Chapter Text
Ariadne sat upon the knee of a giant tree root, looking at the shadowed lands of the Rak’tika Greatwood. Troubled thoughts ran through her mind of a conversation recently overheard.
'Sineater,' Y'shtola had said, had mistaken Ariadne for.
Ariadne pressed a hand to her chest as if she might be able to touch the light that was harbored within. Was something truly bad happening to her? While the light had harmed her once already, ever since the Exarch had healed her wound, nothing else had befallen her as she slew the Lightwardens.
'The Exarch…' Ariadne frowned at the thought of him. The secret keeper and, it seemed, manipulator.
After all, what was he doing but that? Y'shtola's unamused asides about his motives had struck a chord with Ariadne. Twas an odd thing, for so much of what he did and said made her wish to trust him. To walk around the Crystarium was to see a place ruled benevolently, and he clearly respected her. Too much, sometimes, for he spoke as if she was a hero delivered from on high rather than summoned by his very own magicks. She could not understand what nefarious motives he might have, and yet, she also could not see the need for secrecy if they were benevolent.
Until now, of course. If Urianger was working with him as Y'shtola expected, then Ariadne knew well a scenario that might fit. One life for a world. No, for two…
Twas quite the bargain.
Her frown turned pensive as she looked blankly across the forest. She curled in on herself a little more, wrapping her arms around her legs as she perched her chin upon her knees. Something odd was bubbling within her chest. Neither anger nor bitterness nor sadness, but she could not yet place it.
The sound of approaching footsteps kept her from further introspection. She turned to look, and the figure she laid eyes brought her thoughts to a screeching halt.
Ariadne leaped to her feet instantly, her thaumaturge's stave appearing in her hands as she watched Emet-Selch amble ever closer. She was acutely aware that she was alone—that had, indeed, been the point of her coming here. A foolish decision in hindsight, now she would have to—
"Oh my, skittish, are we? There's no need to look so scared, little Warrior. I do recall you being there when I made my offer of collaboration. Or did you think I would be so gauche as to break my word?" The Ascian gave a fanciful little wave, coming to a stop a few paces away from her.
He was slightly stooped as always, but he still towered above her. A satisfied smile curled itself across his lips like a viper, and Ariadne grit her teeth. She had been stupid to show weakness.
It went against every instinct, but she released her grip on her stave, allowing it to dissipate. Then she straightened and crossed her arms, doing her best to look unfazed. "Well, allies don't make a habit of creeping up on each other."
His smile widened, baring teeth. "Truly? How interesting, given your penchant for listening at doors."
Ariadne's eyes widened before she might stop herself, but she quickly smoothed her expression. "That was an accident."
"As was my startling you," he replied instantly, giving a shrug of his forever hunched shoulders. "But let us not get so caught up in tit for tat, hmm? I came here because I thought you might help me with something."
Ariadne laughed. She couldn't help herself even if she'd wanted to. The man's audacity was unmatched.
"Well I'm rather sure you thought wrong, but go on, ask so I can say no," she told him, wearing her own harsh smile.
Emet rolled his eyes. "Oh so aggressive, aren't you. All tooth and nail. Fitting, I suppose, but doesn't the unpleasantness become tiresome?" He didn't wait for a reply. "Worry not, 'Warrior of Light', I shall not ask you to do anything for free. A question for a question is all I seek."
Ariadne stared at him, her brow furrowing as her lips curved down into a confused frown. Emet-Selch, who forever posed himself as the only wise man in a world of blind fools, wanted to know something of her?
Emet waved a dismissive hand at her distrustful expression. "Tis quite the bargain I'm offering, but I know you'll be leery of agreeing sight unseen. So here, I'll even be so kind as to tell you my question now: From whence did you get your name?"
Ariadne simply blinked at him, her mouth dropping open slightly from utter befuddlement. Her name? What?
"Why do you care?" she asked, putting a hand on her hip.
Emet's slithering smile softened into something more patronizing. "Well, tis not a Xaelan name, is it? Call it idle curiosity. Sate it for me, and you can ask a question of your own. Surely there is something you would know of me, hmm?"
