"Yes, I can tell." How fortunate that Persephone was remarkably perceptive, or else how would she ever know this was bothering her husband? But she was sure that Hades would make himself feel better but threatening Freyr with torture soon enough, perhaps something in a region of 'I'll have you torn apart by dogs' or similar.
Persephone, the bride of her uncle-rapist and maiden fought over by half of Olympus, would give Freyr the chance to prove himself a decent man. That was what she wanted for Makaria: a man who would show her respect, a respect that wouldn't have to fight through the fires of violence and distrust to obtain.
Persephone took her husband's hand and led him back to sit down, guiding his movements. Then she sat back down on his lap and lifted one of his hands, bringing it to her lips to kiss and looking over it at him. "Even these strong hands cannot stop time from moving, my darkest love."