#swyntoulouse

[labellerose-acheron]

Running Reconnaissance *** [Loud Bell]

@trip-downtheriverstyx

Once again, the children were tucked away asleep, the house relatively quiet. Toulouse was in his favourite armchair. Belle was curled on one end of the couch, Hades sat on the other. The only difference from a usual evening was the lack of Belle's book, Hades' Sudoku, Toulouse's sketchpad.

Instead, the air crackled with tension. Belle sat with both feet on the floor, leaning forward slightly, her arms crossed, resting on her knees. She was frowning.

"Holley found something. We're not sure what it means but--there is no records of her adoption."

"Is that strange?" Lou inquired, rubbing a thumb thoughtfully over his lips. He was lounging back in his chair, looking much less concerned than he was.

"According to Holley? Yes. Very strange. She--found her birth family as well, back in Japan."

[outfit][lou's outfit]

[simba-bonfamille-lyons]

A Very Merry Parent Trap /./ [Simber + Opalou]

@ber-bonfamille-lyons, @lou-bonfightme

"I’ll get the door!” Simba announced to no one in particular, considering Berlioz was the only other one home. Ashlee was out with friends, which was why they’d chosen this night in particular to have everyone over. Didn’t want to stress her out when this (inevitably - Berlioz’s negativity) potentially blew up.

Simba didn’t think it was going to. It was going to go well! He was determined for it to. Because the holidays were about family (according to Ber) and this was the perfect opportunity to get everyone together and fix everything (according to the Hallmark movies Simba had been binging.)

“Hey!” Simba beamed as he opened the door. “Woah,” he blurted a second later, unable to help himself. He had figured that it’d be weird to see her, but that didn’t even come close. She looked so much like Belle had at her age it was a little uncanny. Kind of cool. Simba was jealous. He wished he had a daughter that had come back in time to say hi to him.

“Hi Oncle Simba!” Opal chirped.

Well, he supposed he would take a niece.

 Immediately, Opal sank down to pet the dogs, rubbing all of them on the head. “Aw, hey old man!” she said to Bowie, kissing him on the nose.

“Hey,” Simba said, shaking Lou’s hand as he came through the door. “You can put the presents under the tree.”

“Is there one for me?” Opal asked, popping up and gliding towards Simba. She popped up on her toes for a hug, which Simba obliged, still kind of feeling some weird sense of deja vu.

“Course there is one for you, sorry if it’s not great--short notice and all that.”

“I’m sure it’s great, where is Oncle Berlioz?”

“In the kitchen.”

“Great.” Opal headed in that direction without having to be told where it was.

[simba’s outfit, with this shirt and these pants] [toulouse’s outfit] [opal’s outfit]

[sailor--thomas]

Sword Upon Our Hearts [Part Two: Often Go Awry] ~~ [The Golden Brio feat. Loud Bell]

In which the brio’s stake out goes very wrong...[takes place July 27]

@captain--john, @knightley--phillip, @trip-downtheriverstyx, @lou-bonfightme, @labellerose-acheron

[tw -- plotting murder, strangulation, gore, violence, burning, fire, injuries, child injury, animal death (spoiler alert: shuck is an immortal being he’s fine)]

THOMAS:  The house glowed warm orange through the trees. This side of Swynlake was quiet. All of Swynlake was quiet, but this felt eerily so. It was probably just circumstances, but it made Tom’s blood quicken in his veins nonetheless. He had been on stakeouts before, but this case had always been unique to the Order. They didn’t usually go after multiple targets of different species, most of the creatures they went after kept to themselves or traveled in packs of a similar kind. That was not the case here. It was not a pack, per se. For all intents and purposes: a normal family. Except that they weren’t. A werewolf lurked in their house. And their father was a demon. The woman seemed ordinary enough, but they couldn’t be too sure, especially when she aligned herself with such creatures. Though, she wasn’t the target. And neither were the children. 

For yes, there were children involved. Tom had seen them through the kitchen window, on their mother’s hip, or sitting in their highchairs being fed dinner. They knew this. Had all the details on Opal, Aidan, and Bellamy Acheron. When they’d first arrived the twins hadn’t even existed, and then they’d bided their time due to the possibility of hurting a pregnant woman. And now there were two more children to worry about. 

And, the thing was, this was not the first time they’d come to this house. No, Tom had been here months ago, with Marie. Just dropping a gift off for the little ones. It wasn’t more than enough to get a brief peak at the layout of the downstairs, but it had been something. And they’d been here during the construction. Once or twice. It was easy to dress in blue jeans and plain t-shirts and pass themselves off as a helping hand. But they had not been inside and they had not staked it out long enough to determine a pattern they could work with. 

Tonight, they were pushing their luck. Creeping closer to the treeline, wanting to see if the charms they’d been handed by the Order actually worked. It was risky business, hence Tom’s heart pounding in his ears. The family had long moved away from the kitchen window and dinner time. There was a light on in one of the upstairs windows, one of the children’s rooms, perhaps. Tom watched it until it turned off. 

“I would assume the children are in bed by now,” he said and checked his watch. It was nearing nine in the evening. Darkness having just fully fallen, giving them better cover. They’d been out for a few hours now, trekking the long way around through the forest, so as not to leave a trail. 

“We should stay until they go to sleep.” 

Just as he said this, the back door opened, flooding the garden in front of them with light. 

PHILLIP: Phillip had never been this close to the house.

He’d come by this way, usually under pretense of walking Gilly. He’d scouted out the area casually and from a distance. He whistled and nodded at neighbors. He’d been nothing but Phillip Knightley, insufferable MFA student, walking his best mate’s dog. He watched this house, but had a way of observing that did not seem out of the ordinary. 

But he knew it well — from a distance.

This was different. He watched as the light turned off. They were here to track the patterns and movements of the family, to figure out an optimal time to launch their mission. It was for all intents and purposes, just reconnaissance.

Phillip didn’t know why he was so nervous. Hadn’t he done this before? Hadn’t he waited at the edge of caves for dragons to peek their noses out, watched the side of coursing rivers for kelpies, lurked on the edge of forests for werewolves?

(This was different, a little voice whispered, this was different, this was different, this was — )

The door opened before he could react to Tom and immediately he ducked his head so the light would not hit him. He peeked through the bushes, watching as a tall figure stood in the doorway, silhouette by the light. There was a bark.

“Letting the dog out,” he muttered under his breath.

The dog barked again, and then — well, Phillip didn’t know how this was possible, considering they were wearing concealing amulets, but it looked straight at them, eyes glowing eerily in the dark. He inhaled sharply.

“John, you don’t think…?

JOHN: John had only been near this house under the guise of climbing a tree in the neighboring vicinity, he’d never been on the grounds. They were here to make sure there were no surprises for when the eventually acted and made their move. He wouldn’t charge into the home of the Archeron’s blindly. Additionally, there were children present and although he did not like children, he felt they didn’t deserve to see their parents taken hostage and tortured or whatever means the Order wanted them to extract information from them and achieve their goal. 

Things had been going well. They’d prepared and blocked out their path. The three of them made their way through the surrounding forest and made sure not to near the house until nightfall when they’d be cloaked. The plan was perfect.

Unfortunately, they didn’t entirely account for the dog. 

Bloody christ, why did it have to be a dog of all things.

If you’d been paying attention all this time, you’d know that animals hated John. Literally despised him, and dogs were some of the worst. So despite all their preparation, of course, what else would happen but the dog would sniff out the one person who hated animals. 

“Fucking hell…” He whispered as the dog bounded forward into the brush. “Scatter! We’re going to have to shake it off our trail and confuse it or knock it out.” And with that John leapt up to the nearest tree and hoisted himself up onto a lower hanging bough to begin his ascent because he knew with his luck that he’d be right in the crosshairs. 

HADES:  No, Hades wasn’t just letting the dog out.

It had been a quiet night all-around until about three or four minutes ago, when Shuck had began to tremble, growl, and froth at the mouth, dribbling his (thankfully fire-proof) saliva all over Hades’ recently cleaned floors. At first, he’d thought very little of it. Shuck was more like mortal dogs than some might suspect. There were times when he raised his head and whined at a passing rabbit or got excited when he saw someone approaching. Other times, he reacted to the magic in the air: restless during full and new moons, hyperactive when the veil between worlds shifted. 

Hades expected him to stop, then

Instead, he’d let out a snarl, and then a bark, snapping his teeth at the window as if he saw something there that Hades didn’t. 

And maybe he did. 

The warning about the Order was still on his mind. He did not want to alarm his family yet; after all, it could be a deer or something of that sort, nothing more.

Hades opened the door to let Shuck investigate. 

Shuck instantly headed straight for the wood, beelining with a determined gait. Still could be a deer-- if so, Shuck would lose it and come back, whining and dragging his feet, the miserable wretch. 

If he didn’t though…

Well, then it would be Hades’ turn to enter the wood. 

THOMAS:  The dog headed straight for them, a hulking black mass taking off into the darkness. He was almost impossible to see and Tom only had a second to glance at Phil, who was to his right, and John, who was a cross from him, before they scattered. John hopped up into the tree and Tom drew his sword on instinct, heading deeper into the wood, though he looped close to the treeline.

He was running through the underbrush, hearing Phil’s footsteps beside him for a moment until he split off. Probably trying to confuse the hound into following one of them. He tried to listen for the sound of the beast, but all was silent except for the breaking of twigs from himself and Phil. All of the sudden there was a growl and Tom looked up, sliding to a halt.

The hound was right in front of him, dark eyes glowing in the light. Without that and the growl, he didn’t think he would’ve even seen him until he was right on top of it. 

Tom spread his stance and raised his sword. The hound lunged. 

Ducking to one side, Tom slashed his sword at the hound as it soared through the air. He knew that a mortal weapon would not necessarily kill a hellhound, but he could certainly incapacitate it. There was something off about this hellhound too: it did not snarl fire nor fade into smoke. Instead, his sword caught it in the shoulder. The blade jerked as it hit flesh, slicing the beast open. It gave another snarling yelp as it landed in the brush. 

This time, it didn’t lunge. It snapped at Tom’s heels, making him dance backwards before he got his footing and jabbed again at the hound, this time he missed and stumbled forward slightly, the hound’s giant paw catching him in the calf. He let out a hiss, doing his best not to shout as the pain shot up his leg. Turning, he brandished his sword, catching the beast in the flank and knocking it off its feet.

PHILLIP: If there was one thing Phillip and Tom and John were good at, it was fighting together.

Perhaps this wasn’t a surprise. They’d been trained to do this since they could walk, perhaps before them. The real skill was not that they could fight well, but that they could fight well with each other. It was like a dance: one had to know the movements of one’s partner, know where they would step, know where they would fall, know which side they favored and how to cover their weaknesses. You had to know all of those things and ingrain them so deeply that you did not even think when the time came to perform.

So as Tom stumbled backwards, the hound snapping at his ankles, Phil circled on the other side, driving the dog into a corner, forcing it to angle itself so that Tom could easily slash at it.

The great beast growled, knocked to the ground, and Phillip took this opportunity to raise his sword. He thrust his blade forward, aiming for the dog’s heart, but it was fast and fierce and got to its feet, snarling and frothing at the mouth — Phillip missed the kill, but he did manage to drive his sword deep into the beast’s shoulder. It hissed at him, but he thrust it further, twisting the blade and pinning the monster down. The more it struggled, the deeper the wound would get.

He looked at Tom now, their eyes locking in wordless communication.

THOMAS:  The hellhound looked like any normal hound that Tom had grown up with. He knew it was a monster, a demon, because the Acherons hardly hid it. The court hearing had been private, but the newspaper articles that reported hellhound attacks were not and it was easy to draw the line. And there was a orange glow in the hound’s eyes in the dark. 

But it looked like a family pet, without drooling fire, without howling it’s bone chilling howl. 

Phil managed to pin the beast down and it yelped and struggled like any helpless animal. Tom always hated this part. He preferred quick and easy kills, but sometimes it couldn’t be helped. Like now. 

So, Tom looked at Phil and nodded his head. His hesitation lasting only a fraction of a second before he moved to the hound’s other side and drove his sword into its heart. 

Without a sound, the hound went still. For a moment the woods were hauntingly quiet. Nothing moved. 

Then, the hound vanished into smoke, leaving no trace of its presence. No blood on their swords. Only the gash on Tom’s calf. He stumbled a step as his sword, which had been embedded in the hound was released. Standing up straight, he looked at Phil, his expression clear, knowing that they shouldn’t speak:

We need to find John. 

JOHN: The third member of this trio had been on the lookout from above as his mates ran out of sight. In the moonlight, he could see the glint of the sword sparkle in the distance. He could tell his mates just by their outlines and their fighting styles, but these woods were thick and dark and concealed much more than it revealed. As much as he wanted to be down there, he was much more dog bait than he was a man of slaying one. Animals just didn’t care for him.

So once they’d disposed of the dog, John looked to the light that was still on. A figure still near the doorway. That figure would notice the absence of the dog and come down this way. He was currently up the tree, cloaked by branches but he had a clear view towards the house. He slowly began his descent, watching for the figure to move. He had to think quickly. Would they fight? Would they engage? Should they engage? Or should they run? Call it a wash? No. They couldn’t. The whole house would be on high alert the following days. Whatever happened, they had to complete what they’d set out to do. 

He continued climbing down lower, slowly, his eyes not wanting to leave the shadow in the doorway and so his hands missed a branch. That cold sinking feeling exploded across his body in panic before his hand immediately scrambled to grab another branch. Always so easy getting up, but getting down? Wasn’t his forte.

He wasn’t going to leave his advantageous position. Not to find Phil or Tom. Not to run to help. They had it handled. He trusted them to do their jobs just as he trusted himself to do his.

John gathered himself as he saw the figure of Hades Archeron step out from the doorway, shadowed in the light from the door. John assumed that since his dog had not returned, it had alerted him. He was coming this way and the blonde only had moments to decide what he would do.

As the figure neared, John steadied himself on the lower branches he’d climbed down to, waiting for the right moment when Hades was passing just within reach. Hades crossed the mark and John threw himself from the tree and onto the man, arms wrapping around his throat, sending them crashing down into the ground. He jammed his hand into the pressure points that would cause the man under him to pass out, holding onto him with all his strength until the body slumped under him.

HADES: He heard Shuck’s yelp and knew-- something was wrong. 

Hades glanced back at his family. He didn’t want to alarm them but maybe now was the time to be alarmed. Then again, the shadows were long. He could jump into the woods and see what had happened to his hound and then back again in no time. Just a blink. One blink, and if it was just an animal, then he wouldn’t disturb his family’s peace. Everyone was already on high alert from the talks they’d had with Merida and Elinor anyway.

Yes, it was best to handle this quietly. As far as they knew, Shuck was being a pill about comin’ in, and Hades was going to fetch him.

He closed the door and headed into the woods. 

“Shuck?” he called once. His foot cracked a stick on the ground. 

Then, a rustle above him. 

Hades tried to turn, but it only took-- that blink. That one second. Something heavy slammed into his shoulders, and an arm clenched tight around his neck. He gasped, stumbled forward, veered back, as he reached up and grasped at the arm of the stranger. His windpipe was being crushed-- he couldn’t yell out. Oxygen drained from his lungs. But fuck if he was going to go down without fighting. 

His hands erupted in blue fire, searing into the man’s skin, even as Hades’s knees hit the ground and his vision started to go.

TOULOUSE:  Something was wrong. 

The wolf knew it before Lou did. It felt restless in his chest as soon as Hades closed the back door. For a minute, Lou tried to ignore it. Everything was quiet, a blanket of evening falling over the house. Lou was putting dishes in the dishwasher, because they finally had one in the cottage, thank god. Belle was entertaining the children on the floor in the living room. The calm was complete and there was no reason to feel the sense of foreboding in his chest. Shuck was a silly thing, for being a sentient guardian of the Underworld, and often ran after deer and rabbits, forcing Hades to retrieve him. 

But the calm and the stillness stretched on and the feeling in Lou’s chest only grew until he abandoned the dishes and came to hover in the living room, standing near the couch, looking toward the back door. 

“What’s wrong?” Belle asked, looking up at him. Opal looked up at him too, her face a perfect inquisitive mirror of her mother’s. 

“I—“ Lou hesitated, glancing over at her, planning to lie at first, “—don’t know. It’s probably nothing.” 

This reassured Opal who went back to trying to teach the twins how to play patty cake with little to no success. 

Belle kept looking at him. “Is it the wolf?”

Lou nodded without taking his eyes off of where he had turned back to the door. “Maybe—we should start getting the children ready for bed?”

“Yes, let’s do that,” Belle agreed, her expression serious. “Opal, bath time.” 

“Nooooo,” Opal whined and quickly scampered away from Belle, coming to cling to Lou’s leg with a laugh. 

“Opal, go with Maman,” Lou said, his voice anything but playful. She looked up at him with wide eyes, but his gaze hadn’t moved from the door. 

“Opal, come here. Now.” Belle had grabbed up the twins, holding them on either hip. She held out her hand for Opal, who buried her face in Lou’s trousers with a laugh. 

It was only then that Lou looked down, grabbing Opal by the bicep and peeling her away from him, even as she started to whine and go limp. 

“Legs no work!” Opal declared as she hung from Lou’s grip. 

“Opal. I am going to count to three. One—“ Belle started, even if it was a pointless exercise. She wasn’t going to do anything when she got to three except Lou was going to have to scoop her up. But at least it let Opal have the opportunity to make the right decision. 

“Two—“ 

Lou heard something snap outside and his grip on Opal’s arm tightened. She looked up at him with wide eyes. 

“Opal, go with Maman.” Lou said much more firmly, shoving Opal towards Belle, making her stumble slightly, but the toddler listened. “Belle, take the children upstairs.” 

No sooner had he said it than Belle grabbed Opal’s hand and tugged her onto the first step. Lou twisted on his heel, following a few steps behind, keeping an eye on both the front and back doors as best he could. His ears searching for any sound. He hoped it was just Hades. The wolf told him it was not. 

Both doors burst open almost simultaneously and it wasn’t even a thought. Where the man once stood, there was now a wolf, shaking off the remnants of its tattered clothes and making for the stairs. It’s large paws scrambled for purchase on the hardwood, but he managed to make it to the bottom of the stairs before the assailant. 

Lou growled and snapped but launched himself up the stairs just a step behind Belle and the children. He heard Opal squeal, saw her tug out of her mother’s grasp. 

“Tonton!”

“Opal, no!”

Lou half turned on the stairs, the small space making it hard for the wolf to maneuver and easy for the toddler to slip by him but he managed to block her descent. Even though she was coming for him and put a hand in his thick fur. Lou growled at her but she paid him no mind, so instead Lou turned, ears flattened against his head, hackles raised as he snarled at the man in front of them. 

PHILLIP: They couldn’t stop now.

They hadn’t counted on being noticed tonight. This was just supposed to be bloody recon, but Hades had spotted them and John was gasping in pain, and fuck. They had to do it all tonight, didn’t they? There was no choice — Hades would come to if they left him like this and he’d know who they were and this past year or so would be for nothing. 

It was now or never.

It was now, or face failure.

Phil looked to Tom, who had immediately gone to John’s side to help, and he jerked his head in the direction of the house.

It did not take long for them to rally, swords brandished. Normally, Phillip liked a good fight, liked to stalk a rogue monster and corner it and save the day. It always got his blood pumping in the best way.But now, as he stalked towards the darkened house, he couldn’t shake the nasty feeling churning in his gut. His body was on high alert, but not in a good way — in a way that made the shadows across the ground seem longer and darker and every footfall felt like he was sinking deeper into the depths.

It was easy to throw the door open and barge in, and Phillip led the charge towards the second floor. He reached the staircase and there was the wolf, teeth bared and ready to strike. 

Phillip had fought wolves before. This was no different. He had to remember that. He had to remember the monster in front of him, the cursed creature, and not the man barking orders backstage at play rehearsal. 

(He did not notice the girl behind the wolf; he did not see a pair of small eyes staring at him in the darkness). 

“Ah, a stairway,” said Phillip. He leapt onto the stairs, slashing his sword towards the wolf. The narrow space made it difficult to maneuver, but he figured he could back the wolf into a corner of the hallway and between him, John, and Tom, this would finish easily.  “One of my least favorite places to have a fight — so constraining —” He ducked out of the way, catching himself before he fell, and using the momentum to surge forward again. “-- but of course, when used the right way, very beneficial — “

Maybe it was because he was talking his mouth off that he wasn’t paying as close attention to his surroundings as he should. Maybe the reason he was talking his mouth off was because he was nervous. Maybe from the get go, he knew deep in his gut that this mission would go wrong, like he hit the wrong key while playing the piano and he couldn’t make the recovery, and that doomed the whole sonata going forward.

He just had to do this job, just had to kill one stupid wolf, just had to use his years of training to do one damn thing and just get this over with. 

So when something small surged forwards on the stairs, Phillip just leaned into his instinct and knocked the figure to the ground.

But whatever had bumped into him was lighter than he anticipated and it was smaller and it let out a high, girlish shriek as it thumped down the stairs, and Phillip’s blood curled. He whipped his head back, eyes adjusting to the darkness, and saw a small girl on the foot of the stairs, crying in pain.

“Fuck — “ 

TOULOUSE: Metal flashed in the near-darkness of the upstairs. The wolf saw it swing towards him and he snarled, snapping his jaws towards it. He stalked down another stair, trying to get close enough to clamp his teeth around the assailant’s arm or leg. Opal was still clinging to him. He shook out his thick coat, dislodging her grip on him.

This allowed him to push up onto his back paws, thrashing his front ones out, trying to knock the man from the staircase. If he could just get him off the stairs...

Lou didn’t know what the plan was and neither did the wolf. With Opal in the picture, Lou had to adjust every step to make sure that she was protected. It kept him stuck in place. He didn’t want to leave her side, even if drawing them away might work better. Lou didn’t want to risk it.

Where was Hades?

