Hazel had been motherless since the age of thirteen. The plague had swept through the country of France, killing rich and poor alike. It had claimed the lives of Hazel's mother, as well as her father's wife, Maria, and her half-sister, Bianca. Hazel moved in with her father afterwards, but Hades was a shell of his former self. He still worked, yes, and showed up in all the material ways a father should, but he was emotionally distant, persistently pondering on those they had lost.
He wasn't the only one. Nico had been a happy child, curious and talkative. He used to gabble on about card games to anyone who listened. They didn't have money to gamble, but that didn't stop Nico from becoming the best ten-year old card player in the entire parish, which consisted of three small villages about half a mile apart from one another.
Nico no longer played cards. He no longer did many things and the list of what he rarely did was even longer. He rarely smiled. He rarely laughed. He rarely seemed to feel any semblance of joy. It was as if the plague had killed something within him too.
Hazel knew how he felt. Her mother had been one of the first to sicken and Hazel had watched her mother weaken and waste away. The plague touched Marie's mind and her final words still cruelly rang in Hazel's mind sometimes, "She is a cursed child."
Hazel remembered the first few days as little more than blurs of confusion. The only thing she remembered clearly was Bianca sickening next and then Maria, who had tended to Marie and her daughter so well. Hazel was unsure why the plague spared her and far from feeling lucky, she often felt marked. It didn't help that her mother was known as the village witch because she had run an apothecary, selling medicinal herbs as well as love charms and potions. Now that she was dead, the only apothecary in walking distance was run by a woman named Circe and few people were brave enough to go out to her.
Nico had contracted the plague along with Hades and at one point, Hazel was the one tending the others. Nico improved slowly and Hades shook off the illness, but Bianca and Maria wasted away, their deaths even more drawn out than Marie's.
That has been five years ago and the sharp pain of losing her mother had been replaced by an empty, full ache in her chest. Hazel often visited where they were buried in the di Angelo family plot of the church cemetery. It was a sad, but beautiful place and there, Hazel felt nearer to her mother, half-sister, and stepmother.
Sometimes Nico would go with her and sit, his expression brooding and silent. He seemed more like a ghost than a living person these days. His olive-colored skin had paled and his dark eyes often appeared empty and devoid of anything. He rarely spoke and when he did, he was often surly and contrite. Hazel wished she could go back to the days when everything was okay, but they were lost and they could never come back.
***
Hazel woke up one day with a sore stomach. It was morning, but it didn't feel quite like hunger; the pain was duller and lower in her hips. She got up and discovered her undergarments were stained red, which only meant one thing. . . "I'm a woman!"
A groan came from the mat her father slept on and Hazel's hand flew to her mouth. She'd better not wake him! At least Nico was still snoring; he could sleep through just about anything.
Hazel changed and put her soiled undergarments in the woven laundry basket. As she fetched water from the well, her kind wasn't on the coop breeze against her cheek or the dawn light filtering from behind the scant cloud cover. Instead, Hazel thought about what this meant. Her mother had told her it would happen someday and she'd overhear snatched conversations among other women sometimes about their bleeding.
Hazel knew she was a little late in getting her first bleeding, but she didn't mind. Piper and Annabeth had both gotten theirs when they turned sixteen and both were married before the year ended. Hazel paused to think before lowering the bucket down the well, using the rope that had always been there. Marriage. The word was both reassuring and unsettling. Hazel had known her time was coming, but nothing made it feel as real as this morning had.
Hazel returned to their house, a structure made of wood that had been repaired so many times the original design was hard to discern. It leaked sometimes and could be drafty, but it was home to Hazel — the home she'd lived in the last several years.
Hazel's heart dropped as she remembered her old home with her mother, Marie, before she grew sick and sent for Hades. At the age of thirteen, Hazel learned she was a child born outside of marriage and her father was married to another woman. She barely had time to get to know her step-mother and Bianca before they sickened and died.
She shook her head, causing her cinnamon-colored curls to bounce, as she tried to shake away the thoughts. They clung to her like flies as she added water and oats into a cauldron held above the hearth. She started a fire and used a wooden spoon to stir the oats and water until it thickened and turned into porridge.
The smelling of warm breakfast roused both Hades and Nico. Hazel divided the porridge into three bowls and each person took one, sitting down near the hearth to eat. Everyone was just picking at their food and Hazel wondered if she'd managed to burn the porridge or added too much water. "I'm sorry it's not as good as Maria's cooking," she said, staring at her bowl.
Hades sighed. "That's not it, Hazel. It's just been so long since anything good has happened."
Hazel's heart raced. "Father, I have something to tell you."
Hades snapped up. "Don't tell me some boy seduced you. Was it Leo? I always knew I couldn't trust him. I'll have his neck—"
"Dad!" Hazel said, her cheeks hot. "No, it's not that. I — I bled. It's my first time."
Hades blinked. "Then you're ready for marriage now," he said hoarsely.
Strangely, he didn't seem all that pleased.