Bonus Content - Hades POV

Hello everyone!

I realized thanks to a message on tumblr that I've inadvertently fallen out of my usual schedule with updates; somehow I've moved to posting things on weeks 1 and 3 of the month, rather than 2 and 4. But, honestly, this kind of works better for me, because now I'm not trying to write a bonus content at the same time as I'm prepping the BIP, so for now we'll go with it and see how well it works over time. 

I've adjusted the pinned post accordingly. To clarify, nothing about the amount of monthly content has changed, just exactly when it comes out. And in this case, it means we get the RO POV content piece a week earlier, so... here's some Hades? I hope you enjoy it!

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The hem of Hades’s tunic brushes the rug beneath him as he paces quickly, ineffectually, back and forth. The weight of it, usually entirely negligible, seems oppressive now, stifling, like the spare fabric draped over the back of his shoulder might at any moment strangle him.

Which is ridiculous. It would take much more force than fabric could tolerate to achieve such a feat. Or. Perhaps all it takes is the sudden and unwanted removal of one guest from his home.

He’s overstimulated. Understimulated. Fretting. Itching in his own skin. Angry. Oh, is he angry. It throbs under his flesh, slow and hot, like his veins pump magma instead of black ichor, flaring just a bit with every inexorable thud of his heart. He hasn’t felt rage like this in… he hasn’t felt like this since he was Aidoneus, and it’s tinged with so many other things he can’t say it’s ever been quite like this before. Worry. Loss. A sort of formless longing he can’t put his finger on.

He needs to get a handle on it.

Such a feeling—or feelings—is unproductive. Seph does not need his self-indulgent rage. What they need from him now is what he is in cooler moments. A scholar, someone who can find the information that will free them. A leader, ill as the mantle sits on him, who can rally the others towards a plan. A tactician, who can look at the situation objectively and maximize their chances of a success. A friend, who will think of them first, put them first, above even his own troubling emotions.

And yet.

“You’re looking a bit…” Hekate’s voice is clear, a bit wry in tone, and when he turns his head towards her, she gestures to her own eyes. “Agitated. Don’t go growing horns on me, Hades; you know none of us can handle you when you’re like that.”

Handle.The choice of word was probably not meant to imply as much as he reads into it. But then, with Hekate, maybe it was. She has never made him feel like a problem, but she’s practical, and she’ll say harsher things than Charon or Alekto will if she feels it necessary. And, whether she meant it or not, she’s right. He is, in this state, a problem. One that needs to be managed. Handled. And it would be beyond unfair of him to ask any of them to take up that burden.

“I… I’m sorry.” He takes a deep breath, forcing it in through his nose, and then back out through slightly-parted lips. From the way it whistles over his teeth, he knows they’ve changed shape a little, and focuses on bringing them back into their ordinary arrangement.

“Don’t be,” Hekate says, shaking her head. “Anger is completely understandable. I encourage it, even. Just…” She tips her hand from side to side with a complicated expression. “If you need, Charon and I could meet you in the usual place?”

“That won’t be necessary.” Hades has eons of practice keeping his anger suppressed. It is… difficult, right now. More difficult than it should be. But he will manage it, because doing so is absolutely necessary. And he doesn’t want to hurt the friends offering to help him exorcise the feeling in a physical manner. In the other direction, he would encourage that method. But he is… well.

‘Monstrous’ might be putting it lightly.

Hekate narrows her eyes, as if she’s sensed the thought and disapproved. But then, she would. As someone who has been called a ‘monster’ plenty of times herself, he supposes she takes particular exception to the use of the concept against her friends. Even when they’re doing it to themselves.

But all she says is: “If you say so.”

And then there’s a longer silence, in which Hades tries to wrest his feelings under control and only mostly succeeds. The magma will be there, he knows, unless and until matters are resolved to his satisfaction. And the only way that will happen is if they are resolved to Seph’s satisfaction. And even if they are perfectly successful at that in every other way, it will take time. Time in which he will feel raw and wounded, instinctively driven to react in the way raw and wounded things do.

But he will be better than his instinct. Better than his heritage. He will.

“How is it… how progresses the research?” When can we leave, he wants to ask, though that’s ridiculous. It’s barely begun.

“It’s going.” Hekate folds her arms over her chest. “It would go… well, not faster, but in a shorter time, if you would make the library into a temporal distortion.”

He sighs, the edges of it harsh and ragged. He hates using that power. It always feels so… oily. Slick and wrong, and it makes bile rise in the back of his throat. He especially hates using it to pull a piece of space out of sync with the rest of time, for the obvious reason.

But she makes a good point. Every extra second they can save is one fewer Seph has to go through without knowing what’s going on. One fewer before they can have the chance to properly make their own decision about all of this.

“I understand,” he says, squaring his shoulders. “I’ll do it. I also need you to get in touch with Hypnos for me. There’s something I want to try.”

Hekate’s eyebrow ticks upward, but she nods. “Understood. And Hades?”

“Yes?”

“We’ll get them back.”

He certainly hopes she’s right about that. It would be… no, it’s better not to think about the end before things have properly reached it. He’ll only catastrophize, which will not help his emotions stay in check. So instead, he simply nods.

“Let’s do what we can.”