(Author's notes: If you are familiar with my longtime WIP, "Of Magic, Miracles, and Moonlight", you will recognize my 'damsel in distress', Teyla of Hadeeth. If not, know that she is a Healer with strong empathetic abilities, who studied briefly at Kamar-Taj under the tutelage of Doctor Strange. In the course of her relationship with Stephen, she has developed the ability to communicate with him telepathically, especially at times of intense emotion and stress.)

He heard the music of her laughter echoing through the great hall several minutes before he actually spotted her—knowing that she wasn't quite herself just from the sound of it; the music that he cherished was somehow darkened, made throaty and far more sensual than he'd ever heard it, even at their most intimate moments of play. He sent a thought her way, though it had been several days since he'd actually gotten any sign, any confirmation, any response at all from her, in the wake of such attempts. But Stephen had been certain that she lived, not only due to Teyla's usefulness as bait to lure him to this place, but also because he just knew he would have immediately felt it if mortal harm had come to her. Those uncharacteristic notes of darkness in her laughter had the hair on the back of his neck standing on end, and a seed of unease breaking into bloom inside his chest. He quickened his pace down the stone corridor, regardless of the many sets of alien eyes that marked his passage.

Stephen had met with no resistance when he had passed through the gateway from Earth, and none as he'd entered the obsidianfortress of the creature currently calling itself Hades—in clear imitation of Earth mythology. An eldritch light emanated from the dank, moisture-weeping walls, and he was especially cautious to avoid contact with that noxious liquid, suspecting that even a small brush against it might allow it to eat its way into his very mortal flesh. The closer he came to the two-story archway at the entrance to 'Hades' throne room, the more humid and restrictive the air grew, thick in his lungs, slowing his movements, and drenching him in sweat beneath his wizard's tunic. Cloak seemed to tighten protectively around his shoulders, although Stephen thought perhaps the foul damp that weighed upon him so laboriously was affecting his loyal relic as well. He paused before the stone arch, listening to Teyla's mirthless laughter, and gathering his wits for whatever battle lay ahead.

Prepared as he had tried to be—once he'd discovered who had abducted his sweet, guileless Teyla—he could never have envisioned the sight that greeted him. Blood red. Clothed in a mass of velvet and satin, she twirled before the throne, the full skirt of the scarletgown that swathed her slender form billowing about her. Stephen watched aghast as she spun, her arms flung wide, her blackened hair whipping wildly about her head. Every several turns she would falter, made dizzy by her motion, and stagger briefly—but at the growled command of the dark figure on the throne, she would begin her macabre dance again. His heart cried out in agony for his helpless woman, and his mind for retribution against the creature that had somehow stolen her will and was torturing her so.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhh," boomed the hoary voice from beneath the tarnished crown, "Comes the Master of the Mystic Arts! Come to quail before my magnificence…come to beg mercy for his little lover." It cawed an ugly, deep-throated laugh, enough to freeze Teyla in place. Her head fell forward, and even from where he stood, Stephen could see her tremble, straining against the control exerted over her. It's alright, honey, his mind whispered to hers, as he hoped to break through whatever block between them this Hades had created, I'm here now, and I will not allow him to hold you in his power a moment more.

"Foolish, pitiful, mortal man," Hades exclaimed, "I have allowed you to approach my person only so I might look upon your despair! Your mind tricks will avail you nothing!"

Stephen could not discern the malignant being's features, for its face was obscured by a fluctuating cloud of darkness. He would like to have seen his adversary, as he has Hade's foul companion when he had vanquished her, but for now he needed to learn as much as he could about the creature, hoping to discover a weakness enough to defeat it.

"Come sit at my feet, little one," it cooed mockingly, raising a claw-like hand to beckon Teyla to him. "Your savior is bound to failure, and you must accustom yourself to your rightful place."

Teyla whimpered, and Stephen could see that enough of her own will remained for her to attempt resistance. Hades bellowed his displeasure, and she fell to her knees, crying out in Hadeethan. He could not translate her exclamation verbatim, but Stephen had learned enough of her native tongue to know that she was expressing her defiance. But despite her best efforts, the creature had his way with her, forcing her to crawl up the stairs of the dais, and seat herself on the floor beside the throne.

In silent communication, Cloak was urging him forward, reading Stephen's impulse to fly to Teyla's side, to scoop her up and portal them to safety. Stephen let Cloak know that such timing would be ill-advised—for he needed to access the situation more fully; to discover what traps the malevolent being had lain. He would be useless to his beloved Healer if he fell before he'd even reached her side.

"I see you harbor no fear, Wizard," Hades told him reasonably, "At least not on your own behalf." It cackled at that realization, "Oh, but this little thing is dear to you, dearer than any other life in the cosmos." It reached down and ran its fingers through Teyla's hair, purring greedily, "I had thought to use her to lure you here, so I might exact a punishment upon you for your destruction of she whom I treasured above all things…"

"She brought her own destruction upon herself." Stephen strode forward, making a bold show of confidence, "I warned her repeatedly that the people of Tulanea were not hers to toy with. I assure you–I do not relish taking any life, but in her case, it was necessary as she would not heed my threats." He did not add that he was protecting an innocent, peaceful population of farmers and philosophers, for neither Hades nor his now dead sister cared a bit about the innocent. "As I will take yours if you do not free Teyla of Hadeeth, and allow us both free passage from this word."

Hades rose to his full height; Stephen estimated it was at least a dozen feet tall, a full two feet taller than its sibling had been. "You dare to make demands of me, paltry mortal? In my own throne room!" It shook its fist in the air, thundering on, "I tell you now, charlatan, that I will feast on your bones this very day, and this sweet morsel that you so covet will be made to drink of your blood! Then she will be mine; eternally mine as payment for what you stole from me."

Stephen felt his own power surge through him, coursing through his veins with righteous fury. He balled his fists, nearly ready to make his stand, hoping that his calculations were correct—and that Cloak would succeed with its part of his plan.

Hades motioned again with his claw, and Teyla rose to her feet, her head lolling forward, her body as limp as a puppet on its strings awaiting the manipulations of its master. "Yes, Doctor Strange, she will be my recompense. I will make her my new Persephone, and she will forget you, her origin, even her own name, long after your flesh has turned to dust!"