.

He moved back, kissing Levi’s forehead. Tom couldn’t remember the last time he’d done that.

Maybe that was the problem. Over these years, that love had grown comfortable. The longer Levi was happy, was safe, the less Tom had to worry about him. He was a proper adult now. With a job. With a family. At his age, Tom had just been a few years off from becoming a father. Tom looked at Levi and he saw a job well done.

But maybe, there was still work to do.

Levi didn’t know how to button cufflinks. There were other things, too. Tom had come over the weekend before last to help him and his fiancé build a desk. They’d been absolutely useless. Tom had wound up doing most of the work. There were still things for them. There was, more than anything, still time.

“You ready?” Tom asked, clapping Levi’s shoulders again and squeezing.

“I think so.”

Yeah, Tom thought so too. For both of them.

“Good.” He dropped his hands from around Levi’s shoulders.

“Da?”

“Hm?”

“I love you, too.”

“I just got here.” She indicated to the scarf still wrapped around her neck and the boots she’d kicked off in the corner of her cubicle, snow still melting on them.

“You were on your phone.”

“Yes,” Belle said, her jaw ticking. She hated the way that he always hovered around the edge of her desk, like an indecisive fly. She also hated being micromanaged, though she hadn’t realized what that even was until Lyle Reyes had taken over the department. When she had first started, Devon Barajas had been in charge, but she’d gone on paternity leave, now that her wife had given birth. Not that she blamed her, but she did miss her. Also, was offended that she’d put Lyle in charge.

Sure, he was older and had more experience, but he was a jerk. At least, Belle believed so. She found him smarmy and infuriating. Every time he spoke to her, she felt like he was either trying to catch her out at something. However, Belle knew she was a good worker. Even if she sometimes found the work monotonous and grating.

“Why?” he prompted.

She didn’t want to answer him. It was none of his business. There was no rules about sending a quick text from your cubicle. Certainly, excessive phone use was discouraged, but Belle was not on her phone that often. Not like Patricia, two cubicles over from her, who was incessantly talking to her best friend in Northumberland on the phone, day in and day out.

Lyle drummed his fingers on the edge of her cubicle. Hard enough that the picture she’d put up, the singular piece of personal décor, skittered slightly across her desk.

Belle contemplated breaking one of those drumming fingers. She knew how to do that now. Merida had taught her.

“I was letting Hades know that I was at work and the children were at daycare.” She said it as if someone had a knife to her back.

“I see. Alright, well—hurry up with that. The email is important.”

Belle nodded. She didn’t say anything else.

Lyle waited a moment. Then another moment after that. Eventually, he sighed and moved off, shaking his head as he went.

“Good morning, Lyle,” called Patricia, already with her headset on.

“Morning, Pattie.”

Belle rolled her eyes and swiveled around in her chair, going back to her text. Which wasn’t a text at all. She was playing Wordle to turn her brain on. It usually only took her about five minutes. Her phone buzzed just as she reached for it again. Hades’ name popped up on the screen and she scowled, knowing already what the message was.

He’d finished his Wordle before her.

You only won because Lyle interrupted me, again.

Not my fault. x

Belle finished off the Wordle.

S-M-I-T-E

Good word today.

Hades didn’t reply.

Belle put her phone to the side with a sigh, plugged her laptop into the main monitor and pulled up her computer desktop. A picture of Philippe brightened her screen. The warm fuzzy feeling of seeing her horse only lasted a moment before she sighed and pulled up her email.

What she should do was search Lyle’s name and pull up whatever email he had sent. What she was not going to do was that. Instead, she was going to work from where she had left off yesterday. Which included plenty of scrolling—she had nearly 50 emails. Yes, many of those would be some sort of junk, or need to be redirected to other people or departments, but she would go through them all. The only two cases she was actively working on right now were her afternoon to do list.

This morning? It was for bloody emails.

Belle hated bloody emails.

She hated the emails from Donna in Accounting about how everyone needed to get their cell phone bills sent in for reimbursement. (She needed to do that, actually, she just disliked being reminded. It was on her to do list…she was quite sure.)

She hated the spam vendor emails about how great their product was. It wasn’t her decision whether they took on a new vendor for their paper or what not. Belle didn’t even know how they wound up with her email in most cases. Unless everyone got the same ones. She had a feeling they did, but it was automatically sorted to their junk folder. Belle did not have the patience to click “move” “move all” [to Junk]. It simply was easier to delete them.

What she hated, most of all, was the emails from people.

People who needed her help. Who didn’t have money or a degree or a chance without InterPride. People who had been recommended by their friends or coworkers. Real people. At least, they always seemed like real people to Belle. With long, tragic stories that made her heart bleed. She couldn’t even open them anymore. The first time she had, she’d almost gotten herself fired.

“It’s ridiculous! We say we help people but we’re going to turn these ones away…why? Because you’ve decided our caseload is too full. Mine’s not! I can take this on.”