The man fell against the railing and Lou saw his shot. He lunged forward, snapping his teeth.

But, at the same moment, Opal had run forward too, probably trying to get back down the stairs—to go find her father or a place to hide or, maybe, to follow the wolf. It didn’t matter her motivation, because the next few seconds happened very quickly.

The wolf heard, before he saw, Opal tumble down the stairs. He heard a snap and a wail. Then, footsteps: in the hallway above and the living room below.

“Opal!” screamed Belle from behind him. Even Lou looked over his shoulder to see her standing at the top of the steps, gripping a sword. The twins no where in sight. Safely tucked in the office.

“Christ!” another voice, one the wolf recognized.

Thomas Harrington was standing at the bottom of the stairs, looking like he was about to reach for Opal.  With a horrible snarl, Lou launched himself down the stairs in one leap, landing right behind Opal, his teeth snapping within inches of Tom’s fingers.

A sword came swinging, but stopped the next second. “Fuck,” said the man, scrambling back against the doorway.

Behind Lou, on the stairs still, he heard the dull clang of metal as swords met.

“Get out!” Belle shouted, her sword smashing against the man on the stairs’ again.

Lou’s teeth grabbed Opal by the shirt and dragged her from the foot of the stairs (the amateur doctor in his head was screaming not to do this, but the wolf didn’t listen). Once she was more out of the way, he crouched low over her with his ears flat against his head.

“Phil!” Tom shouted, taking a step towards the stairs, but Lou swiped at the blood on his leg, trying to get him in the same spot, causing him to stumble and grab the banister. 

PHILLIP: In that moment, Phillip felt like everything froze.

This didn’t happen. This never happened. Usually, Phillip was a trained killing machine — carefully calibrated to be deadly and merciless. But the little girl’s scream made him pause enough to stumble backwards on the stairs, as if through a haze.

It was only a split second of fog. He snapped out of it immediately. But it was there and that was more than had ever happened and it lingered like a bad taste in the back of Phillip’s mouth.

He couldn’t swallow it away.

Tom was fighting off the wolf now. He couldn’t see John in the darkness, but everything in his gut was telling him that this was not worth it. Not now at least. This hadn’t  been planned. This was going wrong. They’d have to get out of town, disappear, recuperate — 

They’d have to face their fathers.

But there was no other way out.

“John!” he shouted, somewhere into the darkness. “We need to go.”

JOHN: John had almost passed out from his own pain. 

He grit his teeth and fought back a scream as the white hot flames seared through his shirt and into his arms, his skin boiling and blistering as Hades slumped down beneath him. 

He was not a fighter, he was a strategist. He didn’t have the swordsmanship and brute strength of Tom or Phil, not when it came down to it. All he had was his brain really. He’d reacted to the situation in a way that he felt was perfect. He had put Hades to sleep at least for a bit before he could rescue his mates and get out of here. No damages. No lethal blows. Just weakening before they would get them to surrender. 

But John knew deep down they’d started this fight and it didn’t sit well with him. They had attacked a family going to bed in their own home. They’d smeared themselves through the life someone else had made like an oil spill in an ocean, trapping innocent creatures in their wake. 

He needed to find his mates. He got up, arms hanging at his sides because it hurt too much to move them, the air stung and his jaw set as he looked out towards the door that had cast the light onto the yard. He had no idea where his mates were, they’d gotten chased around by that dog and it was only until he heard Phil call his name that he knew where they were.

Phil’s voice though. That’s what unsettled him. It was panicked. It wasn’t the Phillip he knew on a mission. Something was wrong. 

Burns be damned, John darted towards the sound of the voice and into the house. Skin on his arms running hotter than anything else and beating along with his heart as he grit his teeth and fought through the pain with only the adrenaline and his drive to find Tom and Phil. 

“Tom? Phil?” He called out as he reached the doorway and then his eyes widened as he saw a wolf continue to swipe at Tom and Phil stood there frozen at the spot and looking like he had no idea what to do.

His muscle memory kicked in and he yelled, both in pain and in hopes of startling the wolf to get its attention off Tom so he could escape, he grabbed the sword from Phillip’s hand and immediately plunged it into the meat of the wolf’s back leg (he had no strength left in him so it wasn’t exactly a deep stab but it was enough). “Get off of him.” 

He grabbed Tom by the arm, his own going numb and his head foggy as he yanked him from the banister and flung him towards the door. “Go! Both of you!” He yelled at his mates before turning back to the wolf as his mates ran. 

As he stared down the now wounded wolf, he couldn’t do it. He had no fight left in him. He turned and ran right after Phil and Tom. 

They had failed.

[labellerose-acheron]

May 06, 2022 *** [Loud Bell]

@trip-downtheriverstyx​, @lou-bonfightme​

Belle had not heard from Hades today.

This was not odd, on a normal day. They were both busy people. Hades, these days, even busier than usual, what with being the mayor and all. Even in the very beginning days of them, they had never been the sort to spend long texting. Their longest conversations over text were arguments, or grocery lists. Belle wasn’t much of a texter anyway, though she was becoming more of one, as she felt incredibly self conscious taking personal calls at her cubicle at work.

It was not a normal day, however. It was Belle’s birthday. And no, she wasn’t the kind of person to fuss about it. Before Persephone and Hades had shown up, she rarely celebrated it at all. Was it even possible to celebrate something when you were the only one who knew about it? She’d buy herself a cupcake, sometimes, at Hatter’s, if she was feeling particularly--festive. Since Persephone, really--she was the one to wiggle her birthday out of her: Five days after mine! she had smiled. Tauruses are the best.--Belle had become accustomed to a...text message, at least. Maybe being able to skip out on dishes.

Though, to be fair, InterPride hadn’t forgotten. She assumed it was someone in HR’s sole job to track birthdays, as it seemed they had one just on her floor nearly every week. They had called everyone into the conference room and sung happy birthday and given her a cupcake. It had been horribly embarrassing, she had meant to stop it actually, but she’d forgotten to submit the request form and well...it had been rather sweet too. There was even a card that everyone had signed and Ting-Ting, Melody, and Gil had come up from accounting.

And still, no text from Hades.

By the time she’d gotten home, she’d more or less forgotten about the birthday card tucked into her bag, but--she hadn’t forgotten that she hadn’t heard anything from Hades.

“Maman!” Opal squealed as soon as the door was opened.

“Hihihihi!” Aidan chimed in. Bellamy, always quiet, just watched with big eyes. 

“Bon soir,” Lou said from the floor, though he began to rise. He stroked his hand over Opal’s head as he came to stand in front of Belle, Opal between them.

“Vas-y,” he told Opal encouragingly.

“Joyeux anniversaire, Maman!” Opal said with a charming accent.

Belle smiled and picked her up. “Merci beaucoup!”

“Joyeux anniversaire,” Toulouse repeated and then stepped forward to hug her. When he pulled back, he kissed her cheek.

“Merci,” Belle said again with another smile, though it faded as she glanced around. “Is Hades home yet?”

“Mm, no--did you not see? He will be a bit late.”

“Oh, he must’ve texted on my walk home.“

[outfit, flats not heels] [lou’s fit]

[labellerose-acheron]

Karma Chameleon *** [Belle and the Boys]

“Toulouse, will you get the door?” Belle called from where she was stirring a pot of soup. The chaotic house was full of the scent of boiling vegetables and humid too, from the steam of it. Lou was sitting on the floor, just finishing up changing Aidan. Bellamy crying in the bassinet for no real good reason. Hades was trying to coach Opal through setting the table...not that it was working very well. 

There was music playing from somewhere too. Some French song, so probably Lou’s phone, which he had left somewhere in the house. 

Usually, the chaos rubbed at Belle’s skin like sandpaper, but she was quite sure she had run out of nerves. Her exam was just a fortnight away and she might have maxed out on anxiety. She hadn’t known that was possible, but she was actually rather content. Everything was clattering, a baby was crying, and there was a knocking at the door. 

The chaos was actually an excellent reminder of why Howl was coming over in the first place. 

“Oui, oui,” said Lou as he snapped Aidan’s onesie into place and lifted him onto his hip, moving towards the door. 

“Hades, the soup,” Belle told him as he came towards her again. She nodded at it before heading towards the bassinet, picking up Bellamy, just as Toulouse opened the door. 

“Bon soir, monsieur et mademoiselle,” Toulouse said, quite proper, as he stepped to the side to allow Howl and Magdalena into the house. 

“None of that now,” Belle shushed Bellamy, who began to quiet as soon as he was in his mother’s arms. “Hullo, Howl! Magdalena.” She smiled at their guests. “Dinner is just about ready.” 

@trip-downtheriverstyx, @oh-heartlessman

[toulouse’s outfit which is very important, and belle’s outfit which is much less important but i guess i should include it.]

[sailor--thomas]

Sword Upon Our Hearts [Part Four: In Your Heart Shall Burn] ~~ [The Golden Brio feat. Loud Bell and Merida]

In which the Golden Brio carry out the mission they’ve been sent to Swynlake for...[takes place: August 3, 2021]

@captain--john, @knightley--phillip, @heart-of-dunbroch​, @trip-downtheriverstyx​, @labellerose-acheron​, @lou-bonfightme​

[tw -- thoughts of murder, plots of murder, violence, lil bit of gore, burning]

BELLE: The hounds alerted them from the garden as dusk drew once more over the Acheron cottage. Shuck was on his feet in an instant as snarling sounded from outside. Belle, Merida, and Toulouse, who had been sitting around the table together feeding the children dinner, looked at each other for just a moment. There was a cool stillness that settled, Belle’s blood turning to ice in her veins. She wished, in a feeling as sharp and fast as a lightning strike, that Hades was home. But there wasn’t time to worry about him. It was the children who needed to be protected.

They had a plan, Belle reminded herself in that split second moment. They had several plans, for every possible scenario that they could think of. That was what having all this time had given them. She grasped onto the details tight: no matter what, but especially if Hades was gone (because there was a good chance, they would try to separate him from the rest), Belle was to take the children up to the secret office to hide until someone came to fetch her. Whether that be Hades, Toulouse, or Howl—who were the only ones who knew how to open it. Lou would guard the back door, Merida the front, with hounds at their sides. Shuck would be with Belle, just in case something went wrong, and she couldn’t get to the room in time, or the Order broke through their defenses.

Of course, Belle had her own plan: there was no way she was hiding while the rest of her family was fighting to protect them. She could fight now. At least, against the Order. They were simple Mundus, like herself. And if they could do it, so could she. But she kept this to herself after she had been shut down originally. Though her intentions still bubbled inside of her.

And as the chaos crashed into the house, as that single moment of trepidation broke, Belle knew what she had to do.

Lou disappeared in one movement, the wolf bursting from his skin and taking over by the time its paws touched the ground. Merida picked up Bellamy as Belle knelt in front of Opal, whose cast scratched against her collarbone uncomfortably as she climbed onto her mother’s back. With Opal clinging tight, Belle could scoop up Aidan and follow Merida into the hall. Her legs felt like jelly. As if Opal weighed a hundred pounds more than she did. Her heart was beating thready and fast. It felt like it took them centuries to get to the stairs, as if Belle was wading through a swamp.  

When they made it, Merida wordlessly handed Bellamy to her as well. This way, Belle had all three of the children, which was a heavy weight. She looked toward the stairs and braced herself before carefully beginning to climb. It was a good thing that she had spent the last few months in the gym rather frequently with Merida. Not to mention the adrenaline coursing through her.

She heard the front door open and then close, and she realized she was alone in the house. Shuck squeezed behind her on the stairs, his head in the small of her back and she let out a breath, pushing forward. By the time she was in the secret office, she was panting and trembling somewhat. Setting Bellamy and Aidan down in the play pen, she kissed both their foreheads, then Opal’s too. She handed her daughter one of her favourite books.

“Read this to your brothers,” she told her, kissing her daughter’s soft hair. “I love you. Maman will be right back, alright?”

“Okay, Maman. Love you.”

“That’s a brave girl.”

It was time for Belle to be brave too. She reached for her sword which she kept in the office (away from any accidents with the children.) Unsheathing it, she glanced at the hellhound, who sat patiently by the door. “Stay,” she told him. He whined once. “Protect the children.”

With that, she took a breath and then stepped back out into Hades’ bedroom, her grip firm and her eyes darting around the room. From inside the house, she couldn’t hear anything at all. It was horribly quiet. Belle took a few more steps, holding her sword out in front of her. She adjusted her grip a few times. And then, there was a creak on the steps. Belle drew back, her breathing shallow as pressed against a bookshelf. In the long shadows of dusk, her own was hidden from view, but she could see another one on the wall, creeping toward her.

There was a decision to make here. Merida had once told her that fights were made up of a million decisions—like chess, but faster. More instinct than strategy. Which was Belle’s weakness in a fight. She always wanted to hesitate or examine all of the options. In this scenario, there were two: wait, and surprise whoever this was or charge and try to gain the high ground by forcing them back against the stairs.

If she waited, the element of surprise would be sure. If she charged, she had no idea if she had the skill or the strength to fight off whoever it was. To put them on the defense. But, if she stayed here, she would be trapped and forced to fight anyway—

It was too late to make a decision. The assailant was already on top of her. Belle saw the toe of his boot and her body reacted. Her arms jerked up, trying to slash him upwards from below with a shout. Merida had always told her to use her height to her advantage, most men—especially in the Order—weren’t used to fighting someone as petite as she was.

PHILLIP: Phillip did not expect Belle Acheron to come at him with a sword.

The surprise only lasted a fraction of a second, though. He actually laughed a little, easily blocking her weapon with his own, the metal clashing. After that moment of shock passed, he grit his teeth together, pressing forward. He loomed nearly a foot over Belle and even though she’d caught him by surprise with the sword — must’ve been a gift from Merida or something — he had years of experience. He’d been training ever since he could walk, perhaps even before then, the Order sharpening him into a deadly weapon to wield for their own purposes. 

Phillip did not want to do this.

Phillip had to do this.

Phillip had to do this, because as he and John and Thomas stalked closer to the house, all he could think about was losing them. He did not want to do this, but he couldn’t imagine a life without John and Tom at his side. They had to do this, or else Tom’s mum and sisters wouldn’t be safe, or else their little nieces and nephews would be targets, or else John’s father would hurt him even more. Phillip was doing this not because he wanted to cleanse the world of wolves and demons, but because if he didn’t do this, he would lose John and Tom, maybe forever. 

That didn’t make it any easier.

At least this time there were no children to be seen. That would help him focus, at least. Never mind that he actually did quite like Belle and never mind that he’d seen half-finished dinner plates on the dining table.

“Your form’s not bad,” said Phillip. He basically had her cornered now and with a flick of his wrist, dislodged the sword from her hand. It clattered to the floor and he held his own sword up to her neck. “But your strategy needs work. Sort of stuff you can only get with years and years of experience, though.”

He stepped forward, the tip of his sword pointed to the wall, and swept an arm behind Belle so he could grab her arms with his left hand. Sword still pressed against her neck, he coaxed her forward.

“This’ll be over quickly if you all cooperate,” he said, trying to talk to remind himself why the fuck he was here in the first place. He did not want to think about the children, probably somewhere in the house, or the little cat he’d seen once. “My friends work fast.” 

MERIDA:  For the past couple of weeks, she’d practically been living at the Acherons. Whenever Hades wasn’t there, Merida stepped in. She went where Belle did, a loyal hound at her heel, always on alert. As the days wore on though, she knew the attack would be much more thoroughly planned than the last one-- and the last had been impressive as is. 

The Trio was watching. They were learning. They would soon memorize even these new patterns and figure out the most vulnerable time to attack. 

Merida told all of this to Belle, Hades, and Lou, and with each day that passed, the probability spiked. 

So when the snarling and howling began, Merida was ready. 

She jumped into action. Merida gathered little, sweet Bellamy in her arms and sped with Belle toward the stairs. She wished she could go up with her-- had argued this part of the plan, thought that she would be best used as another wall of defense, smarter and stronger than a hellhound. But the goal was to try to keep that extra wall from being necessary. And so as she handed off Bellamy, Merida followed her orders. She could do that for Belle. She was her warrior-- her sword-- her shield. 

And so Merida flung open the door, closed it behind her and drew her sword. 

She wasn’t surprised to see Tom emerge from the wood, fighting off one of the hounds. Merida’s eyes lit and she raced toward him. Attack him on both sides. Sure, her cousin would dispatch the hound, but Merida would make it harder on him. 

“Miss me, Tommy?!” She snarled as she lunged at him with a wild swing of her sword. 

THOMAS: It was time to get this over with, so that Tom could leave and never have to think of this place again.

That was how he felt, because there was no other way to feel. The inevitability of what would happen here had weighed on him for weeks. He would not be able to open in his role as Sky. He would leave behind Arista, Elliot, and his other friends. Swynlake would become another bad dream (it had given him plenty already, hadn’t it?) All it was was a place of misery. There would be nothing good here for him. It was a good thing then, to get this finished. To move on.

Then why did his steps feel so heavy as they marched toward the Acherons’ cottage? He didn’t dignify the question with an answer. Instead, he adjusted his sword in his grip and whistled sharp to get the attention of one of the hellhounds that he knew prowled around the house. There were two. Well, three all together, but one never left Belle’s side and they had figured in case of a fight, that would still be the case. 

He heard John’s answering whistle a few meters away where he was tucked in the trees near the garden. The hellhounds peeled apart, as they had assumed, when they realized the assailants were in two places. 

Next, Phil and Tom made their way to the front. Tom would head off whatever protection was there, while John distracted from the back--and Phil, slippery, cunning Phil, would find Belle. She was the hinge upon which the entire strategy swung. After all, if they could not easily dispatch the two werewolves or Hades somehow got free of the assault they had planned for him (doubtful, but they would not underestimate him again), she would be their bargaining chip to lay their weapons down. She was a Mundus. Harmless. And not their target anyway. She would live. As long as the rest of them complied. 

Tom did not think about that. He had to focus on the hellhound coming towards him. 

Adjusting the bucket of water in his hands, he waited steadily for the hound to lunge--

It was a simple trick, but when the demon met the water, it yelped and steamed, disoriented and weakened. In this state, it would not be able to jump through smoke. At least for a few moments, before it's hellfire evaporated the fire. It gave him just enough time to go at it with the sword. The hound lunged and snapped, but he managed to keep it away, his calf throbbing--not fully healed from its last encounter with a hellhound. 

He managed to make it halfway up the yard before Merida appeared and came at him with her sword. For a moment, Tom hesitated. It took just a flash of bright red hair. Merida’s voice echoing across the field. She was as human as ever: face flushed, eyes ablaze. 

Tom had prepared to meet the teeth of a beast, not the fury of his cousin. 

He didn’t say anything to her. If he could avoid it, he wouldn’t even look at her. 

Their swords meet in a dull clash of metal. She was strong and fast and angry, but Tom was determined and trained. He danced to the side, slashing at her and the hound in one swoop. Then, his sword arched back up to parry her next blow, pushing her back towards the house. He threw his weight behind it, knocking her backwards and then turning on his heel to catch the charging hellhound in the belly as it jumped at him again, barking and snarling, its mouth the pit of hell, sparks flying, setting a dry patch of grass aflame and catching on Tom’s shirt.

He shoved harder, twisting his sword. The demon yelped, sounding like Gilly when he accidentally stepped on her tail, and then dissolved. It gave him just enough time to swing back at Merida as she regained her balance and came at him again. 

Her sword slashed across the top of his shoulder and he grunted before slashing right back at her, doing whatever he could not to meet her gaze. Those DunBroch eyes the same as his own.

TOULOUSE: Toulouse was getting extremely sick of this.

He knew that being a werewolf was dangerous, but he had never thought of it this way. The danger coming to his family. To the children. To people who should not at all be involved in any of it. He had tried to leave. His solution to everything: running. But Hades and Belle had not let him. Guilted him into staying. Into helping protect their family. 

But Toulouse was not good at protecting anyone. He could hardly protect his brother and sister from the cruelty of the world. How was he supposed to protect Belle and Hades and the children from crazy, albeit well-trained, assholes hell bent on destroying them? He had absolutely no confidence that he could.

It was a good thing that the wolf. The wolf sure and confident in its every move. It was the wolf that took over as soon as the hellhounds started braying. 

Out in the garden, the ground was wet from a shower that had fallen earlier in the day. His paws sunk into the earth. A hellhound appeared at his side and John appeared in front of him.

Enemy, supplied the wolf. 

Toulouse growled, his black lips pulling back in a snarl. And he didn’t hesitate to lunge directly at the man, looking to knock him right off his feet and get his jaw around his throat. 

JOHN: This felt wrong. 

His brain wracked through days of trying to find another way. To find some way that they could get out of this and not face the wrath of the Order. But it was too late. They had made their move, albeit not because they had intended to, but they had already started the war with their botched battle. They had to end this.

His burns still itched, it would still be a while until they didn’t. A constant reminder of how stupid he’d been taking on Hades Archeron like that. His long sleeves covered the bandages up his arms but they wrapped around his hands as well. He fought through the discomfort for hours in practice to make sure he could wield a sword for this day.

He had to do this. Despite how much he hated every bit of what Francis had done to him, how he had spoken to his mates. He had to do this. This was the last thing and then he was done. He hadn’t told the lads yet, but he couldn’t do this anymore. He was done doing the Order’s dirty work. He was done doing everything and yet getting nothing in return, being branded some kind of fuck up. He wasn’t going to do this anymore. 

They’d come up with a three pronged plan for the attack. Phil and Tom were executing their sides well. He could already tell by the whistle and the clash of swords. But John had other things to deal with, he wasn’t up for facing the women wielding their swords in this, not with how his hands were. But he could attack the dogs and any other dogs that might come their way.

He and Tom had planned to take the hounds out by splitting them. And as luck would have it, it worked, but John hadn’t expected his rotten luck with animals to also immediately grab the attention of a very large wolf, one that he’d seen before and stabbed at before fleeing in the last bout. Toulouse. 

