#hythem

i think about them having a fun and relaxing time on the beach — no war, no duty, nothing to fear — way more often than i should

i have more screenshots planned for this little au but these were so fun i had to share them NOW

Though no longer enthralled by Darkness, Zodiark now long dead, Hades still avoids standing in the hot sun when he can. They arrive in Tulliyollal late in the afternoon, when the sun still beams far too brightly, and immediately it becomes clear that the world-threatening catastrophe he had set the Warrior of Light on the trail of has already been dealt with. The docks and city seem to be in a state of reconstruction, though people are as friendly as he remembers. Almost blindingly so, if he’s honest. 

He had only been to Tural once in the wake of the establishment of Tulliyollal, but he remembers his chest squeezing at the joy that radiated from the people around him. It had been familiar, even in the hollow faces of the creatures who had inherited his world, to the point that it had made him sick at the time.

It is much the same now — friendly grins and shallow eyes — but it’s hard to feel quite as upset with both of his hands occupied, fingers tangled through the fingers of the two halves of his heart, standing happily on either side of him. Andromeda drifts close to his side, half leaning on him on his right, while Hythlodaeus on his left tugs a little, eyes bright and wide as the brilliant grin pulling at his full lips.

Hades can feel the urge to smile, already twitching at the corners of his mouth, watching Hythlodaeus experience this new world for the first time. He’d been much the same in Sharlayan as they came up from the Sea (he is still grateful, begrudgingly, to the Forum for their discretion at providing them travel documents). The entire few days they spent preparing for their journey were spent trailing after his loves from sun up to long after sun down as Hythlodaeus insisted on seeing as much of the island as he could, neither Hades nor Andromeda willing to tell him no. Andromeda may have been the traveler among them, but Hythlodaeus is the only one who has not seen this world in the slightest. Hades has walked every inch of this world — of every version of the world, in every vain reflection — and Andromeda had kept a vigil over the pieces of her soul from her place in the Sea, but Hythlodaeus?

To him, the Final Days had only just happened months ago. 

To him, this is all bright and shiny and new.

And it warms Hades’s cold, aching heart, watching the joy glitter in those pretty purple eyes of his.

Hades urges them to find their lodgings first, though the smell of street food seems to be enticing both of his companions. It makes him chuckle when they both pout at him, though they agree easily enough. He leads them towards the cabins near the edge of town, pleased to see that they’ve been unharmed by whatever carnage hit the city. The pier is long and stretches out into the bay, and he can only imagine the beautiful views the ones near the far end must have. 

The look of subdued shock on the attendant’s face when Andromeda requests a room for the three of them, “With one bed, if you don’t mind. We like to sleep all cuddled up when we can,” nearly makes him laugh. He has to turn away to keep from making a stupid noise, half burying his face in Hythlodaeus’s shoulder, though he still grins as Hythlodaeus giggles in response.

How he’d missed the sound of his laughter, truly…

They are directed to the farthest cabin — the biggest and most expensive, they’re told, but Andromeda is a master of her craft, and whatever payment exchanges hands is not nearly what the asking price was. Her hand returns to his in the next moment, shooting him a sweet grin that makes his stomach dip, leading the three of them towards the end of the long wooden pier. His loves make idle chatter as they walk, both of them swinging his hands in a way that distinctly reminds him of when they were children, though Andromeda had always been in the middle then. He dare not truly wonder what makes the two of them place him in the middle now — pity, perhaps — but he can’t find it in him to care all that much once they finally reach the door to their room.

The cabin is beautiful.

The room comes with a beautiful little dining area, a massive fluffy white bed, a beautiful seating area with a cozy looking couch in front of a bookshelf filled with books of some kind — and it is missing a wall on the far end, the whole room opening straight onto the sea.

Hythlodaeus gasps at the sight, grinning as he reaches for Andromeda to pull her along, clearly planning to go look out at the deck, but Hades follows close behind with a scowl, clicking his tongue as he pushes at his sleeves.

“Are they out of their minds?” he asks, brushing past his darlings to lift his hand and, with the snap of his fingers, a sheer wall of magic forms, closing off the room from pests as well as sealing the sound of their voices from prying ears — while leaving the view. “Honestly, the bugs alone would be a nightmare with this open wall concept! I have half a mind to go get some of our money back since we aren’t getting a full room.”

“Fussy,” is all Andromeda says as she breezes past him, laughing as she squeezes at the back of his neck as she passes, making him reflexively draw his shoulders up around his ears.

Rather than let her get away with it, Hades makes a split second decision to act on an impulse he’s had since they were young. Fast as lightning, he snatches her by the waist, reeling her back in, fingers dancing over her sides until she is shrieking with laughter and then, to punctuate his punishment, he blows a loud raspberry into the side of her neck — which earns him a squeaking, “Hadeeees!!”