“Belle,” Devon sat, perched on her desk in an overly friendly way that Belle hated. “I appreciate your passion and the fact that this is a learning curve for you, but we simply cannot take on every client who reaches out to us. We have a protocol. A procedure. All emails need to be forwarded to Nancy.”  

“And she decides?”

“In consultation with other attorneys, yes.”

“Well, consult me!”

“You’re a junior attorney, Belle. You can be a team player. You can handle the cases assigned to you.” Devon fixed Belle with a look. “Or you can leave.”

It was still bullshit, if you asked Belle.

The only thing that had stayed her tongue in that moment had been the fact that Belle had already ruined things with Clarion. She didn’t need to ruin them with InterPride. She had a feeling that would look even worse on her records. She still thought it was awful and she refused to open any emails that even looked like they might be someone asking for help. She just forwarded them along. It always left a sour feeling in her stomach.

There were actual emails that she spent the time to answer as well, of course: from coworkers about things needed around the office, attorneys that she was working on cases with—both within and outside InterPride, and one from Simba, CCing Hades, asking if they were still planning on attending dinner next week.

I don’t know, are you going to create another potential food fight environment?

You’ll have to come and find out. 😊

No. Busy. – H.

Belle watched those emails pop up rapid fire in the corner of her screen with a little roll of her eyes and a smirk. Sure, she shouldn’t be on her phone, but their Board members could email about dinner plans. Made perfect sense.

The bitterness was not really directed at Simba. He was always going to be that way. She knew that. And he did promote a relaxed, family-oriented work atmosphere, which Belle attempted to appreciate. Except people often took relaxed and family-oriented too far. Coming to work and talking on the phone to their best friend, for example. Or bringing their rowdy teenagers into the cubicles, where people were trying to do work. At least, when she’d brought her teenagers, they’d behaved themselves. Sitting quietly in the corner reading their books until she’d told them it was time to go.

Well, except for when Aidan came by to ask how much longer they had.

He had been sent away, sulking, with a glare from Belle. Who had been on the phone with a client.

The office was, really, no place for children.

*** *** ***

Up and up, she climbed. Through the trenches of her emails. Battling them down. More emails came in as she responded. Emails that were time sensitive. That required her to reply immediately.

And still—Lyle’s email sat, unopened. Waiting. The blue 1 bold and obtrusive as she worked around it in a delicate, but easy dance. She hated when he told her what to do. If it was marked as important, perhaps she would’ve peaked at it before noon, but no. It sat, boring and unimportant in her inbox. The subject was cut off:

For the last time…

He was probably telling her off about something. If that were the case, he could wait for a response.

Soon, it became more impossible to ignore it. The rest of her email ran down, like grains of sand in an hourglass.

She checked the time.

Nearly noon.

Looking around, she noticed most everyone had already gone to lunch.

Well, she supposed, in that case, maybe she should get an early start on her research. Answer Lyle’s email after lunch. He hadn’t mentioned it again and it had been hours, so, as she suspected, it was not actually that important. She had just pulled up the case file she’d been working on, snacking on a few cut cherry tomatoes, when Lyle appeared.

“Are you coming?”

Belle blinked at him, popping another tomato into her mouth, raising her eyebrows.

“Come on.”

With a sigh, Belle got up, closing the lid on her tomatoes.

Was she missing a meeting?

There was nothing on her calendar.

Down they went. Down, down to the first floor.

When the doors opened, it was Moses and the Red Sea. Except, the sea in front of them didn’t part, only the doors did. Also, it was made out of people.

Belle’s eyebrows wiggled on her face, but she got them under control before they could fully register her surprise. What was all this about then?

She tried not to look to Lyle with any sort of real confusion. He had peeled off anyway, disappearing into the crowd now that she had been fetched. Was she about to be fired in front of the whole company? No, that would be silly.

Someone laughed, a big, loud laugh that made her jump.

Well, Simba was here. She didn’t need to see him to know. That meant something was actually happening. And maybe…just maybe…she should have read Lyle’s email when he told her to.

No, no. That was silly. Calm down. She just had to find out what this was all about.

Finally, she spotted someone who she felt she could ask what all of the hoopla was for without getting judged for it.  

“Gil. What is this about?”

Gil looked over at her with a bemused expression. “Don’t you read your emails?”

“Yes.” A beat. “I got busy this morning.”

“Ah.” He took a sip of the—lemonade? In his hand.

Where did he get lemonade. What the bloody hell was happening?

“Welcome to Patricia’s retirement party.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Patricia. Your next door neighbor? She’s retiring.”

There was a brief pause while Belle processed this information. After which she simply said: “Good.”

Gil chuckled, the same kind of dry chuckle Hades did when he was trying not to laugh.

Belle shot him a glare.

“Maybe read your emails next time.”

“I read my emails,” she insisted.

“Sure.”

Belle’s face turned pink, then scarlet. “Where did you get that lemonade? I’m thirsty.”

“Over there.” Gil pointed.

“Great. Thank you.”

“Don’t forget to wish your desk neighbor good luck.”

“Shut up,” she told him over her shoulder.