He dispatched of the hellhound easily enough as it got close to him, water then slash but Lou was right on its heels and John only had a split second to act. The wolf bounded forward and sprang up. Now, John was not strong, sure, by most normal standards he was rather fit but compared to Tom, he was not the muscle of this, but he was the brains. 

As Lou closed the distance, John thrust his sword up, holding it across himself with both hands as the jaws came snapping at him and pushed him down into the dirt. Rather than just be pounced on, he had been falling backwards already, using his momentum and then the added push from the wolf to kick his feet up and throw the wolf back behind him as he rolled to his feet, already panting as his heart raced. That was too close. He could feel the breath from the wolf still on his face.

With that adrenaline, John’s face formed into a wicked smirk he got only when he was on a mission or about to beat someone’s head in for messing with his lads, one that he’d seen come from Francis Smith time and time again. They had to end this. 

“Oh c’mon, Lou. No hard feelings about that lighting incident,  yeah?”

He flipped his sword in his hand and readied his stance for the next attack, but also watching out of the corner of his eyes for any possible routes of escape up into the trees.

MERIDA: The plan had included the wolf, but Merida would not depend on her-- not unless she really needed it in the end. It was a matter of pride for her to look at Tom with her own eyes, to meet his sword with her own. She wanted to prove something to him-- to all the Order. Perhaps they’d not win today, but if they could beat them back, he wanted Tom to carry with him a story about Merida, not the beast. That she was wild, but graceful, that she was strong and controlled. That she fought with a clear style, a style that was the Order’s own.

She was one of them and she was not. She was not a monster. But the Order had made her and they had to live with that. 

She’d force Tommy, then, to face her. As she attacked, he tried not to-- she noticed that. He alternated between blocking her blows and fighting back Baskerville, until he bested the beast with an expert stab to the chest. Baskerville evaporated with a long howl. Merida did not let it distract her. 

He came at her with hard, fast swings now that he had no one else to worry about. Merida blocked each one, grit her jaw. She’d let him get into a rhythm, lower his guard--

And then she planted her feet and let out a wild shout, lunging forward to force Tommy back. She caught his shoulder, though the blade did not sink its teeth in, only drew blood in a glancing blow. Course Tommy was too skilled to let it throw him, but she saw something change in his eyes. 

“That’s right!” she grinned wolfishly. “Your cousin’s all grown up, Tommy. Ye want to keep playin’?” 

And she lunged again. 

THOMAS: Tom had been expecting to face a wolf, not a girl. 

A beast. Not his cousin. Who was just the same as she had been the last time he saw her properly, years ago now, hair disheveled as she removed her helmet from the tourney—gaze defiant, jaw set. 

She had that same look now and it threw him off, causing him to misstep. Letting her get a cut at him. The wound bit him immediately, the pain radiating down his arm. He didn’t let it phase him. He let it wake him up. To focus on that pain and the fight as their swords clashed. 

Merida had a wild sort of fury to her style, but she was controlled as well. He recognized her moves and matched them with their countermoves fluidly. This was not like fighting an enemy. It was like sparring with one of his mates. The only difference was the flashes of long red hair. 

Despite this, she wasn’t matched in his skill. He had been holding a sword since he was a tot, since his arms had been able to keep it upright. And he trained hard—both as a knight and as a firefighter, so he had a brute force to his every slash and cut that Merida simply didn’t. He had never been as prepared as John or clever as Phil. Once, he hadn’t even been strong: he’d been a small boy. He knew what it feel pushed around. 

He tried not to think of that now. 

His strikes came harder. He wasn’t, necessarily trying to kill her, even though he should be. He drove her back towards John. Tom had every faith that his mate could best a hellhound and a werewolf and then help him dispatch Merida. The fight grew more frantic as the both of them tired. Sword fighting wasn’t meant to be a long term engagement, but he pushed her and pushed her. Sweat dropped into his eyes and he let them burn as they crashed through the low garden fence—tearing through vegetables and flowers, lovingly tended and thriving. It was almost over. With every scrambling step and snarl in the distance, they grew closer to the goal. 

They were the Order’s finest princes and they had come to end this war. 

Tom deafened his ears to any of Merida’s taunts. He couldn’t stand the sound of her voice. It widened the pit in his gut that made him feel dizzy, unsteady. She was a girl. A girl with freckles on her arm, who used to beg him to show her how to hold a sword. And he used to laugh, along with all their other cousins. But, he had learned since then that maybe women should learn how to use a sword. To protect themselves from evil men. 

Like him. 

His blade slashed towards her, twisting at the last second and slicing along her thigh. It was all adrenaline and the scramble of a battle. She went down on one knee with a cry and Tom’s training took over, finding the weak spot in your opponent and—

Tom’s sword slid easily into the joint between Merida’s thigh and hip, stabbing her through the side. 

MERIDA: Merida knew she might not win. The Golden Trio they were called, and they were called that for a reason. They had natural talent, but more importantly they had skill and experience that Merida didn’t. The wolf gave her advantage enough to keep her sword from dipping, to empower her with an endurance that would hopefully tire the likes of Tom out. But it was all a gamble, and so Merida’s main objective was not to win.

She was here to keep Tom busy. 

If she stalled him long enough, Belle would be safe; priority one. If she stalled him long enough, Hades would arrive. He’d already been alerted. It had been only a minute since the attack began-- maybe less, maybe more, Merida didn’t know. But he’d be here soon, either way. And once he was, this peaceful garden would transform into something else-- a graveyard of ghosts and hellfire. She told Hades they inevitably had charms against his magic, but Hades was too powerful to be completely neutralized. Unlike last time, when they surprised him, he knew what he’d be coming into.

So she had to keep holding on. 

Merida let him force her back-- away from the front door. That’s all that mattered. She retreated, but always made sure he was following her. But as the fight wore on, her original plan faded and her anger at the Order grew.  Her desire to win flared, hot and dangerous.

She wanted to win for Belle. She wanted to kill her cousin. Maybe he didn’t-- but she did. She wanted to kill him the way she knew most of the Order wanted to kill her. 

She wanted to win for her, to show that she could.

And so she let out a wild shout and threw force into her movements. Their swords clashed with more fury, almost hard enough to create sparks. Her eyes grew wild. The wolf inside her snarled. But the harder Merida hit, the more reckless she became. 

She failed to guard just once. Just once. But that was always enough. Tom’s sword found its mark, tore into her flesh and she cried out, stumbling down. Before she could even call for the wolf, Tom stabbed her a second time. Merida gasped in pain, and dropped her sword. As soon as he pulled his sword out, her hand went to block the gaping wound. He’d avoided any major organs-- something that she recognized now as pity. Merida’s gaze snapped up and she glared at him with a dirty, sweaty brow, wild pieces of curls escaping from her band. 

“What, Tommy? Is it too hard to slay a beast when it looks like me?” she taunted him. “Go on.” 

PHILLIP: This shouldn’t be so easy. 

Phillip wondered if that ever crossed the minds of the rest of the Order. As they sliced their blades through flesh, as they stabbed through muscle, as they held a sword up to a woman’s delicate throat, did they ever think about how taking a life should not come so easily? It wasn’t hard. Just a slash, just pressing a little harder, and Belle would crumple in his arms, a necklace of scarlet slashed across her neck.

The shadows on the walls seemed longer than they should be. Phillip walked forward and he did not say anything. All he did was listen to the beat of his heart, which he felt sounded louder than it should, in some sick, twisted Edgar Allen Poe sort of way.

At least there were no children here. At least if they did what they came here to do, at least if everything went according to plan, Belle could go free with the little ones and that was, at least, something. 

It should not be so easy to think of the slaughter of three as something going right. And yet, and yet, this was the outcome Phillip hoped for, because it was the best one, because the alternative was slaughtering Belle and the children as well. 

(He could not think of the third option; he did not allow himself, because that third option meant losing John and Tom, and while there were many things Phillip could bear, this was not one of them). 

He heard noise — he knew he needed to go there, but the noise was not the howl of a wolf, but the shout of a woman. Of Merida, he realized. Of Merida, who he’d known as a girl. His grip on Belle’s arms tightened, though he took care no to press his sword any closer to her throat.

He stepped out of the doorway, lingering a bit as he looked on the scene in the garden.

“Back off,” he growled, to the wolf who John was fighting and also at — well, at Merida, who had a dark stain on her side that he tried his best not to look at. “Back off or I’ll kill her.” 

HADES: The ghosts came howling for him.  

As expected, the Order went the route of cowards. For an organization that built its empires on the backs of slain magicks, they had no spine in them to deal with the likes of Hades. Instead, they waited until his family was vulnerable. That’s what they were doing: attacking a family, who had been sitting down for dinner after a long day of simple, mundane things. Babysitting, colouring sheets, trips to the library. That’s what the Order sought to stop: not Hades, but the joy that Hades had cultivated in his wife, his partner, his children. 

He’d give them this: they did their research. Hades tried to shadow jump from the town hall to home, to be there in a blink and light them all on fire like kindling. But his powers halted. With a vicious snarl, he realized they must have come in earlier, put salt in the corners of every room of the fucking building. 

And so Hades had to run-- had to speed his way down the rickety town hall stairs and out onto the streets of Swynlake, so he could finally use his magic. It delayed him two minutes. 

Two minutes were apparently all they needed. 

He appeared in the shadows of the garden and his hands exploded with fire. He stepped out and lifted a hand to take Tom’s sword and turn it against him. But that was when Phillip came out with his wife in his clutches. 

Hades froze. The fire did not go out though. It flickered, alive, up his arms. His eyes narrowed. 

He wasn’t going to lose Belle-- but he wasn’t going to let himself be toyed with like this either.

“You’ll kill a mundus? You’ll kill a mother?” he taunted. And then: “If you kill her, I’ll light every one of your friends on fire. You’ll watch them burn, and I’ll still save my wife. I’ve got a direct fucking line to the Underworld, you Order prick. Who the hell do you think I am?”

A bluff, but sometimes you had to bluff in a game of chess. 

THOMAS: Hades appeared, just as they expected him to. 

Everything had been going to plan until then. Or--well, mostly. John and Tom were supposed to have killed the wolves so that there was only Hades to deal with. The three of them at once would be able to take him, the trio reasoned. They were not under the same impression that Phoebus had been. This was a demon, but one who loved his wife and his spawn. Who may have tried to live as a human, but who was not made for this world. It was a weakness, as much as it was for any mortal. He would bend to them easily. Especially with his pretty little wife as their captive. 

But now, the chaotic scene paused and it wasn’t a demon who appeared--but a man. Not much older or younger than any of them. Tom could see the fear flickering in his eyes. The anger. And he knew with a warrior’s instinct that he meant every threat. 

The word mother struck Tom square in the chest. That was what Belle was. A mother. He had seen her with her children. Had seen her with Merida, laughing--unafraid of a wolf. Had seen her patiently helping others find books or studying in the university library, just like his friends. She was just a girl. A woman. Sweet and gentle. She had tamed impossible monsters and stood now with her lip trembling but eyes hard. Braver than him.

In that moment: Tom knew that they had already lost. He was not the strategic one, but he had a heart and people he loved. If they killed Belle, Hades would send this entire house up in flames and take all of them with him. They would turn him into a bomb. Even if Tom killed Merida and moved to help Phil, there was nothing stopping Hades from setting him aflame. Or if John killed Toulouse, he would burn too. And Tom couldn’t let that happen.

Maybe there was a way to win. Maybe John knew it. 

Tom didn’t care. He stared down at Merida--her proud chin jutted out, but her fingers were trembling and he knew she was scared. Just like they were all scared. 

What were they doing? 

Suddenly, Tom’s vision blurred and he blinked rapidly, clearing it again. He took a shuddering breath and stepped away from where he had been looming over Merida’s prone form. His sword clattered to the ground, as if it had burned him. 

It wasn’t Hades he looked to. But Merida first. “I-I’m sorry,” he told her. 

His gaze snapped to Phil’s, to John’s. “I’m sorry. I can't do it.” 

PHILLIP: This would all be over soon. 

This would all be over soon.

This would all be over soon.

Phillip kept repeating the phrase to himself. This would all be over soon. This would all be over soon. They’d  kill the wolves and they’d force Hades to his knees. He didn’t know how, but they’d do it because they were the Golden Trio and that is what they did. This would all be over soon. This would all be over soon. Hades cursed at them and he threatened them, but Phillip did not falter, because he had John and Tom at his side and if there was anyone who could figure a way out of a demon’s trap it was the three of them.

This would all be over soon. 

Hades’ words didn’t even register to Phillip. Let me die, he thought, let us die together, because that’s better than failure. That was better than admitting he couldn’t do this, better than turning his back on Tom and John. Phillip would rather die than betray them, would rather kill his own spirit than turn against his best friends.

This would all be over soon.

He held the blade to Belle’s throat and he glanced at John then to Tom and he knew one of them just had to do it — had to strike, and the rest of them would, and then maybe Hades would burn them to the ground, but for the first time in over ten years, Phillip welcomed the flames.

In that moment, Phillip made up his mind, because he felt there was no alternative. Either he betrayed Tom and John, or the three of them burned together. 

This would all be over soon.

He grit his teeth, hardening his resolve when —

Tom’s sword clattered to the ground. He looked from Phillip to John, the tears on his face illuminated by the moonlight, his mouth twisted and his hands shaking.

And in that moment, Phillip changed his mind. 

He threw his own sword to the ground, shoving Belle forward slightly towards her husband, then ran towards Thomas, grabbing him roughly to his own chest and collapsing to the floor.

“It’s all right,” said Phillip. “It’s all right.”

JOHN: John had done his best against Lou, but his heart had never intended to slaughter him, no matter how many times his sword lined up perfectly, he fought defensively, a rip or scratch here and there as Lou passed him by and he was growing tired. He knew if something hadn’t changed the tides, he’d have to act in desperation and leave himself open in striking out and beyond that it was a 50/50 shot that he would be able to fell a werewolf on his own. 

But he needed to make sure that Phil and Tom were alright, so he kept the wolf at bay, inching his way as he struck out towards his mates, hearing the clashing of swords stop and the shouting of voices. He looked back to Phil now, has he threatened, his sword at a woman’s throat. It all felt wrong. He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to do any of this. His father was wrong. He saw that. But this was their way out. He could be free of it. This was his last mission, he was sure of it. They’d do their own thing soon enough. 

Or so he thought.

As soon as Hades came through, John had the feeling they wouldn’t be able to finish this. There were only three of them and too many powers. He knew this, he’d gone over the strategy but to admit weakness to the Order would just complicate things further. They had to prove themselves. But just as John had planned and thought, they were outmatched. 

At Hades’ words, John didn’t doubt that the fire would consume him and his mates. His burns prickled on his arms, like just being close enough to the source of what had caused them made it burn all over again. Like a burn near too much heat.

He paused, Lou had also paused at the threat of Belle, but he looked to the wolf and he looked to his mates. Looked to the man and his wife. Tom had thrown in the towel, crumbling in a way that made it hard for John to watch, unable to finish Merida. Phil too had crumbled, grabbing onto Thomas. He would be strong for both of them, he would help them out of this. He would use every last breath in his body to save his mates. 

John walked forward, trying to catch his breath and staring down the face of the man they’d just tried to take everything from like a man who didn’t fear death.  Because he didn’t. He feared the death of who he held closest. And right now, that was not his family. It was his brothers, his mates. 

He stood in front of his mates, sword in his hands, bringing it up, twisting it and then swiftly shoving it into the ground beneath him, he would do what he was good for in this group, he would talk and strategize his way through this, “We surrender and through surrendering we effectively defect from the Order. We never wanted this. Not for a moment. The Order taught us that this would somehow save our own families, but that certainly doesn’t excuse the pain we’ve brought to yours. What are your terms, Hades?”

HADES:  A surrender? 

Hades’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t buy it, even as Belle came stumbling toward him. He let his fire die so the night no longer flickered with their eerie, dangerous blue, but he still felt the teeth of the flame in his skin, how much it longed to bite and consume. And he wanted to feed it. Make no mistake. If anything-- now was the perfect chance to show no mercy and send them up into flames anyway.

He didn’t care about their families. He didn’t care about their tears. He didn’t care about repentance. He didn’t believe in second chances. 

Behind him, Lou growled, and he knew his partner felt the same way.

Belle’s hand on his arm, more than anything else, stilled him-- reminded him of the greater mission. It was not a hand of mercy-- at least, that wasn’t how Hades interpreted it, even though his wife had a soft and kind heart. To him, the hand communicated one thing: wait. 

This was part of the plan too. Not to murder them outright-- to capture them and use them as their pawns to get to the King. To the heart of the Order. And destroy it once and for all. 

So no, he didn’t fucking trust any of them, but he’d listen to his wife. After all, it was the Queen who held the most power in the game of chess. 

“My terms? Very fucking simple. You do whatever the hell I say now, and you never-- never-- raise a weapon against me or my family again. And you will swear it by magic.” 

He raised his hands and John’s hands were jerked up in front of them, pressed together as if Hades had handcuffed him. He might as well have; there was no point in struggling against them. 

“Tie them up-- Belle, call Howl.” 

“Thought you’d never ask,” mumbled a bleeding Merida on the ground. And with a wild shout, the woman lurched up and punched Phillip Knightley as hard as she could across the jaw. Despite the blood running through the fingers on her other hand, her eyes glimmered with plenty of strength. “I’ll get the rope.”

[labellerose-acheron]

Anatomy of a Crash *** [Helle (feat. Toulouse sometimes)]

In which the Acheron family adjusts to life with twins...[takes place between December 7 and January 21]

@trip-downtheriverstyx​, @lou-bonfightme​

[tw -- post partum depression symptoms (including self loathing, anxiety, depression, disassociation) and a few domestic arguments]

MONDAY, DECEMBER 7, 2020

HADES:  It’d been a week. a week and they still didn’t have a name for Baby B.

 It was, frankly, getting ridiculous. Every time Hades returned to his list, his irritation at himself flourished brand new, both for 1. Not finding a name that was suitable before this point and 2. for apparently being so bloody picky that none of these names matched the small, quiet, agreeable baby who slept longer than his brother and didn’t squirm twice as much. He supposed part of the problem was his own expectations. Naming Opal had been obvious. Aidan had slipped into place as easily as the last piece of a jigsaw puzzle. He expected that same feeling for Baby B-- to simply look at the curated list that Belle and he had labored over for months and find one that clicked. 

Instead, he remained Baby B, which did not fit him either. 

“We need a whole new list,” Hades declared one afternoon. He gripped the bassinet and gazed down at his sleepy, sweet-faced son, blinking open his eyes after a nap. Aidan had woken up a few moments ago; it was always like that, as if Baby B had some kind of delay, had not mastered the stereotypical art of twin telepathy but instead came one second behind, always on his own time table instead. Hades actually quite liked that about him.

“We should just start all over. Maybe something Greek or Roman, in the same ballpark as Aidan. Marcus.” He looked down at Baby B.

Baby B was not a Marcus. Hades scowled. 

BELLE: Yes, they had to name their other son. Belle knew this. Belle felt badly about this. Belle, honestly, avoided thinking about this because it felt overwhelming...choosing a name. It always did. They had only chosen Opal from a dream and as a token to Hades’ mother. It was the name that child would be called the rest of their lives or until they chose something different--

So to saddle them with something they hated or that didn’t seem to fit them? It felt incredibly daunting. As daunting as taking a few steps towards the loo or even picked up the babies and holding them. 

The longer Baby B went without a name, the longer Belle looked at him and felt...hollow. He was just a baby. Not her baby. Not anyone’s. With no name for himself. 

And so--she turned away from thinking about it. Belle had other goals too: walk down the stairs. (She’d attempted it once already only to get stuck.) Take a shower by herself. Not cry for a full day. Be helpful, be useful. Finish a book. Yes, in the week since the babies had been born, Belle had not finished the book she’d been reading before they’d been born. 

It was a small book: Looking Backward. She had picked it up on a whim as part of a greater anthology of science fiction, something she had been dubious to delve into in the past. It was a thin volume, only about 200 pages and yet, it had taken Belle more than a week to read it.

The problem wasn’t that it wasn’t good. Belle actually was enjoying it a great deal. (It was a very good first foray into proper science fiction, in her opinion, because she forgot that was what it was half the time.) It was that she was exhausted. She could read only a few pages of a time before her sore body and pain medication was dragging her back down to sleep. So, she had to gobble up pages while she had the time. 

And she had the time now, in fact: she was almost finished when--

Hades spoke. 

Belle hadn’t even noticed he was in the room. 

“What? No, not Marcus. It’s too close to Maurice,” she said with a little frown, turning the page in the book without looking up. 

“Can we do this later, please? I only have two pages left. I’d quite like to know what Mr. Bellamy has to say.” 

HADES:  Hades looked up from his sleepy son’s face to scowl at Belle. Belle of course did not notice. She was not looking at all, but rather at her book, which was quite typical of her-- and actually, Hades should be grateful for that. Her recovery was slow-moving, even though the doctors reassured them that everything was progressing as it should. Still, Belle hated being in bed; she hated being tired, lethargic, and in pain; who would not hate that? Some mothers might enjoy the recovery time, might want to be pampered, but not Belle. 

So, seeing her read rather than sleep was a good sign. Very typical, stubborn Belle. But Hades was also being very typical and stubborn himself, and since Belle was up and not foggy because of the pain meds, he’d like to try to find a name for their son. They couldn’t keep putting it off. Maybe they should just pick something, anything-- 

“Who?” Hades asked sharply--and at first it was all out of annoyance, a pointed, exasperated question. He didn’t know which book she was reading, didn’t know if Bellamy meant the author or a character in the book, but either way, Bellamy was not invited into this conversation. Bellamy was not naming their kid-- 

Then a thoughtful expression passed over his face and suddenly, well, he actually would like to know the answer to the question. 

He straightened, a hand falling to his hip. “Wait, who?” he repeated, more insistently, so Belle could not ignore him. 

