Ancients Reborn: The Gods and Goddesses Greece (Raivh and Blair1216)

[Raivh]

It seemed like it always snowed in the mountains. The area surrounding the manor was consistently blanketed in white, like a cold hell. Standing in a clearing on the side of a slope, he could see the walls that surrounded the place he’d called home since the day he’d turned eighteen. From the large, arching front gate to the woods was one path, the very same he’d travelled for the past fifteen years whenever he needed to get away from the commotion of the house, the tales they told him. They called him Hades, God of the Underworld, though his birth mother had given him the name Preston. He was the oldest amongst the deities reborn, and so found himself often wandering alone, away from the castle and all of its inhabitants.

In his younger days, his temper had often gotten Preston into much trouble, especially with Gregory, a man just two years younger than himself. Gregory was supposedly the man who harnessed Zeus, the God of war and thunder. For years the two had fought, throwing punches and wrestling in the dirt, fighting over women that always seemed to be wooed by Gregory’s blonde hair, blue eyes, and a charm that Preston lacked. The two were brothers in ancient myth, but modern day testing of DNA had shown up with negative results of any familial relation.

Green eyes followed the romping path of a rather large black pitbull, the dog Preston had found several years back wandering just outside of the grounds. At least ten years old, the pit still moved with vigor. Its muzzle showed no signs of aging, and its body no sign of muscle or bone deterioration. “Come, Cerberus,” Preston called, snapping his fingers to get the canine’s attention. With a playful growl, the dog bounded over to its master, pointed ears alert and piercing blue eyes focused on the surrounding area as the two descended the side of the mountain. Merely out of curiosity, Preston had deemed his pet Cerberus. When the dog responded well to it, he hadn’t bothered changing its name.

Walking that same path back through the snow, Preston could see a car parked in the drive. The gates were opened, and from what he could tell, a new arrival was making his or her appearance. They seemed to show up every couple of years or so, each with unique traits and a determined soul of a Greek God or Goddess. The last to arrive had been a woman, the supposed Goddess Hera, and she’d taken quite well to Gregory as he had to her. Slipping past the gate, Preston closed it once Cerberus had darted inside. His intelligent green eyes scanned the sleek black vehicle parked outside, wondering who had been found this time—male or female—God or Goddess. Cerberus let out a bark, bringing Preston back to reality, and he headed for the door, which groaned on its hinges, protesting being opened.

He entered the dimly lit hall quietly, and strode toward the living area where each new member of ancient Greece was brought. Leaning against the stones of the large, arched doorway, he captured bits and pieces of conversation, enough to learn that the new arrival was a woman and once the daughter of Zeus. A dry laugh parted his lips, erupting from his chest, and Preston shook his head. The scathing outburst was enough to catch the attention of the man whom everyone in the house called Dr. Haskell or father. He was the man who had first discovered Preston and determined that he was, in fact, Hades reborn.

“Why don’t you send her away, Dr. Haskell? Don’t we have enough on our hands with Gregory’s antics? He’s a grown man and causes us grief. She’s merely a girl. Think of the havoc her being here will bring,” Preston stated when the room was quiet. Dr. Haskell’s grey eyes stared at the oldest member of his family with a vacant expression, as if he wasn’t sure how to respond. A low growl left Cerberus. “See, even Cerberus isn’t fond of her.” A crooked grin turned up one corner of Preston’s lips as he reached down to pat his dog on the head. Before his fingers had even grazed the short black hairs, however, Cerberus took off across the room, claws skittering over stone, and then muffled by a thick rug. The dog stopped when he reached the young woman and licked the back of her hand.

Preston stiffened. “Cerberus,” he called, but the dog planted his rump on the ground and wagged his tail. Clenching his jaw, Preston’s green eyes darkened, and he snapped his fingers. “Cerberus! Heel!” Jerking his head back, Cerberus whined, ears flat against his head as he rose to his feet and trotted back over to his master. The dog licked his lips when he reached Preston, staring up at the man and giving one thump of his tail.

Returning his stare to the group in the room, the atmosphere around Preston swirled with irritation. “Who are you?” he asked, spitting the question at her.

Dr. Haskell rose to his feet. “Preston, son—” Preston cut the man off with a look.

“Let her answer. She’s capable of speaking, is she not?” Preston scoffed. His footsteps were heavy as he entered the room, crossing to where everyone was seated. He froze when his eyes landed on her, and he furrowed his brow. Taking a deep breath, her scent flooded his nose, and his eyes drifted from her almost immediately.

Again, Dr. Haskell spoke. “She is the Goddess Persephone, once the daughter of Zeus, and—”

“No,” Preston ground out, his eyes flitting about her one final time. “Keep her out of my sight.” Turning, he vacated the room without another word except to command his dog to follow him upstairs, to the study.

 

[Blair1216]

It was absolutely frigid. That was the only conclusion that Scarlet could come to about the place she was taken to. The icy, powder white substance swirled around the manor, filling the windows with fog and the atmosphere with tension. It reminded her of a picture her mother had in a frame from Christmas in Colorado, the place where she spent her childhood with Scarlet's grandparents and Uncle Jack. It sat on the mantel in their little sea side, two bedroom home, and until current, was the closest Scarlet had ever been to snow. While it was beautiful, there would always be something about the thought of snow that gave her an unnatural feeling, and maybe it was because of the strong opinion her mother had about it. When Scarlet's mother became pregnant with her, she left her family in the snowy town, including the man she loved. She swore up and down that it was because she could not stand one more minute in such a cold, small town, and that Scarlet's father chose to stay over joining her, but deep down, Scarlet knew this was false. There was a reason Scarlet had never met her grandparents, nor her Uncle Jack, but she did not have the heart to deny her mother of her story.

Scarlet was from California, spending her whole life on the beach and in the sun. Se loved the warm weather and the bright atmosphere, and it radiated around her, even as she sat in the armchair in from of Dr. Haskell. When he looked at her, she felt as if she were being examined. In fact, she knew she was. Reaching out with his slender fingers, he touched her soft, sun-kissed blond hair, holding it out and letting it catch the light. Scarlet was afraid to move, watching him with her large blue eyes with an impatient, frightened expression.
"My mother will be worried," she said, letting her teeth catch her plump bottom lip with uncertainty. That was the first thing that ran through her mind, creating chill bumps across her tanned skin. Her mother was protective in extremity, not letting Scarlet out of her sight for long periods of time through out her child hood. Even now, as a legal adult, her mother did not approve of her going on dates with men who wooed her or staying out during dark hours. Her mother promised it was because she knew what was best; she knew what people could do to such an innocent, beautiful girl as her little Scarlet. And while this frustrated Scarlet to the point of wishing she could escape, running away to a place where she would no longer be her mother's dependent, she could not bear the thought of breaking her mother's heart.

When Preston entered the room, Scarlet had been sitting in that very armchair for nearly two hours, letting Dr. Haskell interrogate her about her childhood, her habits, her medical history, and her family. Shaking, she tried not to notice that the sun was setting, and that it was becoming more and more obvious that she would not be returning to her mother for the night.

Her navy blue eyes shot toward the door, watching the man walk in. He looked humored by her distress, and it made her unintentionally change her position on the chair. Something about his presence made her feel weary, moving closer to the doctor just to get farther away.
"I should be going," she repeated, right before Preston's outburst. She jumped, and she barely had time to react before the large black animal was charging at her. Gasping, she back up in the chair, looking down at the beast with a frightened expression. That was until he licked her, begging for affection. The dog's eyes looked right into her, like he had known her for eternity, and that all we wanted was her praise.

Reaching a hesitant hand out toward the pitbull's fur, Scarlet patted his large head gently. It nudged her hand with his head, begging for more, but was soon interrupted by Preston's command for his return. With regretful, nearly human-like eyes, the dog gave her one final look before retreating.

Scarlet looked up at Preston with wide-eyes, and when he asked her who she was, she could not form words. His stare intimidated her, making her feel as if he hated without having to know. She did not understand what Dr. Haskell was saying, but she knew it angered Preston, and for some reason, it made her that much of a burden to him.

After his exit, she looked at the doctor with teary eyes, her youthful chin trembling. The last thing she remembered, she was walking home from the coffee shop down the block from her home. She had fetched her mother a green tea while out buying a magazine, just to get away. All she wanted was some time to her self, to escape her mother's watchful eye for a few moment, and now all she wished for was to be back in mother's safe arms.

"Can you please tell me what's going on?" she asked desperately, looking into the older man's eyes, only letting her eyes flutter to Preston's exit once more. Her slender hand reached up, wiping away a stray tear and brushing some of her golden hair away from her face.

 

[Raivh]

With a heavy sigh, Dr. Haskell let his head fall back to the couch and removed the spectacles he wore to aid his poor vision. Of all the women Preston could have made a bad first impression on, he thought, inhaling deeply, as he pinched and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Opening his eyes as he slid his glasses back on, Dr. Haskell smiled at the questioning young woman, understanding her confusion and discomfort. Not many new arrivals to the mansion knew who they were, their pasts, or what they were capable of, and many who had been there for years had yet to fully discover themselves.

His grey eyes were calm and warm as he looked upon Scarlet. Leaning forward and reaching out a wrinkled hand, he took hers gently away from its task of brushing a few golden strands out of her eyes. “My dear,” he began, closing her hand in both of his and giving it a reassuring pat. “In time you will come to understand this place and all of its inhabitants. They’re all very much like you, Scarlet. Gods and goddesses reborn. You, my girl, are the newest arrival, and within you resides the soul of the goddess Persephone.”

Glancing toward the arching entryway where Preston had been standing not long ago, Dr. Haskell cleared his throat. “And that fellow, Preston, whom you just saw is the eldest member of the reborn ancients of Greece. He has a bit of a temper, but it isn’t without reason that he harbors so much hatred toward others.” Dr. Haskell gave Scarlet’s hand another pat before drawing his hands back and rising to his feet. Grey eyes still fixated on the doorway, he shook his head and cracked a smile, dropping his gaze back to the young woman. The smell of food had begun to waft throughout the manor, enticing growling stomachs to venture toward the dining hall.

“Are you hungry?” Dr. Haskell inquired, offering her a hand up. “Our kitchen staff here are all very pleasant, and are quite exquisite culinary masters.” Pausing, he took a step toward the hall, leading her along the corridor. The room they entered next was loud, full of commotion as young adults buzzed about, chatting and arguing.

“Who is this?” a tall blonde asked, appearing to be in his mid-twenties. He wore a smile on his face and a woman on his arm, a rather youthful looking brunette who didn’t seem half as amused to see Scarlet.

Brown eyes locked on Scarlet, the young woman rose on her toes and planted a kiss on the blonde man’s jaw. “Greg, I’ll go get you something to eat, my love,” she said, before venturing away and tossing one last glance at Scarlet, a daring look in her eyes.

“Good evening, Gregory,” Dr. Haskell replied, returning the younger man’s firm handshake. He turned his head to look at Scarlet and introduced her. “This young maiden goes by the name of Scarlet.” Gregory nodded, shaking her hand, before the professor continued. “She is the reborn soul of Persephone.”

Arching his eyebrows, a haughty smirk spread over Gregory’s features. “The goddess Persephone, huh? I’ll be damned.”

