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His wife sleeps peacefully, her curled-up form cocooned by Hythlodaeus, his chest flush against her back and an arm around her midsection. Hades would leave their bed to wear out the storm of his thoughts elsewhere, to keep from disrupting their much-needed rest, but Hekate has him pinned, his hand clasped within hers; a habit that was formed so long ago he cannot remember the circumstances that gave rise to it.
He does not understand how they slumber so well after their conversation that evening. It has been but two days since Hekate returned from her travels in the South, and yesterday Azem had presented her report to the convocation, and then today…
“I think… I think I would like to have a child.”
How calmly she'd said it! As though such a matter was a simple as deciding upon what flowers she wished to grow in their garden.
(Perhaps that was a poor comparison. That decision had taken her weeks, and he and Hythlodaeus have been forced to give away plants in a regular basis as Hekate keeps bringing new ones from her travels)
Considering the length of their marriage and the depth of their union, her request should not have come as a surprise. No one would blink an eye were they to have a child. Lahabrea had certainly not waited as long as they have before Erichthoneus came along.
Their apartment was large enough to accommodate a child. Even with Hekate’s need to travel for her work, they could provide stability. Any child would be blessed indeed to have Hythodaeus’ kindness and Hekate’s joy.
But what would he provide? What could he provide?
Hades knew what people said of him. They thought him to be cold, reserved, incapable of emotion. They thought him clever, found his abilities useful, knew him to be dedicated to his duty.
He is well-suited to matters regarding the wellbeing of the star. But a child?
He tries to imagine a little one running around. Pictures Hythodaeus patiently reading a story each night as he tucked them into bed. Hekate carrying the babe and swinging them around, laughing as they explored new places and things.
And he…
He could teach the child, yes. Impart all that he knew to them (if they wished it) and provide all the material things they would require. But what of affection? Emotional support? Love?
His chest tightens, and unconsciously, so does his grip upon Hekate’s hand.
“I was beginning to think you wouldn't call on me,” his wife’s amused, half-sleepy voice startles him. She pulls herself to sitting, bringing all the lamps in their room to a soft glow with a casual wave of her hand. Hythlodaeus, as playful as always, drapes himself across both their legs and stares up at his face.
Hades flushes beneath their scrutiny. “I cannot imagine what you mean.”
Hythlodaeus reaches up to pat his cheek. “We have been listening to you brood for hours now, beloved. What keeps you up so?”
He makes an irritable noise. “‘Tis nothing-”
“Hades, my love, I could all but feel your thoughts beating against my skin,” Hekate’s humor is softened with affection and a slightest bit of concern.
It is that concern that moves him to confess. “I cannot help but think of what you said earlier,” he keeps his gaze carefully averted from both of theirs, “It is not that I do not think you would be capable parents-”
“You doubt yourself,” she says softly, twining her fingers with his.
“Yes,” he forces himself to admit, grunting as Hythlodaeus shifts inelegantly to seat himself on Hades’ other side. As always, he is much calmed when he is surrounded by his loves, the racing of his head slowing to a calmer, steadier beat.
“There is no rush to decide, dearest,” his wife says, resting her head against his shoulder. “We have all the time in the world. And if you still remain uncomfortable at the thought, I will bring it up no more.”
“But you want-”
“I want to be with the both of you. That is what makes me happiest.”
“You should not have to give up your desires for my sake,” he huffs.
“Our greatest desire is you,” Hythlodaeus speaks, his tone so fond Hades’ cheeks pinken.
“If it is doubt that troubles you,” Hekate murmurs, “will you allow me to share the vision I have?”
He nods. She reaches across and links her hand with Hythlodaeus so that the three of them are connected, and opens her mind.
The flashing images are overwhelming at the start, but they soon slow and then finally settle into a scene. He holds their child, pacing up and down the length of their room, singing with such love as he rocks the babe to sleep. Hades is shocked by the softness of this dream version of him, how gently and reverentially he carries their child, how carefully he places them into their crib, lingering by their side to watch them slumber before weaving together strands of aether so their dreams will be sweet.
The image dissipates to let another form in its wake – he and Hythlodaeus with their child between them, each holding on to a hand. They babble excitedly as they walk along the garden path, both he and his husband stopping every so now and then so their child can satisfy their curiosity. The child lets go of Hythlodaeus, and turns to Hades, lifting both hands up in a wordless demand to be carried.
That twist in his chest returns.
A third image; the four of them by the shores of a sparkling cerulean sea. Hythlodaeus and Hekate are already in the water, laughing as they splash each other and are in turn splashed by their child. He stands in the sand, watching with a smile, until their child beckons him to join them.
He does so, without hesitation. Without complaint. Without care that his robes are soaked through by the end of their play, that his hair is covered in salt and sand. He presses his lips to his child’s cheek – it is soft, and warm, and oh, how much he loves this little being, this marvel of creation, this representation of the boundless, all-encompassing love he bears for his wife and his husband, and they for him…
Hades takes a long, shuddering breath as the vision slowly fades, gratified to see that Hythlodaeus is not unaffected.
