Chapter Text
When the remnants of his being pressed against the Master of Chaldea’s soul, asking for entrance, Goetia hadn’t expected her to actually give. Even in the desperate situation she was in, having just barely escaped the Timeless Temple, he could tell she recognized just who it was trying to cling onto the last chance at a continued existence.
I fight to live, she’d told him. He wouldn’t have understood that before that detestable Solomon used Ars Nova and dissolved the union of the 72 Demon God Pillars, but now, he was unable to understand how he wouldn’t have understood. I fight to live. It made perfect, perfect sense. How could anyone not see that?
As soon as he sensed that she knew who it was, he’d given up. Or rather, he’d told himself that his endeavor was now futile and impossible. Why would she want him to continue living, when it was he who had forced her through those horrifying experiences? And especially when her beloved Solomon had perished, become true nothingness, to stop him?
But that tiny little thread of foolishness couldn’t help but continue hoping, regardless of any logic or rationality. He had thought humans so idiotic for their ceaseless and futile dreaming, yet here he was doing the exact same thing, futilely dreaming against common sense that Taeyeon would somehow permit him to latch onto her.
And he had all thanks to give to Solomon and this tiny, impertinent, waif of a girl.
But. But. In spite of all that hopelessness and impossibility, the Master of Chaldea had actually let him be. If she wanted to – and he was certain that she had plenty of reason to want that – she could cast him off at any time with her mere willpower, and the last tenuous anchor that he had to his existence would be broken. He was powerless now, after all. Nothing more than the fragments of an alliance, the vestiges of a consciousness that was once collective. At the most he could manifest in the form of the husk he had been during his final battle with the Master, and still he was unable to do much. If even a common Servant discovered him, they would find it an easy task to be rid of his presence, send him scuttling back to immateriality like a worm searching for dirt to burrow into.
Yes, it would be very easy for Taeyeon to simply snap the little connection he had forged in a moment of desperation and get rid of him for eternity. But she hadn’t. A week had passed since their battle in the Temple of Time, and she had not so much as acknowledged his presence. Goetia was beginning to wonder if she somehow was not aware that he was there.
She was sprawled over her bed, pale hair flung back in an unruly ponytail, reading the book she’d been working at for the last week – Brave New World, it was called – when they first spoke.
“You know,” Taeyeon said, and Goetia, taking the form of no more than a faint shadow in the corner, looked around, wondering how he had missed the sounds of someone else entering the Master of Chaldea’s room. He saw no one else but the two of them.
His second thought was that she was reading out loud. That did not seem to be something that went with his image of the Master of Chaldea, regardless of how objectively little he truly knew about her as an individual. Besides, he had seen her read just like she was now, many times in the past week, and she had never uttered a word.
“I’m glad that you have enough sense of self-preservation to stay far away when I’m, say, showering, but it’s still pretty creepy to just be skulking in the corner of my room, staring at me while I read.”
Well.
Goetia allowed himself to materialize, a tad bit hesitantly. (Not that he would ever admit it.) To his surprise and humiliation, his stomach was tight. What was this? Was this what humans called “being nervous”?
Taeyeon eyed him thoughtfully, her pale green eyes traveling up and down his body. She had given him the same once-over when they’d first met in London, though she had been comparatively warier than she was now. Back then, he remembered being amused at the audacity of the little human, to be trying to get a grasp on him.
Now he just felt awkward.
“Hi.” The Master of Chaldea sounded ridiculously relaxed. She was still laying on her stomach in her bed, the book spread out in front of her; not a muscle in her body was tense. Goetia supposed that this was the kind of composure that had earned her the grudging respect of even the most volatile and cruel of Heroic Spirits – the levelheadedness that had enabled her to lead the way, successfully, through the Singularities. (Never would he admit that it impressed him.)
He did not respond to her greeting.
“Aren’t you uncomfortable just standing there? You can sit if you want to.” She gestured towards the sofa across from her bed.
Her civility only worsened his discomfort. Perhaps he had been ready for her anger and vitriol, her demands that he vanish from her presence and disappear forever, but this calmness was something he could have never anticipated. He stood in the corner silently for a few more seconds, searching for words.
