Ikaris and Khaos. Eternals. Siblings.

Fighters, not thinkers — Khaos, in particular, never had been one for thinking. She joked that thinking led to brooding, and her brother did enough of that for both of them. He'd retaliate by saying he was worrying enough for the both of them, something his sister never seemed to do.

Opposite sides of the same coin.

The very sun shot from one's eyes while darkness floated from the other's fingertips. One flew through the vast skies as the other moved through shadows.

They weren't only opposites to each other — it was the same for their personalities and powers. Ikaris may have been able to touch the sun but he was no ray of sunshine to be around. He was serious, stoic, stern — everything a leader should be even if he wasn't the leader. The only time he could manage to relax was around Khaos or Sersi.

Shadows may have bent for Khaos, but shrouded in them, she was not. She was easygoing, sarcastic, carefree. The only one able to get hearty, genuine laughs from her brother with jokes and schemes cooked up with Kingo and Makkari. She wore a smile more than she wore armor — and the fighter wore armor often.

Day and night, battling for their time in the sky above. Sunlight chased away the darkness, but she could just as easily eclipse him.

Neither stronger than the other.

But then again, there was no need for one to be stronger, not when they weren't each other's enemy. No, the real enemy cowered when Ikaris and Khaos fought alongside, for there would be no surviving them.

They may have been opposites, but they were still one.

Thena may have been lethal on her own, and Gilgamesh may have had unmatchable strength, but nothing could stop Ikaris and Khaos when they were at each other's side. Of all of Sprite's embellished folktales concocted as ways to tease her fellow Eternals, those of Ikaris and Khaos were requested the most by awed mortals.

They were fighters. Soldiers. And soldiers were meant to follow orders — Ikaris knew this and did so to a fault. They came to Earth for a reason, and nothing could distract or jeopardize that.

The golden warrior was the only one to keep his sister in line — something not even Ajak could achieve at times.

The very word chaos came to be because of her. Khaos was not her brother — she thought things that fly always ended up in cages, and she would not be caged. Controlled. Not by Ajak, not by Arishem, not by Ikaris.

Perhaps that was what made it so funny how the one capable of such mindless control made her feel the opposite of caged.

Druig, with his sardonic humor and crooked smiles only reserved for her that made Khaos feel like she was the one that could fly. Druig, the thinker.

Druig, who Khaos gave her heart in a cage to willingly. And she wouldn't dare ask for it back.