Disclaimer: I don't own anything!

Author's Note: Found some old work of mine that I'd rather never see the light of day, but it did make me miss Symphonia. Particularly my boys.

For original work:

My brother and I have started a blog for our original alternate history/fantasy series, the Sanctum Files. Below is the link, with spaces. Give us a look.

e-p-pfister . tumblr .com

"Because love isn't about finding someone you can live happily with. No, love is about finding that one person that you can't live without."
-Anonymous

Kratos heard him before he saw him. The familiar whisper of mana wings and the flap of a cloak. The equally familiarly paced footsteps that, to human—or even elven—ears, would have been inaudible. And then they stepped around a tree, eyes taking in the setting and Kratos knew that the other would be able to remember every detail years from now.

His sword was in his hand before Kratos ever had the thought to draw it, the tip at Yuan's throat. Yuan's hands spread—palms down because they both knew that even without a physical weapon, Yuan was dangerous—and he inclined his chin, baring his throat to the sword.

"After all this time and this is how you greet me?" Yuan said, careful to keep his voice even and low. He wasn't as good at looking unthreatening as Kratos was, but he could do it.

"Why are you here? Where are your soldiers?" Kratos' eyes were on the immediate threat that was Yuan, but his ears and half of his attention were on the surrounding forest.

Yuan frowned. "Soldiers? I'm not here on behalf of Cruxis."

"Then why?"

"To find my best friend, dammit. No one's seen hide nor hair of you since that small massacre of Desians on the Ossa Trail two months ago. Now, would you put the sword down?"

Kratos didn't move. Could he trust Yuan? Once, yes. Now, it's been four thousand years of grief and pain and existing. He didn't know who this man was anymore.

"Kratos?" Anna's voice. A voice that Yuan didn't know. And Lloyd's sounds. He was too young yet to make words, but Kratos knew his son's sounds.

Understanding flooded Yuan's eyes. "A wife and kid," he said quietly. "How domestic." (There's pain somewhere in those words, well-buried layers and layers beneath the surface. Yuan had wanted a family once…)

His eyes flicked to Yuan's left hand; there, the ever-present ring, made of half of gold and half of steel. That was one thing that hadn't changed. The one thing that Kratos could say with certainty would never change.

"Swear it. Swear it on Martel." (Yuan can't remember the last time he saw Kratos like this. Protective and fierce and maybe this woman he'd found is better for him than anything else in the world)

The pain showed more clearly this time. Or perhaps Kratos just knew what to look for. "Swear what?"

"That you're not here with Cruxis."

"…I swear it on Martel—I'm not here with them. I'm here for you, Kratos."

Kratos lowered the sword, taking a step back before sheathing it. Yuan dropped his hands as a woman came into his eyeline, Noishe at her heels. She was a little too thin—years of starvation in the ranch would do that—but she was filling out. Brown hair brushed her shoulders, not quite hiding the scar along the right side of her face, from her temple to her jaw. In her arms was a baby, more than a few months old with a head of her same hair.

"Kratos, who is this?" She sounded wary, rightfully so, clutching the child a little closer to her as she narrowed her eyes at him.

He glanced at Yuan before he answered. "An old friend."

Yuan held out a hand, not making a move towards her just yet. If she survived the ranch, it was best not to startle her; there was probably more steel in her than it seemed. "I'm Yuan. Pleased to make your acquaintance…"

"Anna," she replied, crossing the short distance between them to shake his hand. She had a good grip. "And this," she shifted her grip a bit on the child. "is Lloyd."

The baby's eyes were wide as they stared at him, not quite afraid, but still uncertain. They were Kratos' eyes, Yuan noted. Red-tinted brown. He smiled at the child, holding out a finger which the boy quickly grasped. "Hello, Lloyd."

(He forces down the images that rise, the imaginings from a different age. A little girl with the silvery smile and green eyes. A son with a cheeky grin who ducked away from his mother's fussing at the blue hair. He'd wanted it, once. Wanted it more than anything. But it's gone now; any and all possibility of that family, gone…)

"I didn't think you had any 'old friends' left," Anna said, eyes on Kratos even though her attention was on Yuan. That was a neat trick.

"I didn't think so either."

"If I'd known there was a family to congratulate you for, Kratos, I would've brought a house-warming gift," Yuan told him.

Anna grinned and something instinctive in Yuan's mind knew that it was trouble. "Well, there is one way you can help."

The small house that Kratos was building was a little less than half done. They were living in a tent for now, Anna had explained. Kratos was fast, yes, but it's difficult to build a house by yourself—or even with Anna's help. Particularly when there was an infant involved.

The two of them worked in silence, not much needing to be said. They'd built many houses in the past—war was hell on the neighborhood—and the movements came back easily. It wasn't until hours later, as the sun set, that Yuan spoke.

"You love her." It wasn't a question.

"Yes."

Yuan made a sound that could have been a laugh, once. These days, it was much more difficult to find laughter. "Strange, isn't it? How that happens."

Kratos stayed silent. He didn't know where the half-elf was going with this; he could guess. But the days when he could easily follow—and even stay ahead of—Yuan's trains of thought were long gone.

Yuan's eyes fixed on him, steady and dark as space. "Don't let her get hurt."

It was a simple five words. An obvious statement. But Kratos could still feel the rage in his veins, distant and terrible, from That Day. Could still see Martel, pale and bloody and limp. And look what he'd done then. Now, with Anna and Lloyd…he didn't want to imagine what he would become if Cruxis got to them.

"I won't," Kratos promised.

"Love is no small thing. It can change a life."
"It can change the world."
-Michael and Gloriana (Ephemera Series by Anne Bishop)