Chapter Text
The sensation of aether pulsing around him is what first rouses his from his slumber. He grumbles a bit to himself, rolling onto his side and burying his face in his pillow.
Vwoom. Vwoom. Vwoom.
Soft, rhythmic, accompanied by a low chime and, now that he is facing this direction, a soft white light, glowing and fading in tandem with the pulsating aether. He pries one of his eyes open, a headache beginning to throb in his temple — until he realizes what exactly it is that is making the disturbance. In the low light flooding in from the moonless night beyond his window, he can see the Sending Stone Azem made glowing faintly from the drawer of his sidetable, cracked open slightly from where he'd been looking for something earlier.
A thousand horrific scenarios immediately dance through his mind as he takes in the still dark night beyond the glass. Though she is far from Amaurot at this moment, across one of the seas to help with a struggling settlement, it should still be late where she is. She wouldn't call for no reason —
He scrambles for the crystal, fumbling, stomach dropping as he hurries to answer the incoming call.
"Azem? What's happened? Are you hurt? Do I need to—?"
"—Hades."
One word.
All it takes is one word, and he is brought to stillness once more.
Hesitantly, sinks back into his bed a little, cradling the crystal in his hand as if it were a tiny, fragile animal. The crystal is white, inlaid with gold, but if he lets his eyes unfocus, he can see the glimmer of her soul permeating the aether flowing through it. An aura of opal swirls and thrums within the white, flaring when she speaks again, and he watches it as his thumb idly runs along one of the sharply cut facets of the stone.
"I'm alright," she continues quietly.
Relieved, he sinks further into his bed, smirking a little at the stone as he says, "Have you any idea what time it is?"
A laugh. Shuffling, like she's shifting on a bed or a cot wherever she is, just like him.
"I know. I just… I couldn't sleep. I miss you."
It's almost embarrassing, the way his face begins to burn at those three little words. His stomach flips and bursts into a thousand fluttering wings — his brows furrow as he tries to desperately reign in his kneejerk reaction. He feels every bit the undignified youth he once was, flustered by every little thing she did for far longer than he would ever admit aloud. He is supposed to be better than this. Over this.
She doesn't mean me, he tells himself firmly. Us. She means us.
"Any reason in particular you called me rather than your partner?" he asks.
Hythlodaeus is home tonight. He'd seen him shuffle off to bed several hours ago, clutching a stuffed animal she had apparently had sent to him from her trip. There is no reason she should be calling him when Hythlodaeus has one of these stones as well.
More shuffling. A quiet little sigh.
"He's a heavy sleeper. I didn't want… I needed to hear your voice, you know? One of you."
A pause as his heartbeat pounds in his eardrums.
"I miss you, too, when I'm away, Hades. I always do."
The sigh that leaves his lips trembles as he pulls the crystal closer, cradling it as he presses his forehead to it. Since he had ascended to the office of Emet-Selch, she rarely said his true name. He would never admit that he misses it, to anyone, but he thinks perhaps she knows.
She only calls him Hades when she really wants him to listen to her. When she wants them to speak as they were, as only themselves.
Azem is not calling him tonight — Andromeda is.
The silence drags on for a moment, and he tries to imagine what she's doing on the other end. Perhaps she is in a similar position to him, curled on her side, alone and cradling the crystal to her chest. It makes him feel closer to her, even as he takes another deep breath, caressing the stone with his thumb (wishing it were the freckled apple of her cheek instead).
"You know," he begins, smiling wryly to himself, "this sort of decision is likely the reason at least half of the Convocation seems to think we're secretly bonded to one another."
A laugh, brighter now, lights up the crystal.
"Would it be so bad? Being bonded to each other?"
His heart aches.
Hades desperately wishes he could see her face. Wishes he could look into her eyes, could read her expression. He knows if he were to release the crystal, his fingers would tremble. For a moment, he allows himself to feel every ilm of the yearning he has been suppressing for years now. Allows himself to wish, not that it were him in her bed and not Hythlodaeus, but that it was simply him and Hythlodaeus in her bed.
He has not let himself think of this in some time — not since the latest spat his brother and his sister-in-law had regarding extramarital affairs had reached him through the grapevine — but for a moment, he wishes he were curled up in Hythlodaeus's room, that he could hold him or be held while listening to their Andromeda lament her homesickness.
Wishes that the deepening of their relationship had included him, too, selfish of a wish as that may be.
No, he wants to answer her. It wouldn't be bad. It would be beautiful. It would be everything.
"…thank you for answering. I'm sorry if I woke you."
Her voice is so soft — an almost guilty mumble.
He nuzzles the crystal as he replies, "I will always answer if you call, Andromeda. Always."
Another laugh.
"I know. It's one of the things I love most about you."
Warmth, bright and sweet, blossoms in his ribcage, burns at the tips of his ears. Laughing breathlessly, he lies, "Flattery will get you nowhere, my dear."
"Is it flattery if it's the truth?"
There are a number of things he wants to say, each of them more syrupy and disgusting than the last. Rather than give into the urge to say anything supremely embarrassing, he settles on a simple, "Come home soon?"
"Yes," comes her answer nearly immediately, breathy and soft. "I need to see you." She pauses, and then adds, "I should let you sleep."
He hums. "Make sure you get some rest as well. I'm sure you need it more than I do."
She chuckles. "Perhaps. Goodnight, Hades."
"…Goodnight."