This is a collection of different situations. All of them are connected somehow, but could also be seen as stand alone. There is no particular beginning or ending, but they happen in the same universe at different phases in War's life. The ideas pop up in my head in random order.
Writing and describing characters is hard, when no one knows how things were before main events.

"No!" a very young War said, stomping his foot to the ground. "I don't want you to go!"

"Don't act like this. It's not like I haven't been away before.", a stern voice rasped.

"But you will be gone for a whole year!", the small voice whined again. "I don't want that!"

"Stop inducing drama, War. You don't depend on me."

"That's not...! You are stupid!" With that small feet tapped away and the slamming of a door could be heard.

That was around five days ago and the child still refused to talk to him. Death knew that War was just being stubborn and decided to let the youngling sulk in his corner. He had to learn that things don't always go as he wanted them to.
But the Firstborn still felt slightly sorry for him. War was very fond of him as a brother and mentor. Death would be lying if he said he didn't adore the young Nephilim just as much. Of course, he would never admit it openly. But others still mention that he had become a little... soft since War's birth.
Screw them.

Death went to War's room. The youngling was reading a book he had given him on his birthday a couple weeks ago. A whole collection of those books existed covering various time lines and different adventures. One wouldn't believe it, but these books were really hard to find and quite expensive.
The tales were about an honorable swordsman clad in a green tunic and equivalent long green hat. Always protecting the weak and never fighting an injured enemy. Death had read these stories to War when he was still a toddler, but the Firstborn never understood those romantic adventures himself. Real life was completely different, yet his young brother seemed to like them.

"War.", his deep voice slightly resonated from the walls. The child looked up, recognized Death, put on his pouting face and then turned to reading again.
Still the silent treatment.

"I'm going to the training planes to make the last preparations for our departure."

War just nodded and his older brother left him alone.

In the beginning Death had seen it as a nuisance to always take care of the youngling. He had better things to do. Books had to be read, knowledge to be gained and new weapons to be mastered. But others did compliment him for raising young Nephilim. They always turned out to be exquisite fighters, respectable personalities and slightly obnoxious conversationalists. And of course, he was good at educating. Everything he began should be finished as perfect as possible.
Still, being good at something didn't mean he wanted to do it. But according to Absalom he had to take care of War, as he was, apparently, the only one capable of doing it. So Death did and ended up having War around him all the time.

Well, most of the time. Right now said youngling was in his own room pouting. Death had noticed, since War got the news, that the younger one was less present around him. Usually the child never missed a chance to be with him.
Such strange behavior.

Death walked into the general direction of his destination. He made a short detour to the stables and checked on his horse. On his way further he greeted a few warriors, who would be riding with him the next day.
When the Firstborn finally reached the training grounds his trainee unit was already waiting. He was supposed to train them, but his long absence would make it difficult. But he still showed them movements, which he wanted them to master until he came back. These where advanced techniques, but they had enough time to practice them.
After the training session, which lasted longer than usual, there was a short briefing scheduled with his own fellow squad members. Absalom and an advance party were already waiting for them to join. Other units would soon follow. This conquest wouldn't be as easy as the previous one.

The day went by fast and he made sure to look out for white hair. But white hair couldn't be seen anywhere.

When the sun was setting, he made a short detour yet again and went to the small library. Death and Absalom had a heated argument about the need of books and tomes for the young generation. In the end he could enforce at least a small house full with books. Death did plan to expand it in the near future even if he had to hammer the nails himself.

The Firstborn wanted to read about something particular but couldn't remember if he'd seen it in one of the books there. He didn't discover anything, so he went to his private book collection. There was just little more information needed to make War's next birthday present.
It was a hassle, really. Being creative and thinking about what someone may want or be happy about. Then going through more trouble than it's justified, simply to get a present ready in time. Death shook his head.
The things War does to me.

The Firstborn had no idea how, but in the end the former tiny newborn and now youngling had slowly worked his way into his cold heart. He still contemplates sometimes, how someone still so small and so oblivious to the world managed to wrap him around a finger. War being incredibly stubborn was probably a helping factor.
Death thought of himself as not a really loving or caring person. In fact he was a ruthless, opportunistic, arrogant and sarcastic bastard. As seen by many and partly himself. But sometimes things tend to change and with time he couldn't muster the motivation to be all that in front of little War.

The younger face always lightened up whenever their eyes met. In the beginning the Firstborn couldn't help but feel incredibly confused about this. Why was this newborn so happy to see him? He'd never got a reaction like that with the other infants. With War growing Death's confusion grew with him. The little one always kept coming to him and hugging him more than necessary. Obviously, at first it was very, very awkward for the older brother.