“I could only get so lucky,” Preston commented, bearing an irked expression as he stepped into the room. Everyone grew quiet, and his footsteps echoed off the stone walls as he approached the trio. He came to halt beside Scarlet, shoulder to shoulder with her and towering a good foot or more above her. “If you were damned, I would be a much happier man.”

There was a moment of tense silence before Dr. Haskell intervened. “Preston, are you—”

“No,” Preston responded abruptly, head turned and gaze fixed on Scarlet. “If I didn’t make it clear already, I want nothing to do with the goddess Persephone.” His hand slid over her cheek opposite him, drawing her eyes up to his, green to blue. There was no sign of kindness on his face. His fingers curled around her chin and tightened their grip to bruising force. “Do you, Persephone, understand what these two foolish men clearly do not?”

A snake-like smile spread over his features, and he released her and walked to where one of the manor’s servants was standing, holding a prepared plate of food. Taking it, he crossed slowly back to the exit without once looking down at Scarlet, and travelled left, disappearing from sight.

“Astounding,” Gregory scoffed. The brawny male shook his head, eyebrows furrowed as he stared after Preston. “He acts as if he has no interest in his own—”

Dr. Haskell cut Gregory a sharp look, silencing him. Both men knew how Preston’s mind worked, and there was no altering his mind once it was set. Scarlet would have to be placed in the east wing, away from Preston in the west. “Come, let’s sit you down so you may eat. After you’re finished, one of the servants will be at your call to lead you to your quarters.”

 

[Blair1216]

Scarlet felt herself shaking after her encounter with Preston, his words echoing through her head. The way he grabbed her, not afraid to make his point and show his disdain toward her, gave her chill bumps, making her move toward the elderly Dr. Haskell. She felt small in the room of people. They all had their place, their position and seniority, but she was left as not only an outcast, but fresh meat.

It was odd for her to walk through the dining hall, toward a table with her plate of food that a servant had give her, and not here her name on peoples' lips, but "Persephone". Everyone was whispering this name, giving her glances of astonishment, disdain, and even pity. Why would people look at her as if they felt sorry for her? She knew little to nothing about Mythology, so she had not the slightest idea that people were pitying her by not who she was, but who her fated partner was.

Sitting awkwardly by Gregory, the only person who didn't seem offset by her presence, Scarlet pushed her food around on her plate. Her expression held nothing but shock, and she couldn't seem to form words to say anything to anyone. She simply stared at the spinach on the gold and ivory plate, pondering the fact that she was, without so many words, told that she was not leaving soon.

"You, sweet girl, look awfully sad," a voice from in front of her stated.

Looking up, Scarlet laid her eyes on a gorgeous, fiery redhead. The woman smiled at her, giving her the most genuine, warm feeling that Scarlet had ever seen. Biting her lip, Scarlet just nodded, and the redhead turned toward Gregory with a pout.

"Gregory, I don't believe this child has even had a warm greeting since she arrived," she said, shaking her head with disappointment. Her long black lashes brushed her cheeks when she closed her eyes, as if she were praying for a silent moment. "It's an awful shame. These days, Dr. Haskell knows that young adults are not getting their proper education on Mythology, and I doubt she has even been told who she really is."

Something about the woman's thick Georgia accent made Scarlet feel better, and she shifted in her seat. "I was told I was Persephone," she said, shrugging. Her voice came our bright and warm, even though her mood reflected quite differently.

The southern woman frowned and leaned over, patting Scarlet's arm. On her wrist, a few bracelets' jingled. "And so you are," she said, the glanced at Gregory. "She has not had to endure Preston's presence yet, I hope?" Her arched eyebrows rose, then she looked across the dining hall to see if she could catch a glimpse at the brooding man in question.

Scarlet scoffed and pushed her plate out in front of her.

"If you are speaking of the man who has already made clear I'm not worth his presence," Scarlett murmured, "Then yes, I believe I have met him."

Her mind flashed back at him grabbing her chin, feeling the pressure he left on her jaw. It was a warning, telling her to keep away. Yet, all that haunted her mind were those eyes.... Those dark, haunted green eyes. And even though she saw no kindness within those emerald irises, she felt them look straight into her.

 

[Raivh]

Flames flickered, dancing against the brick of the fireplace and sending embers sparking into the air. Cerberus lay asleep on his side in front of the fire, enjoying its heat as he dozed. It was late, and most everyone in the manor was in bed resting for the night. Along the walls of the study were hundreds of books, some requiring a ladder to be reached. Seated in a cushioned chair, Preston stared down at a cluster of words on a page, before flipping it to view the painted image of an ancient goddess on the next. His arm was propped on the armrest; index finger pressed to his temple as his eyes scanned the picture over and over, eyebrows furrowed. The name of the goddess was printed in bold cursive, the painting dated with the author’s name printed beside it.
Taking in a deep breath, he closed the book and set it aside to stare out a large pane in front of him.

He knew the woman who had appeared earlier that evening was Persephone. Even Cerberus had sensed the goddess’s soul, and Preston had felt a stirring deep within him that he had denied. He’d only overheard her modern title, and speaking it aloud made him want to spit to rid his tongue of its sweet taste. “Scarlet,” he muttered against his hand, covering his mouth. Snow continued to fall outside, flitting down in front of the window and sticking in the lower edges of the glass. Glancing down at his dog, Preston gave his knee a pat and the canine stirred, lifting his massive head and giving a thump of his tail. “Cerberus, come.” As Preston got to his feet, so did the dog and they both exited the study quietly, slipping out into the darkened corridor.

As they walked, Preston’s footsteps reverberating off the walls and Cerberus’s toenails clicking against the stone, they stopped when they reached the stairs that led up to the second level of the manor. To the right was the west wing; to the left, the east wing. “Cerberus,” Preston hissed and grabbed for the dog’s collar as the animal took off up the stairs and to the left. Cursing, he scaled the stairs, watching as the dog vanished down the hall opposite of where their quarters were. Cerberus whined, and Preston found him scratching at the base of a door toward the end of the hall.

“No,” he spat, swatting the dog. Moving away, Cerberus growled and lowered his pointed ears, only to lift them once more and approach the door. With a deep breath, Preston stared at the closed door, turning only when he heard footsteps coming his way.

Gregory stood a few feet from him, a grin painted on his face. “Intentions to sleep with your past lover, Preston? From her tone at dinner, I don’t believe that young woman is very fond of you. You make her feel unworthy and unwanted.”

Preston’s expression was stony and cold. He scoffed as he moved away from the closed door, hearing a stirring on the other side. Brushing past the blonde, his shoulder collided roughly with Gregory’s. “Anything that was once related to you will hold no such significance as my lover, no matter how alluring those blue eyes of hers are. I will not be pulled into a fate that involves catering to the souls of the dead. This time around, I’m in charge.”

“Whatever you say, brother,” Gregory replied with a smirk, turning to watch as Preston strode down the hall.

Preston’s response was gruff, indifferent. “You are no brother of mine. Even in blood of old, Zeus, you and I were but enemies, as we will always be.”

 

[Blair1216]

Scarlet laid in the middle of a large, ivory adorned bed. The gold accents gave it a regal look that made Scarlet think of the stories her mother used to tell her of a graceful princess, awaiting her prince up in a tower that she was left to be isolated in. It was ironic, now that she thought about it, that her mother would tell her this story. Although, she couldn't tell if the story was more symbolic for her current situation, or the one she had alone at home with her mother.

She told her self over and over through out her childhood that her mother loved her; loved her more than the mothers who let their daughter go on dates, or get their driver's license. She told herself that her mother was protecting her from the harmful people and situations in society that would taint her sweet, innocent daughter. But after her mother had convinced her to deny her acceptance to the University she had worked so hard to get in to, Scarlet had began to feel a glint of doubt in her mother's intentions, whatever they may have been. It was the same feeling she felt when she looked at that snowy picture from Colorado on their beach house's mantel - Something did not add up.

Big blue eyes, tainted with stale tears, looked out the snowy window of the bedroom she was ushered to. The room was large, complete with a golden vanity and dresser. She had a television, to her surprise, but she didn't turn it on. As for clothes, Dr. Haskell told her that the closet and dresser was full. In one of the drawers, before she willingly retired to the solitude in the large bed, she found a thin, pale blue night gown. Of course, she could have slept in something else, but this reminded her of that princess from the story... It comforted her.

As she counted the snowflakes that hit her window, pondering what was to become of her new life, she heard a scratch at the door. It startled her, making her turn to look at the door. She thought she heard a whine, maybe a voice, but the scratch as very evident, and it made her sit up in the bed with a puzzled expression on her face.

"Cerberus," she heard a voice whisper on the other side of the door. Her eyebrow arched. She heard that name before... But where from? Slowly sliding from the bed, her bare feet padded on the wooden floor, going toward the door. She cracked it, peeking out with curiosity, but saw nothing.

With a sigh, her overly curious nature getting the best of her, Scarlet slid into the hall, her feet hitting the thick carpet as she shut the door behind her. Descending from the stairs, her thin night gown flowed around her knees, giving a flash of her tanned thighs with each step.

"Hello?" she murmured through the silent, candle lit hall. Her eyebrows furrowed, and she tucked a piece of golden hair behind her ear. She remembered that name... Cerberus. It felt so familiar, like it had been on her tongue before, and it made her remember that that might just be what Dr. Haskell was trying to explain to her. She was reborn, therefor she had a previous life, and eventually, that life would catch up to her current one.

Pursing her lips, and gathering a little courage, she looked around from where she stood in the middle of the large staircase. "Cerberus... Cerberus?" she called out, her voice hesitant.

 

[Raivh]

The door to leading into Preston’s bedroom was propped open a crack, a lamp offering a dim light and allowing him to see while moved about the room. His chest was bare, the shirt he’d worn that day hanging on the back of a chair he stood nearby and undressed. Removing the black leather belt from around his waist, he draped it over the chair with his shirt, and let his slacks fall to the floor. He moved without haste toward the bathroom door and pulled it open, stepping inside. Scalding hot water poured from the showerhead, immediately fogging up the cold glass mirror. Cerberus was asleep on the floor beside the bed in the other room, snoring he always did. Other than the sound of running water and the dog, the manor was completely silent.

Taking a deep breath, his sculpted body tense, rigid, he glanced toward the door when Cerberus let out a low whine. “What?” Preston grunted, green eyes staring through the water vapor that filled the room. The dog was standing up, ears switching from flat against his head to alert, jowls only halfway closed until he let out a whine. “What?” This time, Preston’s tone was irritated, patience wearing thin. There hadn’t been a day that Cerberus had acted the way he had the moment that woman showed up, Persephone. Turning his massive black head to look at his master, Cerberus let out a loud woof and bolted from the room. That was the last of Preston’s already slim patience. He could hear the animal barking his head off all the way down the hall. Then the sound suddenly ceased.

“You damn dog!” Preston shouted, leaving the shower running and climbing from it. He slipped and landed on the hard tile floor with a loud thud that seemed to shake the very ground beneath him. Pushing himself to his feet, he ripped a towel down from the rack on the wall and wrapped it around his waist. His expression was furious as he slammed the door to his bedroom open and stalked down the hall. And there the dog was, but not just the dog. The woman was there too. Cerberus hid behind her, whimpering and slowly wagging his tail. Licking the back of Scarlet’s leg, he poked his head around her and peered up at Preston, ears forward.