BELLE: “Edward Bellamy,” Belle replied, still attempting to read, though Hades’ glare was now burning her through the flimsy last page that she had. It was doing horrible things for her concentration. After she found herself rereading the same sentence twice, she huffed and lowered her book. Her eyes flicked up to her husband. 

“Honestly, Hades. Don’t you know? Looking Backwards. Utopian science fiction? It’s one of the most prolific books of American literature in the 19th century.” 

She rolled her eyes a bit and then lifted the book up again. “And I’ve only one more page. Our son’s name can wait just a moment more. I haven’t done any decent reading in almost a week.” 

Perhaps this was more dismissive than she should have been, but Belle always hated getting interrupted when in the middle of a good book, or towards the end of any book, good or bad. (Though, Looking Forward she quite liked.) Was it less allowable considering she was dismissing her own son for it? Belle did not want to dwell on the answer. Instead, she lost herself, just for one moment more, in the utopian world of 2000. 

HADES:  Yes, Hades knew who Edward Bellamy was. That was not really why he asked the question he did. He wanted to hear it in the air again: Bellamy. He wanted to hear it surrounded by context. Suddenly he did care about whether Bellamy was the author or the character. Suddenly he did care about what type of character or author that was. And he didn’t necessarily know much about Edward Bellamy besides that he was a bloke who wrote science-fiction but he quite liked Belle’s exasperated explanation of him anyway. 

He liked how very Belle it was. It was a Belle-ish name, even past the obvious shared letters in the beginning.

But that was why he had liked Aidan in the first place anyway, wasn’t it? He hadn’t known that it was derived from Hades until he read a little bit more about it. He smiled when he’d learned and instantly the name was bolder to him, bigger, more important. He’d never name his kid directly after himself...being a junior seemed to be a heavier lot in life than necessary. He still wanted his son to have a name that was all his own. 

But Aidan paid tribute. 

Bellamy could pay tribute. 

Belle deserved to have a son named after her (sort of) as well. 

“It’s perfect,” declared Hades, grinning full on. Belle looked up at him again, confused and clearly still annoyed. 

He laughed. “Bellamy! I like it, don’t you? Bellamy.” He reached down to scoop Bellamy into his arms. Bellamy only grunted once, then relaxed, not at all fussy at the moment. 

BELLE: “Better for you, better for you,” a voice within me rang, “had this evil dream been the reality, and this fair reality the dream; better your part pleading for crucified humanity with a scoffing generation, than here, drinking the wells you digged not, and eating of trees--”

Hades was still talking. 

What in the world was he blathering on about? 

The book snapped shut again in the same second that Hades began to laugh. The sound of his laughter caught Belle off guard and she gave him a quizzical look. What on earth was so delightful about Edward Bellamy? He hadn’t even known who he was, apparently. Or had forgotten, even though Belle had certainly mentioned starting the book before the babies had been born. 

“Hades, what--” 

Oh. He meant--

Belle blinked and tilted her head. And then, one corner of her lips twitched into a slight smile. 

“Bel ami,” she said, her voice lilting slightly, the way it did when she was speaking French. “It means fine friend, I think.” She smiled a bit wider. 

HADES:  Fine friend. 

Yes, it was a Belle-ish name after all. 

Little Bellamy breathed in and out, blinking up at his father’s large grin. He absolutely had no idea what was going on, but Hades imagined as he heard the name in the air that he was listening. He half-sat down on the bed, careful not to sit on top of Belle as he did, but he wanted Belle to see the name and their son up close. This was a moment for the three of them: mother, father, child. Aidan behaved by not squirming or fussing, though at this point, Hades knew that if his brother was away for too long, he would get anxious. (Interestingly enough, little Bellamy didn’t react quite the same way, though if Aidan cried, he soon would join in, as if in solidarity). 

“I think it suits him. And they sound nice together. Aidan and Bellamy,” murmured Hades. He glanced at Belle and their eyes met. A smile slipped onto his lips. After the past stretch of days with Belle either in too much pain or lost in a fog of fatigue to really talk to him, this moment felt as clear as-- appropriately-- a bell. 

The runes on his arms began to glow.

“Bellamy Acheron. And what do you think for a middle name?” he asked. 

BELLE: Hades sat down on the bed beside and Belle put her book aside, paying attention now. (She’d finished, anyway. See? Hadn’t been long.) She poked her head over Hades’ shoulder, resting her cheek against it as her hand came up to touch her son’s head. Bellamy Acheron, yes, it was nice, she thought. She did like it quite a bit. It was French and an author, though obscure enough as to not be obvious. And it was a “B” name, which felt fitting, considering he had been Baby B for so long. 

Now, he was still Baby B. Her baby B. 

“Hm,” Belle hummed. “Bellamy…” 

Her eyes flicked about the room as she thought, rifling through other French names. Her mind, of course, turned to the Bonfamilles at once. They were her tie to that part of herself, the ones who encouraged her to speak French and traded literature with her. Though, Toulouse or Berlioz would be a horrible tongue twister.

“Something short, I’d imagine,” Belle mused. Her lip twitched a bit, as she considered this was the opposite of Aidan, whose middle name was Alexander. She thought it sounded nice all together: Aidan Alexander Acheron; a nice, strong name. Toulouse had shook his head and said it was a mouthful. 

“Oh,” Belle said, lifting her head from Hades’ shoulder so she could turn to look at him. “What about Henri? For--Toulouse. If...you think he’d like that?” 

HADES:  He did think of Toulouse.

But he immediately dismissed it anyway. Not because he thought Belle would balk at the thought of it-- even before he and Lou were in this partnership, he’d been Hades’ closest friend. He had no father or grandfather or brother to whom to turn for such traditions, so why wouldn’t it be Toulouse? He dismissed the name though because he knew that not even Toulouse liked it that much. It was a heavy burden. Pretentious. He preferred Lou, did not let anyone who was not family touch Toulouse as it were. Bellamy Lou meanwhile felt rather awkward. Bellamy Louis was a terrible dilution. It barely even sounded like Toulouse at all. 

Hades had already considered all this while thinking about first names anyway, not even bothering to write any version of Lou on there. It simply didn’t fit. 

He didn’t think that Belle would think of Toulouse. 

But as soon as she did, he realized he should have. Because as dear as Lou was to Hades, he was dear to Belle too. 

The surprise flickered across his face, then, but quickly softened like melted butter. He smiled at Belle, his head turned toward hers. It was still rather an awkward angle, but their eyes met anyway and lingered. He looked for any regret or hesitation, for any sign that she was just doing this for him. He saw none of that. 

“I think he’d like it quite a bit,” said Hades, his voice as soft as his eyes. His mouth twitched though. “Well, he’ll never admit that though.”

He looked down at Bellamy again, still cradling his soft, small head in Hades’ own large hand. “Bellamy Henri Acheron has a ring to it though. I think we’ve done it, eh? We found your name.”

And Hades’ runes on his arms began to glow. 

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 11, 2020

BELLE: It was a week since Belle was home from the hospital. She was on more medications than she’d ever been in her life. There were stitches in her uterus (they’d taken the staples out before she’d left the hospital.) The incision was long and red and ugly, running the length of her pelvis, though the doctor assured her that the scar would shrink over time. She was still bleeding heavily--as if she was endlessly menstruating. She had been instructed not to lift anything heavier than her babies (so no carrying books or bags or laundry or dishes or...anything.) Stairs were to be taken only with help (and even then, you might begin to cry when it hurt and you felt too weak.) 

She was confined to the bed, drifting in and out of consciousness as sleep took her and took her. Even the cries of the babies did not wake her. The painkillers were wonderful for that. They kept her drifting as if she lived on a cloud, far away from crying babies and the stress of newborns. Except for every two hours, when she was pulled from sleep to feed the babies.  

Lou had helped them settle in the first night and then left again to give them some space, Belle assumed. She hadn’t even known that he was gone until Hades had mentioned something to her. He had said goodbye, apparently, but Belle hardly remembered. 

It was just Hades, Belle, Opal, and the babies. And right now, it was just Belle and the babies. Hades was downstairs, heating dinner. Opal had already gone to bed. It was late, the night dark. Belle had been sleeping most of the afternoon and had woken once the babies had finally fallen asleep. It was quiet, Belle actually managing to read a few pages of her book. And with the babies peaceful, Belle could actually be rather fond of them. They did look so sweet curled up next to one another, their little mouths slightly open. Perfect as anything. She had spent a few moments admiring them when she’d first woken, but soon, she’d had to distract herself with reading, lest her pain distract her from anything else. 

The first cry from Aidan went unheard, Belle engulfed too deeply in her book. The second cry was followed shortly by a third cry, this one from Bellamy. And soon, before Belle even knew what was happening, both of them had been set off, squirming in their bassinet next to the bed. 

For a moment, Belle just froze--watching them, as if she didn’t know what to do. She did know, didn’t she? Belle was already a mother. She had faced a crying baby more times than she could count. But not two. Not these babies. For some reason, that made a difference. Belle didn’t know these babies. They would be a week old tomorrow, but Belle didn’t know them. 

“Shh,” she said eventually, snapping out of her shock. Reaching over, she rocked the bassinet gently. The stretch pulled at her sensitive incision and she drew back with a hiss, her hand fluttering over her stomach until the burning subsided. The cries didn’t subside, they grew louder. They sounded like the blaring of alarms, declaring some imminent disaster. They frayed against Belle’s sensitive nerves and she felt her breath catch in her throat, the burn of tears quickly followed. 

“Shh, it’s alright,” Belle tried to say but her voice was strained. Pulling off the blanket she had draped over her knees, she moved towards the bassinet, her feet falling onto the floor so that she could lean over. But that hurt too. She grit her teeth and ignored the pull, as if she was being ripped in half. Her hand reached into the bassinet, touching one of the babies’ wet cheeks, then the other’s. This did nothing to stop the braying. 

“Please, it’s alright,” Belle pleaded quietly, putting her hand on the bassinet and pulling it a bit closer. She slid on the covers, so that her toes touched the chilly floor, bracing herself to scoop one of them up into her arms. Leaning over the bassinet, she ignored the throbbing of her stomach for the throbbing of her heart. Her hands slid beneath Aidan’s small back and even smaller head, in a move that, despite the rest, was easy and natural. He squirmed in her grasp, pushing his chest up and moving his head about, swinging his little arms as if he was afraid. 

Belle took a deep breath, which only served to irritate her incision more, and then lifted Aidan off the soft blanket and pillows. As soon as she did so, she felt the mechanics of her body more acutely than she ever had in her life: yes, her arms were doing a fair bit of the work, but her stomach muscles clenched as she attempted to lean back. The burning grew sharper and her elbows knocked against the edge of the bassinet, her grasp on the baby slipping slightly. 

She realized that she couldn’t lift him any further, unless she wanted to risk dropping him. She had to put him back. Aidan, unaware of any attempt to comfort continued to cry, his face turning red as his eyes screwed shut, his tiny fists waving in the air. Bellamy cried too, though he stayed swaddled in his blanket, tears ran over his round baby cheeks and dropped into his ears. 

Belle didn’t realize it but she started crying herself, laying Aidan back into the bassinet. She tried to fix his blankets but he kept squirming away. Her fingers trembled and her breath rattled in her own lungs. 

“Shh, it’s alright, it’s alright.” The babies took no comfort in their mother’s words. Swallowing, Belle cleared her throat and then raised her voice as much as she could.

“Hades!”

He appeared much quicker than she anticipated. She leaned back from the bassinet, one of her hands scrubbing at her face, the other holding her side. “I’m s-sorry,” she told him, her lip trembling, even as the tears subsided. “I--couldn’t--” She glanced away, curling one of her hands into the comforter. 

HADES:  They were still finding a schedule.

Coming home from the hospital had not been like the first time, when they settled Opal in her bassinet, exhausted but also exhilarated, the two of them rising to the challenge of new parents the way that Hades and Belle rose to anything. This time, although the house had not physically changed, it appeared to Hades much like an alien planet. His routine here was disturbed. Opal’s routine was disturbed. He could not find the right pattern yet, in between feeding the babies, changing their diapers, helping Belle with her care, and finding time for Opal in between it all. The first few days were an absolute wreck; Hades did not remember sleeping, and if he did (he must have) than he certainly stole the sleep from the maws of time, grabbing minutes while sorting the laundry downstairs or waiting for something to heat on the stove. Lou was a help, but Hades did not want to rely too heavily on him, of course. It was important to find their way. 

But steadily, Hades was learning-- learning not just about his two sons but about Opal as a big sister and himself as a father of three. Tonight was one of the first nights that he managed to get Opal in bed on time, with enough time for a bedtime story as was her tradition. She went to bed much easier then. He kissed her light golden hair and thanked the Fates for her peace. He hoped that it would extend through the night. An Opal waking from slumber and trying to crawl into her parents’ bed was not possible. 

He’d gone downstairs for Belle’s dinner and while he worked on that-- tried to catch up on a few Board responsibilities. He called Simba for a quick update and was finishing the conversation when the babies began crying. 

He ended it as soon as he could, of course, and then quickly moved over to the food. He was reheating a sauce on the pan as opposed to microwave and quickly had to turn off the gas before he went upstairs. 

He was half-way up when he heard Belle calling for him. He took the stairs two at a time and rushed the rest of the way.

But when he arrived, Belle was in tears. It alarmed him and he darted toward her, briefly concerned not about the sobbing babies but that something had happened to her instead. “Love,” he started, but Belle was already apologizing profusely over him.

It took him another second to understand what it could be about. Another second to take in Belle’s trembling legs and her hand over her stomach, where the incision was. And then he understood. She had not been able to stand up and lift either son. The past few days, Hades had done this for her, laying each child gently into Belle’s arms and staying close in case she needed any help. 

“What? Hey, no, don’t apologize,” he murmured. He wanted to comfort her more, but the babies were still wailing. Each piercing cry was like a claw to the heart. He had to turn toward them, and he lifted Aidan first. “Here, it’s alright. They’re alright,” he spoke softly, both to Belle and to Aidan, and then attempted to give Aidan over to Belle to hold now that he had lifted him. 

BELLE: Belle barely heard Hades’ platitudes. Not over the sound of her babies crying. They were crying for her, she assumed, and there was nothing that she could do to help them. Her own tears obscured their tiny, angry faces, which was almost a relief. It meant that the guilt could only balloon so big. Belle hardly had room for it anyway. Her heart was beating rapid fire in her chest, as if the babies weren’t babies but bombs set to go off any moment. Delicate and destructive. It hit her, full force, as Hades lifted Aidan out of the bassinet that she was afraid of them.

She was afraid to be alone with them. She was afraid to pick them up and hold them. They were so small and fragile and she couldn’t help them. They were entirely dependent on their parents. Without Belle and Hades, they would die. And they only had Hades to rely on. 

The tears wouldn’t stop, she felt them in her chest. In her stomach. Shaking through her fingers as she sat back down properly on the bed, collapsing into it. Her hands went to the mattress by her hips to steady her and keep her upright. Each shuddering clawed at her stomach until her whole torso was burning as if she was on fire.

Aidan’s scrunched up face came into view as Hades bent to hand him over and Belle flinched without thinking about it. “No, I--no, I can’t. I’ll--I’ll drop him.” 

HADES: Aidan and Bellamy’s cries climbed to new heights, shrill and sharp and confused. And as Hades’ face twisted in confusion, he understood them-- not why they were crying, but the feeling: wanting Belle and being too far away to reach her. 

Because she was quite far away now. He was familiar with these strange, horrible moments but that didn’t make it easier to cross the distance they breached. Especially at first. At first, Hades always felt like he’d missed a step on the stair. He’d come up here expecting one thing, and found something entirely different. He hadn’t thought Belle would be crying. He didn’t understand why beyond the obvious-- the babies were distressed. And it was hard not to cry along with them. There had been nights with Opal when she was sick and could not be comforted that his tears scorched in his eyes in part because he held them in and let the heat of his failure eat him up on the inside.

But this was not the same thing. The babies were tired-- or they were hungry. They were probably hungry, that was all it was. Though babies were often mysteries, these first few weeks were simpler than what was to come. They had simple requests. And Hades and Belle were prepared for them.

Belle perhaps had forgotten that? Or was just overwhelmed. With two, it was more difficult. And she was tired, and the pain medication did not make this easier, and she’d pushed herself when she should have waited.

Hades arranged all these explanations and it helped him feel better, less lost and less alone.

He still had two babies crying for their mother. 

“No you won’t, darling,” he said. “And I’m here now. Here, lay back-- it’s alright, love, Aidan’s just hungry.” He tried to remind her of this and offered Aidan to her again, as he glanced back at Bellamy. “I can get the bottle for Bellamy.” 

He needed Belle to take one though. Though Hades could use his ghost hands, that was a last resort kind of thing; it could scare Bellamy, not comfort him. 

BELLE: The babies were still crying. Their wails were as piercing as sirens, designed to awaken the instinct to care inside of their parents, or any capable adult in the vicinity. Except that Belle didn’t feel like a capable adult. She felt like wailing too. She felt overwhelmed, as if every breath drew water into her lungs and not air. Hades’ presence only made it worse. Belle knew that he hated when she got upset like this, that he didn’t understand it and felt ill-equipped to help, and Belle didn’t want him to feel that way. She knew how awful feeling helpless felt.

She needed to stop. 

The thought came to her all at once, so suddenly, it was as if she’d been driving quickly down a road and someone quite suddenly hit the brakes.

Her breath shuddered in her chest and her tears stopped all at once. She looked dubiously at the baby being offered to her, red faced and flailing.

He’s just hungry, Belle tried to repeat Hades’ words, but it only made that hollow feeling in her chest grow, as if something was carving out her insides, bit by bit. Hungry meant feeding, which meant sore breasts and the possibility that, at this point, Aidan was far too upset to even latch properly. Not that it mattered, did it? Sore breasts were a small price to pay to feed her child and keep him healthy and alive. She really had no choice in the matter.

Belle’s lip trembled, but she reached up and scrubbed at her own face with the sleeve of her sweater. Then, she moved, as quickly as possible, back towards the pillows. The pain had subsided into a dull throb again, though she moved skittishly, afraid to make it worse.

Once she was settled, she held out her arms for the baby. Her face drawn as she watched him squirm. She pulled up her shirt, flashing her red, angry wound as she lifted the babe to her breast.

To her great relief, Aidan was hungry enough to put aside his tears. Her face crumpled again when his wailing stopped, but Bellamy’s continued. Her fingers were still trembling slightly as she readjusted Aidan’s clothes, fussing so she wouldn’t have to look at Hades.

“I’m—sorry,” she said again, not even sure if the apology could be heard beneath Bellamy’s cries. “I-I’ll try harder, next time. You shouldn’t have to do everything.” 

HADES:  Belle stopped crying. It was a small relief, which Hades could not enjoy, nor did the relief last long. His sons were still crying. Though her face was dry, Belle was upset. And Hades still felt helpless and unsteady, as if he were about to tip off-balance. He did not have the opportunity or the freedom to do so. Belle could crumble, he understood the pain, the drugs, the fatigue. But Hades had to remain certain even when he did not feel certain. 

He did not feel like he was doing a good job. In fact, he felt the opposite: Belle staring hollowly through him, seeing his confusion bare on his face, his impatience one second away from cracking. If she cried again, he knew it would be his fault. 

He gave Aidan over and turned away from Belle quickly, not just because he needed to scoop Bellamy into his arms but because he needed a second, just one second, to find his own composure so he would not say the wrong thing as he often did. 

Bellamy was light as a feather. Almost as soon as Hades drew him to his chest, the volume of his cries dipped, then ebbed. As Hades rocked him, the torrent became a thin, watery trickle. 

As quickly as the noise had erupted, now it was silent. It felt like holes had been punched in the walls though, the wind whistling through the injuries. 

The echo of Belle’s apology, now, was loud and unavoidable.

He wanted to sit on the bed with her. He would like to stroke her hair and kiss her temples and rub her shoulders, if she needed it. He would like to summon the perfect string of words to quiet her shame, as holding Bellamy did now. But Hades did not have the freedom of doing these things either. If he sat down, Bellamy might start crying again.

“No, don’t apologize. It’s alright. This is what I’m here for,” Hades said as he shook his head, his brow furrowing. “We’ll get better at this, both of us. It’s just--” 

His words evaporated. There was not a single one written that was big enough to encompass the weight of their days. 

“--A lot. Right now. But we’ll get better,” he repeated helplessly. 

BELLE: Perhaps Hades’ words should make her feel better. Belle knew that was their aim, but they only made her guiltier. She could hear the struggle in Hades’ voice: the exhaustion, the frustration, and the concern. He was clearly struggling too. And why wouldn’t he? With three babies, a useless wife, a shoppe to run, and a town to lead? Belle only had one of those things—the babies—and she couldn’t even handle that. 

If this was, at the moment, an equal partnership, those things would be much relieved. He would not sound so exhausted or frustrated or concerned. 

Belle knew that Hades loved the babies and enjoyed taking care of them. This was what he wanted after all. What both of them had wanted, though Belle sometimes found it hard to remember that she’d agreed to all this. (Though, they’d never imagined two.) That didn’t mean it wasn’t hard, especially since he’d been counting on her help. They had Toulouse, of course, but he couldn’t feed the babies the way Belle could. As was her job as a mother. And he had his own life and things to attend to. 

So, yes, Hades’ words were hollow. Belle wasn’t even sure that he believed them. And Hades was always so sure in his beliefs. 

She looked down at the baby at her breast and stroked a hand over his soft head. 

“Yes,” she agreed, her voice reedy. “I suppose you’re right.”

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 20, 2020

BELLE: It had been almost a month and Belle hardly felt better.

She could walk a bit more, it was true, but not horribly far. She still felt pain taking the stairs. She was still bleeding. It felt horribly hopeless, like she would never feel like herself again. It had been so long since she had felt capable, considering that even before the babies had been born, she’d been so large that she’d needed assistance with simple tasks. It had been so long that Belle was surprised she still had tears left, though she had gotten better at hiding them. Crying only when it was just herself—or herself and the babies. 

