Chapter Text
They rarely get moments like the one they’re currently enjoying. Throughout her many lifetimes, Hades is not always present. He’s not always available to appear by her side, and she wishes those had been the worst of them. No, the worst lives are the ones where they need to fight the entire time, never getting a moment’s break. There is every likelihood that this life will become one of those, and Phoebe is soaking in as many of these stolen moments as she can before that time comes.
These are the lives she has doomed them to, and even if she did it all over again, she knows she’d make the same choice.
He’d appeared in her room earlier in the day, exhausted. Phoebe had taken one look at him, before divesting him of his clothes, shedding her own, and pulling him into bed, for nothing more than an afternoon’s rest in the arms of the one they love. She’d lured him to sleep with the sound of her heart, hands lightly scratching at his head and back, legs tangled. Eventually soothing herself to the feeling of him just being there, she’d slowly drifted off as well.
He’d woken her hours later to long slow kisses, unrushed.
The afternoon finds them relaxing in her room on the Source when Alisaie bursts in. She and Alisaie had gotten rather comfortable with each other during their time in Doma and on the Steppe, and it wouldn’t have been an issue if Hades wasn’t sitting next to her, idly flipping through a book.
“Phoebe, I was wondering if you - Phoebe, is that- is that who I think it is?” The young red mage breaks off mid-sentence, eyes focusing on the unexpected visitor.
“Shut the door, Alisaie,” Phoebe says, hand mid-way to the knife at her shin before she realizes who has burst in on them.
“But - who, uh, who is that?” Alisaie points at Hades, taking in the rather relaxed clothes he has on, eyes darting to the familiar purple robes of an Ascian nearby strewn across the floor of the room, Phoebe’s own intermixed between.
“Alisaie, door ,” she says again, but her fellow Scion continues to stare at Hades lounging on the bed.
“For Hydaelyn’s sake, Alisaie. Darling, the door, please?” Phoebe rolls her eyes, nudging the man next to her who had idly looked up at Alisaie’s initial entry. He hasn’t moved, but he also has not yet dismissed her entirely as a threat.
“Lazy,” he drawls, but he snaps his fingers nonetheless, firmly and quietly shutting the door behind the girl.
Phoebe attempts to gauge Alisaie’s mood, and fortunately, she looks more confused than angry. For all the twin is the quicker to jump to conclusions, she also trusts Phoebe more than nearly anyone else. “Alisaie, I know what this looks like-”
Alisaie shoots Phoebe an astonished look, cutting her off. “It looks like you’re in bed with an Ascian. An Ascian who, if my history books are correct, is also Solus zos Galvus, former Emperor of Garlemald.”
Phoebe huffs, turning to direct her attention from Alisaie to Hades. “I told you that you should’ve swapped vessels, dear,” she says, glaring at the man next to her.
“And end up like Lahabrea? I’ll thank you not.” Hades responds, snapping his book shut but making little effort to move. Phoebe ignores the pang that goes through her at the reminder of just how little sanity Lahabrea had left by the end and redoubles her glare toward her husband, who only holds her hand in response.
Alisaie’s eyes are now furiously looking between the both of them, impatient at the lack of an explanation. “Phoebe!”
“Right. Sorry. Alisaie, why don’t you have a seat.”
“Not until you explain to me why you are in bed with an Ascian! ” She’s now frantically pointing at the man next to her, as if perhaps Phoebe had just failed to notice who she is sitting with.
“Well, that’s rather an exaggeration. We are both fully clothed and sitting on the bed right now. If you wanted to see me in bed with the Ascian, you should’ve come earlier.”
“That’s - that’s not-” Phoebe sends Alisaie a grin like the cat who ate the canary, despite the girl turning nearly as red as a tomato. Embarrassing Alisaie is one of Phoebe’s favorite pastimes, closely tied with embarrassing the other Leveilleur twin. Alisaie is much harder to embarrass, and it merely pushes her to do it even more.
“You are going to break her, Phe, and I believe you told me this one was your favorite this time around,” Hades teases, taking pity on the elezen, fingers snapping to create a chair for her to sit in, who collapses into it gratefully.
“Thank you?” she says, still looking over at the Ascian with thinly veiled distrust. “Phoebe?”
“Oh fine. Alisaie, this is-” Phoebe breaks off momentarily, looking over at Hades. She’s not sure which name he wants to go by this time around.
“Emet-Selch,” he chimes in, a small smile on his face at Phoebe’s look of surprise. Emet-Selch isn’t exactly his true name, but it’s a truer name than she had expected him to give.
“This is Emet-Selch, my, for lack of a better term in today’s language, husband.” It is too small of a word. To compare the ‘Eternal Bonding’ they use in Eorzea to the Bonding in Amaurot is like comparing a common snake to Leviathan.
“You are… married to an Ascian?” Phoebe frowns at Alisaie’s use of the word, but she supposes it’s to be expected. By and large, the species of the Source today are mostly ignorant of the age that had come before their own.
“I am married to an Ancient, who for the last millennia has pretended to be an Ascian, yes.”
