While waiting for the mortal incarnation of his brother, Hades entertained himself by forming aether into a small blizzard over his palm. Watching tiny snowflakes swirl furiously he almost smiled. Of all the forms of elemental magic Sundering brought about, he thought the ice would fit his brother the best.

Cold and ruthless, their people would sometimes dare to whisper behind Ares's back – and he wondered idly if his mortal reincarnation hid a somewhat familiar temper behind its seemingly similar outer attitude.

He hoped that T'senri Tia inherited at least this much of his brother's soul – and it was such a long, long time since he hoped for anything… the feeling was almost alien.

Back before Eitherys became so… broken, there were precisely very few people who would be brave enough to provoke his brother's temper into its vicious, icy bite. And only a part of the reason behind it – though, a big part, he would admit – was Ares's famed, innate gift. An ability to manipulate other creatures – as useful as it was in his travels across their world – terrified their people. That skill, in addition to his brother's tendency to a wild – wrathful – attitude had them second-guessing their decisions – after all, they would whisper, with barely a word the Azem could make you do anything.

They did not understand Ares – never tried – same as they never understood Hades… All but two people did, Damon and Hythlodaeus. And maybe Venat… to some degree – at least before she became Hydealyn and destroyed their world – and she chose his brother to be her successor.

He scoffed, closing his palm and letting the blizzard dissolve as he lifted his gaze toward the eternal light barely peeking through the thick foliage of Rak'tika's gigantic trees.

Ever since this plan started to form in his mind – sometimes he wondered if Ares would forgive him. If he or Damon would understand… And in a way, he was almost thankful they weren't there to see the path he chose.

Year after year, century after century, and millennia after millennia… He was beyond tired of this… farce.

Of endless loneliness.

Throughout the ages, he entertained himself by manipulating the mortals and building empires… just to watch them fall apart. Detached from the world and unable to truly understand mortals – unable to see them as anything more than what they truly were –broken, meaningless husks – he would nap. And as it went on and on in an endless parade of years – his naps grew longer and breaks between them shorter.

Watching the pointless struggle of his fragmented brothers to restore their god and by extension, their world was getting… tiring. Millennia later and barely seven rejoinings down the line… Hades had enough.

Or maybe that was simply just an excuse. He never asked to be the one left behind in the first place.

He was born for Ares and Damon – and after Hythlodaeus chose to… even despite… - if he knew how it was going to end, he would choose to accompany them into the split. But as their world burned around him – the creation magic going out of control – and he tried to pick up the pieces of his broken heart, Lahabrea grabbed him out of nowhere and brought them beyond dimensions – and by the time they got back… their world was gone, split into fourteen pieces by Hydealyn's strike along the 'god' that was supposed to save it. The god Hythlodaeus chose to sacrifice himself for.

And as furious as he was at Lahabrea for doing this to him… he couldn't even blame him – the lack of will in Speaker's eyes was too obvious. He didn't need Damon's brilliance to understand who was behind this… and as much as it hurt – as much as he wondered if his brother somehow knew what was coming – he couldn't blame Ares either.

As annoying and infuriating was his endless… doting – he knew his brother adored him beyond reason. And as protective as he was if he somehow knew… He wouldn't expect anything less from him. Yet, if that was the case, why didn't he save himself Damon was beyond him. Why would they leave him alone… he couldn't understand.

When his latest creation – Garlemald – turned out to be the biggest disappointment of them all, in but one generation showing the signs of decay… he went into his slumber just to be woken up barely a few years later by Lahabrea's demise. Somewhat shocked by it – after hearing the explanation of the events leading up to it from Elidibus – with something almost like a long forgotten curiosity he took a peek at the mortal responsible for the destruction of the only one other truly Unsundered – and maybe a tiny part of his long, long dead heart trembled at the sight of Ares's face in its mortal, cat-like version.

