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The prison chamber still smelled faintly of the acrid smell that came with the Blight and Aether altogether.
By the time the Endministrator and Si arrived, along with the guards stationed outside the prison, Nefarith had vanished, supposedly noticing the arriving company.
Ardashir had remained where the restraints had left him, though Si’s barrier had been broken. He was still seated upright, despite the wound Nefarith had inflicted upon him, now but a searing mark that was slowly regenerating - slower than usual, Si pointed out. Blue light seeped from the wound, as the Aether manifested and began weaving him back together, the fabric of his meticulous clothes carrying the same hue. He regarded the reopened door with the same composed smile he’d worn at their earlier meeting, though the shake in his shoulders and pained groans told a different story.
The Endministrator entered first.
Behind him came Si, several guards, and the others.
Nefarith was gone. If Si hadn’t known it was her with the help of her inkspirits, it could have been anyone that broke into the prison.
“... So,” Ardashir said softly, with that almost haunting tone of his. “She chose mercy.”
Si scoffed at the words, one hand on her hip, as she regarded him with distaste. “Mercy? She nearly split you in half.”
“A matter of… perspective.”, the bound man shrugged off.
He inclined his head toward the Endministrator, eyes softening as they always did when he looked at the man, like everything else ceased to exist. “You’ve returned.” The greeting sounded almost… pleased.
Si folded her arms. “You’ll be transferred.”
Ardashir’s gaze shifted at that. It seemed he did not expect that turn of events. “Transferred?”
“Dijiang.”, the Endministrator supplied.
Silence fell over the room, as the Phidia took in the words.
“The holding location will be secured by my Arts. Even with your Aether, it won’t free you, just so you know, you scoundrel.” Si continued, huffing out a breath, as she crossed her arms.
No arguments, no fading smile, only a thoughtful nod. “An understandable precaution.”
The Endministrator frowned. “That’s it?”
“What else shall I say?”
“You aren’t going to… resist?”
At that, Ardashir looked genuinely puzzled. “For what purpose would I?”
The room fell quiet. Si was holding back something akin to a gag, while the Endministrator was, once more, left with more confusion than answers.
“My Lord has chosen this course.”, his eyes settled on the Endministrator once more, soft and devoted. “So I shall comply.”
The words were spoken with such simple certainty that several guards behind them exchanged uncomfortable glances.
“You… what?”
His smile returned, not mocking, not triumphant, but patient. As he always was, when it came to the Endministrator. “I gave you my word that I will not attempt to escape.”
The silence afterwards somehow felt heavier.
One of the guards behind them muttered a quiet: “He expects us to believe that?”
Ardashir simply continued smiling at the Endministrator like a man who had all the time and patience in the world.
Later, as preparations for the transfer were underway, the Endministrator lingered. Only the distant footsteps of soldiers echoed through the corridor.
Ardashir glanced at the hallway, before he spoke. “You seem troubled.”
The Endministrator studied him. Whatever he tried to decipher, he could never get a good read on the man. “You attacked everyone.”
“... Yes.”
“You fought Arcane.”
“... I did.”
“You nearly killed several people.”
Ardashir's expression faltered slightly, as he lowered his head. “I do regret the… mess.”
The Endministrator’s eyes narrowed. “But never me.”
Ardashir didn’t answer immediately, though his head whipped up with surprising speed, eyes widening, before they softened once more. “No.” It sounded so self-assured and confident, that it once again only raised more questions in the Endministrator.
“Why?”
His silver-blue eyes seemed to burn through the Endministrator’s mask with their intensity. “Because I serve you.”
“You keep saying that, yet you oppose Endfield. You work with Nefarith, you try to open the Very Large Rift. Those statements seem incompatible.”
“They are.”, the answer came without hesitation. “I chose the path I believed would lead you toward the future that should exist.”
“And if I opposed it?”
“You already have, have you not?”
“So you will keep opposing me?”
“If necessary.”
The Endministrator frowned. More questions, once more. Always more questions with this infuriating man. “And yet you won’t fight me.”
Ardashir’s voice remained calm, as he spoke. “I will endure your judgment. But I will not raise my hand against my Lord unless every other path has already vanished.”
The Endministrator remembered, then. The Marker Stone, the single strike. The apology that came before. The way Ardashir had looked… not guilty, not reluctant - not quite. But rather… pained. As though every movement of his arm had been against his own nature.
“You apologised.”
A soft hum, as Ardashir’s lips curled into that same soft smile. “I did.”
“Like it hurt you.”
For the first time since they’d met, Ardashir’s smile became almost… sad, in a way. “... Yes.”
Another silence settled between them. The words felt… heavy, as the Endministrator processed them. Finally, then, he broke the silence. “Why?”
Ardashir looked away, toward the dim light filtering in from the elevator shaft. “When one has waited for the awakening and return of their sovereign for as long as I have, only to… find them again only to become their enemy is rather a cruel joke.” His gaze returned, soft, but sad. “But I remain grateful nonetheless.” He bowed his head, reverent, resigned, and defeated all in once. “I shall await your next visit, Endministrator.”
Before the Endmin could ask about it, footsteps approached from behind. Summit let him know that preparations were complete and the Proxy wished to speak to him. Casting one final glance back at the man bound to the chair, head still bowed, he left.
Ardashir, oddly happy to keep up conversations, seemed to strike them up with not only the guards, but also attempted to do so with Si - even after being turned into a rather…. Crude looking painting - and even Summit. Arcane had made it her mission to keep a respectful distance away that would justify claiming he simply did not hear the man they kept prisoner.