Alisaie’s eyes visible widen at her response. “An Ancient? And why pretend to be an Ascian? What do you mean by ‘in today’s language’?”
A long sigh escapes Phoebe. “This is a long story, Alisaie, and if I tell you, I need to know that I can trust you and that you won’t tell anyone just yet. Including Alphinaud. If you can’t do that, it’s better for you to just forget you ever saw anything. Emet-Selch risks a lot by doing what he does, and the fewer people that know, the safer he remains.”
“Aw, you do care,” Hades says, finally chiming in.
“Darling, not now,” Phoebe replies, resting her head on Hades’ shoulder, idly watching the elezen in front of her. She can feel the coiled tension from behind her that is Hades, despite his outwardly cavalier attitude. The hand around her waist is as much for comfort as it is to enable him to quickly remove them both from the room if he deems it necessary.
Alisaie is not quite panicking, but Phoebe can tell it’s a near thing. She can’t blame her, not really, she supposes. If she’d walked into Alisaie’s room to see her cuddling with Elidibus, she’d be concerned as well. Mostly because, as Phoebe would know, Elidibus is not a cuddler. She’s tried.
A brief look of hurt crosses Alisaie’s face, and it as much as the reply the follows confirms her decision, “I - you… you can trust me, Phoebe. You know that?”
She sends Alisaie a small smile, because she does trust Alisaie. They forged the bond they share first in Alexander and then in the long war in Doma. “I do, which is why you are still in this room, and not conveniently being made to forget the last hour.”
She forgives Alisaie for the brief look of fear and fury that crosses her face. It’s not every day one of your closest friends idly discusses erasing your memory.
“You can do that?” Alisaie asks, eyes narrowing.
“No, but Emet-Selch can, and while it is not pleasant to experience, it is better than some alternatives. I would never ask him to do so if it wasn’t necessary for his safety, or your own. As far as I’m aware,” Phoebe began, trailing off to look at Hades next to her, who shakes his head no in response, “he has never changed your memories.”
She likes Alisaie. Hades hadn’t been wrong when he’d said that she was her favorite. More than that, she believes she can trust Alisaie to know this. Alisaie reminds her so much of a friend she’d lost, it’s been impossible not to tell her everything.
“So you have changed someone’s memories,” Alisaie replies, eyeing Hades warily.
“Yes. T’was for their own good, as much as it was for my own,” Hades responds, tone clear that he has no intention of elaborating on the subject further.
Alisaie’s own response is on the tip of her tongue, but when her eyes flick to Phoebe’s, they soften at the pleading look on her face. A long moment passes before Alisaie waves her hands as if to say ‘fine, continue’.
Phoebe takes a deep breath, mouth pursing for a moment as she considers.
“How to begin… the simplest thing to explain is that I am also an Ancient, of sorts. Once upon a time, I was known by an unfamiliar name and guarded all life on the planet. That was my role for the Convocation of Amaurot, the city in which we lived. Emet-Selch also served on the convocation as the Architect, in charge of Creation Magic.”
Hades idly waves when he’s introduced, but otherwise seems momentarily content to let Phoebe do the talking.
“When we were young, we were introduced, bickered, and eventually fell in love. In the time of Amaurot, marriage was a much… lengthier thing, than it is today. It was a blending of your very core, of your souls. As such, when I died and was later reborn, it was a trivial thing for Hades to find me again. My ties to him have always resulted in… irregular rebirths for me. Typically, at a young age, I get flashes of memories. Slowly at first, and more as I get older. By the time I’ve reached eighteen, I usually remember all of my lives. It stretches into one long existence for me now.” She pauses to gauge how well Alisaie is doing and tosses a fond smile her husband’s way.
“So you’ve been married to him the entire time?” Alisaie looks vaguely dazed, but she has her typically determined look firmly on her face. Here is her Alisaie, Phoebe thinks, ever ready to jump headfirst into the next problem.
“We have been married for longer than it is even worth counting,” Phoebe replies with a shrug. Time is a strange concept for her, lives blurring together, leaving her scarcely able to tell one life from another.
“Thirty millennia, next decade,” Hades responds without hesitation.
Phoebe levels a glare at her husband, who at some point had decided that Alisaie wasn’t, in fact, a threat and has gone back to reading his book. “Is it really?”
“Yes,” he replies, merely turning the page. She knows it’s for dramatic effect, he’s already read the book a dozen times or more. She also resists the urge to tell him he’s reading it upside down. Insufferable man that he is, he does it on purpose occasionally just for the challenge, and her calling him out on it would just give him a chance to brag.
“Thirty millennia? ” Alisaie asks, voice escalating enough that Phoebe spares a glance at the surrounding walls, pleased when she notes they still bore the faint sheen of the silencing aether Hades must have used earlier.
“I do not use the term Ancient lightly. Amaurotine citizens did not die the way the mortal races do now, we simply… lived until we did not wish to anymore. Sometimes an accident would claim your physical form, but that was easily remedied with a clone of yourself.” She lets the moment stretch on, giving Alisaie a moment to process the words. Not everyone could accept the cavalier attitude they had had about physical bodies before the Sundering, but it had been a typical fact of life for them.