It almost seemed like a sign – Hydealyn choosing for her latest Champion the reincarnation of his brother. And after that… and hearing from fragmented Themis of Logrif's efforts almost leading to the demise of the First – the plan in his mind started to take a new life.

The First Reflection – almost tumbled to Light and became as useless as earlier Thirteenth that fell to Darkness by their first, fumbling attempt of rejoining – and the balance had to be restored or the Source needed to be primed before it'll completely collapse. And while Elidibus – barely a shell of what he used to be, his memories as fragmented as the heart of the god he became a part of – set to prim the Source, Hades – maybe by chance spotting the Hydealyn's Champion on the First after feeling the disturbance brought about by him slaying one of the creatures mortals there called the Lightwarden – had a better idea.

As powerful as he was – a true prodigy, as Damon would call him with pride and shameless adoration – nothing but a Calamity-level amount of aether could… put him out of his misery. And if by chance him becoming a villain for Hydealyn's newest toy to face restored the balance – he hoped Elidibus would appreciate the irony. Though, considering the Emissary barely remembered his brother – despite once adoring and nearly worshipping Azem – he doubted that.

For him, Lahabrea's demise was the last straw… and a spark of hope. Despite the fact that he hated the Speaker – not only because he was the one that convinced Hythlodaeus to take part in summoning Zodiark, but also because Hephaistos once dared to insinuate that Ares used his gift to earn Damon's favor.

Hades knew that he wasn't the only one who thought that – after all not only the same-sex couples weren't that common back then but Damon's brilliance in manipulating aether into the creation of spells was a source of envy between their people. Between the two of them – with their innate skills – they were the force to reckon with. And their meeting was the source of rumors and jealousy. Only Hades, sharing his brother's ability to see souls, truly understood Ares's instant and boundless devotion to the cyan-eyed immortal.

Damon – for him a father and best friend – and near blinding beauty of his soul snagged his brother's heart at the first sight. Same as for him… Hythlodaeus. But he missed Ares's bravery… While his brother, according to Damon's recall, barely took a peek at him and shamelessly fell to his knees in front of the stunned immortal to beg his favor… Hades hesitated until it was too late and Hythlodaeus chose to play the hero.

And now, T'senri Tia, so far proving capable of containing the Light after slaying two Lightwardens, showed a promise of his final rest. All that was left for him was to observe and wait. And find out which of his brother reincarnation's friends he cared about enough to take the role of the prize able to provoke the Warrior into directing all that aether onto him.

So far, if he was tempted to take a guess – or a bet his 'father' used to so… love – he would pick one of the Scions. Maybe one of the twins, the female one.

He did realize whose reincarnation was the mysterious Crystal Exarch – whatever was his real name now, the color of his soul was unmistakable – but T'senri himself didn't seem aware. At least judging by his cold attitude toward his host he had a chance to witness.

He didn't know what the man hiding his face behind that cowl was planning or how did he manage to get the Crystal Tower of all things onto the First… but if someone in existence could achieve a feat like that, of course, it would be Damon's reincarnation. And as baffling as the density of his soul was… he couldn't help but be suspicious of what the mortal was scheming.

Drawn to each other as they were in their previous lives, he could only guess why this specific incarnation chose to hide from T'senri… But in the grand scheme of things it didn't matter to him – after all, it was his plot that will succeed.

Hades – now known as the Emet-Selch of the Convocation of Fourteen – was more than aware that he was born as the result of the wish of his brother. Ares's and his husband's impossible yearning for offspring of their own. Now, millennia later and beyond the destruction of their world – he thought it was only fitting for his brother's broken husk to be the one to put him out of his misery.

And finally, maybe he'll know peace.

Hearing the steps near – announcing the arrival of the mortals – Hades dropped his gaze and resumed his bored expression.

A week into his stay at Slitherbough, the 'night' found T'senri sitting near the Aetheryte of the small community of Nightblessed, numbly staring up at the eternal light peeking through the treetops.