“When the time comes,” Hekate’s voice is so very emotional, “you will be a wonderful father. Do not ever doubt that, my love.”
Hades says nothing, only burrows his head into the crook of her neck, wrapping his arms around her as though he will never let do. And here, now, at this moment… he has no intention of letting go.
The heavens burn.
“Hythlodaeus, please,” he cries out, struggling to catch his breath. It had taken him far too long to find his husband. “If you will not let me turn you from your decision, at least wait until Hekate arrives. If you leave now, she will never forgive herself.” And I will never forgive her, he does not add, but his husband knows him well.
“She has not abandoned us, beloved. She seeks to find a solution her way, as is her wont.”
His leash on his temper snaps. “This is not the time for her to wander the world! She should be here, with the convocation, performing her duty to this star!” He grabs hold of Hythlodaeus’ hands. “Please, dearest. Do not abandon us.”
“I am no fighter, Hades, as you know well.” Hythlodaeus cups his face; Hades leans into the touch. “I offer myself freely to allow those better and wiser than me to endure. I do this for us, beloved. For the child in that dream.”
Hades starts to sob, uncaring of who sees them. “Hythlodaeus,” he begs, “please, do not do this.”
“Emet-Selch has accepted my choice,” his husband reminds him, and never has Hades hated his seat more. Unwillingly he releases his hold on Hythlodaeus. “I will bring you back to us one day,” he promises. “For our family.”
His husband smiles, kisses his cheek, and turns to walk away. He does not look back.
The dream is dead.
Hades has nothing left in him, not anger, not sorrow, nothing but a deep, inky numbness as he carries Hekate’s body to the ustrinium. He lays his wife down upon the pyre, ignoring the weeping behind him.
He turns his head away as he sets it alight.
You lied to me, he thinks bitterly as he waits for the flames to consume her body. You said we had all the time in the world. We have always had our fights, but this… I will never forgive you for abandoning me. Never.
Solus cradles his son in his arms, unable to take his eyes off the precious perfection of the babe. Ten fingers, ten toes, healthy, ruddy cheeks. His eyes are golden, and his gaze pierces through Solus until he is certain the baby can see his soul.
He cannot believe how much he adores this child already.
He looks at Marcella, sweaty and exhausted, hair plastered to her scalp, brown eyes bright with tears of joy. His own happiness is bittersweet; this shard of Hekate might be a pale imitation of his wife; still, her soul is Hekate’s, and this child is theirs, but…
But Hythlodaeus is not here.
“What shall we call him?” Marcella asks, her voice hoarse and raspy.
You are my light in this blighted world, little one.
His own voice holds the tears he will not shed. Strokes the downy hair with trembling fingers. Does not fight the hope that swells within his breast. “Lucius.”
“Lucius yae Galvus,” Marcella smiles tiredly, looking up at him and their son as though they are her whole world. “A fine name.”
Happiness does not last.
Of course it does not.
Their son has not yet reached his tenth nameday when his wife is murdered – killed by a poisoned arrow meant for the child. How desperately she’d gripped his arm, blood burbling up her throat and flowing from the edges of her mouth as she pleaded with him to keep Lucius safe.
Once again, she has abandoned him.
But he did as she asked, as best as he could. Watched their son grow into a strong young man, a man he held no small amount of grudging respect for. Maybe this time, this time …
… things would be no different.
Solus stares impassively at the corpse of his son, returned to the Underworld before his time, taking his foolish hope with him.
In the end, they are all feeble, foolish, fragmented creatures, unworthy of this star, their presence a mockery of his brethren. He might have forgotten that for the briefest, most fleeting of moments, but never again.
Hades reunites with his hero at the shore of the aetherial sea. She is bruised, broken, battered in body and spirit, and he can understand her desire to sleep. For how many centuries had he wished the same for himself, yearned for someone to take away the yoke of his duty? At long last he is free, he is free and once more with his husband, and it is because of her. It has taken her many millenia, but she found a way to save their star – to save them.
She is not Hekate, nor will she ever be. Soon he will not be Hades, his husband will not be Hythlodaeus, and yet, the red string that binds their souls will remain. Neither he nor Hythlodaeus can join her in this lifetime – nor do they want to. The call of true slumber is a siren’s song, and he intends to follow it, secure in the knowledge that he will be reunited with his loves the next lifetime.
Were he a selfish man, Hades would not bar this shard of Hekate – this inheritor of Azem – from the Lifestream. They could be together as they slumbered, would remain together as the star gave them new purpose.
But she has suffered enough, and neither he nor Hythlodaeus wish for her to return to them so tormented. She deserves to live, to wander the world and see its wonders, to experience those parts of Azem’s duty that brought her the greatest joy. She deserves a life with love and laughter, to satiate all her heart desires before she returns to the aetherial sea. He will not deny her that, even if she cannot see it at the moment. And so he bids her to return to the land of the living, him and Hythlodaeus both, smiling and finally, finally at peace. There is no need to rush, he tells her, speaking the words from his heart.
We have all the time in the world.