Valentine.

Unholy.

A pair of footsteps trekking down the hall stops me in my tracks. Though hard and calculated, they seem...taken aback. As if their owner had not anticipated any noise to be coming from this boudoir. The heavy strides sound their way towards the room and a temporary wave of relief washes through me.

Temporary.

Backing away, I watch as the entryway finally wrenches open and standing in front of me, is a man wearing a heavy, metal casque on his head. He is laboriously clad head to toe in dark, glistening armor.

"Your highness?" purrs a deep, muffled voice from beneath the helmet. A weird entanglement of both surprise and mischief reverberates through the masked figure's tone. Whoever this is, had no idea I was here... which means it definitely wasn't Sergio.

"What is going on? Where's Valentine?" I question the mysterious figure boldly, ignoring the yellow warnings flashing all around my mind: begging me to turn and run. Something about his unnerving presence makes me recoil. Makes me want to crawl under the bed and never resurface.

"I haven't the faintest idea. Why don't you tell me? Where is your king?" he drawls hissing. Amusement and hatred encase his hard tone as he slams the door shut behind him before taking a calculating step towards me.

The room temperature finally dips below zero and my bones go rigid. There's something about the way he says that 'king' that causes my forehead to dampen with sweat, despite the polar bite in the air.

"You're even more delicate in person than I'd imagined" taunts the imposing assembly of hefty armor.

A faint familiarity traces his voice, upon which I can't quite place my finger on just yet. I knew enough however, to take a large step back in an attempt to preserve the shrunken distance between us. Yet again, boldly, the figure takes another wide stride towards my trembling body, now cornering me into the room. My brows furrow at the gesture and my grasp around the duvet tightens.
Does he not know...who I am? Or worse...who I am married to?

"Wh-What are you doing?" I stutter, allowing the bedspread to drop away at my sides as I continue to take even bigger steps back, rapidly closing the remaining space between me and the back wall.

He doesn't stop until my back collides with the smooth cold surface, his chest plate only a foot away from my own wildly beating heart.

"Of course, I know who you are... your highness. How could I ever forget?"

The rasp and tenor of his deep voice shakes his casque as he continues: "And I pity that bastard excuse of a king who dared lower himself enough to wed a pathetic mortal" he spits.

I blink twice as the world seems to tumble from beneath me. My pulse quickens as stark realization and horror wash over me.

This has to be a dream.

Gods are the only ones with the ability to seek into the thoughts of others, I relay to myself reaching into my memories of the countless etiquette lessons I'd absorbed before escaping Olympus. But this...this was not my husband.

I force a hard swallow as the mysterious figure reaches into my thoughts once more.

"Bingo sweetheart."

"Who are you?" I whisper, trembling.

My stomach sinks as he reaches up for his helmet and very slowly, pries the hard material from his shoulders. At the sight of his face, nausea instantly crowds my stomach and my hand flies to my mouth.

Impossible.

He flings the casque off to the side before flashing me a wide yet sinister grin. One that painfully resembled that of Valentine's.

"Did you enjoy my little message?" he taunts. His chilling, storm-grey gaze holds a thousand silent threats, forcing my pulse into a violent frenzy. I feel my heart ready to explode through my chest and coat the walls surrounding us.

His shoulder-length, shiny black hair is casually tied back into a half-up half-down display, adorned by deathly ever-fizzing sparks. Just like his brother's, unruly streaks of straight hair caress the sides of his face, outlining his haunting features and framing his impossibly sharp jaw. A plump, cherry-red snarl encases a set of blinding white teeth and as he continues to peer down at me, my body becomes paralyzed. All rational thoughts flee from my brain as panic leeches through me and slowly chars at my insides. I can only stare back up at his towering frame in horror as the small black bolt tattoo glistens under his right eye, the rich dark inking snarling at me in distaste.

How one could manage to appear to be both smirking and hissing at the same time, remains a mystery to me.

I have returned to claim my kingdom, booms an overbearing, strong voice from the far breeches of my mind. All my synapses jerk and freeze at the predatorial sound as it echoes through my brain, leaving sharp icicles of pain in its wake. This time however, it doesn't belong to my lord of the sky. It belongs to the ruler of the dead. The devil himself. He is here...and he is in my head.

Hades.