CHAPTER 4: UnwelcomeArrangements
1246 Words
Persephone
The notice appeared on Hawthorn House’s buletin board sometime between breakfast and Persephone’s second cup of coffee.
She only noticed it because Artemis stopped dead in the hallway, stared, and muttered… “Sh*t. That’s not good.”
Persephone leaned around her. “What’s not good?”
Artemis stepped aside.
Persephone read:
BLACKTHORNE ACADEMY NOTICE
Due to recent disturbances and violations of campus protocol, select students will be placed under Academic Oversight for the remainder of the term.
Oversight includes but is not limited to:
Restricted access to specific campus locations
Mandatory check-ins
Assigned upperclass supervision
Persephone’s brow furrowed. “Disturbances?”
Artemis’ voice was tight. “Scroll down.”
There were names.
Persephone scanned absentmindedly–until her eyes snagged.
‘THRACE, P. – Hawthorn House’
Her stomach dropped.
“What?” Persephone said. “What does that even mean? I have done anything.”
Artemis looked at her with something like sympathy. “You argued with Hades. In Ethics. In public.”
“That’s not a crime”
“At Blackthorne,” Artemis said carefully, “it’s a signal.”
Persephone folder her arms. “So I get punished for participating in class?”
“You get… noticed.” Artemis corrected. “That’s worse.”
Before Persephone could respond, footsteps echoed from the stairwell-unhurried, familiar, and deeply irritating.
She didn’t have to look. But… She did.
Hades emerged into the hallway like he belonged there–which he did, apparently. He wore a dark sweater instead of his coat today, sleeves pushed up, expression neutral and cool.
He took in the scene in seconds. The notice. Artemis’ stiff posture. Persephone’s scowl.
And then–her name on the board.
Something in his gaze sharpened.
“Well,” Persephone said flatly, turning to him, “this is your fault.”
Hades arched a brow. “Is it?”
“Yes.”
“Interesting,” he replied. “Because you’re the one who challenged the hierarchy.”
“There is no–”
“Language,” Artemis cut in weakly, then vanished down the hall at the first look Hades gave her.
Coward. Again.
Persephone squared her shoulders. “What is this?”
Hades stepped closer to the board, his presence subtly commanding the space. “Oversight.”
“And who exactly is overseeing me?” she demanded.
He didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, he reached up and pulled down a second notice pinned just beneath the first.
Assigned Oversight:
THRACE, P. → BLACKWOOD, H.
Persephone stared.
Then laughed–short, incredulous. “No.”
Hades exhaled through his nose, like someone bracing for a headache. “Unfortunately.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“I argued against it.” he said.
That stopped her.
“You… what?”
His jaw tightened. “This isn’t a role I requested.”
“Oh, please.” Persephone scoffed. “You practically run this place.”
“That doesn’t mean I enjoy playing babysitter.”
“I do not need a babysitter,” she snapped.
“You triggered oversight protocols on your first full day,” he replied coolly. “Forgive me if I disagree.”
Persephone leaned closer, voice low. “You enjoy this.”
Hades met her gaze without blinking. “I absolutely do not.”
And yet–something flickered behind his eyes.
Satisfaction? Relief?
Annoyingly, Persephone couldn’t tell.
“So what,” she said, gesturing between them, “you walk me to class? Tuck me in at night?”
Hades’ lips twitched. “Don’t tempt me.”
Her face heated instantly. “That was not–”
“I know,” he said smoothly. “But let’s be clear: this is about proximity”
“Of course it is.”
“Your dorm,” he continued, “has been flagged. Hawthorne borders restricted ground.”
Persephone’s heart skipped. “Restricted how?”
“Below,” he said simply.
She stared. “You keep saying that like it means something.”
Hades looked at her for a long moment.
“It does,” he said. “Just not to you. Yet.”
She bristled. “So what’s the plan?”
“You check in with me daily. You don’t access the lower stacks. You don’t wander after dar. And,” he added, eyes flicking pointed to the notice, “you don’t challenge me in public again.”
Persephone’s mouth curled. “Make me.”
Hades stepped closer.
Not threateningly. Intimately.
“You already did,” he said quietly.
Her breath caught, traitorous and unwelcome.
She hated that he smelled like the night air. Hated that her pulse betrayed her. Hated that something about his nearness made the world feel narrower and sharper.
“Fine,” she said stiffly. “But don’t expect gratitude.”
“I wouldn’t dare.”
Hades
It was a mistake.
The moment the council suggested the assignment, Hades should have refused outright. Claimed conflict of interest. Claimed academic obligations.
Anything.
Instead, he’d stood there in the candlelit chamber beneath the library and listened while ancient things murmured about balance and containment and precautions.
She’s untrained, they’d said.
She’s ignorant.
She’s close.
Too close.
Hades had clenched his jaw.
“I will oversee her,” he’d said finally.
The room had gone still.
Not because they questioned his authority.
But because they understood exactly what that meant.
Now, standing in Hawthorn House hallway with Persephone glaring at him like he was a personal insult, Hades felt something dangerously close to… satisfaction.
She was near.
Not just physically–though her dorm was indeed only one corridor removed from his own residence wing–but within the narrow perimeter of his attention. Of his protection.
Of his control.
And gods help him, it felt right.
He watched irritation flicker across her face, watched her mind race through arguments and objections. She was all sharp edges and stubborn heat, and the earth beneath Blackthorne responded to her moods in subtle ways–lights dimming, air thickening.
She didn’t notice.
She never noticed.
“You’re enjoying this,” she accused again.
Hades forced his expression into boredom. “I find it inconvenient.”
A lie.
Every instinct in him leaned toward her, toward the fragile, dangerous thing she carried without knowing how to shield it.
Better me than the campus, he thought.
Better me than whatever waits below.
“Your room,” he said turning away to keep from looking at her too closely, “is three doors down from mine.
Her head snapped up. “Excuse me?”
“Hawthorne House was… renovated,” he said neutrally. “Some upperclass quarters were relocated.”
“That feels intentional.”
“It usually is.”
Persephone stared at him like she wanted to set something on fire.
Hades almost smiled.
Persephone
That night, Persephone lay awake in her bed, staring at the ceiling.
Three doors down.
The knowledge pulsed uncomfortably in her chest.
She told herself it didn’t matter. That hades Blackwood was just another overbearing authority figure with a flair for drama and a campus willing to indulge him.
She told herself she hated him.
She absolutely did not listen when she heard footsteps pass her door–slow, measured, unmistakable familiar.
She absolutely did not press her hand to the wall when the lights flickered and settled.
And she did not, under any circumstances, wonder why the idea of him so close made her feel both safer and more unsettled than ever.
- Writer