At least they couldn’t judge her for it. Belle hated feeling Hades’ and Toulouse’s eyes on her, watching her every moment she was in their presence, as if she were going to come apart at the seams. All she wanted was to be capable, but it felt as if she couldn’t be. She knew that in some ways she was healing, but in other ways, it felt like everywhere she hit a roadblock. If it wasn’t healing from her surgery, it was exhaustion from having to wake up every time the babies did and robotically feed them, like she was some sort of milk dispenser, instead of a person. That was what it felt like to her. There was no closeness there, for the most part. Sometimes, she watched the babies at her breast and thought them sweet and loved them, but usually—she only felt a bitterness, as hard as a fruit pit in her stomach. She wanted sleep, or she wanted to read, or she wanted to not be in pain, her breasts sore and swollen and several times, she’d been afraid she’d gotten an infection they’d hurt so badly.

Her body felt battered and bruised, like a horrible, bloody battlefield that had been forgotten to history. Belle just wanted to rest. 

It was late at night or early in the morning, depending on how you looked at things, the babies having woken Belle and Hades both. They had run out of breastmilk...again. Which meant Belle was feeding one, whilst Hades rocked the other, trying to keep the mewls quiet, so they didn’t wake Opal too.

Belle had her head back against the headboard of the bed, her eyes fluttering open and shut with every tug on her sore flesh. There was no way to sleep when every few seconds felt like part of your skin was being pulled off.

And to think—there was six more months of this.

“What time even is it?” Belle asked blearily. “I feel as if I’ve only been asleep for—ah—” she winced, “—ten minutes.”

HADES:  It had been a month, and it wasn’t getting much easier. 

That was not entirely true, he supposed. There were little victories every day. What was hard for Hades was noticing them and being satisfied with them, because all he saw was his own failings and the things he hadn’t completed that day. He’d barely gone into Chapter Three this entire month, only coming to close, balance the register, check inventory and then file the orders. Even this he was behind on; even worse, he’d accidentally duplicated an order and came in with twice the shipment from Bloomsbury that he was expecting. Hades did not make mistakes like that-- the careless, expensive kind-- but here he was, floundering like a piss-poor university student who didn’t know how to use his own software. And that was just the biggest of his mistakes. He had a list of them. He could write them down or recite them methodically, if asked.

No one asked. Sometimes Lou looked at him too long and then offer more help. Hades was grateful for it. But these days, he accepted with gritted teeth. It should not be necessary. Hades should simply manage his time better.

He had gotten Opal to bed on time tonight and had looked forward to a few coveted hours of sleep before the inevitable alarm bell of his sons. But they were not so kind. It was not their fault. At least in the dead of night, Hades’ own sleepiness was as familiar to him as his magic, or Belle’s company; the wails of his sons the same as the wails of the ghosts. He had been here before.

He cradled Aidan, rocking gently. Aidan would start to whine again if not. He was much harder than Bellamy, who suckled calmly. Aidan kept making little whines around the bottle, pulling away as if unsatisfied, only for Hades to coax the bottle back into his impatient little mouth. 

He was playing that game when Belle’s voice tugged his gaze upward. “Hm?” he hummed so low, he doubted Belle heard him. He swallowed and then glanced at the clock on the wall. “Nearly 2,” he said. “And they got us up at midnight so. Two hours, ten minutes. All the same, eh?” He tried for a tired smile, hoping for a laugh.

His worry tugged at him though and his smile vanished as quickly as it came. “Are you alright?” 

BELLE: No, Belle was not alright. She was totally and utterly exhausted. Opal nor all night study sessions nor hours upon sleepless hours researching ways to free Hades from the Underworld had made her feel so tired. It felt as if she did not get a proper night’s sleep, she may crumble into dust. Her bones hurt, her blood felt sluggish, her head dizzy. She hardly trusted herself to be able to function well enough to take care of the babies. If she was recovering from her surgery, it was hardly noticed—that was how tired she was: she felt as if she was constantly being ripped open, all of her insides pulled out. 

She gave him a withering look to communicate all of this. It was a stupid question. His humor was not appreciated. Maybe she should be kinder. Maybe she should laugh and expel all the hurt inside of her for a moment so she could replenish her stores and continue onward. 

But, she couldn’t do that. The thought of piling more hurt into herself felt impossible. Her chest was a wardrobe full of secrets, stuffed to the brim with everything she had been feeling the past few weeks. Every tear she cried alone, hiding from Hades, from Toulouse, sloshed at the bottom. Every ache and physical pain a grain of sand that became so heavy, Belle was sure if she weighed it, it’d be more than both babies combined. All of her horrible thoughts were sharp and vicious animals that prowled through her mind, waiting for a moment of vulnerability so that they could explode from that wardrobe and chew on the chambers of her heart before retreating. 

These were the worst beasts of her burden. They hurt the most. The thought that she regretted ever having the twins, that they couldn’t possibly have come from her womb, that she did not know if she loved them at all. 

Moments like this, when she was delirious from lack of sleep and sore from her recovery and the nature of having babies that needed to constantly be fed, Belle was most vulnerable to these thoughts. 

Breastfeeding was supposed to be a time of closeness and bonding. Belle remembered that feeling with Opal: looking down at her and never feeling more proud of herself or her body than for the work it was doing. And Opal’s little eyes and her dark eyelashes and her tiny fingers. Her heart bruised with love. 

Right now, her flesh was the bruise and all she felt was that sharp pain. There was no room for tenderness, except for the tenderness of her flesh. 

“I am exhausted,” Belle said, and she did not have the capacity to even let her voice go watery and wet. Her voice was hollow as a reed. “I hate this.” 

She was specifically referring to this: waking up every two hours, no matter what, in order to breastfeed—or pump milk if the babies weren’t actually hungry, her breasts sore and heavy. And yet, there was more truth to her words than she’d care to admit. 

HADES:  Hades did not know what to say.

Belle did not say anything he did not know (though this was not true; he did not realize just how deeply it was untrue). Belle was strong, but she was not invincible. She knew how to bear pain, but that didn’t mean she could hide it, entirely. He saw the exhaustion, saw it in little ways that caused him to fret when he was away from Belle, as he turned small moments into larger moments when turning them over in his own thoughts. Like their chess game-- they always had this chess game running, you see, and each of them would come and move some pieces when they had the time. There used to be a regularity to it that Hades depended on without realizing he depended on it. He’d wake up in the morning after Belle and find she’d made her move; he’d make his own before leaving for Chapter Three. They’d continue the game in the afternoon, and always make several more moves before it was time to go upstairs to put Opal down.

Hades had moved the chess game to their bedroom when Belle first came home from the hospital. It had been several days since Belle touched it.

This small irregularity gave him pause, when every day he woke up and found the board in the same position as it had been before. It felt like he was stuck in his own bloody Groundhog Day. It felt like he was holding his breath while waiting for Belle to join him. 

But he could not press her, because it was so small and she was so tired and things had to change, at least for the time being. 

Still, it was the chess game he thought of as Belle said I hate this. 

She’d never said that before. 

Quiet. A second passed, then another. Hades grasped for a word, the right word, this conversation having transformed from an after-midnight ramble into a crossword puzzle. Belle’s clue was baffling. It only obscured the answer from him. 

“I--I’m sorry,” he said after that long pause. “This part is always hardest. It was hardest with Opal too.” 

Or at least he thought it might have been. Opal’s first few months felt like a lifetime ago after the past few days. 

BELLE: “This is harder,” Belle said bluntly.

She wasn’t looking at Hades, nor at the baby at her breast. Her gaze was on the far wall, her brow furrowed, as if she could see the movement of spectres there. Memories of what it had been like with Opal. She remembered it being tiring, but she also remembered that the entire time, Belle had been so grateful for her daughter and, despite her exhaustion she had not been nearly as exhausted or in pain. She could remember walking Opal around in the nursery, singing to her softly. She could remember taking care of her by herself. Yes, she had been sore and unable to ride, but there had been little else that had confined her. 

Now, she was stuck in bed, in pain. While she was healing and could lift the babies now and even walk a bit with them, she was almost afraid too. She couldn’t find her limits, the edges of her strength. There was always a chance some sharp pain would spike through her or her arms or legs would begin to tremble. And she was terrified of dropping the babies or hurting them. 

Not to mention there were two of them and still Opal to take care of. 

“It’s so much harder. I’m--not even doing anything and it’s harder.” Belle shook her head in frustration, which caused Bellamy to unlatch and then whine--still hungry and now confused.

“Oh,” Belle huffed and reached up to rub her forehead before she tried to coax the baby back. “Come on, Bellamy.” 

HADES:  Hades did not know how to respond to that. 

He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to. Belle’s tone was a fist, shutting down conversation (he wasn’t even sure if they’d been in a real conversation). It did not invite Hades to comment. In fact, it warned him away. It told him what Hades had always known: you do not know what you’re talking about. 

And Belle was right, even if that was not what she said. He did not know what he was talking about. He could hold the babies and feed one of them, but he had never held one to his breast. The babies had never needed them the way they needed Belle, whether 2 in the afternoon or 2 in the morning. Though Aidan drank greedily in his arms now, for a second he felt like a type of crib: swapped out easily with another model (hell, switch him with Lou, and would Aidan even tell the difference?)

It was a quick feeling, but a sharp stab of a feeling nonetheless. His mouth tasted sour now. He closed his lips, eyes dropping to Aidan, letting the silence seep into the room like a poisonous fog. 

His chair creaked as he rocked back and forth,  back and forth. 

He only looked up when Belle spoke again, the edge of her tone having dropped off for the frustration and fatigue again. He still didn’t know what he was supposed to say, but got that feeling that now he was supposed to say something. 

So he said something very useless, but the only thing he knew how to: “Is there...anything I can do to make it less so? Or Hera, or Robbins? There...certainly Hera would have ideas…” 

BELLE: “What are they going to do?” Belle scoffed. And here in those in-between hours, exhausted and frustrated, her self-consciousness and self-doubt were stripped bare, laying loose her tongue. There were no boundaries between her bitterness and her words. 

“They cannot give me back the sleep I’ve lost. They cannot give me anything to sleep more or the babies won’t be able to eat. They cannot speed up the healing process more than they already have. They cannot give me anything more to help was the pain, lest it hurt the babies.” 

And what could Hades do? Nothing. (And this was not because he wasn’t doing anything, but because like Hera and Robbins, there was no more he could do.) She would not say that, though. Mostly because she had focused on something else. The fact that, in this moment, all of her problems felt as if they centered around one thing:

“I don’t want to breastfeed anymore,” the announcement came out as an unfiltered revelation. One that for just a moment, Belle clung to as if it was a bright angel come down to her. The idea was actually thrilling and she burned with the relief of it. No more waking up every two hours, no more tender breasts or worries of infection. She could take stronger, better pain medication and heal faster. 

Belle didn’t even think about the babies and what it might mean for them. Nor her relationship to them. She had forgotten the delight of breastfeeding, left it easily behind for the freedom just on the other side of it. 

HADES:  Belle did not mean to. Or maybe she did. Either way-- Hades felt instantly scolded. 

His gaze dropped and he took it because if Hades had a job, it was this. He had other jobs too, of course. He changed the babies, he handled so much of Opal’s care, he kept running the shoppe, he helped Belle with her recovery. But those things felt like nothing in the dead of night-- or in these unforgiving, cruel morning hours, when the world held its breath and the babies wailed. Instead, he was left with the things he could not do, and Belle pointed them all out now. Hades could not give Belle back her sleep, nor help her sleep more, nor heal the damage from her surgery. He could not take her pain, even though he had thought about it-- wondered about magic and pain management and if there couldn’t be some kind of way, through sorcery or even through some hidden ability in the Underworld. After all, Death ended suffering. There was no feeling in that world at all, which was its other form of suffering but-- didn’t it track that if Hades had the powers of that world, he could silence pain, even for a little?

What wishful, idyllic thinking. Death could not be peace without finality; what kind of loophole would that be? 

And so he could only listen. He could wake with Belle. He could lose sleep beside her. But she was right. He, and Hera, and Robbins, had nothing else to give her. 

And so when Belle said what she said-- how could he argue? 

He looked up right away. There was a short pause as he stared at her, as if he hadn’t heard her correctly. But he just didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t speak on this. It was Belle’s body and-- if she didn’t want to, then-- plenty of women did not breastfeed their babies for various reasons and it was not fatal to the babies or to the mother… 

“Are you sure?” he asked after that beat. “If that’s what you want, that’s-- fine. I understand.” 

BELLE: “Yes, I’m sure.”

As soon as she said it, she knew it was true. It was the answer that had been staring them in the face the whole time. Even with Opal, Belle hadn’t breastfed her for the entire six months. She’d stopped early so she could go back to school and not have to worry about pumping every few hours. This meant that she was going to be able to rest and heal properly. There was no hesitation in her voice. Even the doubt on Hades’ couldn’t dissuade her. Nor her own worries about being a good mother. 

She would be a better mother this way. That she was also sure of. It would make everything easier. It was such a simple answer, how could she have not seen it before? 

“I’ll call Hera tomorrow and ask her the best way to go about it.” And she was smiling as she said it, feeling genuinely for once, excited for the next day. 

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 25, 2020

HADES:  It was Opal’s first real Christmas. In some ways, it was Hades’ too. 

He remembered only a few other Christmases from his childhood, before his mother passed and before Hades was too old and belligerent to see the holiday for what it really was. When he woke up this morning and carried a wiggling Opal down to the humbly decorated Christmas tree with the stuffed stocking and presents underneath it, those memories came back to him. He remembered waking up to the smell of cinnamon rolls. He remembered a fire in their little fireplace. He remembered his mother stirring hot cocoa with a peppermint stick. There had never been many presents under their tree, but they’d had sweets and stories and music, and those were the brightest ornaments in Hades’ memory now. 

So as  Opal gasped and squealed “Santa-magic!”, Hades heard Persephone laughing, and it was like she was here again. He let his daughter down and she went tearing toward the tree. She crawled under it immediately like a little squirrel, flat on her belly, grinning up through the branches at him. 

“Make sure she doesn’t climb the thing,” he told Lou. And then-- “Merry Christmas,” he said, his hand falling on Lou’s back for a moment.  And then went he up to help Belle down. 

It took a while, as it must with Belle still recovering from her surgery and so many moving parts to attend too. But soon the twins were in their downstairs bassinet and they were all gathered around a glimmering blue fire in the fireplace. They gave Opal her stocking first and she tore through it, pulling out little candies and small trinkets. She fixated on the ribbons and clips that Lou had bought their daughter. “Pretty!” she said and then went crawling up on the couch next to Belle. “Maman, one for you!” 

Hades chuckled a little, but smiled fondly at his daughter. He hoped she’d be so generous with her brothers when the time came. 

TOULOUSE: It felt strange, spending Christmas morning without his family. 

Though, he supposed that statement wasn’t entirely accurate. It felt strange spending Christmas morning without Marie and Berlioz. They had been with him every Christmas elsewise in his life. His parents had been revolving--either his mother or his father, depending on the year. His siblings he could always depend on. He had spent Christmas Eve with them, of course, and spent the night at the manor with Marie and he was due over to his brother’s cabin around lunch time for presents and dinner. 

Morning was for the Acherons this year. 

He had come over early, around the time that Opal usually awoke, so that he could be there to see her open her presents, many of which were from him. The pile had been steadily growing throughout the month. And, despite the car, there were a few other things for Belle and Hades as well. Nothing quite as large, of course. Small things: jewelry, clothing, books.

And he was--excited to give them out, even though he was sure that Hades and Belle had gotten him nothing and that they would be exasperated at him for the extra gifts. They had given him plenty of gifts this year anyway, he was perfectly satisfied.

Everything about the cottage was warm: Opal’s rosy cheeks, the flickering fire, Hades’ hand briefly on his back. “Merry Christmas,” he murmured back and then cleared his throat, glancing towards Opal.

“Opal, don’t give the ornament to the cat,” he chided her as Hades climbed the stairs.

Vincent, who had been investigating the wiggling branches zipped away behind the couch. 

Eventually, everyone settled and Opal tore into her gifts. Lou sat on the floor with her, to help facilitate handing out gifts. He took a sip of his tea, which was on the edge of the coffee table as Opal handed a barrette to her mother.

“Oh, thank you,” Belle said and put it in her lap. 

“No,” Opal said and touched the side of her head.

“Would you like me to put it in?” Belle leaned forward to do so, gathering some of her daughter’s fine hair.

“No!” Opal said, more forcefully and Belle drew back, her face baffled.

“I think she wants you to wear it, ma cherie,” Lou told her, his voice light. 

“Oh,” Belle said and then sorted. “Alright.” She lifted the clip and caught a bit of her hair in it, so that it pulled it back from her face. “There.” 

“Pretty!” Opal said before waddling towards her father, handing him a clip too. “Daddy, pretty!” 

Then, onto the bassinet with determined footsteps.

“Opal, no, the babies can’t have those,” Belle said, catching her hand before she could drop the choking hazards into the bassinet. 

Opal’s brow crumpled and tears sprang immediately into her eyes. “Babies! No!” she demanded.

“Caillou,” Lou called, distracting her. “What about mine?” He held his hand out. She looked between the bassinet, her mother, and her Tonton, before moving over to him and dropping a clip in his hand. “Merci. Now, you take this, alright?” He handed her another gift before reaching beneath the tree and handing over other ones to both Hades and Belle. 

“Toulouse…” sighed Belle in exasperation as she took her own wrapped gift.

HADES:  Hades took the clip with a slight chuckle and he slipped it into his hair without fanfare. As he did, he felt like one of the Fates, previewing his future. This was the beginning of Opal’s dress-up games. He shouldn’t be surprised. They brought Opal a wide variety of storybooks (as many as they could not featured Magicks by Magick authors, though the list was slim). From unicorns to enchanted toy soldiers to witches to regular kids of all races and genders...but Opal’s favourites were the princesses. She picked it herself. She loved any book full of colour with fantastic illustrations of dresses and castles. Persephone had never been like that, and from what he knew, neither had Belle, so he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t somewhat disappointed and perplexed by the choice but-- well, it was Lou actually who told him not to be a pissy boy about it.

Considering Marie as Lou’s sister, the criticism made sense. And Hades would not keep Opal from her ribbons and sparkles and clips, if that’s what made her smile and dance across her bedroom, hosting her very own balls. When invited, he’d participate. Like now. 

Sparkly clip firmly in his hair, he glanced at Lou and was about to thank him for buying something like that for Opal, something Hades could never pick out-- when he saw the package. 

He grimaced at once. “Oi, we said you could get presents for Opal,” he said, but he took the package anyway. It did not feel that heavy; he had no idea what it could be. Perhaps clothes? He would not be able to turn away clothes, not picked by Lou’s hand.

Despite his principals, a little guilt for not purchasing something for Lou as well squirmed in his stomach. 

“Dada, Santa-magic!” cooed Opal. She clambered back toward him, trying to crawl onto his lap. 

“Want to help open it?” 

Opal did not answer, just reached with those insistent, curious hands. She tore at one side while Hades slid his finger under the wrapping paper under the other. He peeled off the bow and handed it to Opal and she once again went toward the crib. 

“Opal…” Hades warned. 

Opal switched courses to stick it on Belle again, reaching up to try to put it in her hair as well. 

Meanwhile, Hades opened a box and-- yes. His eyebrows raised at what looked to be an expensive, designer blouse of some sort. “Jesus. This is from the Vuitton Fall line, isn’t it?” He shook his head at Lou but was smiling anyway 

TOULOUSE: “Oui,” he told Hades, smiling too and feeling rather pleased with himself. 

“I hope these aren’t for me…” Belle said, holding up a pale cream onesie with floral patterns. Opal still had her hand on her mother’s knees, stretching her arm up with the bow. 

“Well, the twins certainly can’t open their own gifts.” Lou went to reach under the tree for a gift properly for Belle. 

“Opal, no. This will pull out my hair.” She took the bow and set it to the side, along with the box and wrapping paper from the gift she just opened. Opal’s eyes immediately became wet again but Belle just folded the onsies carefully, avoiding her daughter’s watery gaze. 

“Caillou, here,” Lou said, holding out a gift for her. An etch-n-sketch, but fancier—it was digital and you could screenshot and print out any of the different drawings. 

Opal plopped down on her bottom and started ripping through the paper. 

“Here, this one is for you,” he told her, handing her a small box. He then handed Hades another gift as well. 

HADES:  Hades glanced at Belle, his eyes lingering as she folded the onesies and returned them to the box. He had not had a moment alone with her yet and now it felt like a misstep on his part. He should have lingered in bed with her, kissed her awake if only for a few moments to see how she was feeling. Instead he had risen as quietly as he could and tried to intercept Opal as early as possible, wanting to give Belle peace and as much sleep as possible. He’d thought it all wrong though, and wondered-- worried-- the way he knew that was annoying to her. 

He looked away if only so she wouldn’t catch him and get annoyed all over again. He’d find another moment for them. As it was now, he shifted as he accepted the gift from Lou, so he was sitting closer to her, his thigh brushing against her own. 

This package was heavier, though not necessarily heavy. He opened it as Opal opened her own, Opal once again tearing through it much faster. Honestly, he suspected she would rather play with all the paper and bows and ribbons than whatever things that Lou had bought her. 

This was confirmed as she eyed the fancy etch-and-sketch and seemed to not really know what to do with it.

“Opal, darling, it’s for drawing. What do you say to your Tonton?” 

“Thank you, Tonton,” Opal quickly piped up and she crawled toward him to try to get into his lap and-- indeed, came with another bow in her hand so she could stick it to his front like a present. She smiled very prettily at him before smacking a kiss on his cheek. 

Hades opened his box and his eyes lit up. “Ah! Picturebooks!” He tilted the box toward Belle so she could look as well. There were several in the box, some very clearly for Opal but others he suspected Lou thought might be for the twins. 

