Looking down at her, he considered where to make the first cut and he was almost tender as he drew a smooth line from her collarbones down to the upper curve of her breasts with the blade, watching as blood welled up and he smiled, glancing at her when she didn't make a sound.
Lifting his hand out over her, she watched as his blood dripped down around the new cut and the blood that dripped onto her joined with the blood oozing out of the cut. Touching his finger to the tail end of the cut, he traced a line down to the smear of blood on her stomach. She lifted her head, watching as the almost-dry blood began to shift upwards, joining up with the fresh drops and trailed upwards before her blood retreated into her body and he smiled, a feral smile that had her heart pounding.
The cut on her chest sealed as her magic worked on it, and as it knitted shut, the odd sensation of warmth washed through her as his blood mixed with her own, her racing heart spreading it faster through her. The warmth heated up more, and she felt it when it reached her brain.
The first touch on her brain had her screaming, and she rolled onto her side as the blood stabbed into her head, as though each cell of his blood had a tiny needle and was stabbing her brain.
He remained still, watching her screams grow louder, higher as the pain intensified and she felt as her brain began to bleed, the pressure inside her skull growing worse and worse until she felt as though it was going to explode.
Leaning down over her, he murmured softly in her ear: "Surrender Winter to Megara."
She recoiled from him and his soft words, trying to scramble back from him but her movement sent the world spinning and she dropped, cracking her head on the hard stone that only added to her pain.
The pressure inside her brain was excruciating and her screams turned into a keening wail, warmth filling her that was turning rapidly into fire that scalded her body along with her mind.
Crawling forward, his fingers caught her jaw, and he forced her to look up at him, though she could see nothing but red.
"Renounce Winter," he demanded.
She shook her head, the movement amplifying her pain, and curled in on herself as her body raged and she tried to blink away the red, but it didn't make it clear. "Stop!" she screamed. But he didn't make it stop. Instead, he pried open her mouth and dripped his blood onto her tongue.
She swallowed on reflex, and knew perfect, crystalline, exquisite pain as his blood hit her stomach and burned. She could feel her stomach cooking inside her as she keened.
"Renounce Winter!" he yelled, and she wanted so badly to shake her head, wanted nothing but to tell him to fuck off, but she couldn't.
"I renounce Winter to Megara!" she screamed, unable to cry, or think, or even move.
"Good girl," he whispered as she felt the magic flood out of her, ruffling their hair and his clothes and setting the rope to swinging. He bent down and kissed her forehead gently, the pressure inside her skull easing in miniscule increments.
***
She had started to cry at some point, the loss of the perfection that was Winter, her own pain, and the knowledge that she had given up, her body trembling as he pulled her up into his arms and cradled her gently against him. The door opened, but she didn't care who it was or what they wanted, Vincent snarling something, and the person retreated to leave her alone with him once more.
"You're okay…" he murmured, his hand brushing away her sweat-soaked hair as he held her back to his chest.
He used the knife to cut her bindings, and she hugged her aching arms to her chest, turning her face into him and hating that she was losing everything important to her so soon after gaining it.
It wasn't long after when they came for her and dragged her from the cell. She didn't care anymore, and they dropped her in front of the queen, naked and covered in blood, her long hair sticking to her skin. She realised that the red she had seen had been her eyes bleeding, but that no longer mattered.
Slumped forward over her knees, she felt small and helpless amidst that crowd of giants. Megara was smiling down at her, and as Vincent approached, she looked at him.
"Kill her," the queen said simply.
She turned her head just enough to see the man looking down at her, his face blank. He lifted his hand, his blood dripping down onto her back in small hot splashes. Resting her forehead against the glass floor, she closed her eyes and welcomed her death, eager for it, but it didn't come. Instead, the glass vanished from under her and was replaced with carpet in a shade and colour she recognised.
***
He had sent her back to Ayathian, and her eyes slid shut in relief. He had got what he needed out of her, what he had been hired to do, and now he had no further purpose for her.
It seemed to be the smell of blood that had someone looking around and approaching her slowly, uncertain. They crouched down slowly, and a light hand touched her back, making her flinch.
Standing again, the sound of rustling fabric reached her ear. A moment later, a heavy cloak fell over her, warm and smelling of smoke and stone.
He didn't speak, but instead he sat down at her side and his hand rested against her back, remaining silent at her side while she tried to process what had happened. It was a relief to not have to explain anything, or have to talk and be alive, she just wanted to be.
After several minutes she moved, crawling into his lap and his arms wrapped around her.
Hades pulled the hood of his cloak up over her head to hide her face and he pulled it tight around her to encase her in a cocoon of warmth and safety.
His arms returned around her, and they sat in silence, his chin resting atop her head.
Someone entered the room, and he shook his head, not speaking. When someone else entered, they shared the message. Again and again, it happened as the message of her being there spread, and while she could hear their breathing, no one said a thing.
***
It was almost two hours later when Etani finally moved, turning her head into his chest and reaching up to curl her fingers in his shirt. The sight of her crimson arm had him moving, his arm going up under her knees as he stood, ignoring the anxious stares as he carried her into the bathroom and fully clothed, with her still wrapped up, he stepped down into the bathtub and turned on the hot water.
He hadn't closed the door, and she heard footsteps at it, though one movement from the God had them retreating.
Once the water was up to her chest and the cloak was set down on the edge of the bath, he reached out, gripping a bar of soap, and handed it to her.
She took it and looked down at it, white until she touched it.
"Clean yourself," he said, and she moved obediently to clean herself.
The water turned red after a few minutes and he reached for her, examining her for spots she might have missed. Then he exchanged the soap for hair wash and sat her down under the tap, letting the water drain as the water rinsed her hair clean and she was given an oil. She moved automatically, taking what he handed her and applying it to her body. Once the excess oil was washed out of her hair, he took her hands and pulled her to her feet, his eyes going over her, the marks on her body still fresh and oozing, as her magic struggled to keep up with the healing process.
Drawing her slowly from the bathroom, she kept her eyes on his chest, and there was a terrible silence as she was led into the bedroom, dripping water and shivering.
Someone followed them and they growled in response to a warning hiss from Hades but the scent of him had her turning, pressing herself into Hades.
She didn't want him to see her, not now. Not after what he had said to her at the party and then she had gone and given up, she had failed him.
He left the room quickly at a gesture from Hades, and the God moved her towards the bed. He sat down on it, drawing her down beside him.
Sliding over, he rested his back against the headboard, and she settled in at his side, her head resting against his chest with her body pressed as close to him as was possible to be. His arm wrapped around her, and he watched the open door in silence, almost daring them to try to come in with him on guard. His strong, slow heartbeat lulled her towards sleep, and she sighed gently, feeling at least mostly safe, or as safe as she could be with the volatile God.