Jaw clenched, a vein along the side of his neck bulged from his skin, throbbing against the strong tendon. “Now that wasn’t wise, was it?” he asked, launching an arm in her direction and grasping her by the upper arm. He wrenched her forward, nearly knocking them both off balance. One hand threatening to shatter her humerus, the other her jaw as he held her roughly in place.

“Tell me, do you own that dog?” Giving her a violent shake, he answered the question for her with a shake of his head, jerking hers to the left, and then to the right. “No.” Cerberus was on his feet, ears flat against his head. A low growl thrummed in the canine’s chest, and he let out a warning bark. Snapping his attention to the insolent animal, Preston shoved Scarlet back. When he reached down to punish the dog for his impertinence, Cerberus’s teeth sunk deep, puncturing skin. Preston let out a shout and commanded for the release of his hand. Obeying, Cerberus opened his strong maw and slunk over to where Scarlet was, still snarling at his master.

“You know who I am, don’t you?” Preston bellowed, questioning her. Fire blazed fiercely in his eyes as he stalked toward her once more. Spittle flew from his mouth with every shout that burst from him, echoing off the stone walls and vaulted ceilings. “Do you!” When he had his hands on her again, he lowered his face so that it was only inches apart from hers as he yelled. “I am the reincarnated soul of Hades, god of the Underworld! My wrath is the one you will face when that pretty face of yours is no longer youthful and that body of yours no more than a pile of charred ash! It is me who bears the mark of the beast, the damned and all that is unholy!”

 

[Blair1216]

Scarlet felt not only the heat in his grasp on her jaw, but in his eyes as well. They looked horrifying, the green of his irises lighting up in a way that she imagined the sky would on a stormy night. His expression was threatening, daring her to say something that would make him break her bones beneath his large hands, and it made her stop breathing for a few moments. Not knowing what to do, she closed her eyes, her dark eyelashes brushing her cheeks. The only thing she could deny him was eyecontact, not letting his glare burn into her mind. His body was hard against her's, making her feel a jolt of electricity run through her veins. It was as if a negative just came in contact with a positive.

His words echoed through her mind, giving her the answer to a question she did not know she held. He was Hades, one mythological creature that any one could identify. Serving the Underworld, he was a prisoner to his own Hell, surrounding himself with the souls of the people her were no longer permitted to walk the earth... However, that was all she could decipher from his words. It made her fear him even more so, yes, but it did not explain why he trained his hostility toward her the moment he set eyes on her. It made her feel small, like a china doll. She hated that feeling. That was the feeling her mother gave her every day when she told her that she was too fragile to be doing unjust things like living in a dorm, starting a career, or letting a man touch her. Every day, her mother had trained Scarlet into thinking that she could never keep herself intact in the reality of the world, walking the streets alone.

On her cheek, Scarlet felt the blood from his palm trickle on to her ivory skin, marking her. Cerberus was behind her, that much she knew, because his thick black fur tickled her leg as he stood protectively. It was as if he did not know whether to guard Scarlet of the brutality of his owner, or obey Preston in order to not be in her position later on. With the image of her mother darting through her mind, reminding her she was too weak to defend herself from the harsh realities of being independent, Scarlet pushed at him, her forehead wrinkling in frustration. Her mother was wrong after all.

"I do not care who the hell you are," she hissed, feeling a sudden jolt of adrenaline. Never had she remembered feeling that sort of venom in her tone, a voice that usually radiated a brightness that put the California sun to shame. "And, at the moment, neither does your dog."

Swatting his hand away, Scarlet stepped out of his grasp, surprised that she managed to catch him off guard long enough to remove his hands from her. With a quick swipe, she ridded his blood from her cheek, as if washing any sign of him dominating her. Now two steps away from him, she stood with Cerberus's shoulder brushing her thigh, her hands shaking with a mixture of fear and frustration. He scared her, making her not want to move, yet something about him made her plant her feet on the carpet of the stair case.

"I-I...," her voice came out shaky, her heart beat increasing as she stood within the heat of his glare. Even without him touching her, he made Scarlet feel nervous. It took her a moment to worm intelligible words. "I can assure you, I will stay my distance from you from now on."

With that, she started back up the stairs, afraid of standing their long enough for him to pull her back into his dangerous grasp. Her bare feet padded against the carpet, and she noticed that Cerberus entertained the idea of following her, taking a step toward her with his large paw, but decided against it. He fell back behind Preston, though his ears were flat against his head. He knew that he would already be getting enough punishment for drawing his master's blood.

Stopping at the top of the stairs, Scarlet turned back toward him, her blue eyes settling on his green ones. A tone of fear could be seen in their depths, even if she attempted to appear strong. She had never dealt with a person treating her the way he was, and it confused her. Lips pursed, she looked him over, trying to see something... anything that would explain why she felt those green eyes of his hand been haunting her dreams from the moment she was born.

"I do not know who Persephone was," she admitted, clenching her jaw in defiance. "But if it worries you, Hades, I can assure you that this time around, my fate will not cross your's."

Scarlet had no idea of the weight her words held, for her lack of knowledge about her previous life. She knew nothing about her destined fate of being Preston's lover, whether willingly or not, and that was what made her situation even more taboo.

 

[Raivh]

A cloud that could only produce the most damaging of storms, Preston’s anger swirled above his head when the young woman dared part her lips and lash her tongue his way. The pressure of his grip relaxed and he pulled his hand away, preparing to strike her across the face. She swatted his hand away. He roared, red-faced, anger seething and burning in his green eyes, now dark with uncontrollable rage. A crimson smudge remained on her cheek as a remnant of the damage Cerberus had wrought Preston in his and Scarlet’s defense. Chest heaving, nostrils flared in his escalating ire, he stared her down as she did him. There was as much a threat in his eyes as there was a challenge in hers. She was afraid, though. And she trembled with that fear. A slow, seemingly pleased smirk slid into place on his countenance, jaw locked.

“You what?” he snapped, shifting a foot toward her. His heart pounded, not out of fear or lust, purely out of anger. This woman did more than ride his every nerve. She sent him hurtling toward the brink of his very nature. That slender, porcelain neck of hers was beginning to look mighty inviting. Crushing her trachea so that she couldn’t breathe and would die would be easy. A dry laugh parted his lips. “Oh, you’ll stay away from, will you? But not because I’ve already demanded you do so, no. Now it’s because you’re afraid of me, of what you know I can do to you!” He was shouting after her as she began ascending the stairs, Cerberus in tow. Pursuing her a few steps up, he stopped when she reached the top of the stairs and turned to face him.

Her blue eyes were going to be the first part of herself that Preston would eliminate. He loathed the stubbornness he could see in those blue depths. It nearly overwhelmed the fear he saw there as well. Teeth clamped together, not even aware that Cerberus had wandered back down to him and was seated a few feet behind him, Preston leered up at Scarlet. He scoffed when she finally parted her lips to speak, stating that she didn’t know the goddess that resided somewhere, hidden within her.

“Keep that expression and you won’t need Athena to teach you to use respect around me,” he ground out, speaking over her. For reasons that were unclear to him, Preston’s anger flared greater when she stated that her fate would not cross his. She was a fool not to realize that her attitude and the way she spoke instilled in Preston inconceivable determination to be sure that her life was hell on earth.

Rushing up the stairs, the movement a blur, he pinned her to the hall carpet, careless as to whether she had been hurt in the fall. Cerberus snapped his jaws, gnashing dangerous white fangs and barking at his master, as Preston tightened his grip on her throat. He held on with the intention of eliminating the very source of light and life in her blue eyes.

“Listen to me,” he snarled, indifferent to the changing hue of her complexion. “You know nothing of yourself and nothing of me. So you know nothing of how the Hades of ancient Greek myth made a pact with Zeus, one he knew Zeus wouldn’t honor. You don’t know that this pact involved Persephone, daughter of Zeus and Demeter. Or that Hades took Persephone captive and dragged her down with him into the Underworld.”

Feeling hands on his shoulders and hearing someone speaking his name, Preston ignored the individual all but to release Scarlet from his grasp. “If you don’t know anything about the Gods,” he spat, shoving himself to his feet. “Then don’t speak as if you can determine fate in another round of life.”

“Preston…” It was Dr. Haskell. The old man had woken from his slumber when he’d heard Cerberus barking like a mad dog. Shaking his head as Preston shoved past, Dr. Haskell offered Scarlet a hand up despite his wrinkles and feeble age. “You should be more careful, my dear. What did you do to anger him such? Preston is no man to strike up a fight with, even for you, Persephone. There is but little kindness in his heart, and I’ve only ever seen him show it once. That dog of his is the only creature in this world that he trusts.”

 

[Blair1216]

Scarlet didn't say a word, watching him leave in silence. Her hand went up to her throat, still feeling the bruising force that he had on her, and it made her tear up. She hated that... Hated how he had gotten to her enough to make her cry, but she had never experienced such person. It not only caught her off guards, but frightened her, leaving her speechless.

Turning to Dr. Haskell, her blue eyes swimming with tears. Not being able to a form words for a moment, she just stood there, feeling ashamed at how weak she appeared. Her slender figure shook, letting Preston's malicious words echo through her mind. It was clear that while she did not have the slightest clue about her previous life as Persephone, Preston did. He knew her history well, and from the way he spit his words out like he was ridding his mouth from their bitter after taste, he despised her for it.

"What the hell was he talking about?" she finally demanded, but her voice came out as a croak.

Her skin crawling with the replaying of Preston's retort in her head, Scarlet looked at the doctor with a pleading expression. She wanted him to tell her that Preston was not mentally stable, that he was wrong... Her history never collided with his, and she was not to worry about it ever doing so in the future. But by the way the elderly man said, "Preston is no man to strike up a fight with, even for you, Persephone", made her realize that she would not be receiving the answer she hoped for. In fact, Preston was not only correct, but he was the thing she was to worry about most.

Leaving her question in the air, too on edge to hear her fear confirmed, Scarlet turned toward her room. A small, weak sniffle could be heard as she opened her bedroom door and stepped inside, keeping her eyes away from the doctor. She did not need one more person thinking she was too weak to care for herself, even if she was starting to believe it was true. Her mother was right... Scarlet was too fragile.

The click of a lock could be heard from her side of the mahogany door as Scarlet entered her bedroom, and she placed her hand over her mouth. Scarlet had never been an emotional person in her life time, but for some reason, Preston has struck a cord with her. She couldn't tell if it was because of the way he squeezed at her throat, daring her to breath as he spoke to her, or the way his green eyes seemed to burst in flames at the sight of her. His temper frightened her, but the way he looked at her made her stomach twist. She had seen those eyes before. It was as if she had the depths of them memorized without even knowing they had existed. In fact, his heated gaze was the one thing the erased all doubt of the reason she was brought here from her mind, for she knew there was no way that she had not crossed their path before.

----------
It was still so cold. That was the first thing that Scarlet deter minded about the next day in the manor, her feet hitting the wood floor when she woke up. Snow still came from the sky with a steady flow, making Scarlet think of how her mother used to sift the powdered sugar over her famous chocolate bunt cake.