While others settled for sleep a while ago, he felt… restless. And despite the fact that he knew that it was his longing for his lover and their bond was responsible for that – he almost… missed his Ascian's voice.

Ever since they entered Rak'tika Greatwood and soon after encountering Y'shtola, Ares pulled back deeper into his soul, taking his bond to Raha with him – and despite being warned about that and understanding the necessity… it hurt.

"Can't sleep, T'senri?" he heard behind him but didn't bother to look – more of feeling Y'shtola's presence. And as much as he knew and understood it wasn't her fault… he could only hide the hint of involuntary resentment for her behind his usual mask, grinning at her when she carefully settled on the bench next to him.

"Just… restless," he admitted, then shrugged slightly. "And can't wait until we can move on to the other part of the forest… and find the Lightwarden."

And he can return to the Crystarium and his lover.

"Tomorrow, hopefully," she smiled… though it didn't reach her aether-clouded eyes. And after accidentally eavesdropping on her chat with Urianger… he knew that she simply worried for him and the Light swelling in his soul, and he would love nothing more than assure her that he would be fine – but he couldn't, not without explaining how he knew that. "I've been meaning to ask you something, T'senri, if you don't mind?"

"Oh?" he raised his eyebrows slightly, stretching and crossing his legs at the ankles in front of him. "What is it, Shtola?"

"I overheard the girl… Minfilia, talk with Thancred earlier about your… apparent animosity toward our… mysterious host," she said carefully, and he stifled a flinch, not letting his expression even twitch. "Honestly, I was quite… relieved. Others seem to be maybe a bit too… trusting of Exarch. So far, I thought I'm the only one who found his behavior… suspicious. But to hear her call you, of all people, cold and resentful…"

"He is… mysterious," he said slowly, looking up toward the sky again and hoping she wouldn't notice the… fondness in his expression. "But I do think, he means well."

"Maybe…" she hummed, in his peripheral vision folding her hands in her lap and her eyes focused on his profile. "…but for who? As far as we know, he has an ulterior motive in bringing the Crystal Tower and us here. And though I can't argue with Urianger's vision… Or rather, we can't afford to doubt it… I find that persona… worth extreme caution. Not to mention that Ascian following you around…" she sighed, looking toward her folded hands with narrowed eyes. "…and your soul. This much Light… A normal person would already break… or worse, T'senri."

"Good thing I was never normal, then," he snarked and at her amused scoff sent her a meaningful wink.

"There you go with your… usual humor," she shook her head, then delicately placed her hand on his forearm. "Be careful, Senri."

"I always am, Mistress," he grinned his fake, goofy grin, wiggling his eyebrows meaningfully when she rolled her eyes with annoyance at his nickname for her.

Paired as they always were by rumors – maybe because both were Seekers of the Sun – he found it hilarious to call her that in public and have the others nearly… burst with speculations. Though he was pretty sure she had no idea about his preferences, Y'shtola somehow always knew that his jokes were just that – and he wasn't really interested in her, no matter how much others liked to imagine them together.

Honestly, until seeing her… usually delicate behavior around Runar, one of the Nightblessed, he wasn't even sure if she preferred males or females. He imagined that few were brave enough to approach the white-haired Seeker that way – the burn she delivered to Magnai's ego still made him want to howl with laughter – but somehow the gentle Hrothgar seemed like the perfect match for his friend… Even if their relationship seemed doomed – as eventually, they will have to go back to the Source.

He – though he still found the idea of it slightly… disturbing – was promised to keep his lover… or his soul, at least. After Ares's very matter-of-fact explanation of his deal with Ardbert, and assurance that Raha was aware of it – he did have to agree that leaving the Crystal Tower unattended on the First was a recipe for trouble. Especially if the immortals' plans assumed them stuffing it with Calamity-level amount of aether. Allagans caused enough harm with less by using it.

