Work Text:
“Remember us,” he pleads, throat run dry.
“Remember that we once lived.”
I suppose I leave it to you, then.
And with the Warrior of Light’s valiant image engraved upon his memories, he fell.
And as he fell, he became dust, and this dust was carried by a wind, and this wind carried him low to the Underworld.
And after he fell, reverie flooded his being. Peace. Quiet. A silence like no other. The accompaniment of every soul that had ever returned, died. The pulsing beat of the Sea. Waves of aether pushing and pulling, the soul suspended and transient, the vague echo of the body trailing along.
And when that Warrior inevitably defeats Zodiark, the souls of those sacrificed, shall fall here too. He quickly vanquished the hope in his heart.
Images of his life flashed through his mind. The thousand-thousand lives, all fleeting with little rapport. What his soul leaned to in comfort was the flood of memories from his very first—the life with his people, his kindred, his beloved—the Etheirys that he knew.
But something, he understood, was wrong. And though it were a millennia ago, he knew, deep and down, what it was. The thought of it was almost appalling, beautiful and then sickening and despairing. Realization descended upon him again, as though he were in the dark tunnel of the rift, gazing upon the sundering of his star once more.
No, it cannot be. It’s utterly preposterous. On that day—
A gentle, yet frantic voice promptly interrupted his flood of thoughts and memories. “Do my senses deceive me?”
Though time in the Sea was not time, Emet-Selch felt it halt.
Craning his head, he saw him there, eyes wet with the tears of reunion, lavender locks and all. He had seen him in his dreams, but this was no illusion begotten by timeless mourn. This was real.
“You.. You buffoon,” he stuttered, bravado gone, his soul reaching unwillingly out for the secret nostalgia of his partners’ lost embrace.
“It is you,” he cried.
“Nay, you’ve the wrong soul.” At this, a laugh escaped the man. Oh, how I had missed to hear that laugh. Emet-Selch’s mouth quivered with all his contained affections, and Hythlodaeus realized how direly he had missed his friend, his partner.
“All this time, and you haven’t changed one bit, my dear Hades.” These words, the name Hades, brought a warm, shattering comfort to Emet-Selch, for he had changed, he had inscrutably changed. It was Hythlodaeus who had not.
“I will have you know,” he cleared his throat, “I have lived a thousand-thousand lives, seen the lives and deaths of mankind and orchestrated them all the while—”
“And you are the same,” he smiled. “Your soul, it looks the same as I saw it back then. Brimming—“
“Oh, here we go again.”
“Brimming with warmth, yes!” Hythlodaeus’ lips were spread in a grin so dazzling, it nearly brought a smile to Hades’ own.
The man crumbled. “It had been so long. I feared that I may forget your face. Nay, the faces of all of us. Maniacally, I devoted myself to remembering. They haunted and blessed my dreams.”
His hands rose to hold Hythlodaeus’ face in his hands. To him—he’d never tell—his friend was akin to a gentle bird that he feared could one day be, in his self-deprecation, crushed by the world. And crushed he was. And now, he was here, before him again.
“It could never compare,” he remarks sternly, his friend’s eyes wide in his hands. “Do you understand me, Hythlodaeus? It could never compare to reality.”
“Always a slave to sentiment. I would tell you I’d have forgiven you a thousand-thousand times over, had you forgotten. But you aren’t one to back down that easily, are you? Your stubbornness was your downfall, yet it led you here, with me.”
Something in Hades’ exterior cracked. “Forget my talents and misgivings. What of you?”
Hythlodaeus appeared thoughtful, moving his hands to gently take hold of Hades’ own, slowly caressing them with his thumb. Even now, his form was spiritual and transient, yet clearer than anything Hades had witnessed in his lonesome dreaming.
“We were but wandering shades, with Him. The world was stark and unchanging. We could speak to each other, but we were but echoes of our former selves, unable to fully recall our lives, nor understand what was happening in front of us. These times were vague, unchanging.”
He appeared stern, fixing Hades with his eyes, those beautiful, boundless eyes. “Yet.. near the End. We had begun to notice, nay, I still remember the feeling now. Our lord Zodiark was changing. He was growing weaker, and weaker, and he..”