"I'd rather not know you at all," Ariadne told him flatly, and Emet recoiled in mock hurt.
"Ouch, careful with that sharp tongue of yours, you might actually wound someone someday," he said. "Though I know your mind must be absolutely racing, surely you must realize there's not much I can do with the information. I've just been curious, and I thought, well, what better way to bring ourselves closer together than to learn about one another."
He took a step forward then, and Ariadne tensed. But rather than getting any closer, Emet merely crouched so they might be at eye level. He stayed there, balanced with disconcerting grace on the balls of his feet as he stared directly into her eyes.
"Come now, don't tell me you're scared?" he said, eyes glittering with dark amusement.
Ariadne snorted and crossed her arms. "Tis wise to be wary when a devil wants to make a deal."
The Ascian heaved a heavy sigh, rolling his eyes. “Fine, fine. Raise your hackles, take your cheap shots. Whatever makes you happy, Warrior. But will you indulge this little flight of fancy or not?”
He said nothing more, which was no doubt an effort, and Ariadne was left to actually ponder his terms. Tell him about herself in return for a question as well? It seemed benign enough, but that was the rub, wasn’t it? For all Emet’s pontification about compromise and working together, Ariadne didn’t trust him. She couldn’t, not after all that the Ascians had done—that he had done.
And yet, some part of her was curious, too. It had always been hard to think that the Ascians had wrought so much death and destruction for inane ends. They must have had a motivation, a truly desperate or foolhardy one, to set them on this path and keep them there for millennia. Emet had provided it: A return to the paradisaical world that was…
She could understand it to the smallest degree. Not enough to agree, nor to sympathize, but at the very least she could understand.
Ariadne stared at him, studying the cruel curve of his lips and the bitter mirth in his eyes. Then her gaze slid from his face to his shoulders, forever bowed like the back of a nag who’d spent its life in labor.
Something in her chest twisted.
“Fine.” Ariadne bit out the word, and as she watched Emet’s face light up in genuine, pleasant surprise, her anxiety about the whole endeavor eased the slightest degree.
“Wonderful!” he said, straightening. He folded his hands behind his back as he looked down at her, arching a brow as he waited in impatient silence.
To be studied so—by him, at least—sat poorly with Ariadne, and she felt uncertain about the idea all over again. What was done was done, however, and so she began to speak. “Tis not my birth name. I was born on the Steppe, and my parents named me Shar…”
The words came out slowly, and as she trailed off, Emet made a ‘hurry it up’ gesture with one of his hands. “Now, now, no need to hold me in suspense.”
“I— Ugh, never mind. Fine,” Ariadne said, and she quickly explained the rest. How her father had feared for her safety within the tribe, and wanting to save his child from its bloody politics, fled into the night. They had crossed the seas to Eorzea, where no one might know their names or their significance, but her father had felt that holding on to their last tie to the Steppe was dangerous. So he had sought new ones for them, and ever indulgent, he had allowed his daughter to pick her own, which she had chosen from a storybook.
The last was not the easiest thing to admit, but Ariadne did her best to seem unembarrassed. As it was, she felt that her younger self had done far better than the average eight-year-old would have when it came to picking a name. Though that had probably been helped by her father vetoing a few more fanciful suggestions.
“You found it in a storybook? How curious… Where did you come across it?” Emet asked.
Ariadne opened her mouth to answer, then closed it as she smirked and arched a brow at him.
Emet gave her a flat look. "What?"
"You said a question for a question. I've already answered you. There's no freebies here."
"Oh, please. You've yet to give me all the details. It can hardly be deemed a complete answer," Emet said.
Ariadne just shook her head. "I think I've been more than generous. I didn't have to give you all that context, you know."
Emet stared at her in annoyance for a moment, then he smiled. Twas that same dangerous expression as before, but she could see a hint of satisfaction in his eyes. "Fine. Very shrewd of you, I suppose. I will answer two questions for you in turn then. Now, go on."