TOULOUSE: For the first time, Toulouse understood how his own parents had always been able to put aside their anger in order to do Christmas. He wasn’t religious, but he believed in the subtle magic that laid like a blanket of snow over the house the mornings of Christmastime. As if they were pockets of the universe that nothing bad could touch. He had never understood it, but now he did. 

It was Opal’s smile. The absolute delight on her face as she crawled into his lap and kissed him and made him a present as well. Lou’s cheeks heated slightly, that feeling soft and tender inside of him. Embarrassing in how bright it burned as he smiled back at Opal. 

“De rien,” he told her, smoothing her soft curls. 

Hades’ exclamation had her turning her head toward her father. She plopped down in Lou’s lap, looking attentively at the box. Belle looked at it too, her eyes roaming over the titles and the covers. Lou watched her just as attentively. He was always so nervous buying books for the children. He always made sure to read them a few times through, to make sure there was nothing offensive in them. That they were inclusive and all the things that Hades and Belle felt important. But these were not the things that he grew up thinking about, which made it difficult to tell.

She smiled at him. “I was looking to buying a few of these, thank you, Toulouse.” 

“De rien,” he said to her as well. 

“I’m sorry we did not get anything--”

“No, don’t apologize. It’s nothing, really. This is...enough.” Lou’s smile twitched and he glanced down at Opal for a moment, not wanting to look at either of them. “Just a--good Christmas morning, I mean. That’s all I need.” That was not all he meant, but it was easier to swallow. 

HADES: This was his family. 

The twins in their bassinet, Belle by his side, and Lou who still held Opal in his lap. There were only a few moments when they were all together like this, in a moment where Hades could see and appreciate it. Otherwise one of them was at Chapter Three, or they were in separate rooms, passing the children back and forth as they tried to fit all their various duties into one day, as if playing a very complex game of tetris. Life was so fast. The days whirled by. And so Hades was thankful to Christmas for the chance to slow down-- and he saw the point, suddenly, of all those pointless holidays he had never made time for. 

Maybe that would change too. 

He would try to take this day slow, then. There would still be plenty of juggling, but he imagined finding time for him and Belle to complete the chess game they’d been playing for several weeks now. He imagined leaning over Opal’s shoulder with Lou and showing her how to properly use the etch-a-sketch. These would be the presents he would give himself.

For now, he’d do his best to give his own gifts. “I’ll start breakfast for us all, eh?” said Hades. He smiled and stood up, though leaned down to brush a kiss against Belle’s forehead. “Merry Christmas.” 

SUNDAY, JANUARY 3, 2021

BELLE: Belle was trying to study. 

This was a doomed idea from the start, but she was being stubborn about it. Since school was out, Pride University’s library was closed and because it was Sunday, so was most of Main Street. She could go to Hatter’s but there was nowhere that she could really spread out all of her textbooks and notes and the like. 

So, she was trying to study at home. She sat on a pillow in front of the coffee table in the living room. Hades, Toulouse, and all the children were in various places too. Lou on a chair nearby, reading. He was on twin duty, making sure that neither of them cried and disturbed their mother while she attempted to work. Hades was off in the kitchen, playing with Opal, trying to keep her entertained while also attempting to make lunch for everyone. 

Belle didn’t mind a busy environment, but did feel a bit...claustrophobic. Several times, Opal had snuck off from Hades and tried to come see what her mother was doing, which meant putting her sticky fingers all over expensive textbooks and flipping pages or slamming her fingers down on  Belle’s laptop. 

This had not happened for an hour or so but something new and worse took its place:

Opal started to whine. Her voice high pitched enough that Belle looked up from her book with a frown. She couldn’t see what was going on from her spot on the floor but she turned towards the sound anyway. For a moment, she just waited to see if it was just a fluke, but she knew better--

The whine climbed until it turned into a hiccuping sob and then a loud wail. 

“Hades,” Belle snapped sharply. “Just--give her whatever it is she wants before she works herself into a fit.” 

HADES:  Opal was in a mood.

She was in more and more of these moods lately. Hades did not blame her, but rather himself. There were some nights she woke up because of the babies, and Hades could no longer coax her back to sleep with lullabies or another round of storytime. This had been the case last night, and Opal was grumpy for it. In fact, Hades felt like she was punishing him specifically, testing the boundaries in a way that she hadn’t before, because she realized that there were boundaries now. Boundaries that had to do with Belle, and bedtime, and her brothers. 

He needed to put her down for a bloody nap, but that was off schedule too-- she’d only wake up later tonight and ruin tomorrow. 

And so there was no winning. Hades had tried to keep her occupied now with some colouring books, her brand new etch-a-sketch, but what she wanted was not material at all: she wanted attention. 

“Not that simple, Belle,” said Hades, also sharply, as he turned down the heat on the oven and then turned around-- 

Opal was putting her crayons in her mouth. 

“OPAL!” he barked at once as his eyes went wide. “NO!” 

Instantly, the crayons yanked themselves out, spitting across the table. Hades hadn’t thought about his powers-- they’d just reached out from the shock of it. Opal gasped and her face flooded with tears, cheeks red as though she’d scribbled all over herself after all. 

She started to scream.

And of course-- as she screamed, the babies in the living room woke up and began to cry too. Opal went tearing out of the kitchen, shrieking, running straight for Belle. 

“MAMAN!” she howled. 

BELLE: The house erupted into chaos. 

Everyone’s crying was ringing in her ears and Belle froze, suddenly overwhelmed by the cacophony of sound. The whole house filled with it. The babies, crying, Opal screaming, Hades shouting. Belle froze and then felt a burst of anger shatter through. This was impossible! How was she supposed to get anything done?! Her test was in two months! 

Opal came tearing towards her, calling her name and Belle saw a split second before it happened, Opal’s sticky feet tearing across the books she had sprawled out on the floor. Expensive textbooks. One of the pages ripped as Opal stumbled across them, her arms held out for Belle.

“Opal!” Belle snapped, holding her own hand out in front of her so that her daughter couldn’t get any closer and ruin more of her work. God forbid she get her hands on Belle’s laptop and somehow delete all of her notes.

Opal’s chest smacked into Belle’s hand and she came up short, her big blue eyes confused. The crying cut off as suddenly as it started as mother and daughter both stared at each other, both shocked. Opal’s arms were still opened out towards Belle, but she recoiled from them, feeling something twist inside of her. 

The toddler, realizing, perhaps for the first time that she was not going to get the comfort she sought, tilted her head back and screamed even louder. Her little fingers curled into fists and she kicked at the book she had already torn the page out of so that it’s cover slammed shut, losing Belle’s place.

Lou, to his credit, had quietly gotten up to attempt to tend to the twins, but the babies were both wailing indiscriminately. 

“This is ridiculous!” Belle shouted above the din, throwing her hands up. 

HADES:  It had to happen sometime: a proper temper tantrum. 

Opal had kicked, whined, screamed before, but never like this. They always intercepted in time. Perhaps that was part of the problem. Perhaps if they had ignored Opal more earlier, she would know that such fits would not get the attention she wanted. Even now, Hades’ instincts told him to sweep in and do something, while in the back of his mind, the books said otherwise. They said to ignore her.

He didn’t have the luxury though. If Opal kept screaming, then Aidan and Bellamy would never stop screaming too. It was a circle of cascading dominos that somehow kept resetting itself.

And so Opal fell on top of Belle’s books and she pounded her fists and howled and howled. 

Hades swept in and grabbed her around her squirming middle. He tried to keep his voice calm “Opal. Opal, no kickin--” his daughter’s foot slammed into his chest anyway. She shrieked even louder. 

He glanced up and saw Lou struggling. He’d taken one of the babies out-- Aidan?-- but that only meant Bellamy would want to be held.

“Belle, please-- get Bellamy will you--” said Hades as he pulled Opal away from all the books. 

BELLE: This was ridiculous, Belle had said, and she meant it.

Meant it in the way ridiculous was supposed to be meant: deserving or inviting derision or mockery. How stupid Belle had been, thinking that having another child now was a good idea. Not when she was in the middle of trying to get certified as a lawyer! Which was only more urgent now that Alice had killed someone and needed a proper defense. One she trusted Belle to give her. How stupid it was to have twins. How stupid c-sections were. How stupid motherhood was.

Every scream of her various children made Belle want to scream too. She felt it building inside of her, something that she couldn’t stop. If she didn’t, she thought that she might explode. 

In the middle of her brain tuning to an improper radio station and filling with static, Hades had the audacity to ask her to pick up one of the children? The children that were currently screaming. The ones who were putting her nerves on edge.

Belle didn’t think. She just slammed her book shut so hard that Opal’s screams hiccuped for a second as she stopped squirming in Hades’ arms.

“No!” Belle snapped, closing her laptop next. She pulled her backpack towards her and began angrily stuffing her belongings into it. “I need to study. I don’t have time to deal with this.” 

Toulouse was standing by the crib, a baby in one arm, his free hand on Bellamy’s chest. His face was pinched, clearly trying to calculate how to pick up both babies while Bellamy continued to squirm in the bassinet. 

“If you could just--” he ventured, his voice quiet and calm.

“Toulouse,” she snarled, not looking at him as she continued gathering her notes with shaky fingers.

HADES:  Suddenly, Belle was getting up.

But she was headed the wrong way. Instead of going to the bassinet, she was grabbing her books, packing her bag. Hades’ eyes widened even as Opal continued to squirm and kick out her heels. And everything narrowed to that point-- to where the noise seemed to revolve around Belle, as if she were the eye of the hurricane. The centre, the calmest point, but also where all the chaos came from.

She slammed her book and it was like a gunshot going off. She’d aimed it at Lou. At Hades. At her own children. Opal slumped in his arms and whimpered. 

Where the hell was she going? What the hell did she mean, she didn’t have time for this? 

None of them had time for this. There was no such thing as enough time when you had one baby, let alone three. But that was because time no longer belonged to you. Your life didn’t follow the rules of clocks, calendars, and deadlines. Your children set the time. You ate when you could feed them; you slept when they slept. And when they wailed, your world stopped, until you could calm their earthquaking, and get the world spinning smoothly. 

“Belle, Jesus, just one minute!” Hades exclaimed-- incredulous but also desperate, as if one minute was a rope he was holding onto. If she just held Bellamy for one minute, then they could calm him and Aidan and Opal. One minute and everything would be the way it was.

Belle ignored him. 

“Fine, take Opal!” he said as he hoisted his daughter higher in his arms and approached her. 

BELLE: Belle’s things were packed. She stood with her bag swung over her shoulder and turned, just as Hades stepped towards her. It was instinct--something deep inside of her that she had no control over, that made her flinch backwards, away from her red-faced daughter. As if the little girl was a monster, not a child. Her child. Her heartbeat stuttered erratically and she tightened her grip on her bag, as if someone would try to take it from her.

“Hades, stop!” she snapped at him, as if she was a wounded animal, backed into a corner.

That was how she felt. Even holding her books in the bag hanging over her shoulder pulled at her sore, tired muscles. She could not take Opal. Not right now. Not without preparing for it, as she had to do any time she attempted to lift her daughter these days. Opal was heavy and Belle was so, so weak. Belle had had her body nearly wretched in half and for what? For screaming? 

“No. I can’t--” Her chest rose and fell in staccato. “You’re the one who set her off. This isn’t my problem!” Her shout bounced around the house, making Lou flinch. Belle saw him from over Hades’ shoulder.

“I’m going to Berlioz’s,” she announced.  It was better than standing there, staring, wide-eyed, at her husband--who looked so lost--and her daughter--whose pain seemed to mock Belle’s. Or maybe parrot it, as if Belle was the two year old, screaming because she didn’t know how else to communicate her fears and frustrations. 

She didn’t wait for a response or an answer to those existential questions that she was never going to get. Instead, she turned on her heel and fled the house without looking back. 

SUNDAY, JANUARY 3, 2021 (AFTERNOON)

HADES:  The dust from Opal’s tantrum had settled hours ago, but Hades still felt like he was in the middle of its aftershocks.

The house was much too quiet now. Opal had finally gone down for her nap. The twins had just eaten (from the bottle). And Belle was no longer here-- having fled the scene hours ago, spitting Hades’ way that she would be going to the Bonfamille-Lyons to study, and that was all. He hadn’t heard from her since. He’d texted her a small update about Opal, which was rather unnecessary, but he hoped would be the digital version of pushing open the door to talk. Belle saw it but didn’t respond. She didn’t necessarily have to respond…

But he wanted her to. And if he were honest with himself, this was not the first time he felt like he was waiting for Belle to talk to him. He’d been waiting on a response for the past few weeks, in all these little ways. But she sidestepped his questions or answered him with a word and got annoyed with him if he pressed. He had been telling himself to be patient. He had been telling himself it was the medication and the pain and the stress. Those things were still true.

But after this morning, after Belle had fled like she was running from a war and not her own children-- he worried that it was more.

He went down the stairs after putting Opal down to find Lou in the living room. He would be heading out soon to check in on the store. Hades did not want him to go yet. For once, he did not want to be alone. This silence should be peace, but only felt like silence. 

“Lou,” he said. Lou looked up at him. “I…” 

He paused, like he was peering over the side of a cliff, watching a rock fall, waiting to hear it hit the ground. 

I think something’s wrong with Belle. 

Do you think something’s wrong with Belle?

Do you think it’s something I did? 

“Do you think Belle’s angry at me?” 

TOULOUSE: Something was definitely wrong with Belle.

The scene this morning had more or less confirmed it. Though, it was not his place to say anything. The last thing he wanted to do was jeopardize his precarious position within the household. He didn’t even really know what that position was, but he did know that he didn’t want it to change. And he knew that if he said something to Belle, or Hades who then told Belle he had been the one to say it first, Belle would barr him from the house. Or, at least, he assumed this was the case. Especially with her being as volatile as she was.

It was selfish, Lou knew. Especially considering how Hades had ratted him out, time and time again when Lou had been sick and self destructive.

But, as he sat on the couch with Bellamy on his lap, watching his little face twitch as he drifted off into sleep, Lou was alright with being selfish. Wasn’t it better to have someone who actually wanted to take care of the babies looking after them right now? 

Was it better? (Lou didn’t think he could replace Belle, but suffice to say mothers who ran when things were difficult was not an unfamiliar sensation to Lou. And he knew anyone being there was better than nothing.) 

He was stirred from his thoughts at the creak on the stairs and looked up as Hades approached.

At his question, Lou’s eyebrows immediately raised. “Angry with you? No, I--what makes you think that? What happened earlier had nothing to do with you.” He didn’t say it unkindly, but to him, it was simply the truth. 

HADES: He didn’t really think that.

Hades had asked the wrong question. Or rather, he was asking a different question entirely, one that he did not have the language for or that he was too embarrassed to ask. If something was wrong with Belle, then Hades knew it was his fault. The doctors had discharged her to his care. He was the one who looked after her, who followed along with the checklists and took her back to the doctors and kept her as honest as he could. And so if along the way, he had missed something…

No, it wasn’t an if. Hades knew that he had. He missed something and now that something had snowballed into today. 

He itched to check his phone. He wondered if asking Belle when she would be home would be hovering. He hated that he was so self-conscious to even wonder that in the first place. 

“No, I--I know that,” said Hades and he heaved a sigh as he plodded into the room and then let himself fall back onto the couch. He leaned into it, feeling the weight of all those hours he hadn’t slept. He rubbed at his own forehead for a moment, but it did nothing to relieve any of the worry. 

“It’s just-- she’s been...don’t you think she’s seemed...off? Not just today but for the past few days or…” Or longer. “I mean, I know she’s tired-- I’ve been telling myself it’s all to due with the recovery and her licensing exam and, well, everything-- there’s so bloody much.” He sighed a second time, this one out of frustration. 

“I don’t know. I don’t know if all of those things are the reason or if it’s something else.” 

TOULOUSE: The couch, which was not large, jostled as Hades sat down. A more accurate description was that he collapsed as if he was suddenly several pounds heavier than he’d been before. Bellamy shifted in Lou’s lap, blinking his eyes open at the sound of his father’s voice. His small fingers, which were curled around one of Lou’s grasped a little tighter. Lou bounced his finger a bit unconsciously as he listened to Hades. 

There was a small frown etched on his features. Apparently, Lou had also been affected by all of this: sleeping on a horribly small couch most nights, waking with the babies when they cried, helping at the shoppe--Lou was not used to these things. Looking at Hades, seeing his fatigue, it made him feel his own, deep in his bones.

And for a moment, he was not concerned about Belle, but about Hades. He was, in fact, a bit peeved at Belle. It seemed Hades was always worrying over her and she hardly seemed to notice. It was a surprising feeling, Lou cared for Belle a great deal. He hardly had ever been upset with her and hadn’t even known that maybe he...was now. 

The feeling sat uncomfortable in his chest. 

“I think,” Lou said, very carefully, “that it is both.” 

The words stuck in his mouth and felt like a betrayal. He looked down at Bellamy, whose gaze had shifted to him at the sound of his voice. 

“You are both overwhelmed and Belle, well, she could be...experiencing things a bit more intensely than we--you--originally realized.” 

HADES:  Lou was probably right. 

Things were never simple. Hades knew that, even though right now he wanted things to be. He wanted to be the cause of all Belle’s suffering. Put the blame on him; he’d be ashamed, but he could fix it, couldn’t he? If he bore the burden, he’d also be the one in control. Tell him the solution, or let him figure it out himself, and like a puzzle, he’d solve it. 

But Belle had always been a puzzle to him-- one he could not solve. When he thought he had solved it, the puzzle simply evolved and became more complex. This was why Hades loved Belle, of course. She drove him mad, but she pushed him too, made him grow in areas he never thought of as weaknesses before she prodded them and showed him that they were. 

So there could be no fixing. No solving. And truthfully, one word smarted more than any that Lou said, even if he didn’t meant it: you.

Was that tiny correction an admission-- that Lou had noticed something off much, much earlier, and Hades had missed it completely?

His jaw ticked. And he sat up, but looked away from Lou for a moment, knowing that if he snapped at his friend, that anger would be as misplaced as the blame Hades so desperately wanted to take.

“Should we--I--talk to her, then?” he said after a beat and now he did look at Lou. His brow remained creased and worried. “I mean, I-- that’s a stupid question, I know I should. I’m just rather shit at talking to her about these things. I don’t want to upset her further or make her think she’s doing something wrong, or that I’m--I’m hovering again.” He scowled. He hated that accusation. “What should I say to her?” 

TOULOUSE: This was exactly what Toulouse had not wanted Hades to ask him.

He knew that the answer was of course Hades should talk to her, because if he didn’t…

Lou didn’t think Belle was a stupid as he was. She wouldn’t kill herself, but she might run away. He could see a future where Belle was much like his own mother. Beautiful, wonderful, and untouchable. More like a dream than a real person. Perhaps that was projecting, but considering the fact it had been hours, and she had not returned home--Lou could see those hours stretching into days and miles. 

Yet, he saw what could happen if Hades did say something: it was the exact same thing. Belle running, Belle insisting nothing was wrong and withdrawing even further. Again, this was projection, but Lou was not so aware of that part of it. He just saw the pattern, or what was beginning to become a pattern--and he worried that there was no right thing to say or right thing to do. It would be Belle’s decision, in the end.

And how could her decision be anything besides her family? Looking down at Bellamy’s sweet face, Lou couldn’t imagine any other choice. 

He also was quite sure that Belle was not thinking clearly. Whatever decision she made now was not reflective of the Belle that they knew, but one that was, potentially, sick and struggling. 

The only thing that stayed Lou’s tongue was the sense of betrayal that was lodged between his ribcage, because Lou knew what it was like to not want to be told that something was wrong. To know, in some part of yourself, that you had lost control, but feeling free in that loss and not wanting to gain it back. Someone trying to shove you back into that box only made you resent them, the way Lou had resented every single person that had tried to help him.

How vicious he had been. Lou did not want to turn Belle into that. 

“You might do all of those things,” Lou said softly. He wasn’t looking at Hades. Couldn’t look at him as he opened his mouth again to speak. “She--there is something wrong and she might not want to hear it and she may fight against it, but that doesn’t change the truth of it.” He paused again, reaching up to stroke at the baby’s soft head. “Speaking from experience, there is no right thing to say. Either she listens...or she doesn’t.” 

HADES:  Hades knew there was no magic answer. He knew, but for a split second, he still hoped that Lou would at least know better than Hades ever could. He did not see Lou and Belle’s situations as equal, by any means. In fact, he wasn’t thinking about Lou’s bipolar disorder or all his breakdowns in the past at all. 

To him, Lou was kind. 

To him, Lou knew how to understand what Hades always struggled to. Perhaps because he had both Berlioz and Marie to look after. Or maybe it was his mother, who was an emotional, often irrational woman, who looked on him for support. Maybe his various exes or enemies might disappear, but to Hades, Lou was quite emotionally intelligent-- when he wanted to be.

And so certainly he’d know at least where to begin. Hades could muddle through the rest if only Lou told him how to start. 

But Lou’s answer was not sufficient. It was not an answer at all. It didn’t even try to give Hades hope. Hades paused for a second, letting the conversation dip into the quiet, and he stared at Lou, like he was expecting him to go on. There had to be more. But there wasn’t. 

Hades felt just as lost as before. Just as confused. 

“Right. Maybe-- maybe I should talk to Hera first then?” Hades tried a new route, as he blinked through his own frustration. He needed some expert to tell him what to do, goddammit. 

TOULOUSE: “You could,” Lou said, looking over at Hades. He was frowning, thinking about people talking behind his back. He knew it was different. Lou didn’t have a husband. Or a doctor. Who, he supposed, were the best people to talk about you behind your back. That didn’t make it any better. Not in his opinion. It made him uncomfortable, just as it made him uncomfortable talking about Belle, himself. It almost felt like gossip. 

Lou knew it wasn’t. He wouldn’t tell anyone else what was going on with Belle on pain of death. This wasn’t Lou gossiping with Hades about Peri’s asinine new boyfriend (which he had certainly done, mind you.) This was because he cared, because they both cared, and because Belle’s temperament was declining at a rapid rate. 

