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Hythlodaeus, Chief of the Bureau of the Architect, didn’t believe in love at first sight.
It was an interesting concept, to be sure, but like countless others he’d vetted, it also possessed considerable room for improvement. As it was, he found it thoroughly unconvincing. After all, surely some deeper knowledge of the subject in question was necessary to formulate anything so profound and powerful as love. Whatever feelings or emotions were generated by sight alone might be both potent and positive, but that was physical attraction--romantic interest at best, and simple lust at worst. And neither was anything close to the same thing as true love. There was also no guarantee that those feelings would be mutual; and while unrequited love might be no less real, it was bittersweet and half-empty rather than wholly pleasant and satisfying.
But the moment that he introduced Hades to Azem, he suddenly found that once very comprehensive disbelief challenged.
The way her mouth fell open just slightly the first time Hades met her gaze directly was telling enough, but even more startling was the fact she had been rendered utterly speechless--a feat none had ever managed before, at least so far as he knew. There was something unexpected in the familiar curve of her smile as she looked up at the tall, white-haired man, a certain softening in the way her lips parted and pressed together as she spoke that Hythlodaeus had never seen before in all the time he’d known her. He’d never seen a soul suddenly brighten like that either, as if whatever inner fires fed it had suddenly received a veritable deluge of accelerant.
Nor was this reaction, this phenomenon, at all one-sided. Even beneath the mask he wore, Hythlodaeus could see the flush staining Hades’ cheeks, beginning at first as a delicate pink, shifting into a light scarlet, then finally blooming into a rich, deep crimson. Even the tops of his ears had gone red, an almost painfully dark vermilion. Even more unmistakable was the fact that his soul had flared up the same way as hers, almost simultaneously, in fact...
And as he noted a short while later how Hades’ sharp, golden eyes followed Azem’s every move as steadily as a flower turning its face to the sun, as well as how she couldn’t seem to resist flitting back over to the white-haired man’s side every so often like a wave crashing over a particularly stubborn rock...Hythlodaeus realized that perhaps he’d been wrong about love at first sight after all.
The idea that it would be Hades, of all people, who would change his mind about such a thing was endlessly amusing. Conversely, it wasn’t surprising at all that Azem would have been involved in such an upset; she seemed to derive a deep satisfaction from upending the status quo at every possible turn, which was another thing that made her interactions with the stiff and formal Hades ever a delight.
The love at first sight concept was soon less than relevant, however, because after that fateful introduction, it seemed as though the three of them were always running into each other. Sometimes Hythlodaeus had orchestrated these “chance” meetings himself, enjoying the spectacle that always resulted whenever stoic, sarcastic Hades spent any significant amount of time around ebullient, irrepressible Azem. And yet, he didn’t arrange all of their seemingly fortuitous encounters, of which there were still far more than seemed statistically probable.
(It was Azem, he presumed, and was very nearly certain of it. Hades would have sooner transformed in public than do anything so obvious...but though he complained loudly about the “bothersome company” he was made to keep, he never left outright or even early, often choosing to remain longer than planned, and beneath his grumbling, he always seemed eager enough to accept Hythlodaeus’s offered outings.)
That subtle eagerness and the way Hades looked after her for a telling extra moment whenever she walked away; the warmth (heat, really) in Azem’s gaze whenever she turned those bright, burning, laughing eyes up at their mutual friend, a glow in her expression that was not quite like any of the kaleidoscope of expressions she’d worn before. Hythlodaeus had seen those things easily--that was what he did, after all--and soon he’d seen more besides.
Such as how Hades went out of his way not to touch her, a distinction so subtle that she hadn’t noticed it herself...and not because he didn’t want to (he obviously did). No, Hades knew that the tenderness that had been in his touch, not to mention the way his hand had lingered the few times they had made physical contact, would give away his true feelings, should such incidents become commonplace.
Such as the way she always turned to Hades for help first, eyes shining with unwavering confidence that he would offer his aid in whatever outlandish scheme she was embroiled in at present. Such as the way she trusted him, in his overwhelming power and the goodness of his heart and soul, however sharp the verbal barbs he threw at her might be. Such as the way she grinned her way through every heated invective, laughed over every surly diatribe, coming through the darkness and the flames none the worse for the wear. Incorrigible, Hades often called her, and she just smiled wider and wore it as a badge of honor.