He then slowly came to realize that his irritated feeling was actually just the feeling of a tiny spark of joy. Someone was openly and genuinely happy to see him, even if it was just a kid. There was no lustful glance, no deceiving act and no ulterior motive. War, in his simplest appearance as a youngling, just wanted to be with him, because he liked him. That was probably something that made Death's heart melt and silently starting to treasure the young Nephilim with white hair.

Around night time he was standing in the middle of his bedchamber pondering his own preparations. His scythes were on the usual spot on the wall, his bag was packed with the necessary things only and a small leather pouch was lying right beside. In this pouch he would transport War's present.
He put his hands on his hips thinking about something.
I should probably see War again before I leave. Even if he won't talk to me.

Death never let it show, but he was quite irritated by War's reaction and behavior up until now. He believed the youngling would try to spent even more time with him, knowing that they will be apart for a while.
It must have something to do with childhood. Everything that couldn't be explained rationally, Death always blamed on childhood.

The Firstborn himself never experienced the hardships of growing up. When he was 'born', he was in an adult body and ready to fight. Of course there was always room for improvement and he honed his skills whenever possible. But experiencing one's own body growing, showing 'childish' behavior or just playing innocently on the fields were things he'll never be able to comprehend.

Death turned to his door. He knew he had to and wanted to talk to War, but he didn't know what to tell him. They won't see each other for a longer time and upsetting the little one even more was out of question.
What to do. What to do.
His thoughts were interrupted, when he walked to his, lately, always open door. Big surprised eyes greeted him.

"War?"

"Ah...um...", the smaller figure looked to the ground.

"Come in." Death stepped back to let him pass. So War did overcome his stubbornness and came back to him? The younger one was standing in the middle of his room, looking here and there, like a lost puppy.

"What is it, War?"

"Uhm..."

Death raised an eyebrow. The youngling wasn't the type of beating around the bush. He was also not the type to apologize so fast. The Firstborn waited patiently.
Then War suddenly came closer to him and grabbed the fabric of his pants. Death casually noticed how War still didn't even reach his waist.

"Can I stay the night, brother? I want to sleep in your bed."

"War, I-"

"Pleeeeease?", little War asked in a very cute and pouty voice. He looked up with his big, blue shining eyes and had his hands clasped together in front of his chest. The young Nephilim was obviously trying very hard to get his will.
Someone is using dirty tricks.

Death exhaled. War was using all of his effective methods to melt the older brother's hard look and it was working far too well.
Maybe he was getting soft. "Fine."

"Yay!", the smaller one exclaimed and threw himself onto his brother's bed.
That was a fast change in moods. The Firstborn snorted at that. Sometimes it was amusing how the young Nephilim acted.

They ended up with War sleeping peacefully on Death's torso.

The older brother stroked the white hair absently. Soon, when War started to grew into an adult, they won't be able to do this anymore. Not because Death wanted it to stop, which, of course, he would never admit. It will be either War growing out of his need for him or others prying them apart.
There were bad tongues already, saying that their attachment to each other was unhealthy. How sick it was of Death to let the small boy sleep in the same bed as him. Allegedly forcing the child to do unspeakable dirty acts and taking delight in the youngling's unusual appearance.

What others think about Death was their problem. However, he soon had to stop their openly close relationship nonetheless. For War's sake. He had to stop before the younger Nephilim was shut out or being victimized. But now was not the best of times. Death would have to slowly start distancing himself when War reached adolescence.
Later he would see that this plan was harder to realize than expected, as War would just deny his attempts at severing the bond between them.

Death tried to move a little to get a better positioning for sleeping, but War slightly stirred. The older immediately stopped in his tracks and slumped back to the previous state.
Uncomfortable position it is.
He reached slowly and awkwardly for the dimmed crystal as not to disturb the child on his chest. The light went completely off and soon Death joined War in dreamland.

The next morning the Firstborn expected a small pile of War in his arms upon waking up. But instead he found empty sheets beside him.
Huh?
Death was confused by that but nevertheless got going. He was running late judging from the position of the sun. They would be riding very soon.

Fortunately he already made arrangements for War. As long as he was away the youngling would stay with the adolescent twins Strife and Fury. Death knew he raised them well, so little War would have no problems. Fury would teach him a few close combat skills, while Strife would probably just show him how to be sassy. The fact that the three liked each other was just a coincidental addition.

"War, where are you?", Death asked, raising his voice. But no answer.

Where did that rascal ran again? He packed his things and made his way to the rendezvous point, hoping to see the twins on his way. Or maybe he could even spot War before leaving. Death just hoped he didn't get himself into trouble, because today he had no time to spare to rescue him.

Death was now walking toward his squad and started to give out orders about formation and traveling speed. There was a small ruckus as always when his unit left for a mission. Unfortunately this made it harder for the Firstborn to spot white hair. He looked around, but could only find the families and partners from his squad members.
There were also a few admirers, but he ignored them purposefully. And just as he wanted to turn and mount his steed, he spotted three familiar faces.