“I don’t think Belle will appreciate it, but—well...you could not tell her.”

Lou leaned back against the couch, his shoulder brushing Hades’. He turned his head to look at him, eyes searching his face for a moment. 

“Just—remember it’s nothing you’ve done. It couldn’t possibly be. Childbirth and motherhood comes with its own challenges, many of which are outside even Belle’s control. Her recovery, of which she may not ever fully be on the other side of—residual pain lasts in 15% of ceaerians. Hormonal imbalances. Emotional distress. PTSD,” Lou listed off. Of course he’d done research. That’s always what he did when something like this happened. It made him feel better to have the facts on hand. However, applying those facts towards Belle felt somehow alien. 

“You’re a good partner, Hades. Better than most. Belle needs help, but you’ll find a way to get it for her. It just may not be easy and she may resent you for it. I know I did, but—I don’t, anymore. I’m grateful. And she will be too, on the other side of it. This is Belle we’re talking about, after all. She’s stronger than any of us.”

HADES: Lou started listing off facts. For some people, these facts would be cold and alarming. But not for Hades. Hades did not come to Lou to simply talk about his feelings and his frustrations. He wanted the advice. He wanted something concrete. And the facts were. He repeated them to himself-- residual pain in 15% of ceaerians, hormonal imbalances… PTSD.

That last one was alarming. Labour should be something happy in the end. Painful, yes, but at the end of it they had their sons, and Hades still remembered the relief and joy, the love that bloomed in him like an entirely new garden. He hadn’t considered that it could have been different for Belle.

But he should have. It had been traumatic. The before-- Belle’s water breaking in Chapter Three, and the complications, and the surgery in the first place. It happened suddenly. She hadn’t even had complete control. Hades had been the one to say yes. 

He was stupid, forgetting all that in the face of his sons. 

What this conversation told Hades, then, was that part of it was his fault-- or, if he could not take blame for Belle’s condition, he could take blame for not being more prepared. He needed to fix that, and then -- then he could talk to Belle, once he was sufficiently educated himself. 

He nodded slowly then and his gaze drifted back to Lou. The quiet between them felt intimate and warm, like a blanket. Hades wanted more, though. It was rare, this...this certain kind of wanting. Most of the time it was enough to sit close to Lou, or to sleep next to him. Maybe he wanted something like that even now. Just to hold Lou or be held. 

He wasn’t sure how to ask for that, especially with Belle not even here. 

“Thank you,” he said. He reached out, his hand drifted over Lou’s thigh. “I--you’re right. I know she’s strong, I just...I’ll find the right way to support her.” He nodded and then let his hand fall away, as he stood up. “I ah--I’ll go get started on the dishes then.” 

THURSDAY, JANUARY 14, 2021

HADES:  It was just past the six week mark. 

Earlier in the week, they’d returned to Robbins for what would hopefully be the last time in...well, a long, long time. It had not been a long visit, and it had ended with good news-- a clean bill of health, which meant that Belle could get back to the way things had been, or at least, as close as possible when one had two newborn infants. Robbins advised Belle to “ease in” anyway. Belle had a glint in her eye that told Hades she really had no intention. Still, on the daily Belle wasn’t rushing off to fight demons so he hoped that Swynlake might give them some peace and this news was what they were all waiting for-- what Hades, actually, had been banking on ever since speaking with Lou a week ago. 

Everything will get better now, he thought. And they left the hospital with Belle smiling, really smiling, and he really believed it. 

It was now a few days later and for once they had a smooth evening. The twins went down quite easily. Opal didn’t fight them when it was time for bed, either, climbing into her own bed and curling up as Hades and Belle read her from one of her newer books. They read it twice, and were half-way through the third reading (on Opal’s insistence) when her head nodded and she began to snooze. It reminded Hades of before-- because this was always where they had ended up at the end of the day, even when Belle had classes and Hades had two days of dishes to work through. They’d always read to Opal together, trading voices back and forth, making their daughter laugh. 

He clambered into his own bed tired, but happy. Not just happy actually-- he felt-- peaceful, for the first time in a while. 

He looked toward Belle, and he missed her. 

So he twisted toward her, their covers slipping over his hip as he slipped a hand onto hers. He kissed her shoulder lightly. “So that was fun, eh?” he murmured. “Your Robot is improving.” 

BELLE: Belle had a clean bill of health and a lift of spirit to go with it. Of course, it had not lasted very long, because Robbins saying she had healed did not magically mean that her body had suddenly snapped like a rubber band, back into place. She was still sore and weak and, worst of all: carrying some heavy sadness that she couldn’t seem to put down. It weighed on her and in the moments when it did lift, Belle could feel it waiting patiently to attach itself to her again. 

That was not to say it was all bad. Belle was relieved that her body was healing. That she’d be able to call Merida and start training again. That she could walk into town without feeling winded. That she could pick up the babies without any pain. The sharp spikes of pain happened more and more rarely which meant some of her nervousness around Opal had dropped away. She could enjoy her daughter’s presence more now that she wasn’t worried about Opal accidentally kicking her incision, which was nothing more than an angry red line above her pelvis, hidden mostly by the sag of her skin. 

It meant that she wanted to make time for stories and the routine of it put her at ease, so when she curled up into bed and Hades turned towards her, she smiled at him, pressing her socked feet against his legs. She was glad to have a moment with him. Belle knew that she’d been distant and mean and sad. And that Hades knew all of this and that he worried and that he probably blamed himself for it. As if she could somehow be mad at him for taking care of the children and the house while she did nothing but lay in bed. 

“My robot is perfectly fine,” she scoffed at him. “Opal likes it better than yours.”

It felt nice to tease. The house felt so tense these days. Belle knew that it was her fault. She was hostile. On edge. And she still felt that way, even as she lay in bed and smiled. That deep, aching sadness she sometimes mistook for anger still hulked behind her. She felt it there, even as she kept her eyes on Hades and refused to turn around. 

HADES:  The scoff did not feel the way other barbed remarks and sneers had. This felt closer to them, didn’t it? Back before-- even before Opal, when most of their relationship appeared like an argument when it really was a chess battle, one of wits and strategy. A scoff could be a pawn moving into place, setting a trap. Hades was eager to fall into it, if it meant getting a little bit of that spitfire back. 

He wasn’t misinterpreting, was he? He wondered, but only for one second. Belle did not pull away, after all. This felt lazy and normal and comfortable, Belle’s body soft under his fingers, the smell from the shower still lingering on her skin and hair. 

He kissed her shoulder again. “Hmmm, really? Did she tell you that herself?” His lips moved upward and he kissed softly at her neck, then right below her earlobe. 

BELLE: Hades’ breath skipped across her chest, his lips following the path. 

Belle blinked. She hadn’t expected that. Those kisses felt like questions, Hades testing the waters towards something that suddenly ballooned in front of Belle, pushing between them. She didn’t know why that was the reaction. She missed Hades. Sometimes, she resented the babies simply because it felt like there was never time for a chess game, or for Hades and her to sit quietly with each other--for their conversations to meander so long that they stayed up late into the night, not out of necessity, but because they wanted to. Because they enjoyed each other’s company. It all felt so complicated now. Their relationship was more about the babies than each other; Belle buried under the rubble of it all. 

At this point, though, removing any of that rubble could be deadly, the way crush injuries could be deadly. All those toxins that had stayed hidden for so long would all rush out at once. 

But, Belle missed Hades. And maybe this wasn’t what she thought it was.

So, she stayed very still, letting Hades’ lips tickle over her skin, her heart beat picking up slightly.

HADES: These kisses were questions. They used to be something different-- riddles or puzzles, but mostly challenges. He and Belle were not the types to kiss without reason, and for the most part Hades was certain he and Belle did not mind that. They showed their love in different ways, from book recommendations to cooking together to chess games throughout the day. But every now and then, this did feel important, a reminder that their love was one of desire, even if it was a quiet kind. 

Even Hades forgot that these days. Now he stirred that part of himself and felt the ache more plainly that ever. He had missed this. It was important. He wanted Belle-- wanted her to kiss him and murmur in his ear and wrap her arms and legs around him. 

It had been a long time since they were that close. Sex wasn’t something they did for anyone but themselves, and Hades wanted to be selfish. 

So his lips brushed over her ear and she didn’t move-- didn’t turn toward him either-- and so Hades wasn’t sure of the answer, but he had hope. 

“Hey,” he whispered and his body pressed flush against her own. She was as warm and soft as he remembered. He kissed her neck again. “I missed you,” he murmured. 

His hand drifted from her hip around to her stomach, pressing gingerly, waiting for at least a little reciprocation before moving any lower. 

BELLE: It was what Belle thought. Hades moved closer, the sheets whispering over his body as he shifted. His chest pressed against hers, his leg slipping between hers. It wasn’t all bad. In fact, Belle wanted to slip her arm around his back and hold him, fall asleep that way. That was what Belle wanted: sleep. Not Hades. Not anything but that. 

I missed you.

His words made tears crawl up her throat, though she wasn’t sure what they were a product of: her guilt, her utter exhaustion, or the aching sadness that was between them, that--apparently--only Belle could feel, even as they were flush together. Belle just couldn’t see past all of that.

Hades’ hand trailed downwards, still a few inches from her incision--which was more just a scar now, though she could only think of it as the incision. Her stomach tensed and before she could stop herself, she rolled over onto her back, his hand slipping off of her. She curled her fingers into the covers, pulling them tighter around her. Her words were stuck in her throat as she stared at the ceiling, her heart beating wildly in her chest. There were few times Belle actually ever rejected Hades like this. They understood this language with each other and only ever approached the other when they felt on the same page about it. Belle was bad at saying no, anyway, because Hades normally woke up a want in her that she hadn’t realized was there and she liked to please him, when she could. 

It had been so long. Belle knew it had been. And there was no reason not to-- 

Except the idea of it only made Belle want to cry. She felt awful. She wished Hades had never asked. 

After a moment, Belle just sucked in a wet breath and rolled onto her other side, away from Hades. Her back a wall between them.

HADES: The kisses had been questions, and Belle’s answer became clear in a split second: no. 

It should not be shocking, but it was. It should not be painful, but it was. Belle shifted under his fingers, and as she slipped away, the impact of the rejection was like falling from the roof and smashing into the ground. Sudden, instantaneous, crushing. He blinked, temporarily frozen in place as if he could not stir movement in his limbs. 

Actually, it was not shock at all, but the last flicker of a dying hope that Belle would turn the rest of the way toward him. He did not need her to reciprocate the kisses, he did not even need the sex. It was not sex his body had craved, but acknowledgment, and warmth, and intimacy. She could simply squeeze his arm or touch his cheek or tease him back. Tell him she was too tired but kiss him good night. All of these things would soften the blow and fix what had just snapped so suddenly.

But Belle did not move, until she did. And when she moved, it was to move away. 

Hades thought about Belle dashing out the door all over again. That was how it felt: she was running from him. He had done something wrong. His hands were weapons. He had not intended them to be. 

With nothing left to do, he had to retreat himself. Hades rolled over so his back and Belle’s back faced each other and slowly let out a breath before his eyes flicked up the lamplight still on. 

He blinked, and the switch flicked, plunging the two of them into a silent darkness. 

MONDAY, JANUARY 18, 2021

BELLE: The twins had been colicky all weekend. They couldn’t tell if they were sick or if they were just trying to kill them. Okay, that second one was Belle’s personal theory as to what was going on. She was furious, because she had thought that most of this was behind them. The babies were almost two months old now. By this time, Opal had been on a routine like clockwork. She had been excellent. The twins threw everything off. 

If one cried, the other would start, as if they could feel each other’s emotions. Or were just annoyed by each other. And if they were both fussing, it was almost impossible to deal with Opal too, who had taken to throwing fits if the twins were throwing fits, as if she wanted to be included in the hullabaloo. Which meant that it took even longer to calm everyone down. And then it felt as if things were only quiet for a few moments before someone else began throwing a fit.

Belle’s teeth were on edge with all the crying and the lack of sleep and the utter disregard for routine. She needed sleep and routine right now. Belle’s test was at the end of March and she needed to pass. Not just because of her insane amounts of expectations that she put on herself, but because now Alice’s future was hinging on Belle getting her license (and then somehow making a deal that proved self-defense and got her off with community service, something that had seldom--if ever--been done for a werewolf.) But, because of the lack of sleep and the disregard for routine, it was entirely possible that Belle would not pass--because she did not have the time. And then Alice would get a lawyer who did not care as much and who would make a terrible deal and--

Belle just wanted a break...so she could study.

And get away from her family. Just for a little while.

It was later in the evening now. Toulouse was at the shoppe, closing up for the evening and then he would be home to take the nightshift so Belle could perhaps squeeze out a few hours of sleep. (Though, doubtful because despite not actually wanting to deal with the babies, they still woke her up with their crying or Hades woke her up getting out of bed.) Opal was already in bed, after a fight. They hadn’t been able to read to her, because the babies had been crying, which had caused a fit, and now it was an hour later: Opal having cried herself out, and now Belle placing Aidan in his crib after he had done the same. 

Hades had had more luck with Bellamy and was already in the bedroom, unable to take a shower because the sound of the water in the pipes would wake the babies again in this horribly old house. Which meant he was probably a bit grumpy, the way Belle was a bit grumpy. 

She walked into the bedroom, rubbing at her eyes. “Aidan is finally asleep,” she announced, though her voice was far from triumphant. Instead, she just--was devoid of emotion. There was no way to hold it along with the exhaustion. 

“Not that it’ll last for long,” she scoffed as she moved towards her wardrobe and opened the drawer to dig around for t-shirt to change into, considering the one she had planned to wear to bed had spit up on it now, after Aidan had cried so hard he’d made himself throw up.

HADES: The shower-- or lack thereof-- was the worst part.

Everything else he was used to, at this point. He had fallen into routine. Or, he had fallen into the routine of no routine, of loosely organized chaos, held together by six hands-- Belle, Hades, and Lou, of course. It was not perfect, it was not near to what Hades wanted, and there were times he got frustrated and went on a rabbit dive into his parenting books or the Internet in an attempt to find new strategies for coping, but then he gave up because, well, fuck all those sites and books, because they didn’t have his children and his partners and his magic and his bloody workload. 

And then he went back to work, because that was something about having three kids: you did not get to mope for long. Hades’ frustrations were miniature, private explosions he wore all on his own. Sometimes, if Lou was with him, he’d let out just a little of that steam with him. 

Anyway. Of course the twins were collicky. Of course Aidan went on crying again. Hades was annoyed, but not surprised. 

He just wished he could take a shower, yeah? He could no longer stay in as long as he used to, but he usually made sure to snag ten minutes from the jaws of his demon-children. Just ten minutes for him, thank you. 

How he’d let today go by without those ten minutes, only to be trapped now by the late hour and his childrens’ sleepiness, well, that was his biggest failure of the day.

But he was making a plan for tomorrow. Maybe waking up earlier, or maybe he could go into work later. That would probably be fine. If Chapter Three opened up fifteen minutes later than usual, who cared? Of course, a Hades before twins would have cared deeply. He would have killed himself to make sure the store opened at the exact right time.

Now, his priorities had shifted. Probably for the better. 

His brain was full of shower fantasies, shower-strategic-planning, when Belle came in. He looked up from his sudoku. It had been two days, doing the same puzzle, but he would finish it tonight. He snorted along with her. “Well don’t say that. You’ll tempt the Fates. I’ve decided to blame this weekend on them, you know,” he said casually, filling in a number. 

BELLE: “I blame the children,” Belle said, and her own words were much harsher than Hades’ were. Her expression was concealed, her back turned to him as she pulled her soiled shirt over her head, but it was not one of amusement nor even frustration. It was struck with anger. She felt it boiling just below the surface of her skin. 

Belle was so exhausted, she was surprised she had the energy for anger and sure enough, it sizzled out by the time she tugged her new shirt over her head. She just wanted to crawl into bed and sleep for a hundred years. Not that she would even get a hundred minutes, most likely. 

It didn’t even occur to her to feel ashamed of saying it. In her mind, there was no one else to blame. The Fates, perhaps, in an abstract sense. They were the ones who had cursed her with twins in the first place. It felt too easy to blame them when the children were the ones screaming and crying and keeping the whole house awake and on the tip of the knife.

Sighing, Belle turned towards the bed and climbed into it. She pulled the covers over her lap but she just crossed her legs under the sheets and leaned forward, putting her elbows on her knees. Her fingers ran through her hair as the tired settled into her bones. It wasn’t later than nine, but she felt as if it was midnight. Three in the morning. She just wanted to sleep, but her body was still wound tight, worried that as soon as her head hit the pillow, the babies would start again. 

HADES: I blame the children.

Hades blinked. He did not look up from his puzzle, but he was no longer seeing the numbers either. He was simply frozen, not sure what he was supposed to say to something like that. It wasn’t-- commiserating about the children was a normal thing for couples to do. How often had Hades and Belle both joked about Opal being a little demon or a little monster, conspiring to get the better of the both of them? It was important to have humour as a parent or else you’d never survive-- certainly not when sleep deprived. 

Yes, that was all this was. A moment of humour. Belle did not sound like she was joking, but it was simply the exhaustion talking.

Could Hades blame her? He was exhausted too. He was a little pissed off too. He’d wanted his shower, was sulking to himself about it. No, no, he was… Belle did not really mean it. She knew that kids were kids. They were chaos embodied, sure, but they also could not really be blamed. 

“It does feel like they are conspiring against us,” Hades decided to try to joke along then. He lifted his eyebrows. He glanced at Belle. “We’ll have to figure out our battleplan.” 

BELLE: Hades cutesy talk about it all was--not amusing Belle. In fact, it was just pissing her off. Her annoyance rising and then flickering out and then rising again. It was like a flickering light, something shorting out. She didn’t want to be angry, but that was all she felt these days: angry and panicked. Angry, because she was panicked. Panicked, because she was angry. 

“It’s not about a battleplan,” Belle snapped, scowling at Hades. 

“It’s--it’s too much.” 

Yes, that was the way to explain it. Too much. Too much crying, too much exhaustion, too much frustration...too many babies. The realization hit her all at once. If there was just one baby, Belle could imagine a completely different life for them right now. One where Belle hadn’t been sick, had been able to carry the baby to term. Born in the early hours of New Year’s, Belle’s body the battleground, but one she was familiar with and healed much more quickly from. There would only be one and three pairs of hands to take care of it. 

Yes, if there had only been one, life would have been so much easier. 

“We cannot have another, Hades,” Belle said abruptly. She sat up some and her features were awakened slightly. Not--happy, but sharp with determination. “No more.” 

HADES: Hades stared at Belle, like she’d slapped him.

It wasn’t what she said. It was how she said it. It was how she snapped at him, and scowled, glaring at Hades like he had said something foul and offensive. It was how she demanded-- no, she told Hades, she ordered him, she forbade him. For a second, Belle’s intense reaction convinced him that he had. It wasn’t like Belle to just yell at him without a reason. There was always a reason. Hades deserved it plenty--

But it took him about half a second to do a mental stock of his own actions in the two minutes since Belle entered the room and he found no fault with himself. 

“Jesus christ, why are you yelling at me?” Hades said, almost as sharply as Belle. His own eyes had hardened, his body stiff in his bed. “No one said anything about having more babies.” 

BELLE: For just a moment, Belle felt relieved. 

For just a moment, Belle felt as if she’d found the key to everything: her exhaustion, her dread, her anger, her resentment. No more children. That put this experience in perspective. It was the last time she would have to do any of this. If they could just muddle through, there was now a light at the end of the tunnel. 

Then, Hades spoke and his words were harsh. She felt him shift in the bed and she stiffened herself.

It could be like this with them. Both of them combative. Both of them stubborn. They were flint striking against each other and Belle was defensive at once. His words barely registered, because all she could hear was her greatest fear: how could you be so selfish? I want more…

“I’m not yelling,” Belle argued, her voice still clipped and icy--it sounded as if she was sliding down a slippery slope, losing her thin sense of control she had managed to momentarily obtain. “I’m telling you. I can’t. I won’t. It’s too much. I don’t want to go through this again.” 

HADES:  And where the hell do you get off telling me anything? 

This was an irrational thought because Hades did not actually want to argue this point. He had only ever had one sibling. Two seemed like a lot. Honestly, these days, he thanked the Fates that he didn’t have more than he did, because three was taking all the combined efforts of Belle, Lou, and himself, with very little leftover energy to spend on anything. Three was quite enough. They’d never be lonely, they’d always be there for one another, and wasn’t that all that Hades had wanted?

But Belle telling him made Hades want to fight. Belle telling him made Hades feel disciplined, like a greedy dog trying to sneak treats out of the cupboard. 

He was not a dog. He would not be told what to do like a dog. 

“I never said I wanted more kids,” he said as coolly as Belle had. “And I don’t, by the way. But the least you could do is pretend like you care about my opinion.” 

BELLE: I don’t. 

The response came so sudden and so violent that all Belle could do was blink in surprise at herself. Because, she did not sound like herself. That response jarred so significantly against who Belle was that she was left feeling the reverberations of it inside of her, like a chime struck. 

Belle did care about Hades’ opinion. She cared about it a great deal. His was the only opinion she really cared about in the grand scheme of things. 

So why would she want to say that? 

There was silence for several seconds. Belle’s expression cracked, eyebrows collapsing like a bridge giving way. 

“I—” she said, her voice warbling and thick. Her expression cracked again, as if it was a fragile egg that someone was squeezing in their hand. Her heart felt the same, cracking and cracking, all the fissures leading to more and more. It hurt. “I’m sorry.”

Belle turned her face away, shaking her head. She reached up to run a hand through her hair. She cleared her throat and when she spoke again, her words were not cool, nor were they warm. They came devoid of anything but the truth. The truth that crushed her heart until it cracked down its center. 

