Archive of Our Own

When they entered the kitchen, a ghost was currently busy making breakfast.

“You—!”

He looked different—same as before, as though nothing had ever happened to him, though his hair was no longer kept in such a strict updo, nor had he kept his old clothes, instead wearing a gray robe with golden embellishments neatly woven into the fabric.

“Thought I was dead, did you?” Ballas didn't even bother to look at the other, gaze set on what his hands were doing. “Not so sure now, are you?”

“It can't be,” the Tenno muttered, unsettled by the casual demeanor of the Orokin man, unsettled to even see him standing there—on human legs, too. “I saw you die. Natah took the last Archon Shard back from you, took everything from you. And you were under your own Veil's influence, too!”

Ballas chuckled, a low rumble in his throat. “That I was, indeed. However,” he finally turned around, holding two steaming, white-golden cups in his hands (“Like the ones from my Orokin tea set,” the Tenno noticed), “you apparently failed to notice that I like to plan ahead. Have you never wondered why I would destroy the sun, of all things, to go somewhere that's utterly devoid of life?”

He sat down at the table, keeping one cup of tea close to himself, the other was carefully pushed to the opposite edge—an invitation. The Tenno frowned, but eventually moved closer, hesitant to let down their guard.

“You said you had a ‘vision,’ and I assumed that included fleeing to Tau and… I don't know, living there? Starting anew?”

Ballas smiled, “Tau was supposed to be a new start, yes, but what would Narmer be without a flock? There would be nothing for me there.”

“Well, then, what was your plan? And how and why are you here?”

The Orokin kept silent, tapping his golden nails on the surface of his mug. The sweet aroma of tea finally reached the Tenno as well, making their mouth water slightly. They remembered this tea from the Old Days—Margulis used to make some for the Zariman survivors when she was still alive.

Realizing Ballas wasn't going to talk unless they cooperated, they reluctantly sat down opposite of him. Ballas raised his cup, giving them an expectant look.

“How do I know it's not poisoned?” they asked, suspicious.

He raised an amused eyebrow. “As if poison could kill you. I doubt you've forgotten what I did to rid myself of you, and yet, here you are, healthy as ever.”

Fair point. They clinked their cup against his.

Pleased, Ballas took his first sip, closing his eyes to seemingly savor the sweet taste.

Still feeling rather baffled at the whole situation, the Tenno watched him for a few moments, eventually clearing their throat. “So, are you at all going to answer my questions? Or are we just going to drink tea like nothing ever happened?”

“You’re not even drinking yours,” Ballas remarked. He seemed to be enjoying himself, oddly enough. “However, I am here to talk, so your questions will be answered. I only ask you to be patient.”

“The system is always in disarray, people are killing each other, your damn cult is still alive somewhere out there, and you want me to be patient?” is what they wanted to say, but they knew it would have little to no effect on the Orokin, if not even keep him from explaining himself even more. Besides, there was little they could tell him that he didn’t already know—Ballas always knew everything, at least that was what it had always felt like. Even back then, when the Orokin were still alive and Margulis was caring for the Zariman survivors, the children would tell horror stories about Executor Ballas seeing and hearing everything that was going on; If you were naughty, he would give you nightmares.

Knowing what they knew now, there was more truth to those stories than they probably realized back then.

Ballas’ golden gaze had turned somewhat thoughtful, as if remembering something as well. While he was seemingly distracted, the Tenno decided to finally have a taste of their tea, the aroma too tempting for their senses to resist. As soon as the hot liquid came into contact with their taste buds, the rich sweetness and warmth prompted them to close their eyes in sheer nostalgic bliss.

“Alad V was not the first to create Amalgam technology.” Surprised to hear Ballas speak up on his own accord, they opened their eyes and listened. “Erra’s people and I had already started a project of our own a very long time ago. After you and Umbra had joined forces to stand up to me and exact revenge, the vision you saw later on, when I gave you Paracesis’ blueprint… what you saw then wasn’t the first Amalgam, either. We used cloning technology to create more subjects, to better understand and refine an Amalgam’s anatomy, to stabilize the body’s vitals. There were countless unfinished, unsuccessful, and rather unsatisfactory results, discarded. The body you saw me in was not intended to be the final product, but it was closest to what we were hoping for. We didn’t have much of a choice—I was fatally wounded by Umbra’s sword; there was no time.”

Ballas’ words slowly sank in, like a fog that was slowly seeping into their skin. “You… You cloned yourself. And then you switched bodies, like— like with Continuity!”

“Very good,” Ballas praised, his smile as relaxed as his posture, yet it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “That is indeed what I did. Mind you, none of the clones actually had the means to truly be alive—they all lacked one vital thing, one final puzzle piece to make them complete; a soul.”

That Ballas himself had been the missing piece went unsaid, but the meaning behind his words were clear. None of the clones were ever intended to become their own person, because Ballas didn’t care about building an army of clones like the Grineer, he only cared about making the perfect new body for himself that he could jump into when he needed it.