Ariadne paused for just a moment, considering. Then she nodded and said, "We bought it from a kindly merchant. Twas illustrated, and she saw how it caught my eye. She wouldn't see my father leave without it, so she kept lowering the price until it was one he could afford."
Ariadne tilted her head, tapping a finger against her cheek as the distant memories slowly returned to her. "Come to think of it, she looked a lot like the twins, though I don't think she was elezen. But she had white hair, blue eyes, and a very kind smile."
She shrugged, crossing her arms as she stared up at Emet, who appeared to be mulling over what she said.
He looked unamused to say the least, but she knew not why. After all, she'd answered his question without a hint of sass; twas a larger boon than he had ever granted her. Eventually he looked down at her once more. His mirth was gone, as was the smirk upon his lips. Something unreadable lurked in his gaze, and Ariadne could not tell if he was angry or still curious.
He spoke slowly, his words obviously chosen with care, "There must have been more than one name in that book. What were the others?"
She raised her eyebrows, her lips quirking up as she opened her mouth again, but he cut her off with a sharp sweep of his hand. “Yes, yes. You can have your questions three. Now answer.”
Ariadne wrinkled her nose at him, and for a moment she considered saying nothing. Whatever he claimed, twas easy now to see his interest was far from idle. Though she couldn’t fathom why he cared so much to know, giving him what he wanted was never going to be her first choice. But he was still looking at her, his eyes dark and deep, and she realized she could scarcely recall him ever seeming to care about anything. Intense as he was, it was an almost welcome change to the tired, sarcastic diva he had been thus far.
“I don’t remember them all,” she told him. “Twasn't a book just about Ariadne, it was about lots of stories. Myths or folktales, I guess? She was just in one of them…”
She began to recount what little she could remember. Ariadne was a daughter of a king who helped a young man by the name of Theseus escape a terrible maze, only to be abandoned by him in turn. Hers was not a sad ending, however. She was saved by a god named Dionysus, and the pair lived happily ever after. Twas a simple enough story, but one that had appealed to her then, young as she was.
As her tale came to an end, Emet stared at her in silence. Then he said, more to himself than her, "Dionysus…"
Twas an odd name, just like her own. Now that she was being made to think about it, Ariadne couldn't help but realize she had never heard their like before or since. And yet, Emet spoke the name so easily, familiarly.
Before she could think any further on that, the silence that had filled the air was broken by Emet's sharp bark of laughter. Twas as if it had been torn from him, and it didn't stop there. He laughed and laughed, deep and harsh, as if she'd told the most amazing joke and he wished to kill her for it.
Ariadne felt goosebumps rising on her skin. She had half a mind to arm herself, but he made no move to attack. He just doubled over in near maniacal amusement until he ran out of breath. He stayed curled in on himself like that for a while longer before he stood up. It reminded her of a switchblade unfolding. He was at once all sharp, deadly edges, and he looked at her, his eyes ominous half moons of bitter amusement.
Ariadne took a step back; she couldn’t help it. And, oddly enough, that small step seemed to stir something in Emet. The tension that had filled him began to ease, and the anger clouding his expression smoothed away. In a few moments, he was as he always was once more: stooped and languid.
“Forgive me,” he said with a small, sarcastic bow. “It was just a rather… interesting discovery.”
Ariadne swallowed the lump in her throat and said, “Why?”
Twas Emet’s turn to smirk. “Is that your first question?”
She paused a moment, considering, then shook her head. While she was curious about his outburst and his questions, there were surely better things to ask him than that.
So she stood and she pondered. There were many things she might ask, too many, really. With such a font of knowledge before her, it was hard to figure out what would be most worthwhile. But then, how much did she truly trust his answers? Just because she had been truthful—that he had forever claimed to be truthful—didn't mean she fully believed him. Instead, she should use this as an opportunity to learn more about him instead of from him. Lies would be just as helpful as truth in that endeavor, since it was all about what he wanted her to know.
"What do you miss the most of the… the world that was?" she asked.
"The people, of course," Emet said so instantly that Ariadne knew it to be genuine despite all of her distrust.
