In the depths of the Underworld, between the thrones.
As Hades's attention returned, he noticed the subtle changes in the aura of the Underworld around him.
Metis leaned against his side, her slender fingers unconsciously entwined in the folds of his black robe.
She said softly, her voice sweet:
"The war on the Greek lands seems about to be extinguished. Zeus, that son of a demigod, is very strong... Perhaps he can truly achieve an unprecedented unification? Hehe."
She laughed, and in the laughter there was no joy.
Hades's gaze was calm and unwavering, as if he hadn't noticed any deviation in her tone, and only said lightly:
"The spinning thread of fate never prescribed a specific pattern. Unification that has never appeared is merely one of thousands of possibilities in my world. As long as he doesn't interfere with the order of the Underworld, it makes no difference who rules the earth."
His reaction was as rational and detached as always, as if the struggles in the world could not shake him one bit.
Metis raised her eyes and stared at his sharply defined profile.
Her topic suddenly shifted and got to the point:
"Then, my King of Hades, when you transcend this mission of 'world-bearer', when you no longer need to bear the world as its cornerstone... what about me? Where do you plan to put me?"
Hades lowered his head and met her gaze, a look in which wisdom and tenderness mingled.
He did not answer directly, but reached out a finger and gently traced her smooth cheek, a movement of rare tenderness, but again to the point:
"My dear Empress of the Underworld, the wise one, long before you asked this question, you had an answer in your heart... Is this a complete plan?"
His eyes seemed to see through everything, piercing through all her carefully laid plans hidden beneath the image of 'sickly fragility'.
Metis's body tensed slightly, and then relaxed.
She neither admitted nor denied it, simply burrowed deeper into Hades's cold embrace.
Her cheek pressed against his chest, as if she wanted to listen to a non-existent heartbeat, and as if she wanted to draw an eternal sense of security from him.
She was silent.
But the silence itself was the clearest answer.
Yes, she had an idea.
From the moment she had taken his place as the ritual sacrifice, from the moment she had returned to merge all the memories of samsara, she had been thinking about how she could always be by his side, no matter how high he rose.
Her 'sickness', her paranoia, and her essence were a symbiosis from which she absolutely did not want to let go.
She would use her wisdom to find that path, no matter how much she had to pay or what kind of planning she needed.
Hades accepted her closeness and held her, as if accepting a secret intertwined with his very soul.
He didn't need her answer, because he knew that at this moment, his Queen of the Underworld would naturally devise her own unique 'solution'.
Meanwhile, far away in Northern Europe, in Vanaheimr.
Ares, completely shattered by Týr's superiority, did not leave with deeper resentment as usual, nor did he find another place to vent his anger.
He recovered for a few days and appeared before Týr again.
But this time, his posture was completely different.
There was no arrogance, no empty insults, and even the fierce fighting spirit, always ready for battle, was much more restrained.
He stood there, like a boulder with slightly rounded edges and corners, washed by turbulence, with unprecedented clumsiness and seriousness in his eyes.
"Týr," he spoke, his voice still loud, but less provocative and a little more solemn.
Týr was wiping the armor on his arms, and hearing the sound, he looked up, with vigilance and scrutiny.
The Valkyries were also nearby, casting incredulous glances.
Ares ignored these looks, simply looked at Týr, and then, in a gesture that stunned all onlookers, including Hermes in the shadows, he slightly lowered his head and said in a sincere tone, completely out of character:
"Tell me about war."
Týr stopped wiping.
Ares continued, his words a little clumsy, but full of eagerness:
"The price you spoke of, the ruins, the sorrow... Also, how to find meaning in destruction, how to establish order after killing... Tell me all of this. I... I want to know."
He raised his eyes, and in his crimson eyes were no longer only chaotic flames, but a nearly burning light.
"I want to know what true war should look like."
Týr looked at him silently for a long time.
He felt that this time, Ares was serious.
Such a sincere request for advice surprised him more than any mad attack, and was harder to refuse.
In the end, if this brutal war god could be guided towards a more rational path, perhaps much unnecessary bloodshed could be avoided in the future.
After a while, Týr slowly lowered the armor on his arms and said in a deep voice: "This is a long and heavy topic, Ares. It requires more than just combat skills."
"I have time!" Ares replied immediately, his tone insistent.
Týr looked at the newborn flame in his eyes, perhaps called 'enlightenment', and finally nodded almost imperceptibly.
"Very well. Then, let's start with the boundary between war and justice."
Týr gestured for Ares to sit, and himself sat on a stone training pier.
The Valkyries around looked at each other, but seeing that Týr seemed to be taking this seriously, they gradually relaxed their vigilance, but still kept their distance.
Ares sat opposite Týr, like the most focused student, his red eyes fixed intently on him.
Týr was so happy.
At least now, it was much better than the previous annoying state of entanglement and constant worry for the Valkyries' safety.
A special course on the nature of war began quietly on the edge of the training ground in Vanaheimr.
The god of war from Greece began to learn from the god of justice and war of Ásgarðr, whom he had never truly understood, about the other side of war.
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