Andromeda twists and squirms in his grip, laughing that full, loud laugh he’s missed so much, and it’s not long before he’s joining her. Hythlodaeus stands a few feet away as well, giggling into his hand as he watches them — and his eyes are warm with affection when Hades catches his gaze. Hythlodaeus’s face softens even more as Hades grins at him, settling with his arms around Andromeda’s waist to hold her close and swaying gently, as if he hadn’t just been rough-housing with her like an unruly youth. 

Andromeda chuckles, sliding one hand into his hair as she turns her head to kiss his cheek before attempting to extrapolate herself from his grip — only to laugh when he just tightens his hold, curling around her as he uses the flick of his wrist to reel Hythlodaeus in as well. Hythlodaeus laughs as he stumbles into Hades, humming contentedly when Hades just catches him by the jaw and pulls him in for a kiss.

“Where do you two think you’re going, hmm? The door is closed and we are finally alone for the first time in weeks…”

He’ll never get tired, he thinks, of being caught in a group embrace with the two of them. His loves exchange an amused glance at his expense, sliding their arms around him and each other. As Hythlodaeus rests his forehead against Hades’s temple, Andromeda presses up on her toes to nip at the underside of his jaw.

“Are you not the one who claimed to be exhausted, Hades?” Hythlodaeus murmurs, raking a hand through Hades’s hair, scratching a little in a way that makes him want to shiver. 

On his other side, Andromeda hums, kissing her way down the column of his throat. 

“He certainly was,” she breathes, hot breath washing over his collarbone. “It would seem that was all a ruse, though. He just wanted to get us out of our pants.”

Many, many years ago, he might have gotten flustered by that. The old Hades would have shoved them both away and made any excuse to make himself seem more in control than he really, truly is.

Now, though, all he does is shrug lightly, smirking with his eyes fixated on Hythlodaeus’s mouth as each of his hands slip into the back pocket of both of his lovers. He uses this grip to tug them both closer by the hips, a little rougher than they were expecting, judging by the way their breaths hitch in unison.

“Can’t hide anything from you two, can I? No point in denying it now.”

Andromeda giggles, nuzzling under his jaw. “You could try. It was always funny when you did.”

“Bold words for someone still in tickling distance,” Hades comments, pinching her hip and grinning at the way she squirms in his grasp. Before she can make another witty retort, he dips his head to catch her lips with his, nipping at her lip as he does. He only manages to kiss her for a moment, before Hythlodaeus is sneaking a hand up the side of his neck, tilting his head so that he can kiss Hades instead.

What bliss, he thinks, to have you both in my arms. To know the taste of your lips and the shape of your smiles.

If this is a dream, Hades can only hope he never wakes.

The sun is sitting low on the horizon when they finally begin to stir again. His body aches, but in such a pleasant way that he can’t bring himself to complain, sprawled as he is across the giant bed between his lovers. He’d ended up with his head on Hythlodaeus’s chest some time ago, and as he runs his fingers through Hades’s hair, Hades is struggling to find the will to move, lulled to stillness by the gentle caress and the steady thrum of Hythlodaeus’s heart beneath his ribs. 

He’s half dozing when the woman on his other side sits up, sighing contentedly as she stretches her arms over her head (his eyes are drawn to the curve of her spine and the plump, heavy weight of her bare breasts as she does). He reaches for her as she moves to stand, and she pauses, smiling as she lets him tangle his fingers through hers.

“Where are you going?” Hades asks, voice a little hoarse as he lifts her fingers to his mouth and kisses them.

Andromeda giggles. “I’m hungry. Thought I’d go find us something to eat and bring it back here so you two could have a nap.”

Hades’s hand tightens around hers, tensing at the thought of her leaving his side. It’s not as if they haven’t been apart — briefly — since they came back, but…

“I’ll be right back, love,” she says, laughing as she leans over to kiss him. “The restaurant I saw is just up the beach.”

“Then we can all go,” he says, pushing himself up. His lovers exchange a look that makes him tense, but he shrugs it off, sliding down the bed to start trying to find his clothes from earlier.

“Hades, you’re tired. Stay here and relax.”

Hythlodaeus this time, running a hand up his spine. Though it makes him shiver a little, he shrugs him off as he makes a grab for his discarded pants.

“I’m fine. Let’s go to dinner together. After all, is not part of the fun of a vacation meant to be spending it together?”

He waits, but neither of them answer even as he pulls his shirt back over his head. When he turns to shoot them an expectant look, he finds them looking at each other. For a moment, as they have their silent conversation, he blinks and their forms become transparent — silvery, wispy, the feeble illusion of an addled mind succumbing to grief — and then she looks at him and everything snaps back into focus. Andromeda seems to sense his unease, if the way her smile does not reach her eyes says anything, but she nods anyway.

