“Oh please, you needed the exercise. I carried you here, in case you forgot!” He called this down as he circled lower, gliding until he landed into a trot. Hades couldn’t help himself; he sidled up to Prometheus and placed his head on top of Prometheus’ gently.

“I have an idea,” Hades said, his voice gentle on his throat. “What if we...make a nest here. For our child. Far away from Ishgard, from the evils of this world. We’ll just be surrounded by the nomads living in harmony with the lifestream.”

Hades had never thought of it like that... but the concept of a chance at a peaceful life was gripping, addicting. Why would he let his first chance at happiness slip through his fingers? Ever since he son, no. After... Solus’ son died. He shook off that dusty heap of sadness as he nuzzled Prometheus. Even if he was slicked with baras blood.