So once they were done here and his lover have no more use of his… skin – bound to the Tower as his body was – Ares promised him a way to take Raha's soul across the rift alongside the Scions and bought his… cooperation with the oath that his lover would be perfectly safe and able to fuse with his old body – locked away inside the Tower on the Source.

Safe and free to stay at his side. Which was the only price that could buy his acceptance of the fact that both of them will be… stuck as the vessels for the immortal souls of their original incarnations. And his help in 'saving' the Ascian they cared so much about – despite once swearing to wipe out all of them.

But Ares was correct in his assumption: Raha meant to him more than anything else in the world. More than his revenge or dedication to his title and task. He was everything and he would do more to keep him.

He knew the hell of being without him – and refused to repeat that ordeal. So let the Ascians play their games, as far as he was concerned and no matter what it would take, his lover was his first priority.

He gave and sacrificed enough for their world – parts of his soul, heart, and sanity to name but few – and never asked for anything in return… but his beautiful historian. And maybe once he was strong enough to let him go – but no more.

"Try to get some sleep, Senri," his friend said, shaking him out of his reverie and he blinked twice, smiling toward her a bit sheepishly when she stood up. "Tomorrow is going to be a long day. Goodnight," she added, heading toward her quarters.

"I will," he assured, knowing he was lying. "Goodnight," he turned his gaze toward the sky again, idly wondering if his lover would call him a sentimental idiot for his misery.

It was only a week… yet it felt like years. He had barely two days – two nights – to enjoy him. And after years of starving for his beautiful Raha and now knowing the wonder of being mated to him… He still somewhat resented Ares for interfering and keeping them apart since his arrival in the First. Yeah, he was hurt after Raha's reaction… And he didn't really understand the immortal's mysterious statement that he 'couldn't' bring him back without doing something he would like even less… But when he questioned it, Ares sounded especially… icy when he asked him to remember his return to the Rising Stones after Dragonsong War.

And T'senri honestly… couldn't.

Since the moment at that bridge in Ishgard when he turned around and understood why Heurchefant suddenly shoved him off his feet… everything was a blur of grief and fury. Then Ysale and… he got so lost, going forward on the pure adrenaline while feeling like he was watching his body move outside his will. The pure hatred and desire to make Thordan and his cronies pay twisted something inside him into something… unrecognizable.

Then, once the first time in two years he set his foot inside his old bedroom and saw his… nest and the only things he had left of his lover – thankfully untouched – the certainty that Raha would hate what he became – the true Weapon of Light – shattered his mind.

After that… it got fuzzy. Until he woke out of this… nightmare a few days later in a different bedroom in the compound and with a burning… resentment to even near his old room's door. Even walking by it made him uncomfortable and though he didn't understand that – under his mask, T'senri was a creature of instincts and something inside him feared the fuzzy memory of the last time he entered that door. So even his inborn curiosity couldn't break through the instinctive need to survive – and go back to his task.

To make a better world for his historian to wake up to. A world where when the beautiful crimson eyes will open again, he would be safe and happy. That once he thinks back to the time they spent together – when he saw the best and the worst of his soul, and yet loved and accepted him – his Raha would know his heart and his devotion. That no matter how long it would take – he was his everything, his love, and his reason to go on.

And despite the longing, he felt for him now… T'senri smiled toward the unnaturally bright sky above him – because despite everything, knowing he was there and he will see him again once they're done in this Twelve-forsaken forest… was enough to make his heart sing.

"I miss you," he breathed, closing his eyes.

Focus, Damon snapped, clearly losing his patience.

"I'm sorry," G'raha sighed, grimacing at the… mess his distraction caused.

As yet another crystal burst into the dust of aether, while he was moping – he could barely find anything for his defense against his passenger's growing irritation.

It's fine, Raha, the immortal said after a moment with an audible sigh. I know you're miserable… and it is a difficult task in itself. Maybe you should take a break? It's been days since you left this room.