“Yes, He had fallen. I believed as much. The soul of Azem had been passed along to another, and this warrior brought me down low—ironic it is to say, as they had done the same countless times in our halcyon days.”
Hythlodaeus laughed again.
Hades became possessed with an unfounded earnestness. “Do you disappoint in me, Hythlodaeus?”
He shook his head. “How could I? With your talents, of course you’d have deployed efforts that none else of our kind could ever hope to.” His smile loosened into a sadness. “I only am solemn in that you were all alone doing it. But should it bring you any respite, you have fulfilled my dying wish.”
Frantically, he asks, tightening his grip on Hythlodaeus’ hands: “What wish? I’ve sabotaged any hope at us reclaiming our paradise, still making mankind suffer incorrigibly along the way. What wish, pray tell?”
“After all this time, you still haven’t understood.” He smiled again, abashed like in his youth. “My wish was always that there could be you and I again. Impassioned as you were for our home, Hades, I was ever more selfish. I loved our people dearly. Yet, there was nothing I loved in all of the great, beautiful Etheirys more than you.”
“You idiot,” he snapped. “You continue to self-deprecate after all this time. Don’t you dare denote yourself as ‘selfish’, after sacrificing yourself for the betterment of the star—“
“This, too, I did so the people could live—nay, that you may live. Knowing it would hurt you. Knowing you may suffer in lonesome. I did it so that you could survive, albeit miserably—am I not wrong for it? Do you not detest me for it? For all my shortcomings?”
Beyond Hades’ expectations, the enraged echo of his form leaned forth to press his ghastly lips upon the soft of Hythlodaeus’ own.
They remained there for a long time, taking in the beauty of words unspoken for millennium.
And Hythlodaeus thought to himself, fondly, relieved, unburdened: ever has the glorious Emet-Selch been a man of action, rather than words.
“You are unlike any other. It befuddles me that you have never yet notice it. You have ever been worthy and much more,” breathed Hades, amidst the lingering of lips. Amidst the familiarity of the conversation, yet its profound newness. “You laugh, knowing yourself, yet not understanding. You were worthy of the seat of Emet-Selch. Of making your own choices. And of me, downtrodden as I am.”
The sheen of tears glistened in Hythlodaeus’ eyes. Vulnerable he was at last, at the end of all days.
”This catatonic life hast taught me one thing,” Hades continues, pulling Hythlodaeus close, and even closer.
“Make no mistake, I found naught but misery in the sundered world. But woe behold: I did not realize that back in those days of Paradise, there was a lingering sadness yet. Perhaps Hermes was the only one of us who knew.” He gritted his teeth, and spat out the truth. “You in your silent dismissal of your own work. Myself, in the pathetic words I could not allow myself the heart to say, yet always sought to. I wanted to tell you, Hythlodaeus, just how—“ he gulped, “precious you were. I wanted to stop you that day. Yet I couldn’t. Not in the way I wished. And dare I admit, this was an agony.”
There was silence, then. Hythlodaeus adjusted his position in Hades’ arms, craning his head against his chest, listening for some bygone heartbeat. The pushing and pulling of the Sea is all they heard, as he shook beneath him.
“I admit it,” he finally said.
Hades knew of what he spoke. “Yes, I too.” Voice low as a whisper, yet coated in despair, “and reality is harrowing.”
Hades swept away Hythlodaeus’ disheveled lavender hair, pressing a kiss onto his furrowed brows—a rare sight indeed.
Solemnly, Hythlodaeus whispered: “Attempt to escape it as we might, we have ever been plagued by sadness, like joy.”
But nonetheless—pushed and pulled did the Aetherial Sea, and steadfast did they grip onto one another, once again unwilling to let go, unwilling to lose each other once more. And such is so incredibly human, and so too very Ascian. This, Emet-Selch finally understood. And only now, he felt contrition for the day he turned on the children of man.
—
“Tell me—you remember it too, don’t you,” murmured Hythlodaeus, from within the warm crook of Hades’ neck.