It began to feel natural for the three of them to be together, despite the unresolved tension and unspoken attraction between Hades and Azem. Hythlodaeus was certain it would all come out right in the end, and until then, it was the best sort of entertainment.
He had thought himself perfectly content.
Then came the day that Hades returned after a considerable absence, without having said anything about it previously to Hythlodaeus. The soulseer had been understandably curious, and asked the obvious question: “Where have you been, I wonder?”
The question was light and mild as ever, but it earned him a sour look from Hades regardless.
“As if you didn’t already know,” he grumbled, his mouth pulling into a half-sneer. “I would be surprised if you weren’t somehow involved in all of this.”
Hythlodaeus couldn’t help a tellingly wide-eyed blink, which his mask hid, though perhaps not from Hades; it did not hide the way his mouth opened in soundless surprise before he smiled his usual smile and gestured with a hand, a mellow request for the other man to continue their conversation. “Oh? Do tell.”
Hades made an irritated scoffing noise, but grudgingly gave up the requested information. “Our most vexatious mutual friend requested that I assist her with a certain matter-” Hades’ eyes narrowed as Hythlodaeus gave a chuckle then made a poor attempt to hide his smile behind a hand, the taller man’s mouth twisting even further into a moue of surly discontent as he crossed his arms over his chest, his voice taking on a faint accusatory tone. “I certainly hope you haven’t forgotten that you are entirely to blame for having introduced her to me in the first place. Which makes the majority of this imbroglio your fault as well.”
Rather than the chastisement it was doubtless meant to be, his words only made Hythlodaeus’s struggle with his smile all the more difficult, and obvious.
“I do indeed carry the weight of that particular crime most absolutely,” he admitted, not sounding the least bit sorry about any of it. “Though I must also confess that I have no knowledge of this particular predicament, for she mentioned nothing of it to me.” Saying that aloud sent an odd, unexpected pang through his chest, but he pushed it aside, intent on getting the rest of the story while Hades still seemed in a marginally sharing mood. “What did she need your help with?”
Hades’ scowl only darkened at that--he was clearly unconvinced that Hythlodaeus hadn’t been involved in some way--but he heaved a low, half-growled sigh. “Another of her many adventures, of course. To share all the details would be even more tiresome than the incident itself was, so I suggest you ask her yourself...”
He trailed off, and Hythlodaeus couldn’t help leaning forward ever so slightly, noting the sudden tension in the other man’s shoulders...and also the return of that conspicuously-telling flush of color across Hades’ fair skin.
“...And yet, there is something of particular note that you’re thinking of right now. Isn’t there, my old friend?” Hythlodaeus prompted, his curiosity at a sharp apogee, and was rewarded when Hades’ flush darkened even more.
“ ‘Of particular note’,” he very nearly spat through gritted teeth, his arms dropping to his sides as his hands balled themselves into loose fists, “is the way she felt the need to remove her mask for almost the entirety of the mission!”
Hythlodaeus felt the corners of his mouth quirking, and once again struggled in vain to keep his urge to smile under control. “Oh, yes, very scandalous,” he agreed pleasantly, sounding not at all bothered by the heights of impropriety Hades had just spoken of. He’d spent enough time in Elpis already that seeing others with their hoods down or even their masks removed no longer seemed at all shocking; he had always thought it rather pleasant, and not a little liberating, truth be told. “How terrible that you should be subjected to such a shocking display of indecency, and by a dear friend, no less. But at least it was a view to be admired, no?”
His own long-ago first glimpse of Azem had been in Elpis, as she’d wandered freely in the wake of her momentarily-absent predecessor, and there had been no masks to hide either of them from the other’s gaze. He had thought her lovely then, and had been secretly pleased that their first meeting had felt so private and personal, nearly intimate. Perhaps that was why they had become fast friends so very quickly afterwards: both had been able to take the measure of the other immediately, and neither had felt they had anything left to hide.