Normally he would protest – more than aware of the stakes. But he was honestly… exhausted, both physically and emotionally. And trying to create the crystals capable of containing and carrying souls across the rift while using the shards of the Tower was… draining.

"Maybe you're right," he sighed, rubbing his normal hand across his face. His eyes burned and he felt like he was going to collapse soon… Which was bound to make it all even more pointless.

Or at least that's how it felt when crystal after crystal burst like a summer dream. And a part of him grew… more apprehensive about the whole thing.

Go, Damon whispered soothingly. Maybe a few bells of rest will work to make you more… optimistic.

G'raha chuckled sheepishly, then sighed again and left the practice room near the bottom of the Tower, then almost snorted at himself and his… sentimentality as almost unconsciously his feet carried him right at the door of the room containing Senri's… their nest.

But as tired as he was… he discarded the pretense and ignored Damon's quiet chuckle, then headed inside and unceremoniously disrobed and dropped into the nest with a tiny, relieved sigh when his lover's lingering scent surrounded him. He pulled a massive, incredibly soft blanket around himself – a new addition to his… project he almost shyly procured after Senri's party left, maybe a bit uncertain if his lover would like it – but the material and color reminded him of the uncanny silk of Warrior's inky-black hair.

You know, as cute as it is, Damon hummed with consideration after he closed his eyes, making G'raha scowl involuntarily. You know I can read your thoughts and heart, Raha. Pretending you don't miss him as much as you do… only makes it worse. So why torture yourself instead of admitting that?

"I don't want to seem so… needy," he murmured, feeling a furious blush hit his face as he buried it in one of the pillows.

Needy? Nonsense, the immortal scoffed.

"It's just been a bit over a week," he whispered shamefully. "And look at me, I'm… freaking out like a lovesick… kit."

Mortals, Damon sighed with resignation and he almost chuckled at the mental image of his passenger rolling his eyes at him. If he was inclined to admit that out loud… he kind of started to like him. Aww, I do like you too, Raha.

Oh, fuck…

That earned him a peal of laughter rolling through his head – which wasn't unpleasant and had his lips tilt into a weak smile.

But my point stands, the immortal inside him continued after a moment. Admitting you miss him… doesn't make you weak or needy.

"Do you miss Ares?" he asked involuntarily.

Of course, Damon chuckled. Every moment of every day when we are not together – always did and I always will.

G'raha scoffed at his smug tone, then buried his face deeper into the pillow.

And admitting that doesn't make me feel any less brilliant or powerful, an image of his own face – distinctively Hyur-like and with unnaturally bright, cyan eyes appeared under his closed eyelids and granted him a bright, smug grin.

"That's how you looked?" he asked, maybe a little… freaked out about their obvious… similarity.

Mhmm, Damon grinned at him… then the image melted away into the darkness. I know where your uncertainty comes from, Raha, he added, his voice suddenly sounding much more… gentle. But if Senri is anything like Ares in that regard – and I am getting a pretty good impression that he is – you have nothing to worry about. He won't see your feelings as… needy or stifling. If anything… he's probably as miserable without you as you are without him, if not more.

"I don't want him to be… miserable," he lied uselessly, then curled into himself shamefully. He knew he shouldn't want it but…

It's okay, my boy, his immortal hummed reassuringly. After your… experiences, it's only natural. And you don't really want it, anyway… You just miss him. Having him for such a short moment after waiting for him so long… Believe me, I understand.

"I do," he admitted finally, pulling the blanket around himself tighter… and painfully missing his Warrior's heat against his back. His happy purrs against his neck and affectionate kisses… and especially the tight, possessive embrace of his muscular arms. "I miss him so much… it hurts."

And somehow admitting that made him feel… lighter.

See, that's not that hard, Damon chuckled fondly. Sleep, Raha. I'll wake you when it's time for your lesson with Ardbert.

"Fine, and… thank you," he sighed, then let go, falling into the nothingness of the dreamless slumber.