Phoebe had died enough that Hades had requested she keep two spare clones of herself at all times. Death was a common enough occurrence for her as the Azem. Her role as the Shepherd meant she spent much more of her time fighting than the common citizen, and certainly more of it than a certain lazy man who mostly got to sit at a desk approving concepts.
“So part of your bond was such that if that happened, you’d remain married?”
Phoebe considers her reply for a moment, but it’s essentially true, if not over-simplified. “Yes.”
“And why is he pretending to be an Ascian?” Alisaie is watching Hades now, no doubt taking in the fact that he isn’t even bothering to hold his book, he’s just floating it in front of him, leaving Phoebe to roll her eyes at how he’s still found a way to show-off.
“Emet-Selch has been pretending to be a tempered Ascian of Zodiark’s since before Hydaelyn initially defeated Zodiark, at my request.” She frowns, squeezing her hand in Hades’, confirming to herself that he’s there, even as she presses up further against him. “Without Emet-Selch running interference… let's just say things would be much worse.”
Alisaie lets out a deep sigh, but her eyes are bright with intrigue. “So he’s a spy?”
“Yes,” she laughs, because naturally, Alisaie would be on board for someone doing something dangerous, before she sighs and adds, “But, Alisaie, I need you to understand this, when , because it will happen eventually. W hen we run into Emet-Selch, he will not be kind. He will not be the overgrown house-cat you see in my room. He most likely will try to hurt us, because that is who he must pretend to be, and outside of these rooms, our relationship does not exist. ” The words break her heart to say, but they’re true. This will not be the first or the last life that they will clash in.
There’s a rustling beside her as Hades shifts, and the idle tone he uses belies the weight of his next sentence, “I believe I have come up with a plan to avoid that.”
“Have you now?” Phoebe replies, leaning forward and pulling the book out of the way so she can look at Hades.
“Alas, that is all I can say for now,” Hades responds, frowning at her abduction of his book. With a raise of his eyebrows and a snap of his fingers, it reappears in his hand.
“I hate you,” Phoebe responds with a pout, looking at her now-empty hands. Sometimes, she really misses having her own Creation magic.
“I know,” he says, giving her a cheshire grin.
Alisaie has slumped down in her chair, watching the two of them interact. “You two are definitely an old married couple. That fact is perhaps the most believable about anything you’ve told me so far.”
“Thank you?” Phoebe says, hesitantly, her words reminding her that Alisaie is still in the room with them as she looks back over at her friend. “Does that mean you believe me?”
She receives a tentative smile in response, but her reply calms the anxiety that has been rushing through her. “Yes, though I have something like a thousand more questions.”
Phoebe sends pleading eyes over at Hades. “Darling, please? You explain this so much better than I do.”
She gets an exasperated, resigned look in response, and a moment later he adds, “I expect to be rewarded for this later.” His reply has Phoebe sending him a devilish look.
Hades shakes his head, takes a deep breath, and launches into an explanation of Zodiark, Hydaelyn, and the fall of Amaurot.
Forty-five minutes and a mere dozen or two of questions from Alisaie later, the dazed elezen slowly makes her way out of the room, intent on returning to her own, burying her head under a pillow, and never coming out. At least, that’s what she tells them she’s going to do, and Phoebe considers the night a moderate success.
Hades had apparently decided mid-way through the conversation that Phoebe was just a giant pillow, and had taken to laying on her lap, even as he’d projected images of the shards and calamities from his hands.
She idly traces a hand through the white streak of hair, considering. “That could’ve gone worse.”
Hades huffs in response. “Considering you conspired to make sure it happened, I suppose so.”
“I have no idea what you mean. Lies,” she laughs in response, but looks down at Hades with thinly concealed anxiety.
“My dear Phoebe, if I had truly been concerned, you know I would have locked the door long before she could open it. You clearly left the door unlocked intentionally, and it inclined me to see where it would lead.”
His idle response doesn’t do justice to how much faith he has in her, leaving Phoebe to lean down to kiss him on the forehead, smiling softly as she admits, “I may have. With the Scions all falling ill, I needed to know someone was aware of everything you do for us, and I trust Alisaie.”
Hades stares at her for a moment, the pause long enough to bring back some of her anxiety. “If I told you I knew where your friends were going--”
“No. Don’t,” Phoebe says, finger pressing to his lips. “I’m terrified for them, but you would’ve told me the first time I asked if it was safe, and as much as I want to know, your safety will always be the most important to me, Darling.”
Hades bites on the finger covering his mouth, never content to be silenced for long, but when she pouts and holds it out for him to kiss it better, he does so with only a slight roll of his eyes.
“How long before you need to go?” she asks, hands reaching to cup the sides of his face, needing to touch him while she can. Already she feels her heart sinking, preparing to not see him again for months on end, if ever again during this lifetime.
He reaches up, pulling her closer at her words. “Never fear, my dear Warrior, this goodbye will not be for long. Still, tis a good thing I have just enough time for my reward .”