Stories to be Rewritten: Elisabeth's Stories :Book 1 Lavenders and Pomegranates

Chapter 28

Elisabeth sat on the bed beside Persephone, her head reeling with all this information given. All is was making sense to her, and she found that scary as hell. All these unanswered questions that were just coming to light, all these things that made her question her very existence, it all made sense now. But.... It didn't make her feel good to know these things. She felt hallow, her hand pressed to her stomach like she was going to bend forward and puke up whatever she had eaten before she ended up here, her normal pail skin looking even more pail than normal.

" Thálassa Omorfiá, are you-" Persephone started, only to have the door burst open and Hades storm in, anger plane across his face. "Hades! Do you know know it is rude to barge in on women when they are talking?"

"This is my fortress, I shall do as I please." Hades spat, his temper flaring. "I have a right to enter weather given permission or not!"

"Well, you are still being a bad host! Our guest-"

"Is sitting here listening to you two fight." Elisabeth's head shot up instantly, a little color coming back as a dark figure came into the room dressed to the nines like a Gothic metal prince. "Seriously, you act like she isn't here, father."

"Ah, Skoteimí Fōriá," Hades said, patting Henery's shoulder gently. "You are right, I was rude on that part." Turn his attention on Elisabeth, he spoke in a bored and annoyed tone. "I am sorry for the intrusion onto your personal time with my wife, and I hope that your stay here will be enjoyable-" He stopped, his eyes finally focusing on the teenager he was speaking to, and he froze. His eyes widened in surprise, and he stared in both amazement and horror in a way. "My... Child."

That was the last straw that broke her back. Elisabeth looked down at her hands. It was true. She was a godling, Hades just proved that. She wasn't human. Her whole life was a lie. She wasn't Elisabeth Walker who's father owned the gym she grew up in, Daughter of Aphrodite, and demigod. She was Thálassa Omorfiá, created from clay by the mother of the gods and the creator of man, a...

Monster.

She hadn't realized she was crying till she felt warm hands on her cheeks whipping away a liquid that stained her cheeks. Looking up, she looked into Henry's glowing red eyes that were filled with worry. Those eyes that held a old friend so long ago but now were a complete strangers. She looked away, pushing away his hands and standing.

"I... Excuse me." She started for the door, Hades hand stopping her only a second as it rested on her shoulder.

"We thought we lost you forever." He said it so gently, it scared her how kind he was being. "Please, stay her. We need to talk-"

She shoved his hand off and ran for it, her feet flying across the marble floor like she was being chased by the devil. She didn't stop, she didn't hesitate, she didn't look back. She knew already that she was going to have to get used to this, but fuck them.

She wasn't a clone.

Henry watched as she ran like something was chasing her, wanting to run after her to calm her down, but a look at his father made him stay. Those sad eyes burned with something he never imagined a Lord of the Dead having: torment. Hades held Persephone close to him as she started crying, the thought occurring to him that they had truly miss them. But that image shattered when Hades turned and faced him.

"I'm sorry about this, my son."

Henry blinked, stunned as the god of the dead walked out of the room with his wife beside him, leaving him alone in the king sized room. A) Hades had just apologized, which was scary in and of itself, and B) he had not called him son. He called him 'my' son. It was perfect, it felt amazing being called his son, but there was something wrong with the word too. It was like somewhat distant thing, here was no love in it like before. There was deep deep sadness. He didn't even notice a ghost float in until it rest a cold hand on his shoulder. Jumping away, he turned and went as pail as chalk.