Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Shattered Dreams ❯ Chapter 58: Interlude ( Chapter 58 )

Big thanks to all the readers and reviewers! I hope you enjoy!

 

Chapter 58: Interlude

 

[1100 years ago]

 

The banks of the Cocytus River never ceased to amaze Baal. He often spent his time reclined on the sandy shore, staring out at the glittering waters and allowing his mind to wander. Today was no exception. His duties for the day complete and having no significant other, the God of Heavens had nothing better to do than sit back and relax.

 

“Baal!”

 

Or at least that was what he had intended.

 

He loved his friend, truly he did, but sometimes Balaam chose the wrong moments to interrupt his solitude. Currently, this was one of them.

 

Dark purple eyes slowly slid open, shifting to his right as he took in the state of his oldest and truest friend, the patron deity of chaos. Biting back a sigh, Baal forced himself into a sitting position, his wings straining and stretching behind him to resituate themselves.

 

“I was under the impression that Sylph wanted you by her side today,” Baal commented as Balaam sank to a seat beside him, captivating dark eyes almost glowing with enthusiasm and happiness.

 

Much like the other deities of Elysium, Balaam was quite handsome. He was tall with a muscular build, amber skin, and incredibly long and white hair that drifted to his hips, and his features were pixyish, belying his sometimes fierce demeanor.

 

Balaam grinned, revealing a fanged mouth. “Psh. Females have been giving birth for ages without our help.”

 

Yes, he dearly loved his friend.

 

A wry smile tugged at the corner of Baal's lips. “She ordered you to leave,” he teased, remembering Sylph's anger. She was a goddess not to be trifled with, not that Balaam didn't enjoy pushing her to her limits. It was how their relationship thrived. The God of Chaos and the Queen of Seduction, an odd combination, but the love they shared was evident to all.

 

Balaam waved a hand of dismissal, turning his head to gaze out over the silently rushing waters. “Something like that. She'll be fine. Isis is with her, and as much as Hephaestion irritates me, he does his job well.”

 

“Oh?” Baal raised a brow. “This is news to me. When has the God of Healing been remanded to `the list?'”

 

`The List' was often a joke between them. True to his nature, excluding Baal himself and Sylph of course, Balaam's favor could be rather fickle and chaotic. The chaos in him more or less demanded that his nature always be disordered.

Balaam snorted and scowled in the same motion, shooting his friend a glare. “Don't be condescending,” he growled. “Hephaestion has been preaching too much lately. It irks me.”

 

The gravity deity frowned as he pulled one knee up to his chest, casually slinging an arm over it. “Preaching?”

 

His companion nodded, contemplating his next words. “Have you ever wondered what it would be like to live as a mortal?”

 

Baal's jaw dropped in surprise. He certainly had not expected that to come out of his friend's mouth. If there was one thing Baal was certain of, it was that Balaam enjoyed being a deity and that he was rather fond of his power. Despite having the chaotic element locked in his body and the stigma of the dark forces swirling about him from the others, Balaam generally enjoyed his godhood.

 

“Where did that come from?”

 

The other male shrugged, an attempt at nonchalance that failed miserably. “They are so… careless,” he commented with a frown. It was not quite the word he had been looking for. “Without power, shortened lives, yet essentially still happy. Limitless. Free.”

 

“Free? It's not as if we are caged, Balaam.” Baal's brow furrowed in confusion.

 

“Perhaps not by visible bars or chains, no,” he insisted, voice suddenly beginning to become alive with passion, enough so that Baal turned towards him in shock, taking in the changing emotions on his friend's face. “But we are forced to follow rules, limited in what we can and can't do. We have all this power but are not free to do whatever we please with it.”

 

“Since it is power,” Baal insisted. “Can you imagine the chaos that would result if those around us used these gifts without restraint.” He paused as he realized what he had said. These concepts were not altogether new to him. Balaam had often hinted that he was dissatisfied with the amount of control he was given, but never before had the other male referred to it as a loss of freedom. It made Baal distinctly uncomfortable, and he hoped beyond hoping that his friend was not considering something drastic.

