At first Emet-Selch wonders if he has somehow slipped back within the Rift. Memories flood his mind: brief snatches of skylines and architecture he's never seen before, the blur of strangers' faces, the distant shouts of battle. It's a relief when the deluge begins to slow to a trickle, when the cacophony is replaced with the sound of wings strumming against the currents of a beautiful cloudless day. His mood, too, begins to lift - but these emotions aren't his. They belong to another, to an identity he cannot quite guess at. At least, not until the helical arches that mark the entryway to his favorite park at last come into view, one unassuming but tucked away conveniently close to the Capitol. And then an all-too familiar face, though one which he has never quite witnessed in this way before...
For it is himself, Hades, who greets them, and there is a name which follows the dutiful and wholly predictable reprimand over his guest's frustrating lack of punctuality.
Byleth.
In answer to that scolding, he can feel the warmth within his breast swell fondly.
* * *
Surely this can be nothing but a fever dream? After all, there is simply no way that he and they could stroll through these gardens together, hand-in-hand, with seemingly no care in the world and no concept of time.
Yet there is something about it all which isn't quite as strange as it should be, and he recalls a conversation, not too long past:
'To give it brutal simplicity - we were in love. Those versions of us were. I am trying to parse his feelings from my own, but it is proving difficult as I experienced those memories as if I had lived them myself.'
Back then, he had vehemently denied Byleth's claim, yet there is no denying the way that Hades slows his stride so that they can easily keep up with him, nor the comforting presence of his hand over theirs.
* * *
This scene does not go on forever, however. There are others.
He feels the care as Byleth leads Dimitri back to the monastery, offering his presence where he cannot provide immediate answers so that this would-be king will not suffer alone.
He feels the desperation and unshakeable stubbornness as Byleth uses Divine Pulse to rewind time over and over and over, heedless of the exhaustion building within his limbs and mind. There is no other option. For his students, for those he cares for, he would do this over a million times until the desired outcome comes to pass.
He feels... the loneliness. The fear. The gratitude. It's all so personal, things which are surely meant to remain private, things he never knew to ask the man about himself and certainly would not know how precisely to broach now. It's ironic, in a way. A fickle stroke of karma. Is this how Byleth felt when he absorbed the memories of the other Byleth, from back within the Amani Simulation? When he became privy to information that had not been granted him willingly?
* * *
Emet-Selch wouldn't go so far as to call it a novelty to witness such an intimate act in this way, but the experience is now his. He watches the flutter of Hades's eyelids, heavy with desire yet refusing to slide entirely closed. It isn't from a lack of trust, he knows. Hades watches him because he wants to see his reaction, wants to see every flicker and flash of pleasure and affection as Byleth makes love to him. He needn't...feel the twitch of the cock buried deep inside him nor the way Hades moves in time with the rocking of Byleth's hips to know that the man is utterly smitten, that he is relishing every moment; that they have done this before.
Byleth seems to know what he likes already, isn't the least bit timid when it comes to handling him, either, nor to demand that Hades take his own pleasure even though he has already reached his conclusion. He watches himself let go, a sloppy, spent mess beneath them, his face flushed in euphoria, a low, inelegant moan escaping him as those words of praise tickle his ears.
By Creation, how long has it been since someone last spoke to him in that way, since he even allowed someone so close, since he freely indulged in the needs of the flesh and the yearnings of his broken heart? As unlikely and impossible as it all seems... he is, perhaps, beginning to understand how these two people might have found each other. Why this Hades may have delayed his final rest.
* * *
It's all really too much to wrap his head around properly, however, especially now when it feels as if it's about the split in twain, the sharp stabbing sensation burrowing further and further into his mind, until even these lofty visions begin to run together like wet paint.
Hades doesn't know where he is, nor how long it's been, nor whether it's even been any time at all. A distressed growl escapes him, an echoing rumble as the effects of having his brain tampered with begin to breach even his high tolerance for pain. A single wet trail mars the obsidian scales of his cheek as he tries and fails to stir, the sliver of his eye little more than a vacant golden stare.
A voice rings in his head before he goes under again:
'In the face of learning that I was doomed to immortality, and my fear of losing those around me to time while the centuries wore on, you vowed to stay with me until I was satisfied, and then to grant me a gentle repose alongside you. You knew the dreadful reality of time and loneliness, and you showed me the greatest compassion.'