“Alright. We’ll go together.”

They take one of the farthest tables, out near the surf, where the sand is cool and the torchlight reaches them only enough to barely illuminate the menus. Hades lets himself soak in the sea breeze — cool and salty and humid, a welcome change from the chill of Garlemald or the Light-addled sky of the First. Hythlodaeus pours over the menu with the excitement of a child, and it makes him smile as he rests his head on his hand, watching Andromeda explain the flavors and tastes to him whenever he asks. So engrossed is he in watching Hythlodaeus laugh about one of the kitschy dish names that he nearly startles when Andromeda’s fingers tangle through his, sliding across the table to hold his free hand where it had been idly tapping the wood.

Silver eyes, sharp as a blade, find his, a subtle quirk to her eyebrow all he needs to know she can tell he’s somewhere else. He doesn’t know what to say or how to reassure her — doesn’t even truly know how to reassure himself — though he opens his mouth to make an attempt when something bright lights up the entire shoreline, followed by a noise that makes him flinch. Fireworks, he realizes, but it’s too late for his mind, because when he next opens his eyes—

A world, ablaze. Crumbling. Aether lighting the sky before him as Hythlodaeus turns and offers him one final wave. And then—

The sky, burning with light brighter than the falling stars littering the Earth. His eyes catch on it, the final burst of a dying flame, and the color of it—a shimmering white, interlaced with every color, so familiar, so beautiful—

He remembers murmuring her name. Remembers as Zodiark began to form, he let the aether pull his body away, towards that familiar signature, that wayward soul…

He’d found her on a platform overlooking the star, covered in her own blood. The rock at their feet scorched until it turned a shimmering white, like glass, as if striving to match the soul that had caused the flare.

The mask of Azem lay a few feet away from her limp hand. In her final act, she had taken up the mantle one last time — and with her very soul, she had put an end to that final, misbegotten fiend.

“Hades, beloved, can you hear us?”

He comes back to the present with a strangled gasp, coughing a little when it hurts his throat. His lovers — his Andromeda, his Hythlodaeus — have moved to be on either side of him, each of them with one hand on his back. His eyes dart between them, and he knows he must look frantic, can feel the way his breath comes quick and shallow, before he manages to shake some of the fear away. Clearing his throat, he straightens in his seat, reaching for the fruity cocktail Andromeda had ordered him when they first sat down in an attempt to help ease his heart rate. 

“I’m alright,” he murmurs at length, clearing his throat one more time for good measure. He doesn’t look at either of them as he continues, “I was simply… caught. In a memory.”

“Ah.”

Andromeda sounds unsurprised, and he’s grateful, knowing that she knows so much — that she can guess without pressing. Her hand cards through his hair and he leans into it, risking a glance at her to find…

…empathy. She understands, better than anyone he’d wager, what sort of memory he was trapped in.

“Is there anything we can do to help?” Hythlodaeus asks, leaning against Hades’s arm. There’s a slight tremor in his voice that draws Hades’s eyes to him. Hythlodaeus meets his gaze with a tiny smile, though it does nothing to mask the emotions roiling in those pretty purple irises.

Confusion. Worry. Heartache. Longing. Hesitance. Guilt.

…guilt?

Wishing to belay his fears, whatever they might be, Hades offers him a small smile, covering Hythlodaeus hand on his arm with one of his own. “I’m alright now,” he says, running his thumb across the peaks and valleys of Hythlodaeus’s knuckles. “The memory has passed.”

Hythlodaeus only frowns more. “And if it comes back?”

Hades snorts softly, leaning in even more, slumping on the table a little. “Well, then you had best not leave my side. Either of you. Having you here is the surest way to pry me from the jaws of times long past.”

Hythlodaeus looks unconvinced, and Hades snorts, leaning in to press a lingering kiss to his boyfriend’s frowning lips. Distantly, Hades remembers how often he’d thought about doing just this, in those final days. How often he’d talked himself out of it, knowing that his two best friends were in love with each other, and the last thing they needed at the end of all things was for him to shove a wedge between them.

As Hythlodaeus sighs softly into his mouth, tilting his head to deepen the kiss just a little, he thinks about how silly that had been. 

They’d always been a trio, the three of them. It makes sense for him to be included in the deepening of the relationship.

When he pulls away, the worry is still there in Hythlodaeus’s eyes, but it’s smaller now, weaker in the wake of the affection burning in them. Hades can feel himself grinning, stupid and clearly infatuated, and Hythlodaeus looks away, biting his lip as his cheeks flush a rosy pink.