Distracted as he was by his thoughts of the past, Hythlodaeus missed the imminent danger portended by Hades’ pursed lips and clenching fists, and continued on with his overly glib commentary.
“It’s almost a shame that she has to hide such a pretty face-”
“ ‘Pretty’? That’s the best response you can come up with?! Perhaps your sight isn’t quite what it used to be, or maybe you’re just blind to the obvious.”
For the second time in perhaps as many moments, Hythlodaeus found himself taken aback by something Hades had said--though this time, it was more the way he’d said it. He’d sounded utterly affronted, very nearly personally offended, and apparently his indignation ran deep enough for him to give a testy click of his tongue then stalk off, fuming. Not that it was an altogether unusual reaction--Hades was temperamental at the best of times; it was, however, startling to get such a reaction from such a seemingly harmless statement.
...His reaction made a bit more sense when Hythlodaeus managed to pick up what the other man was muttering to himself under his breath as he all but stormed away:
“...’Pretty’, indeed! The woman is nothing short of extraordinarily beautiful, and yet he somehow has the gall to call her pretty!”
As he watched his most irascible friend leave, Hythlodaeus couldn’t help but laugh softly to himself. If calling Azem ‘pretty’ was enough to incite such an interesting reaction, he’d have to be sure to do it more often, and other things of a similar nature. It certainly seemed to have the desired effect of making Hades ever-so-slightly more aware--or perhaps merely unable to avoid--his true feelings for their lovely (no, their extraordinarily beautiful, apparently) mutual friend.
It was only after Hades had all but vanished from sight that Hythlodaeus found his smile waning somewhat. Not because his friends had gone on an adventure without him--that was fair enough, he himself often went places with one or the other of them without thinking to extend an invitation to the absent party--but the realization was dawning that in this particular case, a part of him wished that he could have been there with them.
...It also became impossible to ignore the faint but still unpleasant ache in his chest, a sticky-feeling sort of weight that grew heavier when he envisioned the two of them working together, side by side and both maskless, each sneaking glances at the other at every available opportunity. Each looking away quickly when the other caught them at it, hearts fluttering and cheeks going hot, though the embarrassment of discovery wouldn’t be enough to prevent them from stealing another glance later. Why did that idle imagining make him smile with a true and appreciative warmth, while at the same time making his breath catch in his throat? Why did knowing that Hades had seen her just as he had himself so long ago, bright eyed and bare-faced and beautiful, feel so poignantly bittersweet? They were questions with an answer that was easy enough to determine after only a few brief moments of self-evaluation, and in hindsight, the most obvious of explanations:
Perhaps it had been love at first sight for him, too.
How laughably ironic that one gifted with such exceptionally keen vision as his should see everything but that, his own innermost latent feelings. Equally ironic that they should only come clear now, when it was too late, with nothing fitting to be done about them. To speak up at present would only serve to impede the already-ponderous progress of the mutual feelings secretly shared between his dearest friends...though then again, if Hades proved too reticent about his side of things, perhaps it might spur him onward. Inspire him to make a fitting declaration in a more timely manner. But for the time being...no. He had seen with crystal-clarity the way they looked at each other, and what was more the way they looked longingly after and away from each other; and while he had no doubts about how much they both cared for him, neither did he want to intrude upon a thing best shared between two people of like mind.
Moreover, for all the warmth and openness she showed towards him, he had never seen Azem look at him the way she looked at Hades...and unrequited love was far too piteous a thing for him to allow it to color what he dearly hoped his two closest friends might someday come to be. It was just as well; he had never looked after her retreating form with the same depths and intensity of desire that Hades did, so whatever he might think to offer her would no doubt pale in comparison to the passions of their mutual friend. Instead he would love, and be silent, for all three of their sakes. He, who had no real dreams of his own, would do whatever he could to support them, to make their dreams into reality...their dreams, and indeed their desires as well.
Truly, he could think of no finer thing than that, no honor greater than to be the best friend either of them could hope for. And once they had both completed the great works he knew they were both destined for, then he would allow himself the well-earned reward of rejoining the star with them, all three of them hand-in-hand-in-hand: together to the last, and through whatever lay beyond.