Who said those words? Why would be know anything at all about something so dreadful? Try as he might, he is never alone for long! Always with the teasing and inconveniences, always someone or something to deny him a few peaceful moments to himself.
nsfw;
For it is himself, Hades, who greets them, and there is a name which follows the dutiful and wholly predictable reprimand over his guest's frustrating lack of punctuality.
Byleth.
In answer to that scolding, he can feel the warmth within his breast swell fondly.
Surely this can be nothing but a fever dream? After all, there is simply no way that he and they could stroll through these gardens together, hand-in-hand, with seemingly no care in the world and no concept of time.
Yet there is something about it all which isn't quite as strange as it should be, and he recalls a conversation, not too long past:
'To give it brutal simplicity - we were in love. Those versions of us were. I am trying to parse his feelings from my own, but it is proving difficult as I experienced those memories as if I had lived them myself.'
Back then, he had vehemently denied Byleth's claim, yet there is no denying the way that Hades slows his stride so that they can easily keep up with him, nor the comforting presence of his hand over theirs.
This scene does not go on forever, however. There are others.
He feels the care as Byleth leads Dimitri back to the monastery, offering his presence where he cannot provide immediate answers so that this would-be king will not suffer alone.
He feels the desperation and unshakeable stubbornness as Byleth uses Divine Pulse to rewind time over and over and over, heedless of the exhaustion building within his limbs and mind. There is no other option. For his students, for those he cares for, he would do this over a million times until the desired outcome comes to pass.
He feels... the loneliness. The fear. The gratitude. It's all so personal, things which are surely meant to remain private, things he never knew to ask the man about himself and certainly would not know how precisely to broach now. It's ironic, in a way. A fickle stroke of karma. Is this how Byleth felt when he absorbed the memories of the other Byleth, from back within the Amani Simulation? When he became privy to information that had not been granted him willingly?
Emet-Selch wouldn't go so far as to call it a novelty to witness such an intimate act in this way, but the experience is now his. He watches the flutter of Hades's eyelids, heavy with desire yet refusing to slide entirely closed. It isn't from a lack of trust, he knows. Hades watches him because he wants to see his reaction, wants to see every flicker and flash of pleasure and affection as Byleth makes love to him. He needn't...feel the twitch of the cock buried deep inside him nor the way Hades moves in time with the rocking of Byleth's hips to know that the man is utterly smitten, that he is relishing every moment; that they have done this before.
Byleth seems to know what he likes already, isn't the least bit timid when it comes to handling him, either, nor to demand that Hades take his own pleasure even though he has already reached his conclusion. He watches himself let go, a sloppy, spent mess beneath them, his face flushed in euphoria, a low, inelegant moan escaping him as those words of praise tickle his ears.
By Creation, how long has it been since someone last spoke to him in that way, since he even allowed someone so close, since he freely indulged in the needs of the flesh and the yearnings of his broken heart? As unlikely and impossible as it all seems... he is, perhaps, beginning to understand how these two people might have found each other. Why this Hades may have delayed his final rest.
It's all really too much to wrap his head around properly, however, especially now when it feels as if it's about the split in twain, the sharp stabbing sensation burrowing further and further into his mind, until even these lofty visions begin to run together like wet paint.
Hades doesn't know where he is, nor how long it's been, nor whether it's even been any time at all. A distressed growl escapes him, an echoing rumble as the effects of having his brain tampered with begin to breach even his high tolerance for pain. A single wet trail mars the obsidian scales of his cheek as he tries and fails to stir, the sliver of his eye little more than a vacant golden stare.
A voice rings in his head before he goes under again:
'In the face of learning that I was doomed to immortality, and my fear of losing those around me to time while the centuries wore on, you vowed to stay with me until I was satisfied, and then to grant me a gentle repose alongside you. You knew the dreadful reality of time and loneliness, and you showed me the greatest compassion.'
Who said those words? Why would be know anything at all about something so dreadful? Try as he might, he is never alone for long! Always with the teasing and inconveniences, always someone or something to deny him a few peaceful moments to himself.
Yes? ...No?
He can no longer remember at present.