But the slave boy did not stop rocking, or wailing, he did not care, it would not matter what his fate was, he only hoped that it would be quick, that Hades was merciful when he claimed him...
What claimed him instead was a blur of darkness that tore Mari from his arms. Shock and anger caused him to cry in surprise and gasp for breath as he tried to reach out for her, to hold her against him again. Was it true that the very gods would not let him hold her in his arms until the end... that he would not see her waiting for him on the other side? Or was this tartarus itself? To suffer through the feeling of her being torn from him, to feel empty, alone, and cold for all eternity with no recourse?
Coldness enveloped him, but it was not the chill of the night air but rather the cold of water splashing against him. He could feel his body flailing about in it as he strugled to get above the waves and gasp in a breath. But Hades was waiting for him there. He could see the grim face staring at him as he came above the water, single eye staring at him with the maddening stillness that the slave boy had only ever stared at other's with. After a moment of flailing Hades grabbed him by the hair and pulled him from the waters.
Pain screamed into him, and yet, there was only one thing he could think of. "Please, Lord Hades... let me see her once more... I did not mean to kill her... I love her so... I... I..."
Hades stopped him by grabbing his lower jaw and roughly forcing his teeth apart. Then with a swift motion he leaned in and smelled sticking his nose between his teeth to inhale deeply, closing his single eye as he shook his head for a moment and then tossed the boy upon the dark sand. Slowly he emerged from the water himself, towering over the boy who looked at him with crystal blue questioning eyes. "My name is Balthazar, not Hades, welp. Though I am no less deadly." There was little pride in those words, it was merely as if the other creature was simply stating a fact.
"And you did not kill your beloved. You were meant to look as the killer, and be killed yourself, I would guess. It was your nature that saved you from an easy death, and instead delivered you unto me. What is your name, boy?"
The slave blinked, and slowly wrote the symbol for his name out on the sand.
"D." Balthazar said flatly, pronouncing it differently than anyone else D had ever heard pronounce it. There was something simpler about it though, that he liked, and so he decided to stick with that designation. It was a brief happiness until the agony of what had just happened finally caught up with him. He could feel hot crimson tears starting to burn their way down his cheeks.