 

Balaam growled. “I thought that you of all people would understand. You cannot tell me that there aren't times when you feel trapped.”

 

Baal shook his head. “If Kami-sama wanted us to freely use our gifts without discretion, he would have deemed it so. With great power comes a certain measure of responsibility, and there are limitations involved with that.”

 

“You didn't answer my question.”

 

The winged male sighed, his gaze falling to the pristine sand beneath him as he considered his friend's query. He wouldn't lie; it was beyond him.

 

“Yes,” he admitted softly. “There have been times but nothing more than that.”

 

Balaam exhaled harshly, clearly frustrated. Still, his face softened, recognizing the difficult position he had put his friend in. He raked a clawed hand through his hair as he struggled to put a damper on his swirling emotions.

 

“Apologies, dear friend, I only meant to explain.”

 

Baal inclined his head. “I know, Balaam. Am I to assume that your irritation with your brother is due to this… matter?”

 

His companion nodded, folding his arms behind his head as he reclined, dark gaze locked on the sky. “He heard me discussing it with Azamat before he proceeded to go on a tirade about Kami's will and our purpose as demi-deities. `Demi, brother, demi. We are not full gods, remember this,'” Balaam mocked with a slight sneer.

 

Baal bit back a sigh, fully prepared to respond when he was interrupted by what might have been called a clarion cry.

 

“The Undertaker! The God of the Underworld has been born!” The cry rose up from the land around them, echoing from the voice of the many as the birth of Balaam's son was announced. A grin, one of a father, took over the slightly manic expression that had begun to scare Baal.

 

Balaam turned to his companion and literally leapt to his feet. “My son,” he said proudly. “Erebus. Come, Baal. Let's go meet him.”

 

The other male eyed his companion for a moment, faintly disturbed by all that he had heard, but the eagerness in his friend's words could not be misheard. He was truly interested as well, looking forward to playing the “uncle” for Erebus, so he nodded his head, accepting the offered claw and was pulled to his feet, quickly turning towards Balaam's home.

 

- - -

 

“What are you thinking?”

 

Baal snapped from his recollections with a subtle blinking of his eyes. His gaze followed the voice, finding Erebus standing just behind him, concern etched into his features. It didn't matter that the underworld deity was one of the few unusually good at concealing his emotions. Baal could always tell what he was thinking or feeling. He had known the younger deity for years enough, raised him as his own. It was not difficult.

 

The winged male smiled as he turned back towards his contemplation of the river. It always brought back memories. Ones that, though tainted now by his friends deeds, he would never be able to let go. They were of happier times, better times, or so he wanted to believe.

 

Erebus plopped down beside him with all the grace of one having lived for centuries. His eyes studied his companion carefully.

 

“Memories,” Baal answered simply, unable to help another smile.

 

“You were thinking of Balaam,” Erebus commented after watching for a moment.

 

The other deity raised a brow. “Oh? And what makes you say that.”

 

“You only look that when you're thinking of father… or when Orthrus and you have argued, and as Orthrus seems perfectly happy at the moment, that only leaves him.” The younger demi-god paused and turned his gaze on the Cocytus River. “This was where father was on the day I was born.”

 

The gravity god nodded. “Hai. Your mother was highly upset by his presence, or so I was told.”

 

Erebus laughed lightly, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “Mother does have a… way about her.”

 

“That's putting it lightly,” Baal said with amusement, but he frowned soon afterwards. He and Sylph gradually drifted apart as friends after a time. Where they had been close for Balaam's sake, it had faded away once that link was broken. Ironically, Erebus had slowly drifted from her as well. Perhaps he was too much a reminder of his father. Baal couldn't really say.

 

“Is she still keeping to her neutral stance?” the gravity deity questioned.

 

Erebus inclined his head, drawing one leg up to his chest so that he could rest one arm on it. “Mother clings to the rules because she doesn't know anything else. It's beyond her comprehension to think outside the box.” He exhaled softly. “She's angry with me since I chose to fight.”

