The first thing Ken noticed as he drifted awake was the faint smell of sunflowers. Not strong, just there. Lingering. It pulled him out of the nightmare's leftovers, that heavy dread still clinging to the edges of his mind. But he didn't wake up screaming this time. The cold grip of that silver scar was gone. Instead, there was just warmth—everywhere.
He shifted, blinking against the soft amber light filtering through the gothic bedroom, and realized he couldn't really move. Hades hadn't budged. Still on his back, all that massive frame perfectly still, his long black hair tangled across the silk pillows. One heavy arm was draped over Ken's waist like a security blanket.
The second Ken's breathing changed, those crimson eyes opened. No grogginess. No human confusion. Just Hades looking down at him, his whole face going soft in that careful, warm way.