But…

“But why make your new body an Amalgam?”

“Good question,” Ballas hummed (“This is the most praise I’ve ever gotten from him in such a short amount of time,” the Tenno couldn’t help but think), “and yet, the answer is rather simple, if not even predictable: Orokin bodies hold a lot of power over many things, yet Sentient technology has evolved and adapted so much in the early years that not even the oldest, most powerful Orokin could possibly hope to control them. However, if you were to combine Orokin and Sentient into one being, the sheer amount of power and influence that being would hold was yet to be discovered.”

That explained why Ballas was able to manipulate Natah and Erra’s people, though Erra himself managing to somehow escape that same fate was rather strange; in fact, it had seemingly done the opposite, opening his eyes to the cruel reality he’d helped bring to life alongside Narmer.

The Tenno stared into their half-emptied mug, their reflection scowling back at them. “So, when Natah killed you, your soul… transferred back into your original body?”

“Yes. My body had been safely stored away after the switch was successfully completed, slowly healing over time. All that is left of the wound now is a scar.” Ballas glanced into his own cup and sighed. “Would you like a refill?”

They hesitated. “...No, thank you.”

Ballas poured more tea for himself. His demeanor had somewhat changed the longer he’d been talking, the weirdly playful gleam in his eyes had disappeared, replaced with what could only be described as melancholy—perhaps the memories he was currently reliving had grown bittersweet with time.

“I was ready to die,” he said, tone somber. “When you and Natah returned, I knew my end was nigh. I was angry then, but that anger only served to hide the truth which I was too proud to acknowledge; the satisfaction and joy of becoming Narmer, being Narmer, was always doomed to be short lived. It didn’t manage to fill the void within me like I’d hoped it would, which only made me more furious—desperate. It wasn’t until you used my own Veil against me that I was finally forced to realize what I’ve been missing all this time, the one thing that managed to overshadow all of my original ambitions, the largest, most important part of my life that had been taken from me, and I had done nothing to stop it.”

The Tenno’s eyes widened with surprise. “Margulis,” they breathed.

Natah had made it clear that Ballas had made attempts to “revive” Margulis, a Margulis he could control, and in Ballas’ final moments, the Veil had revealed his greatest wish, ultimately leading to his demise. And yet, hearing Ballas admit just how much Margulis had truly meant to him, that he had been too caught up in his own head to truly realize what he’d been feeling… It wasn’t something they had ever expected. Orokin weren’t exactly known to be critically self-aware, the Entrati having been the only known exception thus far, though the amount of time that being infested and stuck on Deimos for the rest of their lives brought was no doubt the main reason for their personal growth.

“I was ready to die,” Ballas repeated, “because part of me had already died when Margulis was wrongfully executed. Perhaps even earlier than that, when it became clear that the Empire didn’t approve of her work with you and the other survivors, and instead of doing everything in my power to keep her safe, I abandoned her; the only person that has ever truly mattered to me.”

He smiled ruefully. “Even in my blinding rage, I was ready to welcome death with open arms. I sit in front of you now, because I failed to remember the body I had left behind to heal—my failsafe, set aside for the small, possible chance of Narmer’s failure. Waking up had never been so unexpected, nor had it ever been so very unwelcome.”

Hesitant fingers pushed their empty mug towards the white-golden tray, soon rewarded with a generous refill.

“One last question, at least for now,” the Tenno paused until Ballas’ expectant gaze met theirs, “why come here, of all places? Why tell me all of this?”

Ballas’ eyes crinkled at the corners as his smile grew into something more genuine, something warm that the Orokin had never shown before. “Because it’s what she would have wanted.”

They straightened up, startled.

“I was too lovesick and blinded by jealousy to accept her wishes of keeping you safe. I honored her memory in many of my creations, failing to realize that she wouldn’t have wanted me to. Now that my senses are clear, it has always been painfully obvious that you, her children, are her true legacy, the one thing that’s left of her. And all this time—” Ballas’ voice broke slightly, “All this time, I’ve been trying to— to destroy you. All this time, I’ve blamed her death on you.”

They weren’t yet willing to forgive, but perhaps Ballas knew and respected that, perhaps all he wanted was to atone and finally make peace—with them, but also with himself. They may not be ready to forgive, but they were beginning to understand, and with understanding came a deep form of empathy. The Tenno had loved Margulis, grieving upon losing her, and that had always been the one trait they had unknowingly shared with Ballas.

Their gaze fell to his hand that lay on the table between them, still holding onto the Orokin teacup as if it was the one thing that kept him from falling apart. Before they could convince themself otherwise, they had reached out, their own hand only mere inches away from Ballas’, close enough to feel the hint of warmth from his skin and his tea. The small show of empathy seemed to give Ballas enough solace to speak once more.

“I would like to do what I should have done from the very beginning—I’m going to help you.”