“Hmm,” replied Hades, pre-occupied with combing his fingers through his friend’s hair, braiding it, and then pulling it apart, and braiding it again. He forgot how much he enjoyed this—another simple pleasure that was lost to him.
“That day, with who we believed to be Azem’s familiar. The day we went to seek out Hermes in Elpis.”
“I remember everything. I remembered it all the moment I entered the Sea.”
Hythlodaeus breathed a laugh. “We’re too old now, for regrets, yet I bear them anyway. I wonder what became of Hermes, whereabouts is Meteion.. and how that Champion is faring. You know, I managed to visit one of their dreams once.”
Hades stiffened. “This is possible? And I’ve not known about it?” All the dreams and nightmares I had were rooted in the regrets and peace founded in the Sea?
“Truly. I imparted a few words of cryptic wisdom—you know me. After all, you believed in them. I’m driven to as well.”
Hades lifted his head so as to look directly down at Hythlodaeus. “Hold on just a rotten moment. Does this mean those many dreams I had of you were..?”
Hythlodaeus giggled, rumbling against him. “You forget your facts, Emet-Selch. I was still a part of Lord Zodiark, remember? But I cannot lie that I was never attempting to reach you, one-sidedly or no, even as a shadow, even as a dream.”
“Nay, it was you. It must have been you. I felt you there. Especially near the end, that.” Hades’ eyes shone.
“If you can attest to it, then truly, I have ever been with you.”
“You weasel.” He held him tighter.
Then, a shift occurred in the Sea.
Hythlodaeus looked up, eyes shining with a new pride in themselves. “Do you feel that? It calls to the souls of the realm, promising a vessel—nay, life anew. Will you answer?”
“Would that we needn’t part,” said Hades, with a gaze of forlorn familiarity, “that I needn’t go on this journey again without you.”
“Pff—” Hythlodaeus laughed without cease, deep and down.
“What? What is the meaning of this?”
“Sorry, it’s nothing. I am merely so incredibly, indivisibly, exceedingly, severely—“
“‘Very’ would suffice, you know.”
”—fond of you.” Hythlodaeus finished with a snort, to which the other man reclaimed his usual scowl.
Hythlodaeus’ grin softened. “You know, when we do find our time has come to pass, I will find you again. I won’t go so quietly this time. For existence, beautiful as it is, has yet given us another chance, and then it shall give another, and another. And in any case, your existence will be a lovely one. I know not why, but I trust in it.”
“Ever an optimist to boot. But, you know, granted my soul’s affinity to the Underworld, perhaps I could manipulate our aether amidst its passage; together we could depart, and thus be reborn in closer proximity..”
“Lovely it is when the man himself boasts his talents.” Hythlodaeus laughed into his palm, and Hades promptly warmed up.
”Nary a word. You found me in the Sea with your precocious sight, didn’t you? We owe it to you, most certainly.”
Hythlodaeus gently nudged him. “Flattered as I am, you must look up.”
A light flit fastly across their vision, then two, then three, and quickly they watched thousands of souls travel malms in an instance before their eyes, over their heads. Souls answering the call, seeking to be reborn. The fleetingness of life and its precarious cycles brings a shine to Hades’ eyes.
”Is it not astonishing? The colours of each soul, vivid and telling of eons of love and loss.”
Hades’ hand tightens in his grasp. It was ever like Hythlodaeus to seek out the beautiful, the transient, and marvel it with a forlorn adoration. For he can see it better than anybody else.
“Hythlodaeus.”
“Yes, my dear?”
“I love you. I have ever loved you.”
“..As do I. There wasn’t a moment in time that I hadn’t. Always had I wished to remain by your side, and now..”
Hythlodaeus leans against him, weight solid as it can possibly be, basking in his cool warmth.
He continues, turning his head almost bashfully. “Tell me, selfish request as it is, can we stay right here for some time, together?”
This earns him a rare, precious laugh from Hades, and Hythlodaeus turns to him in loving awe. “Need you even ask? We two are long overdue for a nap.”
And there it is—amidst the tears, the pain, the suffering encapsulated in the history of all mankind—that dazzling, breathtaking smile.
end.