 

“Sylph fears for your life.”

 

The underworld deity shook his head, the black spikes atop his head waving with the movement. “There is that,” he admitted, “but I think it is more because she has been listening too closely to that bitch's whispers.”

 

Baal mused on this. Bitch? Was he…

 

“You mean, Chimaera?” Erebus didn't even need to answer, the slight smirk at the corner of his mouth was evidence enough for Baal, and he groaned. “Erebus…”

 

“I know.” The younger deity held up a hand. “Respect for your elders.” He scowled. “But if she keeps telling mother that I'm going to betray everyone just like my father, I might have to disappoint you.”

 

Betrayal.

 

Baal winced. He hated that word; it reminded him too much of his own deeds.

 

“She's not worth it,” he admonished. “Chimaera's still pissed about something that happened centuries ago.”

 

Erebus shook his head, voice lowering. “She has a right to be angry. She lost her husband in that war.”

 

“That doesn't give her the right to speak ill of you, Erebus.”

 

The underworld deity sighed and waved a hand of dismissal. “Change the subject; this is a tired argument.”

 

Baal pursed his lips but didn't say anything, and a comfortable silence fell between them. A single glance at Erebus told Baal all he needed to know. The younger demi-deity was obviously troubled by something, and Baal didn't even need him to explain. It was a tragedy and a shame that things occurred the way they had. Erebus had never even gotten to make his own choices in the matter.

 

Baal had chosen to betray Balaam for the both of them.

 

- - -

 

[1000 years ago]

 

“You cannot be serious!” Baal exclaimed in shock. “You are talking about war, Balaam! There's nothing to be gained from it!”

 

Dark eyes narrowed from where Balaam was sitting on the ground of the small, enclosed forest, carefully tending to the needs of his young son. The child gurgled happily, seemingly transfixed by the toy clutched in large, clawed fingers. Strong hands, Baal knew; the hands of a father… something he would never know for himself.

 

“You are wrong,” Balaam claimed. “There is everything to gain. I'm tired, Baal, of those lowly mortals being granted more than I, more than us. We are the favored.”

 

The other adult gritted his teeth, his wings twitching irritably against his back. “There will be mass death. Do you want that on your conscience? Mortal and immortal alike, for this war will involve the others.” His purple gaze shifted to the dark-haired child. “Are you going to put Erebus' life at stake for this folly?”

 

“My son will be safe!” Balaam snapped. “I'd never allow harm to my own child! But even then, perhaps some sacrifices are justified.” Tiny hands curled around his finger as his son smiled up at him lovingly. Erebus knew nothing of the task his father was about to attempt, but he loved him all the same. That was all that mattered to Balaam.

 

“He needs his mother,” insisted Baal, changing tactics. “Erebus is still very much an infant. He--"

 

But the chaos deity interrupted him before he could even finish. “What do you know? You haven't even a wife, much less a child of your own!”

 

That stung, and Baal winced, even if it was his choice to not marry a female. He had not told anyone his secret, not even his closest friend, and he kept it that way. No one could ever know, so he suffered with his life of solitude.

 

His shoulders drooped as he sighed. “Balaam--"

 

Yet, the words weren't even out of his mouth before the chaos deity continued spitefully, perhaps the disorder within him disrupting his rational thought patterns once more. “That always bothered me. Why you chose to spend your time with me rather than chase after your own woman? Is it because of Sylph?” Dark eyes narrowed, as if in sudden understanding, and Balaam bared his teeth. “Were you after her this entire time?”

 

Baal's eyes widened in surprise, feeling as if he had been shot through the gut. “I love you, Erebus, and Sylph like my own flesh and blood!” he shot back, completely aghast at the insinuation. “Don't you ever accuse me of that again!”

 

Chagrin bloomed in Balaam's face as his gaze softened, dark eyes regaining a burst of clarity. “My apologies, my friend, but I am troubled. Please, I want you by my side. I need you to support me in this.”

