I feel awful, I hate the idea that I could have stopped Orpheus from getting a happy ending with Eurydice, but it was breaking me. I broke down crying to him during that last summer, begging him to let it go; I'm not sure he realised I remembered before then, but he apologised for putting me through it all and promised he wouldn't make it happen again. I'm so sorry, Orpheus, I just couldn't keep going through that again.

He carried me all the way back home once he'd stopped crying enough he could see. It was so comforting to be back in his arms like I used to be so often when we were young, and as soon as we were inside, I pulled his face into mine and he carried me to bed; he made me feel more loved that night with his just eyes — let alone anything else — than he had in centuries combined. I just wish it'd lasted more than for the night.

There was plenty more times that I found myself at the bottom of it before breaking down in tears and waiting for the bottle to numb my senses again; plenty of those nights I just slept there once all the alcohol was gone.

The first time he saw any of the bruises, he was furious — the first time I came back with anything broken, I had to beg and try to physically stop him from marching down to Hadestown himself to give Hades a piece of his mind. I was his baby sister, and he hated that I was hurt, especially hurt by my husband. While even he could admit he probably didn’t stand a chance against Hades himself, he was most certainly ready to physically fight him for me.

Fucking hypocrite was often drunk too.

Sometimes, I’d try and glass him, and if I was quick enough, I’d get in a good hit and draw blood — if I wasn’t, he’d catch my wrist mid-swing and rip the bottle out of my grip, then punish me tenfold than if I’d just left it be.

Until you woke up.

He tried to get me to talk more about everything going on with Hades and I, but I was always closed about it. He knew vague details, some because I’d told him, others from observation; he’d seen bruises, he’d helped treat a broken collarbone, and all manner of other things Hades had caused. Even he knew when I needed a drink; I didn’t like talking about it, because I was still deeply in love with Hades, I didn’t want to admit he hurt me. If I didn’t talk about it, it wasn’t real, right? Probably the only thing I actually admitted to Hermes was when I’d miscarried.