Looking up, Scarlet noticed that the gold hands of the clock in her room were both on the twelve. It confused her for a moment, wondering how it could already be so late. But the truth was, she had tossed and turned all night in the large bed, nightmares flowing through her mind at a constant. Preston's green eyes haunted each and every one of them, making her wake up with a start.

Walking toward her private bathroom, her bedroom door still locked from the night before, Scarlet let her nightgown slip to the the floor in a puddle around her feet. She did not care if they were offended she did not attend breakfast, nor lunch. Let them worry, she thought. But as she stepped into the steaming shower, letting the water roll down the curves of her youthful breasts and hips, she realized that it was not that she did not want to see the other people who inhabited the manor, but instead, did not want to chance another encounter with Preston. After all, she spent her whole life listening to her mother tell her that it was safer to just stay inside, away from the danger.

It was seven that evening before Scarlet finally emerged from her room, dressed in jeans and pale blue, v-neck sweater that hugged at her feminine curves. Tucking a lock of golden hair behind her ear, she quietly made her way down the stair case and toward the library. It was time for her to find out exactly who Persephone was... Of course, it did not take long for her to find several books on the Goddess, for they were already sitting at a table in front of an arm chair by the fire. It was as if someone was already doing research on her, each and every book with her name in the title.

Eyebrows furrowed, Scarlet pulled her socked feet up underneath her in the arm, one of the large, aged books in her lap, and began to scan the pages.

 

[Raivh]

That night, Preston didn’t sleep well. In fact, every time he drifted off, anger still a blistering fire in his eyes, he woke with her image in mind. What made matters worse, was that the visuals that always appeared in his thoughts were of the young woman nude, in his bed, completely at his mercy. And begging for him, not to be kind to her or to love her—except with those blue eyes—but to have her. It didn’t matter how he took her, or whether or not he abused her beforehand, the woman just kept returning to haunt his dreams. Each time, the name on her lips was Hades, not Preston. There always seemed to be a certain glow about her, emanating not just from her golden locks, but from her smooth, porcelain skin as well. Her cries of pain and of pleasure bounced around in his head, making it impossible for him to think of anything else, and it had all been nothing but dreams, fabrications. It wasn’t reality.

Tightening his belt about his waist, he cast a glance at Cerberus. The dog was just as he had been before Scarlet had arrived; obedient. Preston, however, still recalled the events from the night before. His hand was bandaged where Cerberus’s menacing jaws sunk deep to defend that woman. “Damn dog,” Preston muttered, but the canine only whined and thumped his tail on the ground, lowering his head as Preston glowered down at him. Green eyes flitting to the closed door, he walked slowly toward it. Twice that day he’d had meals brought up to him. This one he could get himself. Wandering out into the hall, Cerberus at his heels, Preston made his way downstairs and into the dining area.

He didn’t notice until after gathering food on his plate that the dog has slipped away, and where Cerberus had gone, Preston wasn’t sure. “Preston.” Turning around, Preston stared into Dr. Haskell’s weary face. The old man pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I know how difficult it is for you to control your temper, but the way you handled Scarlet last night is unheard of. She is a woman…” trailing off, Dr. Haskell looked around the room, gesturing to several females standing about, “just like any of them, and you have chased after several. The only difference is that you and Persephone—”

“Will have nothing to do with each other. The Hades of ancient myth may have taken Persephone as his wife, but this woman is impertinent, and I will not fall into a predetermined fate,” Preston retorted, cutting the professor off. His demeanor was cold, emotionless.

“But that does not give you the right to physically harm her, Preston,” Dr. Haskell countered. Removing his glasses, he tucked them into the pocket over his heart. His eyebrows were furrowed into a stern crease, and he stepped toward Preston. “I have no doubt Scarlet bears marks on her body, reminders of your actions last night that instilled fear of you in her. But those bruises will fade. There is inevitable connection between you, and whether for better or worse, I think you’ll find that Hades will want his wife. And Persephone will want her husband. Neither of you will be able to deny the past, or the fact that she is drawn to you regardless of your malevolent behavior, and you to her because of her youth and beauty.”

Jaw clenched, Preston’s eyes swirled with a dark, brewing storm as he towered over the professor. Every defined muscle in his body was flexed in threat. His face was red, and he threw the plate in his hand, shattering the glass and sending shards of it in every direction. Several screams sounded before the room fell silent, but Preston was already exiting the room, his pace unhurried.

“Cerberus!” he shouted, striding across the rug that led down a long corridor. The only light offered was dim and flickered, emanating from several old lamps. “Cerberus!” Slamming the door to the study open, he found the dog curled beside the armchair Preston had been sitting in the night prior. The books he’d been going through were still out, as he hadn’t bothered to shelf them again. His hard green gaze locked on Scarlet as he loomed in the doorway.

 

[Blair1216]

Scarlet had not read through an entire page of the large, ancient book of her name when she felt something nudge at her leg. Eyebrows furrowed, she looked down to see Cerberus, his human-like eyes staring right at her. He was large, but around her, he had the personality of a lap dog, wagging his tail and laying his ears flat against his head. His expression was ashamed, knowing he should not be standing in front of her, but aching for her attention.

"Your dumb for following me," she stated, looking the dog straight in the eyes. "Do you not realize that?"

Sighing, Scarlet leaned down and stroked his soft black fur, giving him a disappointed expression. Something about those big eyes tugged at her heart, and she could not help but submit to giving him affection. He licked the palm of her hand in return, then curled into a comfortable position at her feet on the floor. He basked in the heat of the fire, his eyes closed peacefully, and Scarlet went back to reading. Even though she could not imagine Preston's reaction if he found Cerberus at her feet once again, she didn't have the heart to shoo him away. He looked too content.

Feeling a presence looming over her, Scarlet looked up and to the left, seeing Preston's intimidating figure in the doorway. Her head stayed down and her blue eyes flashed toward him, the light from the fire making her skin appear as if it were glowing. He startled her, and she didn't know if she should stand her ground and chance the act of him hurting her again, or try to run past him. Either way, her chances didn't look good, paralyzing her in the large armchair.

"I didn't call your dog," she said, her voice hesitant. Immediately, Scarlet's eyes shifted down at the book, although she was certainly not reading the words on the pages. Looking at her hands, she noticed they were shaking. Never had someone made her so nervous.

Cerberus's head propped up at the presence of his master, but he didn't move, and Scarlet was never more greatful toward a dog. Atleast in this position, Preston would have to get through the hulking pitbull to wrap his hands around her neck again.

It was clear Scarlet was scared under his glare, but a stubborness in her nature was still evident in the way her eyes refused to meet his again. She didn't want to look into those green eyes... Those green eyes that left her tossing and turning all night long.

"He found me," she said, her words ringing in the air. Her voice shook slightly, but it was strong, defending herself as much as possible.

 

[Raivh]

Minutes, an hour; time ceased the moment his eyes fell on her. His jaw tensed, and he pressed his hands on either side of the doorframe, as if bracing himself in it. His penetrating stare fell to the book on her lap when she spoke, and he ground his teeth together. How far had she read, and how much did she know? Preston’s eyes darted to Cerberus, but the dog didn’t even feign getting up. The fingers of his injured hand curled into a fist, the pain from Cerberus’s fierce bite more than lingering, a reminder that the dog had already developed an inevitable attachment to Scarlet. When he looked at her again, the woman wasn’t meeting his stare, but she was speaking, and he could hear the wavering of her words.

“So he did,” Preston snarled, shoving forward and away from the door. Rolling his shoulders back from the force he’d propelled himself forward, he turned and closed the door. Slow footsteps carried his towering, muscled physique over to her, and he stared down at the open book she held. Sure enough, the pages he could see contained the goddess Persephone’s name, but she hadn’t yet read far enough to learn details on how Hades kidnapped Persephone and brought her with him down to hell. Expression hard, unrelenting in his vicious conduct, he fixed his green eyes on her and wrenched the book out of her grasp.

Thumbing through the pages, he tore out several, flipped through the book some more, and repeated; several tense moments passed before he dropped the book back in her lap. “If Cerberus finds himself attached to you, however wretched you are, so be it,” Preston said in a dangerously low voice, green eyes burning into the blue depths of hers. With a deep breath in, he turned from her and strode to the fire, crumpling the papers up in his hand as he went. He tossed them into the fire, watching as the yellowed pages charred black and turned to ash. Then he returned to where she sat with the rest of the books, variations of titles on Persephone.

“You know,” he began, lowering himself to a squat beside the armchair. He reached out a hand, grasping her face, fingers digging in at much the same places as they had the night before. “Women shouldn’t read. Reading, education in general, makes women feel equal to men; it gives them a voice, but more dangerous, a mind of her own. It’s my opinion that a woman such as yourself, no matter how pretty she is, shouldn’t read.” His grip tightened, and he forced her to turn her face to him as he brought his closer. There was a solid crease between his eyes, which were fixated on hers, aware now that it was his stare that unnerved her so well.

“Reading allots information to those with the ability to translate words on a page into meaning. And the more a person thinks, the more that meaning develops into an interpretation. You wouldn’t want to interpret something incorrectly, would you? So riddle me this; why take the risk?” Thrusting her hand back, he released her and stood, gathering the books he’d pulled down from the night before. Slowly he began to walk back across the room, toward the open door. Glancing back over his shoulder, he smirked and gestured with a nod at the book he’d left her with. “You can keep that one. It’s no longer troublesome.”

His attention moved to Cerberus. “Cerberus, come.” Getting to his feet, Cerberus padded over to Scarlet and licked her hand, wagging his tail. With a low whine, the dog turned to follow Preston as the man left the room and headed upstairs. Once in his room, Preston shut and locked the door. He opened a large locking trunk that he kept in his closet, and dropped all of the books he’d procured from that woman into the wooden bottom. The lid shut with a heavy thud, and he spun the key in the lock before setting the small silver object on his desk. Head throbbing, he decided to return downstairs for a set of car keys to venture out, needing a change in atmosphere and an escape from the woman he’d left in the study.

 

[Blair1216]

Scarlet sat there, still and quiet. Her heart sped up, to the point of bursting, and she didn't dare even let out a whimper. Even when his grip felt like it were close to cracking her jaw bone, giving a definite bruise, she stayed still. The only movement she made was to grab his forearm, feeling the heat that radiated off of his body, and begging him not to squeeze with any more force. Her blue eyes burned into his, scared to look away. Like before, she had an deniable feeling of familarity as her blue irises met his emerald green ones. Every crease, every rim...Those eyes were something that she unknowlingly knew better that herself, and for some reason, while he screamed at her, inches from squeeze the breath out of her, she felt comfort in their emerald depths... How could she find solace in the eyes of such a monster?

As Preston ripped the pages, throwing them one by one in the fire, Scarlet bit her lip so hard she thought she would bleed, figuring it would be better than saying something that would get him even angrier. Taking deep breaths, she lowered her eyes, keeping her focus on the large dog that sat at her feet. Her stomach twisted, and before she could say anything at all, he was stalking out, Cerberus in tow. Never had she felt she torn down by someone.