 

Faced with those words and that expression, Baal no longer had the energy to argue. He silently nodded his acceptance, but inwardly, he made up his mind, more for Erebus' sake than his own. Sylph missed her son, and as much as he loved his friend, he knew that Balaam was wrong in this. He could not be his support. Even though he agreed with much of what Balaam desired, the chaos deity was going about it completely the wrong way. Violence and war, bloodshed… things he could not live with.

 

It was the dead of night when Baal made his move, for once using his gifts for his own purpose. Manipulating the gravity around him, he formed a portal that would allow him to transverse dimensions, and he eased his way into Balaam's tent.(1) He allowed himself only a brief glance of regret before going through with the hardest decision he had ever made.

 

Baal took a deep breath as he silently padded his way to the small crib. Erebus was asleep beneath the blankets, cuddled up close to the stuffed rabbit toy from earlier. The smallest of smiles graced the gravity deity's face as he reached inside and gently cradled the child in his arms. However, it was quickly chased away by his uneasy guilt. He couldn't help but feel like a traitor, feel like he was committing a crime worse than inciting a war.

 

Thankfully, Erebus didn't stir in his arms, lost to sleep and perhaps the happy dreams of the innocent. And for the briefest of moments Baal reconsidered, teetering on betrayal to his friend and doing what he thought was right. Yet, it passed as quickly as it came, and he reaffirmed in his mind that for Erebus' sake, he would risk the stain on his conscience.

 

With that in mind, Baal summoned up more of his energy for a portal and stepped out of the mortal world with his friend none the wiser.

 

- - -

 

The winged deity sighed softly as the memory faded within his mind. That had been one of the hardest decisions he had ever made, and not a day went by when he didn't questioned himself. What sort of friend could he claim to be and still do that to someone? Take his son, run away into the dead of night, abandoning him? And he claimed to love Balaam.

 

Sometimes, he despised himself for that.

 

But looking at the younger deity sitting next to him, silently staring at the flowing waters, a small amount of justification rose in him. Baal would never have children, but he would always consider Erebus to be his own. For one thousand years, he had been watching over the boy, teaching him and helping him mature in his powers. When his father could not be there, Baal made sure he was always present.

 

And he knew that Erebus never blamed him. He never regretted Baal's actions even if the gravity deity did himself.

 

The other deities, the “faithful”, were not so forgiving.

 

Upon his return to Elysium, after turning his back on his best friend and stealing his son away, Baal hadn't been granted a reprieve. The “faithful” had already branded him a traitor for leaving in the first place and didn't trust his convenient return. Erebus had been returned to his mother, and Baal had been locked away in solitary confinement for most of the war.

 

Even now, he wasn't surprised by the actions of the others. After all, his closest friend was the one who began the war, and Baal himself held a dark element, which many of the other deities wrongly perceived to an evil element. It took much arguing by his own father, Seiryu, and the elder Gilgamesh before Baal had been allowed out of confinement. He had been tentatively allowed to take part in the war.

 

Still, their distrust of him had never really faded afterwards, and when Balaam first began making his move again, they had started watching the gravity deity once more. And not because they believed he would join Balaam, but rather because they suspected Baal would break the rules by trying to interfere with the mortals and stop the insane Dr. Hojo. So he had quickly found himself watching everything he said or did, half afraid that any moment he would be confined once more.

 

It didn't help that in his moment of weakness he had admitted his most precious secret to the wrong person. After that, the others never saw him the same anymore. His only saving grace had been Erebus. The now fatherless deity had looked up to him as a parent, and Baal had been more than honored to accept the task. In effect, he had raised Erebus as the son he should have had… were Baal to ever someday become heterosexual.

 

One thousand years past, homosexuality had literally been unheard of, not that it had been frowned upon or necessarily ruled against, but it had been a topic that never came up. Even now, they didn't fault him for preferring the affections of the same sex… only whom he had chosen to love.

 

“--really be something serious.” Erebus' voice cut through Baal's thoughts, causing the winged deity to blink and regard his adopted son apologetically.