“It’s just—awful. All I can think about is how awful it is and how I don’t want to go through this again.”

HADES: As quickly as the clouds had gathered, crackling with tension, they dispersed again. The air was no longer thick and hot. But in the absence of the fight that had not really started, there were just holes-- all these empty places where the words they should have said were, but now never would. 

Hades felt it all now, felt itchy and unsatisfied and at the same time, miserably guilty for raising his voice at Belle at all. He should not want to yell at her. He should not want to fight. 

But god, the way she talked. His guilt tripled, and his worry deepened. He should have talked to Belle before all this. He should talk to her now, since she seemed less hostile. His eyes darted to his book, to the pattern of numbers, the incomplete grid. His brain could not register them. It was like looking at gibberish.

Now was the time to talk, but Hades still didn’t know what to say.

“It’s not supposed to be awful,” said Hades. He closed the book around the pen stuck between the pages. “I’m sorry that it has been for you. I’m doing my best, but I--if you need something from me, you need to tell me. I can’t figure that out on my own.” God, because that was what he missed. He needed a partner, someone to bounce ideas off of. That’s what Belle was to him. 

BELLE: Belle’s shoulders tensed at Hades’ words. Her guilt spiking again.

It’s not supposed to be awful, Hades said.

I know that, Belle wanted to snap.

Wasn’t that the whole problem? Belle knew that this shouldn’t be awful. It would be hard, yes. No one denied that. But it was also supposed to be good and happy. She had two healthy sons, a wonderful family. Belle should be overjoyed. She had what so many people yearned for. What she had always yearned for. (Well, the children were a surprise, but she did want them too. Had wanted them.) And it only felt awful. 

There had been moments peaking through. Moments of happiness, she supposed, though if you asked her out right, she would not be able to name them. She knew they existed. It was not all bad. And she did love her sons, but--

It felt like that love was buried under an avalanche. The rest of the horror and exhaustion and frustration and resentment were several layers thick and frozen over, making it impossible to get to the love below and that love was being suffocated.

How was she supposed to explain that to Hades without him looking at her in horror? Betrayed. 

So badly did she want to tell Hades what she needed. Even without looking at him, she could hear the confusion in his voice--the hurt. How lost it sounded. But Belle didn’t have any of the answers. She could only feel the distance between them that felt impossible to surmount. It felt awful, that distance. It was the same distance that she felt towards the babies. As if she was some animal in the zoo, with a thick pane of glass between herself and everyone else.

Belle breathed in a shaky, wet breath. With her face turned away, she reached up and scrubbed at her face with the blankets gathered in her lap. 

“I just--need to sleep,” Belle said helplessly. She turned back towards Hades and reached for his hand, laying on the top of the sheets. Her cold fingers curled around his warm ones and squeezed once. “You’re brilliant and the babies are lucky to have you.” 

Her hand slipped from his just as quickly as it came.

HADES: Belle reached out for him for the first time in what felt like...weeks. Maybe longer.

They had touched. Hades used to never think much of those touches. They were small and asked for nothing-- a squeeze of the hand, a kiss on the temple, Hades’ hand brushing through Belle’s hair or sweeping down her back. Belle touched him in similar ways, but now, as she reached out to squeeze his hand, he couldn’t remember the last time she had done something like this. It had always been Hades coming to Belle. Bringing her tea while she studied and dropping a kiss on the top of her head. Giving her a gentle side hug when they put the twins down. These moments had barely registered; they were like breathing.

But now Hades felt them burn inside him like torches lit, keeping his love for Belle shining.

And he felt the shadows they cast, where time and time again, Belle had never reciprocated.

And so when Belle reached for him, his body ached-- the touch like the first rain after a long, long drought. He yearned to twist his body in the bed and move closer to her, needy in a way he hadn’t been since childhood. He didn’t want sex, just something-- anything more--just Belle’s lips on his forehead or her arms around him, his head on her breast, for just a moment.

But her hand slipped away too fast. 

And Hades remembered the earlier rejection from days ago.

He swallowed. Belle was right here...the closest she’d been in weeks in more ways than one. But still, he missed her more intensely. He had no idea how to bridge the gap. 

Starting that conversation now, when Belle was tired and irritated...it was a bad idea, wasn’t it? Or was Hades too much of a coward? 

He swallowed, unsure, but the opportunity fluttered away. It was too late; his hesitation had made the decision for him. I’ll talk to her soon, I will. On a good day. Yes, he’d just wait for a good day. One would come soon. 

“They’re lucky to have you too, love,” said Hades. “But yeah, uh-- I’m tired too. Let’s try to get some rest.” And he leaned over to kiss her temple, lighting another torch, before twisting away. 

THURSDAAY, JANUARY 21, 2021

BELLE: “Alright,” Belle said as she finished zipping up her bag. 

It was early in the morning, especially for Hades, who was usually only awake sometime after eight. But, of course, the babies had been restless again last night, so no one had gotten much sleep. Belle was just about at her wit’s end with it all. How was she ever supposed to pass her exam in this state? Before, it would’ve been fine to push the date. That was before Alice had come to her doorstep, confessing to a murder. Now, it was not an option not to pass. Belle had almost considered just crashing at Berlioz’s for a month until it was done. He wouldn’t judge her. He would understand. That was a last ditch plan, though. Belle was trying. 

“I am going to study.” She stood up straight and turned towards Hades, reaching back to tighten her ponytail. “I will be there all day. All day. Until the library closes at midnight. I have to split my time between my exam and starting preliminary research for Alice’s case. So, call me if absolutely necessary. Someone is dying or some such. Otherwise, I’m keeping my phone on silent and will not be replying to text messages.”  

HADES:  Hades was also at his wit’s end. 

But not with the babies. He got frustrated with them too, yeah, and he was tired as fuck, and felt greasy after not getting a shower again last night. But here he was, getting Opal all settled in her high chair. She was thankfully cooperating this morning. She’d only thrown one of her shoes, and more like a joke than an actual tantrum (at least, she’d been giggling and hadn’t done it again when Hades strapped it back onto her foot). 

No, he was at his wit’s end with Belle.

He understood her pressures. Belle made sure that he understood her pressures, talking about her license and Alice’s case endlessly as opposed to discussing with Hades about, oh, their kids or, bloody hell, about his day (which to be fair had to do with their kids, most of the time). He tried to be patient. He tried to show her that yes, he was trying to prioritize these things for her too… besides their kids. 

Every now and then, his temper flared though. He felt it here again, or at least, the inklings of it burning around its edges. 

Did she have to talk to him with that kind of tone? Scolding him, like Hades had done something wrong already? 

He breathed in. Don’t pick a fight, he told himself. Truthfully there was no time to, as he put Opal’s breakfast down. Because Opal was his priority. Because he had to go feed the twins after this. He had to check stock at Chapter Three today. He had to get groceries at some bloody point--

Actually. 

So he didn’t argue, just said: “Right. Wait--before you go, I’ve-- got a list of groceries you can grab on the way home,” said Hades and he went to the counter to grab the list. 

BELLE: Belle looked at the piece of paper that Hades held out to her like it was some cipher he was asking her to decode. As if this would be the most complex thing she did all day. Her brain couldn’t compute it. Looking at it short circuited her.

You see, her snippish tone had not been any annoyance at Hades. It was anxiety. She felt like a livewire, frayed and ready to spark. To avoid this, she organized her day to the minute and ignored everything else. Her feelings, Hades’ feelings. Toulouse. The children. She didn’t have time, she told herself, to absolve herself of the guilt. There was only her license. Only cracking Morgana’s grimoire. Once these things were done, Belle could be a mother. Yes, that was all it would take. 

A grocery list broke through every defense she had. That one offending piece of paper ignited every terrified nerve in her body. 

“Did you not hear me?” Belle asked, her voice high and tight as a violin string. “I told you I wasn’t coming home until later!” She took a step back. In a blink, her eyes were surprisingly wet. She sucked in a sharp breath. 

HADES:  Oh Hades heard Belle, alright.

The real question was whether Belle had heard Hades. Was she even listening to him? Because the way she snapped at him suggested that she wasn’t. He had demanded very little of her. He had asked for one small errand at the end of the day, when she intended to return home anyway. The market was open until 21:00; this was enough time for Belle to study all day, have dinner out, but come home without disturbing the children. 

Had she forgotten that, eh? She didn’t expect to stay out later than 21:00, did she? They had two bloody infants and a very grumpy toddler-- who would want her bedtime story from her mother.

And Belle was snapping at him.

He turned back around, and the scoff escaped him before he could catch it. Well, fuck holding that in anyway. “I said on your way home,” Hades repeated, trying not to get too snippish, but already feeling his hackles rising. “It’s just a few things, Belle, it’ll take ten minutes. You can take ten minutes so I don’t have to keep running around.” 

BELLE: “By the time I come home the market will be closed,” Belle told him. 

In the grand scheme of things, grocery shopping was not a laborious task. But, stacked on to her already impossible mountain of things, Belle couldn’t possibly take it on as well. Why couldn’t Hades see that?

Probably because he was so absorbed in the children that he’d forgotten that they were people outside of their duties to their children. Belle had a duty to herself and the career she was trying desperately to begin, after so many years of setbacks. Belle had a duty to the town, to help the other knights and bloody King Arthur!

And Hades had these other duties too. To the town, the shoppe, the Underworld. 

Their lives did not revolve around the children and Belle needed this time for other things. The children would not starve. Not for want of food or affection. 

Belle hoisted her bag up onto her shoulder. “Get Toulouse to do it. That’s what he’s here for, isn’t it? I don’t have time to argue this.” She checked the time on her phone. “The library opens in twenty minutes.”

HADES:  That’s what he’s here for, isn’t it? 

No, that was not what Lou was here for. And among everything else, this stung and confused Hades the most. Thank god Lou was at Chapter Three right now, opening up so Hades did not have to. If he heard that-- if he knew that was how Belle felt--

That could not be how Belle felt. But for a moment, Hades only saw the cruelty, aimed at his best friend, his Toulouse, who was more than the nanny Belle made him out to be. 

“Lou is not our errand boy!” Hades snapped, his voice truly rising for the first time. “And I am not your errand boy either. Just get the damn groceries! We need your help!” 

BELLE: “No, you don’t! You’ve not needed me this whole time, so why start now?” Belle shouted back. The volume of her own voice surprised her, though it only rose up to clash with Hades’.

It surprised Opal too. Belle caught the look on her daughter’s face but of the corner of her eye--her big blue eyes wide, her fingers paused halfway to her mouth. Opal’s eyes darted between her parents, watching intently. 

Belle hardly paid her any mind. She couldn’t. She--had somewhere to be. She had to leave. 

“Figure it out, Hades. You are more than capable.” 

With that, she turned on her heel, heading towards the front door. She turned the handle and opened it. The cold morning air stole some of the heat from her anger as soon as it burst into the cottage. Escape just across the threshold.

HADES:  Belle began to run. Again.

She turned in a whirl, her hair whipping with her. Hades’ eyes widened and he didn’t think-- his powers simply lashed out and the door that Belle held slammed itself shut. Its lock twisted with a sharp click, the loudest sound in the room, louder than any no. 

But that was what the locked door meant.

No. No more. Hades grit his teeth and met Belle’s glare with one of his own, though like always, he was steel and ice. 

“I am not doing this alone anymore!” he snapped at her, but the anger was more fragile than it had ever been-- like broken glass, jagged and completely see-through. Good. For once, he wanted Belle to see him for how pathetic he felt. “You don’t get to tell me this is my problem. This is our problem! I do need you, Belle! I’ve needed you this whole time, so stop fucking abandoning me!” 

BELLE: The door knob yanked out of Belle’s hand and slammed shut. Belle just stared at it for a moment in utter bafflement before she remembered Hades and his powers. Powers he hadn’t turned on her in years. Only one other time, really, had he ever done so. 

Then, it had scared her. 

Now, it infuriated her. She whirled around, ready to let loose her fury like an arrow. 

That anger was cleaved in half at the stricken look on Hades’ face. Her own expression faltered, cracking. She felt her stomach swoop too, as if she had been punched. Tears welled in her eyes and she felt the panic break over a dam somewhere inside of her. 

She felt trapped and hurt and confused. She wanted to lash out at him but for a moment, the words wouldn’t come. And when they did, they were choked. 

“Let me out,” she warbled, a bird caught in a mess of thorns, only tangling itself more in its desire to be free. It wasn’t what she had meant to say, but her voice wasn’t her own. It was ruled by her terror. Her voice climbed higher: 

“You cannot keep me here!” 

From her high chair, Opal began to cry. The sound was like sandpaper on Belle’s skin and she began to cry as well, rubbed raw by the sound. 

“I cannot do this anymore! Let me leave, please.” 

HADES:  Hades did not want to keep Belle anywhere. He was not her keeper, he was her husband-- and that title had only ever meant equal. Partner. But over the past month-- no, even longer-- she had turned that title into a synonym for something worse. He felt like he was not just parenting Opal and the twins, but attempting to corral Belle in similar ways. And he’d tried to be soft with her, and he’d tried to be patient, and he’d tried to be firm--

But Hades did not want to be Belle’s guardian at all.  He just wanted his Belle, the one who knew her daughter’s moods like she knew her own, and one who never passed their chessboard without pausing to consider making a move, the one who cared enough to stop in Chapter Three on the way home. 

He didn’t know who this person was in front of him, who treated him like a prison guard. 

And he knew he was doing this wrong. But he could not keep quiet anymore. 

“I can’t do this either! I can’t keep begging you to stop leaving me. Belle, please--” He crossed the room, coming toward her. He felt like the villain again; his whole life, he’d been a villain. Belle once convinced he could be something else, but now he second-guessed even reaching out for her.

“I don’t know what is wrong, but I know there is something, I know--I want to help but you need to help me too.”

BELLE: Hades came towards her and Belle bristled. She bristled against his anger and also against the comfort he offered, because she did not want it. She did not deserve it. He represented that safe, warm place that she probably needed, but also all the things that Belle was not: a good parent, a good partner. 

What is wrong. What is wrong. A day ago, a week ago, a month ago--Belle wished that she had answered that question honestly. Now, it felt too late. Her emotions were a pressure valve which had been squealing dangerously for weeks now, an explosion imminent. And she was trapped now. Trapped between the door and Hades, trapped with her emotions rattled, Opal’s crying in the background from her highchair. She wanted to keep it in, the shame and the fear and the aching, horrible sadness, but it wanted out. Her heart beat against her chest wildly, as if trying to break her ribs and spill her secrets. 

Belle’s mouth opened and it poured from her.

“What do you want me to say, Hades? Do you want to know about how I hate being a mother? That I am trying so hard and I’m terrible at it?” Her words choked and she took a stuttering breath. “This is me--trying as hard as I can and I-I can’t--” she shook her head, her hand rubbing against her own chest. She felt overheated in the several layers she was wearing, preparing to go out for the day. 

“I can’t do it anymore.” She pressed her shoulders up against the front door, bracing herself against it. Yet, her hand reached out towards Hades, catching the hem of his shirt and clinging to it. There was a part of her that wanted to tell him to go or let her go--the hard scar tissue of her heart that had formed sometime in the last two months--but, there was a soft part of her too that felt as frightened and lost as a child left behind in a store without a familiar face. 

HADES:  Hades heard Belle through a great expanse of space between them. He was right in front of her, but the words traveled slow. They traveled soft. They had come from very far away, though Belle had been shouting them for what felt like a very very long time-- like she was a star imploding, sending out her SOS into an uninhabited darkness. 

He had known everything she had said for a very long time, but he had shut his eyes, or looked away, or tried to puzzle the truth into something they were not, because he didn’t want to believe it.

Actually, he still did not believe it.

I hate being a mother, she gasped at him, like she was choking on her words. And the words hit him in the chest. He felt them and he heard them and he couldn’t be shocked by them, but no-- they still couldn’t be true.

This isn’t Belle, he thought to himself and it was his first clear-eyed thought in weeks. That doesn’t make sense. Because that had been the other part of Hades’ problem. Just as he tried to twist and break Belle’s actions into a different shape, he had been trying to imagine Belle as she always was. But she simply wasn’t. It wasn’t Belle who had turned away from him in bed. It wasn’t Belle who refused to pick up her sons. It wasn’t Belle now, sobbing, telling him she hated being a mother.

He’d spent almost two years with a woman who was very different, who laughed when Opal got smeared jelly in Belle’s hair, who loved reading to their daughter, who posted sweet pictures of their family because she was proud. And she was still that person-- that woman reached for him, her fingers curling in his shirt.

It was perhaps this more than anything that gave Hades’ new confidence. He still had no fucking idea what the right answer was but-- he could gather Belle into his arms, which he did now, pressing her close to his chest. 

“Then we’ll get you someone who can help. We--we’ll get help, together,” he said. His hand cradled the back of her head. “You aren’t a bad mother, Belle. You’re a brilliant mother. We’ll figure this out, alright?” 

BELLE: It wasn’t about being a bad mother. That insecurity had faded, if only because this new monster took its place. Uglier, louder. That she didn’t like it. It made sense then, why she had thought she was a bad mother. If you disliked something, you were surely going to be bad at it simply because you did not put in the effort. 

Even her memories of Opal were twisted. She did not think about the good things. The unconditional love that her daughter showed, how she had once smiled whenever her mother came into the room or when she buried her face in Belle’s chest to fall asleep, or made her play games with her that made Belle feel ridiculous but made her laugh. Those things had all faded. There was only heaviness. Reluctance. Opal a burden, making all the rest more complicated. Opal hardly asked Belle to play games with her now. Belle could not remember the last time. 

She was bone-tired and she did not recognize herself or the loathing that burned in her chest. She hated herself for it. How could you not when you hated what you were? Hating being a mother felt as unnatural to Belle as she imagined it might feel if Hades hated being the Ambassador. It was not a part of herself that she could change. She could only hate it for what it had done to her. 

With her face pressed against Hades’ chest, she sobbed. She wished she could say all this, but she didn’t want to. She felt as if she had already said too much. If she told him he was wrong and explained how much she meant what she had said, she was afraid he’d pull away from her. That was her biggest fear, now that she had realized her children’s love meant so little to her. 

There was still the quietest, most rational part of Belle’s brain that survived the onslaught of her depression that knew exactly what this was. She had read about it, of course, but never thought—still didn’t think—it could ever be something that applied to her. 

She wanted to protest: what if we don’t figure it out? What if I’m like this forever?

“I want help,” she confessed, the words just as hard to say as the rest. Her fingers curled into his shirt. “I don't want to feel like this. I-I don’t know how to stop.” 

HADES: Hades knew he was supposed to have a better answer than the one he had, but-- for a long time now, he’d been holding his tongue because of that fact. He thought he had to be more prepared to deal with Belle’s depression. He thought there had to be some moment, where Belle was just cheerful enough, when the children were peaceful, when they were alone, that he would take Belle’s hand in his and gently explain his suspicions and provide her with a solution and all the proper support that she would need. 

But there had never been that moment because their lives had never made room for easy, neat, or quiet. Even Hades himself was mostly too tired to think of bringing up the conversation. He fell against his mattress, turned his face into the pillow, told himself that he’d try tomorrow. 

Enough of that. Hades would never be prepared and their lives would always be a mess. They needed forward, or maybe they just needed different-- not necessarily right. 

At least Belle was speaking to him now. That was something. Actually, no, it wasn’t just something. It was everything. Hades had been so lonely and scared, faced with Belle’s silence. Belle confessing her fears was better than turning her back and pretending-- like Hades had-- that nothing was wrong.

“I know, I know,” Hades murmured. “You don’t have to figure it out all on your own though. We’ll-- talk to someone. Someone impartial, with more experience with depression.” He spoke the word out loud; he felt like he had to, or else it would remain an unseen monster lurking underneath their bed. Name it, though, and they could defeat it.

“I can go with you, too, if you want-- whenever you want. Whatever you need. I promise.” 

[labellerose-acheron]

Only Time Will Tell *** [Beautibbs feat. Toulouse]

@exsgttibbs, @lou-bonfightme

It was evening, not long before the shoppe was to close. Toulouse had just arrived, Opal on his hip, to help her lock up. Hades was busy with the Board as the month was tapering off to it’s end and applicants were submitting their runs for candidacy. Usually, closing up the shoppe was something Belle could absolutely do on her own, but, despite her efforts to hide it, she had slowed down considerably. 

Twins was no joke, she was coming to find out. She was aching every day. And, although she’d been on bedrest with Opal, and sick in a much different way--Belle could feel the toll the pregnancy was taking on her body. No matter how she fought it, her body’s needs always won out in the end. 

So, Lou was here to assist in closing up shoppe. Putting away the few books that needed to be put away, locking up, and counting the till. Belle was in charge of babysitting Opal whilst this was done. 

Sitting in a chair, she sat Opal on top of the table, playing a game of pattycake with her. The bell over the door of the shoppe went off and Belle looked around her daughter to see Tibbs had walked through.

“Sorry, we’re cl--” Toulouse started, but Belle cut across him.

“Oh, good! You’re here!” Belle beamed. She checked her phone to see the time. “Tch, late, but that’s alright. Surgery run over? No matter.” Belle got up, slowly, carefully from where she was sitting. She helped Opal hop from the table to the chair down onto the floor, tugging at Belle and making her wince. Immediately, her daughter made a beeline for Lou. Belle headed towards the counter too.

“I’ve got something for you,” she sing-songed at Tibbs. “Toulouse, will you hand me--yes, thank you.” She gestured to the package behind the counter that Lou handed over, watching the other man curiously.

“Oh, right. Toulouse, this is Dr. Willis Tibbs, he’s a friend of mine. Tibbs, this is Lou, my...” Belle trailed off for a moment, hesitated, snapped her eyes to Lou, whose cheeks were a bit pink, before looking back at Tibbs. “...friend,” she finally settled on, though it didn’t feel quite right. Though, neither did...partner. They hadn’t really discussed that, had they? 

She put a hand on his shoulder as Opal tried to scramble up his pant leg.