Left alone, her cheeks a faint color of pink, Scarlet sat in the empty library. She hated him, more than she had ever hated anything in her life, and she didn't even know him. In fact, she knew nothing about him. All she knew was that his name was Preston, but he was Hades, God of the Underworld, and there was something about her that he loathed. It gave he the oddest mixture of emotions. While so angry she could cry, she also felt indifference. There was something about this man the her subconsious was drawn to, especially when she stared into his eyes, yet something about him that continued to scream at her to run away. He frightened her, but her stubborn nature gave her an unnatural curiosity as well.

Heaving herself from the chair, Scarlet ran, her face crumbling in angry tears. Her socked feet sprinted across the library, out the door, and through the hall. Pushing past everyone returning to their rooms, she sniffed, and shoved her way through. Blond hair blowing behind her, blue eyes tained with red, she paid no attention to the stares in her direction. It was late, and her intention was to run back to her room, lock herself in, and devise a way to get home.

Running right into a broad chest, Scarlet felt to the floor with a thud, her tail bone breaking the fall. With furrowed eyebrows, she pushed herself up into a sitting postions, wiped away her tears with a furious swipe of her hand, and looked up to see a matching pair of blue eyes. Gregory stood in front of her, and she looked up at him with a frustrated glance.

Taking a deep breath, Scarlet pushed herself up onto her feet and crossed her arms over her chest. As the hall cleared, she swallowed and gave Gregory a desperate look. It was odd how strong the differences between Gregory and Preston were. Gregory held an angelic presence, his golden hair and charming eyes giving off an imediate feeling of geniune care. She knew very little about him, but already felt she could trust him with her concerns.

"Why does he hate me so much?" she blurted, her voice far to loud to be polite. Before she could stop herself, her chin trembled, and moisture filled her already red eyes. From the night before, her throat was spotted with purple bruises, something she did not notice when she was showering earlier that day. Her hand went to touch them, realizing how sore they felt after Preston squeezed at them again only moments ago.

"Why does he hate?" Scarlet repeated, shaking her head and looking away from him. "What did I do to him to make him act this way to me in another life?"

 

[Raivh]

Striding down the hallway, hair tousled and a broad grin on his face, Gregory hadn’t been anticipating a collision with the newest edition to the manor. He grunted when she made impact with his chest, lungs losing a bit of breath. “Wow!” he exclaimed, furrowing his brow and looking down at her. “You in a rush?” Studying her face for a moment, he noticed the tears in her blue eyes when she glanced up at him. She appeared distraught and disgruntled. His eyes followed her as she rose to her feet and folded her arms over her chest. Shifting his weight from the left foot to the right foot, he ran a hand over his head, before slipping both hands into the pockets of his jeans.

“You alrig—” Cut off, he arched his eyebrows as she spouted out a question. The first man to pop into his head was the obvious—Preston. “Ah.” Lifting his head in a subtle nod, he frowned when her sapphire irises began to brim with salty tears. He took a deep breath, suddenly uncomfortable, suddenly irritated. His gaze swept over her, noting the bruises on her cheeks, jaw, and neck. Without the need to ask, he knew whose fingers would match those purplish prints. When she repeated her question, averting her glance, Gregory angled his head to look into her eyes.

His eyebrows were creased as if the answer she sought was one she should already know, but he responded anyway. “You want to know why Hades, God of the Underworld, hates?” Gregory asked, sounding as sarcastic as he did sympathetic. Moistening his lips, he brought a gentle hand up and placed it on her cheek, turning her to face him. He examined the bruises along her jaw and neck a moment more, leaning in to see better in the dim light of the hall. “You mean to know why he shouts at you, gifts you with violence, and leaves you with bruises like these. It’s in his blood to be vile, malicious. His twisted personality is why he was cast from Olympus in the time of ancient Greece.”

Exhaling, he let his hand fall back to his side, and looked to the ceiling. There was an extravagant mural painted above, depicting the kingdom of the Gods in a time of merrymaking and jubilance. “You are Persephone, daughter of ancient Zeus and Demeter…” he trailed off, lowering his gaze to her once more. “Goddess of the Underworld, and the wife of Hades during ancient times.”

“In other words, Preston acts the way he does, to keep you at a distance,” Gregory explained. “Why, I’m not entirely sure. You’re as lovely as spring itself.” Smiling, he brushed past her and continued to his room, disappearing from view.

 

[Blair1216]

As Gregory walked away, Scarlet stood in the hall and let her eyes wander toward the mural on the ceiling. Eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed, she looked at all of the Ancient Gods and Goddesses. It reminded her of being at her childhood friend Chelsea's house. Unlike Scarlet, Chelsea had a large family with three brothers and two sisters, all her elders. Of course, since most of her siblings were grown and out of the house, Scarlet never got a chance to meet half of them. They were like ghosts to her; people she knew once roamed the halls, leaving behind a strong memory, but never showing their faces. Looking at the mural was like looking at Chelsea's family portrait. Scarlet recognized Chelsea, of course, and her parents, but among them stood people she had never laid eyes on, yet knew they existed.

In the bottom right hand corner of the large painting, Scarlet saw a dark, mysterious figure. He stood tall, his expression full of disdain, and his green eyes holding a twist of violence. It did not take long for Scarlet to realize this was Hades, her husband. There was no mistaking that furious glare and the way it could turn fire to ice. Even in the painting, his stare intimidated Scarlet, and even though she wanted to tear her eyes from it the minute she saw it, she couldn't.

Scarlet was surprised how long it took her to see the woman standing at his side, nearly hidden by his large figure. She looked like she didn't belong there, looking up at the Heavens with a sense of longing in her blues eyes and her long blonde hair adorned with flowers. Yet, she held on to Hades' arm, as if begging for his protection. No, affection.

Her stomach twisting into sickening knots, Scarlet put a hand over her mouth. She stared into the blue eyes of the woman beside Hades, reading into her desperation and sadness as if it were her own. It was as if she were looking into the mirror, looking into her own soul and seeing herself for the first time. Never had she felt such a bond to another person; a woman she had never met. That was Persephone... That was her.

Scarlet woke up early the next morning, her eyes wide and ready for the morning sun. She flipped the ivory sheets over, letting the cold air touch her body. Despite the night before, she did not spend her time crying or cowering in fear. In fact, she went straight for the shower, letting the steaming hot water roll down her body and rid her of the feeling of Preston's dangerous hands on her skin. She would not let him break her spirit. In fact, his actions and the conclusion she came to after viewing the mural fed her stubborn nature with motivation, making her want to know about herself twice as much as before.

After slipping into a pair of jeans, a thin navy blue v-neck shirt and knitted ivory cardigan, Scarlet left her room and walked down the hall, going straight for the dining hall. After not eating the day before out of stubbornness, her stomach growled at her with fury, and she went straight for a tray of oatmeal and strawberries, loading her plate to its capacity.

As Scarlet nipped at her strawberries and devoured the cinnamon oatmeal, her blue eyes darted around the room, looking at her surroundings and the people who she shared them with. The men and woman that walked around casually all had a sense of regal poise to the way they held themselves, giving off the utmost standard of beauty. Each and everyone of them gave off a sense of unique personality, yet the same gorgeous glow.

Although she knew she shouldn't, Scarlet kept her eyes out for Preston. She didn't know if it was because she was hoping she would not come in contact with him at all, or the fact that she wanted to see him in order to analyze him. This was her husband at one time, after all, and her curiosity begged for her to see the reason why... But, despite sitting in the dining hall at her private table for over an hour, his path never crossed her's. Even when she whispered his dog's name under her breath, like a young child saying a curse word for the first time, nothing happened. He was not in the castle, it appeared, and she had an odd mixture of relief and severe disappointment fall over her.

Pushing herself up from the table, Scarlet walked toward the library, hoping that there was possibly another book over Persephone left. Maybe Preston missed one, and she could get a little bit of research done without worrying if he was going to scold her and give her another bruise. It was highly unlikely, but it was better than trying to locate a laptop in the manor. After all, she doubted they had internet.

And then it dawned on her. Preston may have taken those books up to his room, but he was not there to guard them. He was off doing God knows what, and she could possibly slip in and take one. Out of all of those books, would he realize she just took one? The plan sounded decent, and with her desperate need for information, the possible benefit far out weight the risk.

With a quiet, yet quick dash to the right side of the stair case, Scarlet darted for his room, figuring that it would not be hard to find it among the east wing of the manor. She tiptoed down the hall, careful not to alert anyone, and let her blue eyes search each and every door, reading the gold plates that displayed the names of its inhabitants. Oddly enough, the gold plates did not say their given names, but their ancient Greek names. It puzzled her until she remembered that in the manor, that was what they were thought of - Gods and Goddesses.

Scarlet should have know that Preston's room would be at the end of the hall, all to its own. The gold plate reading "Hades" mocked her, pulling her toward it, yet screaming at her to run away all at once. It was a warning she should have taken, she knew, but her curiosity was stronger than a cat's, and before she talk herself down from doing something idiotic, her hand was on the doorknob, turning it with ease. She did not think that it was strange he would leave his door unlocked, after all, before her, who would have wanted or dared to enter?

Quietly, as if he could hear her every step from where he had went off to, Scarlet walked through the large master bedroom and searched for the books, figuring they couldn't be far from sight. However, his room was oddly bare. Despite the lavish furniture that had came with the room, she was sure, his domain was surprisingly empty. After looking for a little over ten minutes, all she managed to find was a silver, vintage-looking key. Puzzled, she picked it up and turned it over in her palm several times, her brows furrowed. Whatever this key went to, Preston obviously believed that whoever he was hiding something from would not go as far as to try to find it.

Rushing around the room, her blond hair blowing behind her in a fury, Scarlet darted from wall to wall of the room, trying to find the the key's home. Looking under the bed, the bedside table, his dresser... She covered almost every inch of the room in less than a minute, and when nothing she laid her eyes on gave her hope, she let out a frustrated sigh.

"A man of mysteries," she muttered to herself, bitterness coating each word. Arms crossed across her breasts, she panted and bit her lip, he face pink and her blue eyes looking around the room desperately.
And there it was, deep in the closet. The only light that shined on it was from the door being cracked wide enough to slip her index finger in... Scarlet slowly walked over to the mahogany door, pulling it open my the golden know, and revealing the large, rustic chest. Eyes wide, she dropped to her knees in front of it, letting her fingers hesitantly brush across the gold accents around the lock. It was so detailed, engraved leaves and thorns surrounding the inviting lock. It had to have been made hundreds of years ago, she thought, mesmerize by its beauty.

Looking down at the key in her right palm, it only took a moment for Scarlet to noticed the same leaves and thorns graved at the top of it, confirming that the chest was indeed the key's home.

Click.

With a turn of the key, the chest was open, revealing all of the books that Preston had swiped from her the night before during his tantrum. A sly smile slide across Scarlet's bright face, and as she planned, she only took one, a fatter book that was on the bottom with Persephone displayed across the cover with gold script. She quickly shoved the book underneath her arm, hidden by her ivory sweater, and closed the chest, locking it back.

So sure that she was home free, Scarlet walked out of the closet and gently placed the key where Preston had left it the night before.