 

“I'm sorry, Erebus. What were you saying?”

 

The younger male smiled faintly, though the gesture didn't quite reach his eyes. “I asked whether or not you were ready for the coming battle. But then you didn't answer I could only assume you were thinking about something serious.”

 

“I should be asking you the same thing.” Baal eyed Erebus with the all-seeing expression of a parent for their child. “Are you prepared to have to face your father on the battlefield?”

 

“He's not my father,” Erebus insisted softly. “Just a donor. You are in all that matters.”

 

As much as the confession warmed Baal's heart, it inwardly made him flinch. The same feelings of betrayal welled up inside him once more, memories flashing by like reflections of a mirror in the sunlight.

 

[990 years ago]

 

The battle, the war, it was over. The mortals had suffered many losses, and even the deities had lost someone dear to them. The traitors had been defeated and captured on the field of battle just moments before. Cries of victory would have been bittersweet, so instead, they were all silent. Mournful… respectful of those fallen.

 

Baal knew all of this as he shoved himself through the crowd of anima and animus gathered around the defeated deities on the mortal plane. His heart thudded in his chest, knowing he would be laying his eyes on his former best friend for the first time since leaving with Erebus. Baal had not been permitted to fight him directly, one of the stipulations behind allowing him to fight at all.

 

Ahead, he could see the bright red of Gilgamesh's cloak and knew that just beyond was the fallen chaos deity. Shoving past Shamash, who scowled at him, Baal's heart leapt into his throat as he was brought up beside the elder deity. And dark eyes, lined with anger and defeat, immediately locked onto him.

 

“You bastard,” Balaam growled, interrupting whatever rant Seiryu was currently speaking. Silence fell among the crowd as all eyes were drawn to the two former friends. “You traitorous bastard,” he hissed as his face twisted with fury, eyes flashing.

 

Baal felt himself go white at the pure hatred reflected on the chaos deity's gaze. “Balaam--" he managed to force enough air into his lungs to say that but was immediately interrupted, anything else turning to ash in his mouth.

 

“Don't you say my name!” Balaam screamed, straining forward against the magical chains that bound him. “You stole my son from me! My son! I will never forgive you!” His body jerked forward, trying to attack Baal, though he couldn't do more than move a few inches. Instead, his hatred and rage burned, plain for all to see. “You were like a brother to me, bastard! I will hate you until the end of my days for your treachery!”

 

With every word, Baal could feel himself growing cold, lifeless. Guilt settled within him so strong that it stole his breath. He knew that Balaam would be angry with him, but this revile, this repugnance was too much for him to bear. He had dared to hope that his friend would understand, that Balaam would see why he had chosen the way he had. But no… this loathing, it made his stomach clench, and he had to fight the urge to vomit. And still, Balaam didn't stop.

 

“They can't keep me locked up forever!” the chaos spat deity, struggling even harder at his bonds as Baal inadvertently took a step backwards. “You're just like them, hypocrite! Traitor!”

 

- - -

 

The words kept echoing long after they had been spoken. Balaam had only been allowed to rant for a few seconds more before Raidne finally cast a sleep on him. But by then, Baal was already gone, running as far away from the pain as he could. No one chased after him, not that he expected they would. Balaam had been his closest friend, and he wasn't particularly endeared to his siblings. As for his parents, well, he knew they had their hands full with the judgment. He was left to handle it on his own.

 

Baal swallowed down the lump in his throat. He was even more of a traitor than Balaam even knew. Erebus didn't even recognize his father. Baal had taken that place in his heart. But what else could he do?

 

“You shouldn't say that,” Baal finally commented with a shake of his head. “Despite his actions, he's still your father.”

 

Erebus scowled, anger beginning to break out on his features. “I'll say it because it's true,” he pointed out a bit frostily. “You were the one there for the greater part of eight centuries. You were the one who helped when mother was ill, and you were the one who taught me how to accept my growing powers. And where was he?” The younger male sneered. “Locked in a glass ball because he wanted a war.”