"We lived upon the length and breadth of this star, working what you would all call miracles in our day to day. There was no strife or war like that which forever plagues the world and its shards. We lived in harmony, and when I say lived, I truly mean it. Not the farce you all experience, fading as quickly as some plucked flower," Emet told her, his face softening slightly as he recalled the memories.
It passed quickly though, his gaze refocusing on her, and Ariadne would not have cared for his pitying expression even if it hadn’t been tinged with mockery. She didn’t need to be a mind reader to know what was going through his head. He had already plainly admitted what he viewed them all as. Yet, she found it impossible to believe. However alien the people of the Source and its shards might have seemed to him at first, surely he would eventually have had no choice but to see the truth?
The question left her lips before she might stop it. "After so long living amongst us, have you truly never considered any one of us a person? Not once?"
He did not have an instant answer this time. He went quiet, frowning, and she could only assume he was annoyed. However, when he did speak, it was surprisingly serious. “No. All I have done is an endeavor to see that you may someday deserve the title. And as you are aware, I have been endeavoring for quite a while."
Emet snorted, his sober expression quickly morphing to something she would call mischievous if it were not so full of venom. "Who knows… you're the paragon of the Source, are you not? Perhaps I will be surprised at long last. If, of course, you survive."
His words brought her back her earlier thoughts, and Ariadne looked away. Though she had not often feared her own mortality, she did not want to contemplate it with someone looking so blase about whether she would survive.
But then…
She lifted her head, studying him. He still smirked, still lounged, but twas not difficult to see the disconnect between what he had said before and what he pretended now. Ariadne thought for a moment what it would be like to spend so long with only the barest contact with other people. To be surrounded by facsimiles of personhood instead.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You want me to prove you wrong,” she said.
Emet’s smile widened so much that she could see the points of his canines. “Is that your final question?”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I think I know the answer… I’m going to save my last question for another time.”
As soon as she finished speaking, a tension in the air that she hadn't noticed until then eased. Emet gave another shrug, looking instantly bored once more.
“Suit yourself,” he said. “Though don’t leave me in suspense too long, else I’m likely to forget this little deal of ours altogether.”
“A perfect being like yourself unable to remember a promise? Fascinating!” Ariadne replied, filling her voice with false sweetness.
Emet snorted. “You remain ever the flatterer. But though I do so enjoy your little jabs, I think I shall leave you to your ruminations. Until another time… Ariadne.”
She nearly started when he spoke her name. Twas the first time he had ever done so, and there was no hint of mockery or sarcasm. He was already disappearing into darkness before she might reply, and so Ariadne simply stared at the place he had been for a little while, trying to make sense of the whole odd encounter.
There was little to be made. At least at first. But when she recalled his reaction to what she had said, well, the name Dionysus had struck a chord with him, but she knew not why nor how. That it was meaningful—that her name, too, was meaningful—was all she could truly figure out. And she did not know if she cared to dig any further. Not only were there far more pressing matters to deal with than Emet-Selch’s new strange obsession, but…
Though it may have simply been an act, he had seemed vulnerable during their conversation. Genuine. She didn't care for it, nor the pity it evoked in her.
‘It doesn’t matter what happened to him. There will never be an excuse, and I will do what must be done,’ she thought, pressing a hand against her chest as if she might seal the promise there, just like the light that was apparently threatening to consume her.
She grit her teeth as her mind turned once more to her bitter new discovery. Twas easier to name the feeling now roiling in her chest. Neither anger nor bitterness nor sadness. Twas betrayal at knowing that others had decided her fate, her death, for her. Why did she not get a say? Twas not as if she would have turned away.
Did they… did they truly not trust her to do the right thing?
Ariadne let out a sigh. It didn’t matter. It couldn’t. She’d enemies enough without finding more amongst her allies. Let them plot if they had to. She would play her part as she’d always done, and so long as everyone made it out okay, the price to her was… immaterial.
Nodding slowly to herself, Ariadne began to walk back to the encampment of the Night’s Blessed, doing her best to ignore both the chill that had settled over her, as well as Emet’s sarcastic aside.
“If, of course, you survive.”