"We will leave in a few moments.", Death exclaimed and then went directly towards the three figures.

War was literally dragged by Strife and Fury. It seemed they had to use a lot of convincing to get the younger Nephilm here.
Death briefly greeted the twins and then knelt down to be somewhat on eye level with War. He hadn't much time left and decided to make it short and sweet.
"Little one..."

His young brother turned slightly away and continued looking to the ground. The older one exhaled heavily.

"Look at me." He reached out and put both of his hands on each side of War. But he still wouldn't look. "War, do it for me."

The younger one finally looked up and Death was surprised to see tears. He hadn't seen him crying for a while now. The shining droplets silently poured out of intense blue glowing eyes. It was apparent that War was trying his very best not to throw a huge tantrum. "Please don't go.", he sobbed quietly.

The older brother ignored the sobbing and tried to hold back the strange urge to hug him. Instead he let his hands wander to the small head and wiped the tears with his thumbs away. It was not an easy task, as new ones kept coming.
Seems someone honestly likes me.

"Listen, War." Death took a glance to the twins. "Be a good boy and don't cause your brother and sister too much trouble."

The small figure nodded.

"If there is danger ahead, do as they say. Respect your elder and speak up your mind if something seems strange. And one last thing." Death looked away for a short moment to reconsider his next words, which he still couldn't believe came to his mind. "I'll try to be back on your birthday."

The young War looked surprised and confused at the same time. The stream of tears slowly died away and Death could hear a stammered "A-Alright."

Satisfied with the reaction the Firstborn stood up and gave the youngling a short pat on the head. Then he looked at Strife and Fury. "Take care of him. I'll be back soon."

"Just leave already." The male twin said earning a slap from his sister.

Death lacking the motivation to put Strife into his place just gave him a warning glare. He then took a last glance at War and turned away.

The squad rode and left a cloud of dust behind.

...

War was sitting at the window with his arms lazily supporting his head on the ledge. The youth house he was in harbored several individuals. 'Learning how to live with others'. When he grew older he would be here, too. But War didn't understand. Wasn't he living with someone already, for example Death?
War turned around. The other youths were not present, except for Strife and Fury. The sun was soon about to set and the place would be crowded, when darkness rose.

The youngling looked at the twins and still couldn't comprehend that they didn't really looked like twins as described in his books. The only things they had in common were their yellow eyes and their matching scarf. In fact they always wore the same type and color.

Today was War's birthday and he felt slightly miserable. Strife and Fury actually wanted to get him something or do something with him, but he declined and wanted to spent the day at home. Maybe he would get a surprise visit...

The twins probably understood his intentions and decided to wait with him the whole day. Fury was being a role model and did her, or rather their homework, while her twin was reading one of War's favorite adventure books. Strife most likely read this for his amusement, because the youngling heard occasional laughter. But it sounded more like a degrading tone.

War found that quite offensive. The hero in the book was not someone to make fun of. He was always honorable and made sure to protect the ones he held dear. Just like Death. The small Nephilim knew that the hero in the book was not real, but his brother did the job pretty well. As his hero, that is. ...and without the honor part.

The youngling knew that his older brother was very busy and did a lot of things. He was a Firstborn, a crafter, an instructor and one of the higher ranked commanders. In Death's absence over the year he'd seen just how much his brother did to run the society together with the other Firstborn. How did he found the time to take care of War? Somehow the young Nephilim felt a little bad for being so stubborn before Death's leave. He hoped his older brother wasn't mad at him during his departure. War may not have gotten a hug, but he did said he would be back on his birthday, right?

The child looked out of the window again. He may be young but he certainly saw how Death tried to be a good older brother. War would always get a bedtime story even if the Firstborn was obviously tired.
Other kids said they were scared of his older brother. War didn't understand them. Yes, Death is rough and rarely smiles, but that didn't make him scary. His voice said it all. It was always soft. Well as soft as a rasping voice could get. Did Death acted differently towards others?

War would have probably thought even more about his brother, when something caught his eye.

He suddenly sat up straight and rubbed his eyes. Did he just imagined it? He looked closer out of the window. The house was standing slightly higher than the others and the way to the main entrance was completely visible from his position. There was a large figure moving slowly toward them! War recognized the way it was walking! He laughed happily and ran outside.

"War, where are you going?", Strife called but didn't get an answer. He looked at Fury with his face clearly reading confusion.

"Let's go after him before he runs into trouble.", she suggested and both followed the younger Nephilim out. After all, if something may happen to War during their watch, they could be sure to have two scythes in their throats.

War leaned with his hands on a short wall, which surrounded the house and could be considered as a fence. He narrowed his eyes again. There were scythes on either side of the tall frame.
This couldn't be? But it had to!

"Death!", War called and started running. The stranger hid a tiny smile under his hood and knelt to catch the youngling.