 

Baal sighed. “It wasn't necessarily war that your father wanted.”

 

“Stop defending him! I know what he wanted. Freedom! I get it. Hell, every one of us has looked for it in one place or another, but there's a difference between him and us: we wouldn't kill to get it. The mortals never even stood a chance, Baal. I've heard the stories. You told me yourself that he thought war was the only way to get the `faithful' to understand.”

 

“I should have never told you that.”

 

Hands clenched at the underworld deity's side. “Why not? It's the truth.”

 

“He's your father,” Baal insisted. “I can't stress that enough.”

 

Erebus didn't understand how much he both loved and hated it every time he was called “Father” or “Dad”. It pained him to gain such a gift; after all, he only had to betray his closest friend. Did that make him any better than the others?

 

Golden eyes narrowed. “I see,” he said lowly, voice chilly enough to freeze hell ten times over. “While I considered you a father to me, I was mistaken in thinking I was a son to you.”

 

Baal paled. “That's not true,” he protested.

 

“Then stop! He made his choices, and you made yours. I don't blame you for what happened centuries ago, and you need to quit brooding over the past! He's not worth it.”

 

The winged deity was chagrined to have been chastised by his own son, but he allowed a faint smile to take over his face. “You are right,” he admitted after a moment, the words causing Erebus to relax. “When did you become wiser than me?”

 

“I've always been smarter.” Erebus smirked.

 

Baal grinned, a true smile this time, as he reached over and ruffled the black spikes of his son's hair. It always annoyed the underworld deity when he did that, but it was an affectionate gesture.

 

“Perhaps so,” he commented.

 

“You should do that more often,” the younger deity responded as he stood, a wistful expression on his face. He shook his head to straighten out his mussed hair.

 

The winged deity tilted his head to the side in confusion. “What?”

 

Erebus looked down at him. “Smile,” he replied. “Grandfather said you used to be quite the comedian… before the war.” He shrugged as he shifted his gaze away from his adopted father and towards some unknown object on the horizon. “Don't worry about me. When the time comes, I'll take down Balaam.”

 

And with that, he brushed off his robes with his thin fingers and departed from the shore, leaving his adopted father behind. Unexpectedly melancholy, Erebus knew the exact place to look for a little cheer and made up his mind to head in that general direction. With any luck, he would run into Orthrus as well and be able to direct the much older deity towards Baal. It was high time that he stopped brooding about the past.

 

With a somewhat cheery twinkle of the air, Erebus quickly transported himself to Orthrus' home, the small island Erytheia. Currently, only the God of Magic and his wayward daughter, the cheerful Asclepius, lived there. After the end of his marriage, Raidne had departed to her ancestral home, Anthemusa, not that it was much of a defeat. There was no love lost between Orthrus and his former wife, especially not after the way she had treated her only daughter.

 

Erebus materialized in the gardens just outside of Orthrus' home. He sorely missed being able to do that, losing his teleportation abilities on Gaia. Within Elysium, it was a wonderful ability.

 

He was about to begin his search for Asclepius, but before he could react, he attacked by a laughing bundle of energy. He toppled to the ground, cloak entangling in his legs as the thing atop him giggled. His hands vaguely registered soft, silky clothing and the brief scent of some type of healing herb.

 

“Erebus!”

 

“Asclepius,” he managed to grunt out, most of the wind knocked from him. “Don't you have a normal method of greeting people?”

 

Scarlet eyes peered down at him as she smiled. “Nope. I prefer this way, yo!” She chortled again, seeming perfectly content to be perched on top of him, her hands pressed to his chest to hold him down. It was an awkward positioning, and despite himself, Erebus found he was blushing at her bold behavior.

 

“Asclepius,” another voice admonished from behind them, and Erebus craned his neck around, looking up at Orthrus. The older male was regarding his daughter in both amusement and exasperation. “It is rude to tackle our guests. You're too old for that.”

