Chapter 14

                                    

                                          
Brone
                          
As I lay in Adora's bed, her body curled up in my arms, I brush a piece of hair out of her face. When she pushed me out of her room an hour ago, I knew that something was wrong. So, I stayed put, just outside of her bedroom door. It was as though I could hear her tears streaming down her face, and for a second I vowed to fucking destroy my sister for making her cry. But then, just as red was settling into the edges of my vision. The soft chanting came. 
                          
Get off of me. Get off of me. Get off of me.
                          
I don't know how long she was saying it for, but it must have been for at least half an hour that she was repeating the same words that made me want to rip my heart out of my chest. I knew that if I had gone in then it would have only made it worse. So I stayed where I was. I had no idea what she was doing to herself but, judging by the pained whimpers that left her mouth, she wasn't having a fucking bath. 
                          
Rubbing my hand up her arm as she sleeps, I know that I should leave before she wakes up again, but I can't bring myself to untangle myself from her grasp. We are meant to be seeing her mother in an hour. I want to postpone it. She is certainly not in the right frame of mind to be talking politics with her mother. We are meant to be planning tomorrow and then leave, but perhaps Mora can do that by herself and we can talk to her mother tomorrow. But that would mean leaving the same day that we asked for permission, leaving no room for negotiation. 
                          
It disgusts me that I have to negotiate a way to be with Adora. I know that the generation of gods that came before us have never even been loyal to one another, nevermind how they expect their daughters now to be celibete. They seem to have taken a liking to how the mortals do not let their children lie with those who have not wed them. 
                          
Just as I am about to untangle myself from Adora's limbs, a knock on the door draws my attention. My movements cease and all the possibilities of who it could be passes through my mind before I start thinking of all the ways I can escape or hide. 
                          
"Brone?" 
                          
Fuck.
                          
Aphrodite's soft voice echoes through the door and my blood runs cold. I try to move away from Adora, but she only pulls me closer as I struggle. It feels like hundreds of thoughts penetrate my mind at once, all of how I could make this seem a little less scandalous- to use a word that Aphrodite so liked to drill into her daughter. 
                          
But, as these thoughts invade my mind, it dawns on me that this is her daughter. Her daughter that was born from an affair. Albeit an affair from an arranged marriage with the person who she was supposed to marry, but I see no difference. We have not done anything here and neither of us are married. 
                          
Aphrodite pushes the door open slightly and, upon seeing me looking back at her, she smiles a small smile. It still reaches her eyes, and I can't help but think of the similarities between herself and her daughter. They were so similar, but so different. Their strawberry golden hair and fair skin is the same, even their mannerisms were the same. The difference: Aphrodite's are far more genuine than I have ever seen on her daughter. Adora's small, awkward smiles have never reached her eyes. 
                          
"It happened again." It's not a question. She talks as if it is the most normal thing in the world. And it feels like my heart is being fucking ripped out of my chest. That it's so normal to her that she doesn't even bat an eyelid as her daughter lies in bed with me with dried blood under her fingernails. It's as if she doesn't care at all. 
                          
I do not bother responding to her, instead turning back to Adora as she nettles further into my arms. I can hear her light footsteps moving around the room until she is at the opposite side of the bed. Sitting down on it gently, she brushes her fingers along Adora's forehead and cheek. I watch every movement she makes, not feeling safe around her. It doesn't matter if she is Adora's mother. I don't care. There is something that doesn't quite sit right. Perhaps it is the fact that she lied to her daughter for her entire life. 
                          
"You have my permission." She doesn't look up as she talks, instead keeping her eyes on her daughter. 
                          
"Permission?" My voice is strong and firm, but there is an undertone of weakness that I wish was not there. There is always an undertone of weakness when it comes to Adora. 
                          
"To court her. That is why you are here, is it not?" Her eyes raise to mine now, and I make sure that my face is completely void of emotions. I simply nod in reply. "Make no mistakes, Lord Brone. You may be the god that the fates chose for my daughter, but you will never have her. I will give you your fun, for now. But do not make the mistake of thinking that she will ever be your betrothed."
                          
Once again, I do not reply. My spine becomes rigid and my hold on Adora tightens. She rises from her seat and leaves without another word, and it is only when I hear the gentle click of the door shutting beyond her do I allow myself to relax. The undercurrent of toxicity in her tone makes me want to hoist Adora back into our carriage and take her to the underground today. Not bother spending the extra day here. 
                          
We couldn't leave today, it is impossible. But we will tomorrow. I will get Penelope to gather our things and have them packed. My mother is waiting for us. I have sent her a letter. She knows that we must speak with her, but that is it. 
                          
My body and face relaxes, but my hold on Adora stays strong. Her mother's words ring in my head. I am Adora's chosen. Her soulmate, if you will. I have loved her since I was a child, I have always known that much. But to know that I am who the fates picked out for her fills me with dread. 
                          
For as long as I can remember, all I have wanted was to rule the underworld, with adora by my side. I thought that the past few days, if anything, had shown me that she would make the most wonderful queen that the underworld had ever seen. She would have been the most fearsome and beautiful queen that had ever sat on the throne. But alas, that could never be the case. 
                          
She would be married off to Zeus' son, I am sure. Perhaps Persioden's child, if Zeus has already betrothed his son to his daughter. I understand that my mother is technically my father's niece. But that was thousands of years ago, and they were very clear from a young age that we are not to marry anyone we are related to. I suppose that is one of the perks of living in the underworld, where time works, strangely.
                          
We have seen what happens after decades- centuries, even- of families marrying off their children to cousins and brothers and uncles. The result is not pretty. Bile rises in my throat at the idea of being forced to marry Mora. 
                          
But the feeling does not go away as my thoughts stray to that of Adora being wed to any being other than myself. It should be my realm that she rules. It should be my ring on her finger. And, most importantly, it should be my fucking heirs that she births. 
                          
But, as these thoughts run through my head, I am reminded of one simple fact. If I tell her that I am her chosen, then she will do anything to break her curse. I know that she has already come to terms with the fact that her mother, although she frequently preaches of love marriages to her daughter, has already set up a marriage for her. And she would die trying to solve a cure that nobody has been able to solve in the 106 years that she has been in this universe. 
                          
I understand now what her mother meant. She would never be mine, truly mine. I can't tell her, though. As plans begin to formulate in my mind, I can only think of one option for what I have to do. To keep Adora's heart safe. If I cannot have her, then I can at least die knowing that she is safe. Safe from herself. 
                          
I know what I must do.