“I decline.”
“Alright. Feel free to take a seat if you change your mind, though.”
And just like that, she went back to reading.
Goetia hovered in the corner like some insect, stupefied and flabbergasted. Surely that could not be all? Surely she had something more to say about the fact that he, of all beings, had latched himself onto her soul in order to maintain the fragments of his existence? Surely she had complaints that they were now bound together, that he was connected to her and she could sense his presence wheresoever he might go? And surely, it grated on her that he was now unable to stray too far away from her lest his consciousness disappear for good?
He could keep a certain distance, and had gladly retreated as far as was possible when it was appropriate, such as when she was bathing. Nevertheless, the majority of his time was spent skulking in his immaterial form around the vicinity of the Master of Chaldea, unable to do anything else. When he manifested in physical form he was able to affect objects, but that capability barely extended beyond that of an average human being. And in the state he was in, he was no match for any Servant – Mash Kyrielight could easily break every bone in his face with one strike of her shield, if she so desired, for example – so he stayed near Taeyeon and kept his hands off of anything. He did not know for certain what would happen if his physical form was killed; since it was simply an extension of the sliver that was his remaining abilities, not actually his body in earnest, he was sure he could re-manifest at any time. However, he also did not want to have to deal with the humiliation of being continuously and violently used as a punching bag, so there was no point trying to throw his weight around. The smartest option was to just linger in Taeyeon’s vicinity.
He’d been doing that this entire week, and she had no complaints? Not only that, but freely allowing him to be in her room while she slept, rested, read, went about her daily life… was that not unpleasant to her? Not so long ago they had been mortal enemies, and he had attempted to kill her and her companions several times over – especially when one counted indirect efforts as well. It was not with guilt that he acknowledged it, but the Master of Chaldea had lost much because of him.
What a puzzling, puzzling human.
Then again, perhaps he should have known better than to expect her to be predictable. In fact, perhaps her surprising amicability around him was actually not at all surprising – for her, anyway. This was the little waif that had faced him, alone, as the Temple of Time crumbled all around them and he declared his intention to take her with him. I’m not going to let you leave alive. You will die here with me.
Her response had been a simple narrowing of her pale green eyes.
This battle may be without resolution or reward, but I shall put my entire being on the line to crush you. …My sworn enemy. My hatred. My destiny. I want you to witness this. There, he was sure that she had not missed how his voice thickened with desperation. This brief moment is now my story. This brief but precious time has given the creature called Goetia true life.
And Taeyeon had had the audacity, then, to smile at him. Seeing it, a strange feeling had washed over Goetia, one he could only describe as lodging a stone in his throat and shoving the air from his lungs. Warmth had spread across his body, for some reason that he could not comprehend.
Come at me then. Goetia. the Master of Chaldea had said, his name rolling off of her tongue with the fluidity and the intensity of water. I’ll take care of all those feelings you carry.
And, somehow, she had. His burning anger at humanity, his seething resentment for Solomon, his bitter disappointment towards the world – it was gone. And Goetia had thought that maybe, maybe, if indeed the unlikely day that he let go of his grudge ever truly came, he would be hollow, and only gaping emptiness would remain.
But that was not the case. There was nothing there. No emptiness. He was not hollow, he was only… himself. He felt only whole.
That was not all the Master of Chaldea had done; Goetia felt another change in him, perhaps even more surprising than his unexpected contentment with this ridiculous lot that he had been thrown. He had been humbled quite a bit over the last week – failing to realize who Romani Archaman truly was, gaping like a fool while his immortality was stripped away, then being defeated by one single human – but this was undoubtedly the most humiliating of all.
He was curious about Taeyeon. About this frail confection, this delicate little mortal, he wanted to know more. What exactly “more” was, he could not say, but he wished to understand her better.
It was embarrassing.
Still, she tolerated his presence and seemed to have no thought to force him out. She was even friendly with him. And Goetia could not deny that it might not be the worst fate in the world, being bound to the Master of Chaldea, observing her and staying by her side. The only being to have ever witnessed his story, and willingly granted him a wish.
Only because he had no choice, of course.