The clang of steel echoed across the training field.
Hazel twisted, her silver hair whipping behind her as she parried another strike. The air was hot with the clash of blades and the scent of sweat, her chest rising and falling with exhilaration.
Across from her, Artemis lunged again, the dark-armored warrior of Hades' elite, his eyes sharp with respect.
"You're getting faster, My Queen," he growled, circling her.
Hazel grinned, sword raised. "Or maybe you're just getting older."
Laughter rippled among the others—Luke with his hulking frame, Darius with his agile strikes, and Stefan, quiet but deadly, watching from the sidelines. She wasn't the fragile princess they thought they knew.
She was proving it. To them. To herself.
Hazel sidestepped, bringing her sword up in a clean arc, the steel gleaming crimson under the blood-hued sky. Artemis' parry missed by a hair, and her blade stopped at his throat, breathless silence falling between them.
"Yield?" she teased.
Artemis smirked, lowering his weapon. "Yield."
Cheers rose around them, the elite clapping and calling her name. Hazel smiled, chest warm with pride. But then—
The air changed.
It thickened, like a storm pressing down. Hazel felt it first, the prickle at the back of her neck. The elite fell silent, their weapons instinctively lowering as shadows bled across the battlefield.
Two figures stepped forward.
Deus and Zion.
Their presence was suffocating, their auras so menacing even Hades' elite men stepped back, jaws clenched. The sky seemed to dim around them, as if the underworld itself bowed to their malice.
Hazel's fingers tightened on her sword hilt.
"Training the Queen like a soldier, are we?" Deus' voice was smooth, mocking. His dark hair fell in careless waves, his crimson eyes glittering with cruel amusement. "How fitting. After all, she'll need all the strength she can muster… if she intends to survive him."
Zion's smirk was sharper, crueler. "Does she even know, brother? Has he told her the truth? Or is she still playing the ignorant little bride, blind to the blood on her husband's hands?"
Hazel stood her ground, though her heart hammered.
"What truth?" she asked evenly, though she knew. Eliot. They wanted to drag it out of her.
Deus tilted his head, his smirk widening. "That your beloved husband isn't just feared by enemies… but despised by his own blood. That he slaughtered one of us. Our brother. Eliot."
Zion stepped closer, his aura pressing against her like ice. "And not in war. Not in glory. In a fit of rage. Lost control, and incinerated him to ash. That's the man you share a bed with."
Behind her, Stefan bristled, but even he didn't dare move. Hazel could feel the unease of the elite, their loyalty to Hades making them stay silent, but their fear of his brothers holding them still.
Hazel's blood ran hot. For a moment, she remembered the mausoleum, the sorrow in Hades' eyes when he'd whispered I destroyed him. She remembered the weight of his hand, the grief etched into his soul.
But she would not let Deus and Zion use it to break him. To break her.
So Hazel smiled. Cold. Sharp.
"Interesting story," she said, raising her blade. "But there's one flaw in it."
Deus arched a brow. "And what's that, little Queen?"
In one smooth motion, Hazel stepped forward, her sword flashing. The tip came to rest against his throat, gleaming under the blood-red light. The battlefield stilled.
Hazel's silver eyes blazed. "You're still breathing. If Hades were truly the monster you say… you wouldn't be standing here."
For the first time, Deus' smirk faltered. Zion's eyes narrowed, a flicker of something like respect—or wariness—passing through them.
Hazel leaned in, her voice low but cutting. "Twist the truth however you like. Try to make me fear him. But all I see are two cowards, desperate to drag him down because his strength outshines yours."
The silence was deafening. Even Darius' eyes widened.
Deus' lips curved again, though the arrogance was tighter now, strained. "Bold words, Queen. Dangerous words."
Hazel tilted her head, her blade still pressing lightly into his throat. "Try me."
Then she lowered her sword and turned her back on them.
A dangerous move. A statement in itself.
The elite shifted nervously as Hazel began walking away, Artemis and the others trailing her like shadows. For a moment, it seemed the brothers might simply let her go.
But then—
Power flared.
She felt it before she heard it, the sudden surge of darkness rushing toward her back. Zion had raised a hand, energy crackling, while Deus' aura lashed like a whip.
Hazel barely turned before it struck.
And then—
Hades was there.
He appeared in a blur of shadow, his aura exploding outward in a wave so fierce the battlefield trembled. The attack shattered harmlessly against him, disintegrating in black fire.
His eyes were pure storm. His jaw clenched, fists trembling with wrath.
"You dare."
His voice was low, venomous, carrying through the field like a blade through flesh.
Deus and Zion froze. For the first time, Hazel saw something flicker across their faces—hesitation.
"You dare raise your hands against her in my kingdom?" Hades' power lashed outward, suffocating. The elite staggered back, struggling to breathe under its weight. Even Hazel felt it, though his fury wasn't aimed at her.
The ground cracked beneath his boots. Shadows writhed like serpents, coiling hungrily around his brothers.
Zion snarled. "She insulted us—"
"She is my wife!" Hades roared, his voice shaking the air itself. "Insult her again and I will tear your tongues from your skulls!"
Hazel's heart thundered. His wrath was terrifying, absolute—but it wasn't directed at her. It was for her.
Deus' smirk was gone now, his expression tight, wary. "You'll regret this, brother."
"I regret nothing," Hades snapped, his aura surging higher. "You are not welcome here. Not in my halls, not in my kingdom. Leave. And do not return."
The silence that followed was broken only by the hiss of shadows curling at his feet.
Finally, Deus inclined his head, slow and mocking, though his eyes betrayed unease. Zion shot Hazel one last venomous glare. Then, with a sweep of dark energy, they vanished into the night.
The field was left trembling in their absence.
Hades stood there, shoulders rising and falling with the force of his fury. His hands still clenched, his jaw locked, as though it took everything in him not to pursue them and finish what had begun.
Hazel's sword was still in her hand. Slowly, she lowered it, her chest tight.
She stepped closer, her voice soft but steady. "You defended me."
His eyes, storm-bright, finally turned to her. For a heartbeat, the rage faded, replaced by something else—something raw.
"I always will."
Hazel's breath caught. Around them, the elite were silent, watching, waiting. But for a moment, it felt like the battlefield held only the two of them.
And though the scars of family betrayal lingered, though his brothers' venom still burned in the air, Hazel knew this truth as fiercely as she had known anything:
Hades was hers.
And gods help anyone who tried to take that from her.