"Brother!", War tackled the older one and surprised him with the heavy impact, causing the hood to fall off. He hugged tightly.

War got slightly stronger.

"I wasn't expecting such a welcome.", he said softly and stroked War's head, noticing the small increase in height.

"You have no idea how much he missed you." a female voice suddenly said.

Death turned to Fury. So the twins took good care of his youngling. 'His' youngling.

"He cried the first couple of weeks. None stop." Strife bend down to War and added "You little sissy, you."

"Shut up, meanie!"

Death ignored their little bickering, but noticed that their relationship seemed to have grown. He looked to the more reasonable twin. "Something else I should know about?"

Fury smiled. "Well, War can throw down any other child in his age. But he still has no chance against me."

War heard that and grabbed the fabric of Death's cloak. "But I'm getting better!"

"I believe that." rasped the deep voice of his older brother and the small Nephilim earned a pat on his head.

They stood there for a short while longer catching up on important events that happened in his absence. Slowly feeling tired Death ended the conversation.

"Let's go home, War.", Death mumbled.

"Carry me, please." The child was happily jumping around.

Ignoring the request he turned a last time to the twins. "You have my gratitude to have taken care of War."

"Anytime."

"That rascal can come whenever he wants."

Death nodded and turned to leave.

"Carry me, carry me, carry me!", War said over and over again the whole time. The Firstborn finally relented and picked him up.
Well, someone really missed me.

So they walked home, or rather, Death walked home carrying War in one arm. "You do realize you are slowly getting to old for that?"

"No, I don't." said the young voice innocently and buried his face into his raven hair.
Feigning ignorance.

The sun set on their way and Death walked the last few paces in twilight.

When he closed the door to their home he sat War down to remove his cloak. The youngling pressed himself against his leg and said "I missed you so much, brother!"

"Really? I couldn't tell from all your hugging."

"That's why I'm telling you now.", said the child and beamed at him.

Death just looked down and was suddenly reminded that some children seemed to have a hard grasp on irony. Unfortunately, War was one of them.

The Firstborn went to his small library, which also served as a living room, and sat down. War followed suit. "I really really missed you.", the young Nephilim said again and climbed onto his lap.
So eager to catch up with me.

"You know what, Death? Today is my birthday and you came just like you said! You being here is the best birthday present ever!"

Death felt a smile tugging on his lips, but tried to suppress it. "Then I suppose you don't want to see what I've got you."

"You got me something?", War said surprised. His face lit up even more and innocent delight radiated from his eyes.

Now Death couldn't hold himself and his lips curved slightly up. "Yes, I did." He slowly reached out to the bag he dropped earlier and suddenly felt a wave of fatigue swamp over him. The ride back from the battle camp to War was more tiring than expected.

The Firstborn found the small leather pouch and gave it to War.
The youngling eagerly opened the small bag and pulled something out. It was red fabric. War tilted his head. "A scarf?"

"You can wear this cloth however you want. I weaved in some of my magic. This way I'm still with you even if I'm physically away. I don't want to see you cry again, just because I'm leaving for a short while.", Death explained and leaned back, willing himself to stay awake for War.

"A year is not short! And I wasn't crying!", the child in his lap protested.

"Oh excuse me, you were absolutely not crying and the waterfalls you poured on my departure happened on accident."

"Yes!", War replied, happy that his brother understood him. The child didn't notice how Death shook his head, but he did notice that the fabric had somehow gotten smaller.

After seeing War's questioning glance Death stated further, "It will grow with you, but I suppose you will get rid of it when you are older." His younger brother vehemently shook his head at the last sentence. "The enchantment I weaved in will benefit you. It will protect you in a certain way."

The youngling tilted his head in confusion, "How?"

"The effect will be triggered in special situations, which you should be able to avoid if you are strong enough."

War wanted to ask more, but he probably sensed his brother's unwillingness to explain more, so he wrapped the cloth around his neck and shoulder. The fabric weaved with magic radiated warmth and it somehow had adopted Death's scent.

The younger brother buried his face into the cloth inhaling deeply and then looked up. "Thank you, brother!", War exclaimed happily. He reached out with his small hands and the Firstborn tiredly leaned in, earning an innocent kiss on the cheek.

Death suddenly felt himself, despite his weariness, fully smile at that. Then he heard an "I love you!" and was hugged tightly. This time he didn't hold back and put his arms around the small frame.

I am getting soft.

Coming back in time for War was quite stressful and Absalom will most probably be furious, but seeing the young Nephilim so happy was worth all the trouble.

…

'I'm off ahead. Don't send for me, you lot can do the clearing without me. - Death'

"What's that supposed to mean?" Absalom looked around as if Death could still be found on the burned battle ground. "Damn that bastard! Always doing what he wants!" his angry jarring voice shouted through the camp.