 

The demi-goddess chuckled and shook her head. “Erebus doesn't mind. Do you?” she questioned, giving him another one of those calming and genial grins.

 

Instead of agreeing, he groaned. “I think you broke a rib,” he complained, rubbing said rib with one hand as he cast a pleading look towards Orthrus. It wasn't that he minded having Asclepius near to him, but it was both undignified to be tackled to the ground and improper to be straddled by the younger female.

 

Her lips curled into a pout. “I'm not that heavy,” she responded with a wriggle that severely tested his restraint.

 

Erebus shook his head as he sat up, forcing the younger deity to slide into his lap as he did so. “No, you're not,” he replied. “But I doubt this is respectable,” he concluded, gently removing Asclepius from him. He actually liked her there, but the fact was, Orthrus stood directly over them. It left him feeling very awkward.

 

Asclepius exhaled in a huff. “You're no fun,” she complained, moving to extract herself from his lap and bouncing easily to her feet. She stuck out a hand to offer him some aid in rising, and he accepted it, recognizing the move as an apology.

 

“Where is Baal?” Orthrus questioned once Erebus had risen to his feet and brushed off his dirty robes.

 

At his question, the underworld deity sighed and raked a hand through his hair. “Dad is brooding again,” he replied with a pointed look towards the older deity. He knew that, while he could often pull Baal from one of his moods, it often took someone who had methods of persuasion. Ones that he was not going to utilize. Ever.

 

Orthrus nodded in understanding, frowning as he crossed his arms over his chest. “At the river, I assume?” They had all gotten used to Baal's bouts of depression and always knew, depending on where they found him, what he was brooding about. This time was no exception.

 

Asclepius frowned. “Maybe I should go cheer him up?” she asked.

 

Orthrus smiled, reaching out and ruffling his daughter's hair with a familiar show of fatherly affection. “No, I think this is a job for your father,” he claimed before shaking his head. “Thousands of years old, and he still broods like your anima, Erebus.”

 

The younger male grinned at that. “Don't I know it,” he responded, holding a hand to his forehead. “Between dad and Vincent, I don't know if I can handle any more self-loathing and self-pity. A deity might be threatened to go jump off a bridge himself, metaphorically speaking. Though, I will admit, the Host has been moving on more and more lately.”

 

“Oh?” the older deity inquired with a raised brow. “How so?”

 

“The same encouragement I expect you're about to go give dad, I suppose,” Erebus replied with a slight blush. He was a thousand years old, but in all regards, he was still young compared to most of the others. There were few younger than him, Asclepius included.

 

He fiddled with the black fabric of his robes as he continued; “The pilot has been good for him… well, for each other really. I found it's safer for my eyes and sanity if I be wary of when I decide to speak with him.”

 

Orthrus laughed out loud before attempting to restrain himself, covering his mouth with his hand and shooting his friend an amused glance. “You are still young,” he commented. “In time, it will not bother you at all.”

 

“I'm not bothered by it,” Erebus responded hastily, ignoring Asclepius' chortles beside him and fighting down the embarrassing burn of his abnormally pale cheeks.

 

Orthrus eyed him, still clearly entertained. “Very well then,” he stated, deftly changing the subject, “I suppose I had best go about my duties. I trust that you will behave, Asclepius?” He directed the last towards his daughter, attempting a stern look of reprimand. As usual, it was lost on her.

 

She giggled as her hand snapped up to her forehead, performing a fake salute. “Yes, sir!” she responded. “The house will be present and accounted for on your return, yo.”

 

The older deity shook his head at his daughter's antics before disappearing in a twinkling sparkle, assumedly heading towards the depressed Baal at the riverside.

 

“He didn't seem to mind leaving you here alone with me,” remarked Erebus before flopping back down to the grass with a sigh, relaxing comfortably against the spongy green. No matter how long he had known Orthrus, when it came to being around both father and daughter, he always had a hard time treading the line between propriety and ill-manners. And it wasn't like Asclepius made things any easier. If he didn't know better, he would say she was the daughter of the chaos deity and not himself. She seemed to thrive on creating hectic circumstances.