 

[Raivh]

One strong hand grasped the knob to his bedroom door tightly, spinning it and stepping into the frame. He turned his head to the right, spotting her, and furrowed his brow. Rage registered on his face immediately. “Whathe hellur you doin’?” Cheeks tinted a red hue with his fiery temper, he slammed the door shut and it rattled on its hinges. Alcohol ran thick through his veins which bulged along every tendon in his arms and neck. His green eyes were clouded over, intoxication evident. Out all night, he’d done more than grab one drink to quell his contempt for the woman now standing in his room, evidently a culprit of thievery. Scanning the room, one hand still on the door, holding it closed, his stare returned to her.

“Howdja get in ‘ere? Where’s my damned dog?” he interrogated, turning from her and pulling open the door to shout into the hall, “Cerberus! Cerberus!” With a grunt, Preston closed the door once more, spinning the lock when the canine didn’t come running. Again, his green eyes focused on her. Anger boiled red-hot in his face as he took one, wavering step in her direction and straightened his back, standing tall.

His eyes roamed over her, the corners of his lips twitching up into a sneer. “Whadaveya got?” Moistening his dry, cracked lips, he crossed over to her quicker than any drunken man should have been capable of and grabbed her by the wrist. It was only a matter of seconds before he had a hold of the book. Staring down at the title with a most perplexed expression, his eyes roved the name emblazoned in gold; Persephone. For a long moment, he stood there, trying to make out what it said. Finally, his lips moved, tongue slurring the name of the goddess. He said it again, as if confirming what he had just read was correct. His chest began to heave, nostrils to flare, and he threw the book behind him. The pages shuttered as the book flew through the air, careening toward a wall and impacting. It fell to the floor, upside down and open, several of the pages bent over and now creased.

Strong hands moved quickly, forming fistfuls of knitted ivory fabric and wrenching Scarlet forward. Spit flew from his mouth as he shouted in her face. “Ya damned minx!” he bellowed, sobering somewhat and giving her a careless, violent shake as he lifted her off the floor. Her smaller body was light, no match for his strength. Glowering at her, he jerked her to the right and tossed her onto the floor near the bed, watching her body jar from the force. Heavy footsteps carried him over to where she was, and then down to her level as his knees crashed to the ground, pinning her at the waist. The fingers of his left hand coiled in her blonde hair and he jerked her head back, piercing her blue irises with a vicious green stare.

“Who told you ta come in here!” Striking her across the face with his open, calloused palm, he returned with the back of his hand across her other cheek. “How mucha thabookedja read? Whaddoyou know?” Hauling her up off the floor, he staggered forward, booted feet catching on the carpet. The back of her knees hit the bed, followed by his knees, and he collapsed on top of her with a disconcerted grunt. However soft the press of her breasts against his chest, he pushed away, stumbling back a step.

“Get outta here!” he roared, raising his hand back as if to swing at her again. Then he stopped. His green eyes locked with hers, diving deep into the oceanic pools. Teeth gritted together, he swallowed, the motion rolling down the corded muscles of his throat. “Get out.” The simple phrase was strained against his locked jaw. Cerberus could be heard outside of the door now, pawing at the bottom and whining to get inside.

 

[Blair1216]

Scarlet could smell the liquor on his breath, especially when his face was inches from her's. When she heard the lock of the door click, her heart skipped a beat, realizing that not only was Cerberus unable to be at her side, but no one else could get inside unless they broke the door down. Fear was evident deep within her sapphire eyes as she looked up at him from where he threw her to the floor. As a result of the fall, she felt a searing pain in her elbow, as if it were cracked in half. With a quick downward glance, she noticed it wasn't broken, but bleeding profusely. The crimson liquid stained straight through her ivory sweater, tainting it's innocent appearance. She covered it up with her other hand and tried to stand up, only to be grabbed back up and thrown on to the bed. Feeling his body against her's, she felt the head that radiated off of him. It was unrealistic how hot he felt pressed against her, his temperature seeming well above normal.

"You can't refuse me of my own history!" she screamed into his face. Where she received this courage, she hadn't the slightest idea. Her stubborn nature was shining through, looking up at him with disgusted expression. Her nose wrinkled and her blue eyes narrowed, just in time to feel him tower over her, pin her down, and slap her so hard, she felt her jaw pop.

Feeling as if time had ceased, her eyes looking into his emerald windows, Scarlet felt herself go still. Shock was drawn across her face, bright as the red hand print that had marked her ivory skin. She looked at him with an expression of betrayal and confusion, unable to register why someone would strike another person. Her mother, while overly protective of Scarlet, was very gentle. She never laid a hand on her, nor had anyone else. Eyebrows furrowed, she studied his eyes, noticed how hazy they looked after he had been drinking. They still held the same feeling of extreme familiarity, yet foggy with something she had never experienced.

His voice booming across the room, Scarlet jumped when he told her to get out. The sounds of Cerberus whining, trying to get to her and protect her broke her heart. Why did this dog obey Preston with precision, yet yearn for her affection?

Silence looming over them, Scarlet slowly stood, her knees wobbly, and looked up at him with a fierce gaze. "To answer your question," she sneered, careful to walk past him and unlock the door. Cerberus barely gave her enough time to turn the knob before he barreled in, looking between the two people in the room.

"I didn't read a single page," Scarlet assured, her voice shaking and her eyes holding his with intensity. "But I know, Preston. I know that Hades and Persephone were married."

Shaking her head, Scarlet looked at her elbow, the blood dripping down her forearm and palm with a steady flow. Covering it up with her other hand, she cradled it as she stood in the door way. Knowing it was no use, she quickly took off her sweater, leaving her in the blue tank top, and wrapped it around her arm.

"I'm not sure why you look at me with such hate," she whispered, her eyes meeting his from underneath her lashes. "But I assure you, you won't have to much longer, because I am getting the Hell out of here. Tonight."

And with that, Scarlet turned to leave before he could see her eyes well with tears, sick of feeling so emotionally fragile. Her elbow was in pain, but she didn't care. She ran for her room and locked the door behind her, careful to push an arm chair in front of it. Her heart beating with fury, she grabbed a small carry on bag out of the top of the closet and started to throw as many clothes into it as it could hold. This place was not her home. No, this place was some kind of Hell. From the snowy, lifeless atmosphere to having to endure Preston, it was a prison. Whether Preston was her lover from another life or not, he wouldn't be this time around. He was a monster, a man who looked at her with so much malice that it made her shudder, and she could not stand one more second under his haunting, emerald green glare.

Tying the thin sweater around her bloody arm as tight as she could, she slipped a thick coat on and zipped up her boots. Grabbing a scarf, gloves, and her bag, she pushed the window open with a furious thrust of her palms. After living with a mother who rarely let her out of her sight for eighteen years, Scarlet knew exactly how to sneak out of a bedroom. She knew how to push the screen until it popped off, hold to throw her bag down to the precise place on the roof she planned to jump to... Getting to the ground from the fourth story was a challenge, but it didn't take her long, and before she even heard someone trying to get into her bedroom door, she was sprinting across the snowy yard with a fear-induced speed.

 

[Raivh]

Preston stood there, shoulders rising and falling with each heave of his chest, and watched as she slowly got to her feet, wavering a bit. The fire he saw flash in her eyes was countered with his own, and he moved, mindful not to brush any part of his body against hers, as she strode past him. His eyes didn’t fall to the Cerberus as the dog came hurtling into the room, tongue lolling from the side of his mouth and still whimpering. When she spoke of the matrimony between Hades and Persephone, Preston tensed and very near bared his teeth in a scowl. So she had discovered the fate that damned her. The metallic smell of her blood tainted the air, and each puff that Preston drew in was filled with its iron rich scent so thick he could taste it on his tongue.

His green glare monitored her every move, a disgusted expression etched onto his stony, red features. He watched as she crudely bandaged her elbow up, permanently staining that ivory sweater of hers, and happened to listen as she spoke. One corner of his lips twitched up into a sneer, and he laughed, swaying for a brief moment before steadying himself. Locking his eyes on hers, his malevolent stare trailed her as she exited the room.

“Good!” he shouted after her, stumbling quickly toward the door. His shoulder crashed against the frame, but the impact didn’t faze him. “Hell won’t ‘ave you!” Licking his lips, green eyes wide and wild, he fell backwards, landing hard on his ass just as Cerberus went plowing past him. “Damn it, dog!” Swearing up and down, he lay back and rolled to his stomach, gradually getting to his feet. The door slammed behind him as he shuffled down the hallway, intent on reaching her room. That was the only logical place that stupid mutt would go, to protect the woman he instinctually believed was his ‘mistress.’ Preston’s anger was a raging inferno, hot enough to burn into the very soul of anyone who dared glance his way.

When he reached her door, he grabbed the handle, jerking it back and forth. His effort to pull it open awash, he smashed one massive shoulder into it. “Come outta there!” The racket he was making was enough to draw attention, and he could see several servants hustling his way. Feeling hands grabbing for him, he flung a powerful arm back and knocked one man unconscious. Preston turned quickly, struggling against the two pairs of hands that pinned him to the door. “I’ll kill ‘er! Leggo a me!” He staggered forward, breaking free of the two people who had restrained him. Anger blazing brighter than before; he wheeled around and crashed into the door, causing it to groan in its frame and something on the other side to split. Tripping over a chair on the other side, he bruised his chin on the carpet but didn’t seem to register any pain as he got to his feet.

Savage, predatory eyes scanned the empty room and locked on the open window. Staggering toward it, he teetered in front of it, only to be stopped from falling forward by the same pairs of hands that had restrained him moments ago. “Get off!” he boomed, shoving his shoulders back, as he searched the snow blanketed terrace. His eyebrows were furrowed and eyes narrowed, squinting against the bright reflection of sunlight against the powdery crystals.

“Can’t see shit,” he muttered. A furious growl ripped from his chest as he whipped around, striding to the door. “Let ‘er freeze.” Storming out of the room, he returned to his bedroom and harshly drew the door shut behind him. He didn’t bother with a shower and collapsed on the bed without turning the blankets back.

Loud barks echoed in the manor as Cerberus ran back and forth in front of the door leading outside from the kitchen. The kitchen staff was busy cleaning up, and after fifteen minutes of listening to the dog’s earsplitting clamor, one woman finally opened the door and let the animal out. Plunging into the snow, Cerberus stuck his nose in the air, pulling in deep breaths of the frigid atmosphere and trying to catch Scarlet’s scent. His instincts had keyed him in on the fact that his master was not only drunk, but was in a foul mood as well, and the young woman was Preston’s primary target of abuse. Leaps and bounds as his manner of maneuvering in the snow, the dog sought Scarlet out while Preston dozed.

Hours later, when Preston awoke, a throbbing headache enough to recall exactly how much he’d drank, the man rolled onto his side. The curtains on his windows let in no sliver of light, letting him know that he’d slept clean through the day, into night. With a groan, he sat up and dropped his feet to the floor. A shower was in order, but the moment he had his shirt over his head, voices, shouts, caught his ears. It was Dr. Haskell’s voice and several others that he could hear, and it sounded like they were coming from outside. Pushing back the curtains of one window, Preston peered out, busy unfastening the buckle on his belt. It was a task that seemed difficult, and he snarled, pulling his attention away from the figures moving around in the snow with flashlights, and fixed it on getting the damned belt off. Once he was free of the item, he cast it aside.