Cute…

“I love you,” Hades says softly, raising his hand to gently brush some of Hythlodaeus’s hair from his eyes. 

Hythlodaeus ducks his head, eyes on his hands where they are folded on the table. It surprises him, still, how shy Hythlodaeus can get. He’d always expected him to be more confident — though, Andromeda had shared as much once, he remembers distantly. A thousand thousand lifetimes ago, she’d told Hades how unsure of himself Hythlodaeus was, how shy and sweet and surprised by her affection he’d been.

He hopes that someday Hythlodaeus won’t be surprised anymore.

“I love you, too,” Hythlodaeus says at length, clearing his throat a little. He risks a glance at Hades, before looking away to the woman on the other side of the table. “I love both of you. More than I think there are words to express.”

When Hades follows his gaze, he finds Andromeda with chin resting in her hands, watching the two of them with such a hopelessly lovestruck expression that even he feels his ears begin to burn. She grins at them both as she says, “I’ve loved you both since we were kids, I think. I’m so unbelievably happy that I get to have both of you. That I don’t have to choose — it would break my heart into a million pieces to have to pick between you, I think.” As both he and Hythlodaeus grin at her, she laughs and asks, “Do you remember our first kiss? When we were kids?”

That makes both men laugh, and Hades slides down in his chair a little, chuckling and rubbing at his eyes. He remembers it very well.

It’s a silly thing to be upset about, truly, but Hades is struggling to remember that as he watches Hythlodaeus and Andromeda sit under the blossoming cherry tree, holding hands and leaning toward each other with intent. A strange, ugly emotion writhes just beneath his ribs as he huffs loudly and grumbles, “That’s not fair,” under his breath.

It startles him when one of them answers him.

“What’s not fair, Hades?”

He stiffens, arms still crossed as he shoots a half-panicked look at Andromeda. She is still sitting next to Hythlodaeus, still holding his hand, but she’s peeking at him curiously — and so is Hythlodaeus, concern etched into his features. 

Oops.

“I — nothing! It’s just — you two get to have your first kiss together, but I won’t get to have mine. You’ll have something together that — that I won’t have with you anymore. It’s not fair.”

That explanation feels wrong as he says it, but he doesn’t know what the right answer is. All he knows is that his ears and face burn and his chest feels full to bursting with… something. Something mean and angry.

Again, he doesn’t expect what happens next.

Andromeda thinks for only a moment, before she says, “Okay!”

He raises an eyebrow, glaring at her. “…okay?”

He nearly starts scurrying away when she clambers over to sit in front of him, Hythlodaeus following not too far behind. Both of them stop on their knees in front of him, and he leans farther back against the trunk of the tree as he eyes them suspiciously.

“…what?”

Hythlodaeus, at least, seems a little confused, too, because he looks at Andromeda expectantly. She shrugs and smiles, grabbing Hythlodaeus’s hand and holding her free hand out to Hades in offering.

“You’re right. It seems silly to exclude you. We’re all best friends, after all.”

Cautiously, he places his hand in hers. “So?”

Tugging so that he has to come closer, she offers him a bright grin. “So we’ll all be each other's' first kiss!”

He blinks. 

Hythlodaeus laughs. “Will that even work? Won’t it be silly?”

Andromeda just shrugs, shuffling closer to Hades and urging Hythlodaeus to follow. “Nah. I think it makes perfect sense. We all three love each other, and we’re all three best friends. Why would only two of us get to be each other’s first kiss? Hades is right — it’s not fair to him.”

It had been silly, looking back, but it is one of his most favorite memories. The nervous flutter of butterflies in his stomach — the tickle of his best friends’ breath when they both giggled against his lips — the lingering tingling on his lips when they both pulled away, giggling and blushing. He remembers that he’d been almost angrily flustered, covering his mouth and glaring at the ground as his whole face burned.

Ah, youth.

“Remind me how it went again?” Hades says, smiling sweetly at his girlfriend, who just laughs. 

“Gladly,” she murmurs, reaching out to curl her fingers under Hythlodaeus’s chin, nudging him closer until they can all three meet in the middle. 

It’s easier now, with years of experience between them. They all know how to kiss now, so it isn’t nearly as stiff and uncomfortable, though it is still a little silly. It’s not quite as perfect as kissing one of them at a time, but it doesn’t matter, the alcohol in his system making him feel a little less inclined to care about PDA as his lips press against theirs over and over again, until he is grinning too much to continue. 

When the kiss breaks and they return to their seats, his chest is lighter. Andromeda reaches for his hand again as Hythlodaeus spreads the menu out in front of him, leaning forward to continue his debate with Andromeda about what funnily named meal to get as if nothing had happened, only this time, with his calf pressed against Hades’s under the table, he’s including both of them in his discussion.