 

Asclepius laughed, bouncing down into a seated position beside him, though her hand came out to touch the golden-purple blossoms that seemed prevalent in her garden. “I think he worries more about me than you.”

 

Erebus snorted. “I wonder why,” he questioned rhetorically. “Ow!” He rubbed his shoulder where Asclepius had playfully punched him. She was cute and cuddly but also dangerously brawny when she wanted to be. Go figure that a healing deity would be so freakishly strong.

 

“Oh, shut up,” she murmured, leaning over him with a distinctly serious expression on her face. He knew what was coming, but no matter how many times she pressed her lips to his, he swore it was like the first. His eyes shuttered close as her scent, something bright and fruity, washed over him.

 

Strawberry… yes, that was it. Strawberry with a hint of vanilla.

 

Her lips worked slowly and softly against his, a wet tongue snaking out to tease at the seam of his mouth. He parted his lips beneath her direction, always willing to let her set the pace. Despite her behavior, Asclepius was far beyond a child, and he clearly remembered the day she had forced him to realize that. Her cheery nature hid a fierce disposition.

 

Their tongues danced and wove together, though the kiss went no further than that. Still, he reveled in her taste, like strawberry cake, before she pulled back with a definite lick to her slightly reddened lips.

 

“You're upset, too,” she commented, her face inches from his own, close enough that her breath ghosted across his mouth.

 

He smiled faintly. “Of course, I am; you stopped kissing me.”

 

Asclepius rolled her eyes, one hand brushing a few strands of hair off his forehead. “You haven't told Vincent about the council's decision yet, have you?”

 

Erebus sighed, eyes shifting towards the flowers off to the side. The shadow over his face disappeared as Asclepius leaned back, allowing the light to shine directly in his eyes.

 

“No,” he admitted. “I'm waiting for them to come to a better decision.”

 

“You know they won't.”

 

Golden eyes closed. “Is it wrong to actually want to help the mortals?” he asked softly. He heard the rustle of fabric before a warm weight settled on his belly, and he recognized the feeling as Asclepius using him as a pillow.

 

“Only you can decide that,” she responded, an unusual cautious tone to her voice.

 

Erebus chuckled lightly. “A perfectly neutral response. Orthrus has taught you well.”

 

“Well, I need no other reason for mother to be angry with me,” Asclepius replied. “It's best if I keep my opinions to myself, but for the record, I don't think it is. Wrong, I mean.”

 

The other deity scowled. “You needn't worry what your mother says,” he commented, eyes opening to stare at the endless blue sky above him.

 

“Erebus--"

 

“I know,” he amended. “We've been through this before.” He shifted, lifting his left arm and moving it so that it rested on Asclepius' head, and she purred under his touch. His finger brushed over a sensitive ear, and the younger demi-goddess practically squeaked.

 

He chuckled. “I don't think you'll ever grow out of that.”

 

Asclepius twisted up her head to look at him, sneering when she saw the playful look in his golden eyes. “Erebus,” she pouted. “That's not fair. You're not even ticklish at all.”

 

The underworld deity chuckled and settled back against the grass, closing his eyes to the lazy warmth of the sun and the calm atmosphere. A battle would be coming soon, fierce and destructive. He couldn't say if they would all come out alright; he didn't want to think of who would have to sacrifice themselves this time to stop his blood father. He just wanted to have a moment where he could forget.

 

“Erebus?”

 

“Shh,” he hushed her. “Just let me have this,” he whispered.

 

She stirred against his belly, turning on her side and laying a soothing hand on him, just above her head. Her warmth was a comfort, and her feelings for him, though still nurturing, something he also took consolation in.

 

“I'm here for you. You know that.” She hesitated. “Right?”

 

He smiled. “Yes, I know.”

 

* * *

(1) I don't know if this is possible. I didn't look it up or research it, so don't quote me or anything. Hell, it's magic in a Square-Enix game, just go with it.

 

Review before you go please! Thanks!