It wasn’t until he was in the shower that he heard a knock at his door, followed by the sound of Dr. Haskell calling Preston’s name—or at least the name of the deity’s soul he carried somewhere within his own. “What?” Preston snapped, wrapping a towel about his waist and crossing over to open the door. The professor stared up at him with a stern expression painted on his wrinkled old features, his gray brows furrowed, and a hint of concern in his eyes. Clearing his throat, Preston questioned the man again. “What is it?”

Dr. Haskell glanced past Preston, looking to the blood that was spattered on the carpet and bed. “That blood. It’s hers. What have you done, Preston? Where is Scarlet?”

Silent, Preston stared at the elder man with a cold, uncaring look. “Leave me be. Where’s Cerberus? That damn dog has run off more times than he ever has since that woman arrived.”

“Cerberus’s tracks were found outside of the gate, but it’s snowed so much that his trail has disappeared. And along with his tracks, hers vanished too,” Dr. Haskell replied.

“Whose?” Preston asked, oblivious to the fact that Scarlet was the ‘her’ Dr. Haskell was referring to. He would have rather not have to discuss her at all. She was insignificant in his eyes, a bothersome and wretched woman, who felt she should speak her mind in her stubborn stupidity.

“Persephone. Hades. Where has your wife gone?”

Preston gritted his teeth in anger. “She is no wife of mine, and if she has run off, then leave her to go her own way. I’ll be down in half an hour to go search for Cerberus.” Shutting the door before the old man could say anything more, Preston turned to go and dress.

Half an hour later, around ten, Preston emerged downstairs. Dinner was being served, despite the fact that Scarlet was still missing, though no one seemed to be eating. Many just wandered around, whispering so that their words couldn’t be heard as Preston grabbed his coat from the large closet and exited out the front door.

“Cerberus!” he called into the night. “Get back, you damn, fucking dog!” Trekking through the snow, Preston managed to make it past the gate, and began the long hike to the woods that led up into the mountains.

 

[Blair1216]

Once Scarlet made it out of the gates of the manor, she slowed to a furious, yet steady trudge through the thick snow. This was the first time she was actually outdoors, standing within the icy weather since she had been brought to Dr. Haskell, and it felt as depressing as it looked. The snow swirled around her, coating her golden locks with a lair of twinkling ice and making her cheeks sting. Her eyes narrowed at the path ahead of her, realizing that the land surrounding the manor was more wide-spread than she had previously predicted, but she didn't care. Her stubborn nature kept her focus on moving ahead, hoping to reach a road that she could hitch-hike from before the sun set. Maybe she could make it to an airport to call her mom from by the end of the day. Knowing her mother, she would get on a plan and fly straight to her, and at this point, Scarlet was ready. She was ready for her mother to scold her for "running away", telling her she needed to spend some time at home to appreciate what she had, and feel the warmth of her arms around her... She wanted that protection her mother gave her, the affection she always poured over her. Her whole life, especially in her teens, Scarlet resented her mother for shielding her from a normal life. She yearned to meet new people, fall in love, go to school... See how the world worked on the outside.

However, after having Preston inflicted on her during her stay at the manor, Scarlet started to doubt her ability to be independent. Her mind ran circles around itself, trying to figure out if it was because she was so weak that Preston insisted on hurting her or if it was life testing her, telling her that Mother was right. She was much too delicate for society's strong hand; Hades' strong hand. And yet, despite always wanting to have just a slight amount of freedom, she was running back to her mother... Proving to her once and for all that she could not handle the vile world and its reality.

Tears dripped down her cheeks, not from the pain of her shoulder, not from Preston's words, but from disappointment. She had failed in someway, releasing an extreme amount of sadness within Scarlet. It was not Preston who ran her off, but her weak nature. She would have never survived the manor. There were too many things that Scarlet didn't have the experience to handle on her own. Not without her mother.

Suddenly, Scarlet's vision was starting to swim within her blue eyes, and her head started to feel loose from where it was mounted on her neck. She felt as if she was going to faint, grabbing on to a nearby tree branch to keep herself stable. She felt so tired... So dizzy. Looking down, she noticed her wound on her elbow soaked straight through the sweater she had wrapped around it and down her arm, leaving a crimson trail as she walked. Peering behind her, the manor was no longer visible, the snow growing thicker and the sky growing darker.

Nervously swallowing and feeling her heart start to thud in her chest, Scarlet felt nervous. Her head was feeling so light, her vision was going in and out, and she slowly slid to the ground at the trunk of the tree. Snow surrounded her, and she couldn't seem to manage to stand up. Within her hazy thoughts, an image of Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz came into view, slowly getting sleepy from the poppies that surrounded her. Scarlet felt just like Dorothy, as if she were being pulled under from some unimaginable force.

Hearing a noise, Scarlet slowly turned her head to the right and barely made out the outline of Cerberus trotting after her. His thick black coat was blanketed with the white snow as he walked toward her, wagging his tail at the sight of her.

"Cerberus," she said, her voice faint, and her eyes slowly blinking. A half smile spread across her face as she reached out to pet him. "Oh, Cerberus, you need to go back... Go back... Hades will be angry..."

The name Scarlet used felt so natural, slipping off her tongue like honey, and she didn't even notice. Cerberus started to whine, leaning down to lick her blood-stained hand. His whimpers were of worry, noticing that Scarlet was starting to fade. He let out a frustrated bark, wanting Scarlet to stand, but she couldn't find the strength. It was so cold... Everything was spinning...

"Cerberus," she whispered, "Oh, Cerberus... Go get Hades."

Her voice was slurred, as if it were not coming from her own mouth. She didn't remember choosing those words, not realizing what she was saying. The hulking dog let out a low whine, as if he didn't want to obey, but knew he had to. Before Scarlet could see if he did, everything went black. She fell against the snow, her blonde hair spilling across it and lips turning a faint shade of blue. With time, the night grew darker, and the snow grew wilder, covering Scarlet in its thick blanket, lulling her into a fatal sleep.

 

[Raivh]

Even after Scarlet fell unconscious, Cerberus remained by her side, barking in a futile effort to wake her. Low growls came from his throat as night set in and creatures began to come out, prowling through the night. He lay down beside the woman, curled against her back, ears forward and alert. His head rotated from side to side, nose to the air, trying to smell past the blustering wind and gusting snow.

“Cerberus!” Preston continued to call, growing more and more irritated with each passing minute. It was an hour before he found the black pit, and the dog was anything but friendly as he approached. Jumping to his feet, the snow that had fallen atop his silky black coat exploding into the air, Cerberus snarled and gnashed his teeth, strong jaws snapping with the force of each bark that erupted from his chest. Preston swore and pressed on, commanding the dog to obey. When he got close enough to the dog, Cerberus sat down, cowering and shivering in the snow, not accustomed to being out in the elements for as long as he had been. Reaching down, Preston grabbed a hold of the animal’s collar, but the canine refused to budge, muscles locked in place. Cerberus sat there, a dead weight, and growled, teeth bared in obvious aggravation.

Jerking his head away, the dog pushed his snout under the snow and scratched at the ground, flopping back down beside Scarlet’s limp, cold body. Large eyes searched his master’s face, and Preston stared down at the dog, confusion and irritation written on his countenance. Stepping closer, Preston reached a hand out to brush some snow off of Cerberus’s shoulder. The dog was shivering, and would no doubt be sick for the next week.

“Get up!” Preston bellowed, yanking Cerberus’s collar. The dog flailed, pushing snow off of Scarlet’s body, revealing her to Preston’s green eyes. In the cold, despite the howling wind, everything seemed to grow quiet. Heat coursed through his veins, and he swiped his hand over the young woman’s body, revealing her shoulders, her blonde hair, and then her slender face and bruised jaw. Clenching his teeth, he shifted, lowering himself and kneeling in the snow beside her. Heartbeat strong and swift, Preston inhaled deeply and brought Scarlet into his arms. He held her, looking over her body; his own was tense, every muscle strung tight, as if repulsed to be cradling her against the almost unnatural warmth of his chest. She was light, her skin paler than usual, but he couldn’t tell if that was because of the cold or something more. His gaze fell to her blood stained elbow, and he turned, heading for the house. It was almost against his will that his legs moved, knees driving up to push onward, back down the slope and through the snow, to the house.

He cast a glance over his shoulder at the pitbull following close at his heels, staring up Scarlet’s snow-covered blonde locks. Much later, Preston was pushing through the front door, stomping snow off inside and walking toward the stairs. Dr. Haskell rose from his chair in the living room, gray eyebrows knitted together, that same solemn expression riddling his wrinkled features. Scaling the stairs, Preston refused to look down into Scarlet’s face.

“Come tend to her,” he said, speaking loud enough for the old man to hear. “She’s fainted, but she’s still breathing shallowly. She’s not damned yet.” Just then, he turned his face down and peered upon her countenance. The muscles in his jaw strained, and he swallowed, quickening his pace. When he reached her room, the broken chair cleared away and the space restored to order, Preston carried her in and set her down on her bed.

“Preston? Where was she?” Dr. Haskell inquired rather breathlessly. “We searched everywhere. Combed the woods, and called for Cerberus.” The dog padded in and flopped down beside Scarlet’s bed, muzzle resting on his front paws. He let out a whine, and jerked his head up as Preston stepped back.

“It doesn’t matter,” Preston replied, heading for the door. He lowered his voice before he stepped out into the hall. “And I don’t think Persephone will be leaving again.” Shutting the door behind him, he left the professor to care for the young woman’s injuries. In his room, Preston stripped down bare, his clothes saturated from hiking so long in the blizzard-like weather outside. After taking another long, hot shower to cure his body of the numb sensation it had acquired out in the frigid weather, Preston slept. It was a long, deep slumber that would last until mid-afternoon.

While he slept, he dreamt of her, of Persephone—of Scarlet. And when he awoke, it was with a start. He landed on the floor with a loud bang, the sheets and blankets coiled about his nude physique. His headache had yet to leave him, but he attributed part of it to be his excursion in the snow to search for his dog, which led him to the unconscious young woman. Slowly, he got to his feet, the sheets and blankets falling away into a heap on the floor, where he left them to dress, pulling on a pair of jeans and a dark gray T-shirt before wandering downstairs. His stomach was growling fiercely, but he lost his appetite the moment he saw the professor striding toward him.

“Preston, she various contusions over the surface of her body, and I fear that her jaw is cracked, but have not been able to examine it with the proper tools,” Dr. Haskell began. “I know you are responsible for most, if not all, of her injuries. So I insist you help me move her from her room to my office.” Before Preston could argue or deny, the old man pointed toward the stairs with what was almost a flick of his wrist, a command, not a suggestion.

Up in Scarlet’s room, Preston stared first at Cerberus lying at the woman’s feet, and then into her face. His green gaze remained icy, even when his arms slid under her, one beneath her back, and the other under her knees. He lifted her with a grand bit of ease and followed the professor down the hall, through a door, down another, smaller corridor, and then into another room.

“Set her down on the table over there,” Dr. Haskell demanded, pointing to a padded examination surface. “And then sit down.” Growing irritated with all of the doctor’s commands, Preston still did as told. It was a couple hours before Dr. Haskell announced that her jaw wasn’t cracked; however, it was severely bruised and swollen, the result of a careless and powerful blow. Without bothering to ask, he turned to Preston.

