A/N – Written for a contest at the symphoniaslash livejournal community. That's all I really have to say.
'Inheritance'
It was empty.
Not just 'empty'. 'Empty' just wasn't a good enough word. Barren. Desolate. Abandoned. No, no words could possibly describe the way Yuan saw Derris-Kharlan now. Even with Kratos standing right beside him, he suddenly felt isolated. Never in his life had the angel felt more alone.
Back on the surface, the planet below Derris-Kharlan, there had always been somebody. He'd had his family when he was young, Mithos' group later on in life, Martel before she died, then Botta and the Renegades. But now he was cut off from that world forever, and although he had the other remaining Seraphim for company, he didn't feel quite right with him. He liked Kratos, but their goals had clashed and their friendship had been shattered.
For a moment, Yuan had been faced with a choice. He could've stayed on the surface, or go off to Derris-Kharlan as one of the last surviving members of Cruxis. Why did he feel so obliged to Cruxis, anyway? Even after founding the Renegades, he did not give up his status as one of the Cruxis Seraphim. He just couldn't give it up.
"It doesn't feel…right." He muttered.
"No." Kratos said, speaking slowly. Yuan was only dimly aware of the other angel's presence. "There's something missing."
Yuan nodded in agreement, sweeping a lock of blue hair out of his face. "Something or… someone." He said grimly. He knew all too well what he himself meant, and it shocked him.
The angels of Welgaia were missing, but they had been just mindless drones who existed to do Mithos' bidding. Martel was missing, but he had come to accept that ages ago. Kratos was right here. He was grateful for that, now that he had seen how empty the place was. He needed somebody, and Kratos would have to do. But still, there was someone missing.
"Mithos?" Kratos suggested.
The name said aloud hit Yuan hard. He didn't expect Mithos' death and absence to have much of an effect on him, but without him, this place was so empty. "Yeah. It's strange, I'd been fighting against his ideals for so long with the Renegades it's like I…forgot we used to be friends or something, but now that he's gone…" He trailed off into thought, folding his arms across his chest. The same was true of Kratos – he'd forgotten that they weren't always foes. He'd forgotten that he cared.
Kratos, hearing what Yuan had to say, thought he could relate. It seemed neither of the remaining Cruxis Seraphim were happy with their current situation. Now that Yuan had mentioned Mithos, too, it felt strangely wrong to be there. Derris-Kharlan was his old companion and apprentice's resting place, and he and Yuan had, in the end, betrayed him. It was like the thought of Kvar at Anna's grave.
No matter how many innocents caught up in Mithos' childish games had died here, no matter how many people he'd sacrificed like worthless pawns, no matter how selfish his goal of reviving Martel had been – Mithos was still, deep down, someone who mattered to Kratos.
And now Mithos was dead. Dead like Anna. Dead like Martel. Dead like he'd gone fourteen years thinking Lloyd had been. Mithos was dead. It was sickening that he, whose blade had aided in slaying him, and Yuan, who had valiantly opposed him for years, were here now.
Mithos still lingered here. Kratos swore he could hear his insane laughter in the back of his mind. Mithos was laughing as he plotted out his twisted games, Sylvarant and Tethe'alla below serving as the game board and the Chosen of mana the most important game piece. Wait, he thought, games…
Looking at his old companion standing next to him, an idea started to form in Kratos' mind. "Think of it this way," He mused, "Mithos died, but he left us something very important. He was a child, and Derris-Kharlan was his playground."
A small smile flickered onto the blue-haired angel's face. "I'll admit it, Kratos, you never cease to surprise me."
"Then you have an eternity of surprises ahead of you." Kratos said bluntly. In a rare display of affection, he slid an arm around Yuan's shoulders. The other angel fell back tiredly, leaning on Kratos for support, his head resting on the other Seraphim's shoulder. Kratos rested his head on Yuan's, and together they stood, truly exhausted for the first time in four millennia, and finally friends again.
Together they gazed out at their new home. Derris-Kharlan. Mithos' old, abandoned playground.
They both forgot in that moment how condemned they'd felt at first.
Eternity stretched out before the two, but at least they had each other.
