Chapter Text
“... And I will not suffer myself to live again by Hydaelyn’s magic.”
“Hm, are you sure about that?” Hythlodaeus asked, a hand on his chin as he observed the dejected Warrior of Light.
Emet-Selch glanced at the woman who wore puppy-eyes, holding his gaze, doubtless consumed with guilt for slaying him. He sighed before turning back to his friend, crossing his arms, waiting for him to elaborate.
“You see it too, yes?”
“What.”
“She’s with child.”
Emet-Selch arched an eyebrow, his eyes darting back to her with curiosity.
The scions simultaneously gasped; Alisaie’s jaw dropped while tears pooled in Graha Tia’s eyes, his hands coming up to his face. Alphinaud blinked and, recovering faster than everyone, took a sharp breath.
“Is this true?”
“I… did not know,” the Warrior of Light said, rubbing her belly.
Hythlodaeus brought his attention to his friend, eyeing him with interest before covering his lips to stifle a chuckle.
Emet-Selch frowned. “What.”
“It’s your child.”
There was another synchronised gasp, only this time accompanied by a sob. Graha Tia fell to the ground, the Elpis flowers around him turning into a shade of grey as he curled himself into a ball, laying on his side. Alisaie’s jaw has reached the ground.
Emet-Selch’s eyes widened before focusing on WoL’s belly, then his mouth hung open. It can’t be. That was many thousand years ago. Unless it wasn’t. For her, at least.
She mirrored his expression, forehead crumpling, looking up at him with concern.
“Oh my, such potency, travelling through time. Must be an exceptional little fellow,” said Hythlodaeus, grabbing everyone’s attention.
“You can’t be serious.” Thancred said in a huff, crossing his arms.
“If this is truly the case, then you shouldn’t fight with us.”
Y’shtola’s words made WoL narrow her eyes at nothing in particular. “I can and I will.”
Emet-Selch scowled. She can’t possibly fight in that state, not when her child, their child, is at risk. He shook his head.
“You will not.” His voice was stern.
Her narrowed eyes turned to him. “You have no say in this. Weren’t you about to leave?”
He gaped at her, a nerve forming on the side of his forehead. “What of the child?” He asked, raising his voice. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I… I can put up a protective spell.”
Alisaie had recovered, bringing her lips to a close. Estinien cleared his throat. “Shall I lend you my armour? I brought an extra.” Alisaie’s eyes widened; she pressed her palms against her cheeks in what seemed an attempt to remain sane, before shaking her head.
“Let me get this clear. You and him? How?” Her eyes switched between Emet-Selch and WoL. Hythlodaeus gave her a cheeky grin.
“I believe something happened in Elpis. I should be willing to grace you with the explicit details, had we more time, but it seems Meteion won’t give us much of a choice.”
“Hurting… hurting… hurting…” Meteion said, crying in a corner.
“Shall we continue this conversation after your fight?”
“We?” Emet-Selch asked, blinking.
“Why… Were you still planning to leave after such a revelation? You wouldn’t abandon the mother of your child at this crucial hour, would you?”
Something roiled in his stomach and his face crumpled. He knew where this was going and, frankly; he didn’t know if he wanted to say no.
“You are so, so old.” G’raha Tia’s voice echoed with despair thicker than the looming star above them; enough to trample on the Endsinger and send her packing for another universe. Meteion hurt for the cat man, it seemed.
Emet-Selch massaged his temples and closed his eyes, willing these events away. If he didn’t pay attention, would they all just disappear?
Then, WoL spoke up, and he knew he would lose.
“I’ll be alright. We’ll be alright. You deserve your rest.”
His eyes met disappointing glares from the scions, all except WoL and Alphinaud. Estinien grunted and Thancred looked away, his arms still crossed. Y’shtola furrowed her brows at him. The Elezen man playing with cards wore a slight, yet undeniable, disapproving gaze. G’raha Tia was still on the ground.
Alisaie stared at Emet-Selch, gritting her teeth. “You seriously will just leave her behind?” she asked, baring her fangs.
“Ugh.”
His chest weighed heavy. What did he get himself into? He knew the WoL was nothing but trouble as soon as he saw her. Yet he indulged her when she batted her eyelashes at him.
Fine, just this once , he thought then, as he took pleasure with every second of her touch, drinking in her cries of his name. And what did she reward him with? Death, and now this.
He continued to massage his temple as the Scions huddled together, doubtless giving each other much needed pep talk before the big fight.
“Pick me, pick me,” G’raha Tia said, raising his hands and tail at WoL.
“I shall protect thee,” said the strange Elezen man, with a hand on his chest, for dramatic effect.
Emet-Selch shook his head. What choice did he have?
It wasn’t like he hadn’t had children. He’s lived thousands of lives, after all. He could barely even remember any of his offspring, except that one child he dared hope would make a difference. Whoever was the woman who bore him?
But this…
He peered at WoL. She patted the cat man’s head, a smile gracing her thin lips. Their time together in Elpis was a decision he made, wilfully. Not out of obligation for his duty, or under the influence of Zodiark’s tempering.
If there were two things he could ever call his own, it was his mask. And the choice he made that night. Now the product of that choice lay snugly in her belly, doubtless would need someone to guide it in a world such as hers. He didn’t doubt her capability, but…
Something bubbled in his chest, a warm fuzzy sensation. Out of the corner of his eye, Hythlodaeus beamed, as if reading his mind.
“Then it is settled,” Alisaie said, unsheathing her sword, looking up. “There’ll be nothing left of this damned star but a smoking crater.”
Emet-Selch sighed. Their kind only lived some hundreds of years. He could spare that much, for a reward he dared think he probably deserved.
He walked up to WoL, meeting her questioning eyes before he pressed a gentle hand on her stomach. He released some aether from Azem’s crystal into her, forming a barrier.
“This won’t be sufficient,” he said, turning to her companions. “Bring them back, safe.”
Alphinaud raised his eyebrows, before his face brightened up with a smile and shifted his gaze to the rest of the Scions. “I believe we are unhindered here. There is no mystical force limiting our friend to choose only three. Shall we all go inside together?”
His friends responded with reassuring smiles and nods.
WoL looked at Emet-Selch, eyes sparkling with wonder and confusion. “You will stay?”
He gave her a half-smile before walking to the side where Hythlodaeus was, having already set up a campfire, a pop corn in his hand. How?
“Don’t you worry about us. There are ample stories he has yet to share. We will not want for entertainment.”
“That's you. I wish only to rest.” Emet-Selch said, lacking his usual snark as he settled on the ground next to his friend.
He gave her another glance, wondering how she would manage, before exhaling softly. She’d always been able to come back unscathed, somehow. It was ridiculous even.
Alisaie gave him a look, and he stared at her.
“What.”
She had a glint in her eye. “You’re not so bad after all.”