“When she wakes, you will help her down to the kitchen. And you will help her to get something in her system. Soft foods only. Nothing solid.” Vanishing, he left the two alone, and Preston sat at a distance from the young woman, staring over at her with his intense green gaze. Cerberus was seated at his feet, shoulder pressed to the side of his master’s leg, dark eyes fixated on Scarlet.

 

[Blair1216]

It was hours before Scarlet stirred, nearly midnight the next night. Within the warm of the bed, she moved to her left side and tugged at the blankets. On top of her small body laid what felt like three quilts, her frame being dressed in a tank top and fabric shorts that a maid had changed her into after bathing her from the blood. The queen sized bed was inviting, resembling the feeling of the bed Scarlet had in California, soft and home-y.

"Mom?" Scarlet muttered, her eyes fluttering open slowly in the darkened room. She knew she was home; she had to be. The last thing she remembered was hiking up the mountain, her boots filled with snow, and getting out of the manor's sight. Surely, she made it home.

To her disappointment, instead of her blue eyes landing on the lavender walls of her childhood bedroom, pictures of her mother and her on the beach, and trophes from her ballet recitals and perfect attendance awards from elementary school, Scarlet found Cerberus staring up at her from the floor. His tail was wagging, and he put his front paws up on the bed, looking at her with intensity. Her eyebrows furrowed, and she let a shaky hand reach out from beneath the blankets to feel his fur, like she was unsure he was dream.

The only light in the room was admitted from a lamp and her bedside, illumitating the room just enough for her to glance at her surrounding. Making her blue eyes widen and her face grow a shade paler, Scarlet caught sight of Preston sitting in an armchair beside her. Pushing herself up slowly, her head throbbing and her jaw sore, she winced and tried to slide as far away from him as she could. She met his green eyes with a flash of fear and suprise, not expecting to see his imposing form at her bedside. He was as imtimdating as ever, his green eyes haunting her in the silence of the room. Scarlet wondered where her backbone went, feeling more frightened than ever. She wasn't sure if it was because she had already had her mind set on never seeing him again, never having to deal with his hand striking her, or because now she knew she was helpless, even weaker physically than her mother always said she was mentally.

"How did I get here?" she whispered, he voice light and hushed. It was obvious in the way she was cowaring beneath his glare that she was scared, wanting no part in him hurting her. With a twist of shame and utter disappointment, tears welled within her sapphire eyes, and her face twisted in agony. "I wanted to go home..."

Scarlet felt delusional, emotional pain coarsing through her with a vengance. All she wanted was to wake up in her old bed, her mother being right down the hall... She wanted to not have to worry about Preston hating her so much or thinking about her previous life with him. Above all, that was it. She could not bare living in a place where someone hated her so much.
Taking her hand from where it was intertwined with Cerberus's fur, she wiped her cheeks and avoided his gaze. She decided to keep her mouth shut, knowing that if she were to say what she wanted, she would never stop, and that would surely anger him.

 

[Raivh]

The moment he heard her stirring, Preston turned his head in her direction, watching as her blue eyes opened wide and glistened with fright. It was evident that his very presence caused the young woman great distress, but he didn’t remove his stare from hers. He shifted in his seat as she sat up, sitting up himself, and rested his arms on the wooden supports on either side of the chair. There was something about how she looked at him in such a terrified manner that irritated him. His green eyes moved over her face, and he discovered that the bruises on her body displeased him as well. However, he had no objective of admitting that his abusive behavior had been wrong, or of apologizing. Not once in his life had Preston uttered the phrase ‘I’m sorry,’ and he had no intentions of starting now.

When she spoke, he remained seated and still, and didn’t respond to her. The tears brimming in her oceanic eyes glistened and caused his gut to twist. It was a feeling he found no pleasure in, but one he ignored, clearing his throat.

His green eyes took on a darker hue, and he finally ground out a response. “Well, you’re not at home.” Gritting his teeth together, he tore his eyes from hers. Something about her tears bothered him, something he hadn’t noticed before, or a feeling he had perhaps shoved away. He rose from his chair quietly, and shuffled over to a corner sink. There was a glass setting on the counter, and he picked it up, filling it halfway and carrying it over to where she lay, resting.

“Drink it, and then get up,” he commanded rather harshly, holding the glass for her to take, as he stared at the wall, keeping his gaze averted from her face. When she’d finished, he took the glass and returned it to the sink. Leaving her where she lay, having no desire to touch her, he crossed over to the door. “If you’re hungry, you’ll walk downstairs on your own.” His eyebrows were furrowed into a thick crease as he turned the doorknob and pulled open the door, stepping into the hallway. It was rather dark. Everyone in the manor was asleep except for them, and with her was the last place he wanted to be.

“Hurry up.” Striding down the hall, he exited out the second door and into the main corridor that led to the stairs. Slow footsteps carried him to the stairs, which he descended without glancing over his shoulder once. He left the lights off, wandering around in the dark. It wasn’t a difficult task, not for someone who had spent fifteen years in the large abode. Entering the kitchen, he opened the refrigerator, which gave off the only bit of dim light in the entire room. He pulled out a carton of milk and set it on the counter before going from cabinet to cabinet in search of something soft. Canned tomato soup was discovered as the fruits of his efforts, and he set it down beside the milk, minus a can opener.

“You can make it yourself.” Staring at her in the darkness, his expression hard, he sat down at one of the bar stools around the center counter. His eyes worked over her slowly, and he scoffed, sliding the chair out and exiting the room to go sit down in the corner of a couch in the large living room.

 

[Blair1216]

Scarlet pushed herself from the soft bed against its tempting invitation for her stay. Her knees were wobbly, and she felt her stomach twist with natiousness at the sudden movement. Shuffling toward the door, her barefeet cold against the hard wood floor, she kept one hand on the wall and one hand on her stomach as she walked, feeling her way down the corridor due to the lack of lighting. Her blue eyes narrowed, begging the darkness to let up just enough for her not to trip down the stairs and give herself enother injury.

Finally making it to the kitchen and being greeted with his cold-hearted attempt to help her eat, Scarlet slowly made her way to the counter and held on to it to keep her balance. She looked at the can of soup, her stomach growling, and cursed under her breath at the lack of a can opener. Shaking her head, she grabbed the can of soup and threw it to the floor with frustration, her eyes narrowed as it clang to the floor loudly, echoing in the silent kitchen.

Rolling her eyes, she clenced her sore jaw and grabbed the carton of milk, slowly turning and find a glass to pour it in. After a few minutes of desperately searching, Scarlet managed to find a loaf of bread. She tore off a slice and chewed it slowly, sitting on the bar stool that he left out and practically chugging the milk.

Sitting on the stool, it was obvious how short her cotton pajama bottoms were, baring her smooth leg. It held a couple bruises on her left thigh from falling to his floor the night before, but she didn't seen to noticed, crossing it over the other one and nibbling at her bread. Her lonely, depressed eyes stared out the window, glaring the snow as it swirled around the manor, mocking her of her attempt to escape it. All she wanted was to go home, and here she was, under the care of the man who hurt and scared her the most.

After a few long moments, Scarlet pushed herself to her feet with a heavy sigh, letting them hit the cold tile. Wincing slightly, she took her time trying to shuffle to the living room where he sat, bracing the door way for support. When she entered the sitting room, her eyes took in his position on the couch and his solemn expression. Biting her lip, she sat in the armchair across the room and folded her legs up and underneath her. With a hesitant hand, she reached up and ran a hald through her long golden hair, taking a few deep breaths before daring a looking into his imposing green eyes.

"I'm sorry," she muttered, her voice soft, barely audible. "I'm sorry I went into your room. Despite my reasoning, I guess I should have known better."

Her apology was there, and while genuine, a little snippy. It implied what he had done to her as well, knowing that if she did not break into his room, he would not have physically harmed her. She shrugged, her eyes holding a sense of defeat as they glanced over at the clock, noting how late it was. Instead of looking at him, Scarlet opted to watch the second hand tick by.

"And, even though I know nothing of my past, I suppose I'm sorry for whatever harm I caused you in our previous life that has made you hate me so," she muttered, letting her gaze fall to her hands, watching them twist nervously. "Because it's obvious that I must have done something to make you want to hurt me."

 

[Raivh]

Hearing Scarlet’s light footsteps, Preston turned his head to look her way, having been staring into the flickering array of colors emitted by the fire burning in the stone hearth. His green stare was emotionless, vacant almost, and seemed to peer straight through or beyond her. She entered and took a seat, adjusting herself, and he allowed his gaze to drift back to the fire a short distance away and to the left of him, the right of her. Inhaling slowly, he exhaled when she began to speak. His grip on the armrests began to tighten, teeth clamping together as her soft voice, even without its stubborn quality, appeared to grate on his nerves. He couldn’t remember much about what he’d done to her, but the evidence was quite clear upon her face, which he refused to look at, opting to instead stay focused on the flames.

The way she worded the final bit of her apology caused a sardonic grin to tweak the corners of his mouth. “Hmm,” he growled out, chuckling, before he grew quiet again. With a deep breath in, filling his lungs and expanding his chest, he glanced over at her. He sought out her sapphire eyes that seemed to be anywhere but on him. Looking her over, he settled back in the seat, making himself more comfortable than he already was. “You’re afraid of me, aren’t you?” A hand came up and he scratched the rough stubble on his chin, still smirking. “Now that you know what it feels like to be struck, to be hurt physically. Those bruises on your face and your…” he trailed off, glancing down at her bare legs. “They’re all from encounters with me.”

His green eyes held a controlled blaze as he trapped her under his gaze. “And you’re terrified to look at me with those blue eyes because you know that they only stoke my anger further,” he murmured. Sitting there, silent for a long minute or two, he finally rose to his feet. Slow, heavy footsteps, muffled by the carpet, carried him over to where she sat, and placed a hand on the armrest of her chair. He squatted down beside her, almost eye level, and let his eyes roam over her profile. Then, lifting a large, calloused hand, he slid the tips of his fingers over the skin of her forehead and temple, pulling several stray golden locks out of her eyes and tucking them behind her ear. His hand rested against the nape of her neck for a moment, fingers stroking over her smooth skin, and then slid to her shoulder.

“You have a youthful beauty, you know. Like the spring or summer. You’re not cold like me, like the winter weather outside, yet you’ve experienced both.” He spoke in a low voice that rattled in his chest. Curling his fingers around her chin, firmly at first, then gentler, he turned her face to his. “Look at me.” A dark smile spread gradually over his sculpted features, and he shifted his weight. His thumb brushed along her slender jawline, over her lips, and back, green eyes on hers.

“So beautiful. So young.” Tracing a particularly nasty bruise, he added, “So fragile, vulnerable and naïve, Persephone, to not know that it was Hades who abducted you, stole you away and took you to the Underworld, held you captive and made you his queen. It was Hades who stole your innocence, your virginity, everything you loved. Or, rather, the Persephone of ancient Greece cherished.” The wood popped in the heart, admitting defeat to the flames that consumed it. Large windows in the room were frosted over, snow hanging in the corners, stuck to the panes. Releasing his hold on her but never her gaze, he rose to his feet. He stepped back, turned, and crossed the room quietly to the arching exit.

“You’re lucky that Cerberus wouldn’t leave you in those woods. Don’t make me regret carrying you back here,” he said and vanished into the hall.