When guards wondered whether or not Ardashir was either insane or manipulating the Endmin, he had claimed that “There is little purpose” in escaping, that “My Lord has forgotten me. That is tragedy enough.”, though he said it in a way that he had already come to terms with it, though it pained him nonetheless. It was a strange thing, really.
And when the Endministrator asked him, once more, if he really won’t try to escape, he assured the man that he would not.
“Even if you could?”
“I could, even now.”
“But you won’t.”
“I promised.”
It earned a frown from the Endministrator. “Why does my word matter so much to you?”, he had asked instead.
Ardashir looked at him for several long seconds. This time, there was no smile on his lips, only quiet affection that he did not bother to hide anymore, swimming in his eyes. Affection that had weathered centuries. “Because it is yours.”
The answer came so simply that it almost felt incomplete. The Endministrator waited for more, but it never came. “... That’s all?”
“It has always been enough.”
Si glanced at him wearily as he was transported, her powers holding him in place securely. Unsurprisingly, it was Ardashir who broke the silence between them, first. Though it did not seem like the mindless ramblings or overdramatic weaving of words he had done before in her presence. Instead… “You have my gratitude.”
“... Don’t thank me,” Si replied with annoyance in her voice. “You’re being locked away.”
“I know.”
“You may never leave.” They both knew her words weren’t true, not quite.
“If that is my Lord’s judgement…”, he smiled again, as he spoke. “... then I shall wait.”
Si stared at him for a long moment. “You really never changed, not when it came to him.”
Ardashir’s smile softened. He did not respond.
It had only been three days since Ardashir had been transferred aboard the Dijiang.
Three days since Si had sealed the chamber with a fragment of Feranmut power that only the Endministrator could bypass.
Three days since an immortal enemy had been locked behind a door that no one else could open.
The corridor outside resembled a military checkpoint. Two squads rotated shifts every few hours. Arts detectors lined the walls. Emergency seals covered every bulkhead. The corridor was kept bright around the clock.
Nobody liked standing watch, though nobody complained. Simply because everyone understood exactly who was behind that door. The importance of it. Yet, it transformed the usual lively atmosphere aboard the Dijiang into something rather… tense.
The Endministrator approached. The fragment Si had entrusted to him stirred warmly beneath his palm. Ancient sigils rippled over the door, like waterdroplets on ink. The countless locks disengaged one another another. Then, the heavy door slid open.
“... Endministrator.”
The familiar greeting arrived before he even stepped inside. Ardashir was sitting at the desk, reading. Several books from the Dijiang’s library were stacked neatly beside him on the white surface. As much as he was their prisoner, Endfield was not cruel.
They had supplied him with necessities and food was served to him on regular intervals. A small bathroom was attached to the room, he even had a window overlooking the path in which the Dijiang orbited around Talos-II.
Ardashir closed the book he had held previously carefully, then rose from his position. “I was wondering whether today would be the day.”
“You knew I was coming?”
“I had hoped.” The smile was small, warm. It was entirely devoid of mockery.
“... Comfortable?”, the Endministrator asked instead, gesturing around the room.
“I have certainly occupied worse accommodations.” It sounded a whole lot like sarcasm, though not in a biting way. Rather, in a playful manner.
“Worse than prison?”
“Worse than this prison.” Ardashir glanced around the room. “I find it rather pleasant.”
The Endministrator looked around, as though seeing it for the first time. A single room. A desk. A chair. A bed. A bathroom scarcely bigger than a closet. It wasn’t anything luxurious, but also not cruel. Simply… a room. “You don’t mind.”
“I mind very little.”
“Even though you lost your freedom?”
“I surrendered it.”
The Endministrator folded his arms at that. “You still haven’t explained why.”
Ardashir regarded him for a moment. “Would an explanation satisfy you?”
A moment of silence. The Endministrator’s composure wavered, just slightly. “... I don’t know.”, he ended up admitting.
Ardashir smiled like he already knew of the answer, before the Endministrator himself did. “Then I shall wait until it does.”
There it was, again. That infuriating patience. Never pressing, not once refusing, just always… waiting.
The Endministrator sighed. “You really don’t get frustrated. Anyone else would’ve demanded better treatment by now, or demanded to be let free.”
“I have everything I require.”
“You have almost nothing.”, the Endmin pointed out, puzzled.
Ardashir’s silver-blue eyes met his, through the mask. “I have your company.” He said it so naturally that it took a heartbeat for the words to settle.
The question that had burned on his lips for so long finally, finally, broke free. “You knew me, before. Better than just an ordinary operator working for Endfield.”
Ardashir, true to his usual self, did not look surprised. If anything, he displayed the same satisfaction he so often did, when his patience finally paid off - especially when it came to the Endministrator.
He took a seat, then gestured for the Endmin to take a seat on the bed. A respectful distance between them, as he placed one leg atop the other, folding his hands neatly. His black tail uncurled from his leg, before curling loosely around it once more.
The Endministrator hesitantly took a seat.
“I did. I was the last person you had seen, before you entered your most recent sleep.”
The words seemed to scratch something deep within his mind, something so far away from him that, no matter how much he tried or focused, he could not recall. Yet, he believed the words, as Ardashir spoke them. He had considered the possibility, already assuming that it was true, especially in the way that most people around him seemed to know Ardashir as well. It truly made him wonder just what happened.
“With how you always speak to me, it makes me wonder… certain things,”, the Endministrator begun. His brows furrowed beneath his mask, lips curling downwards, displeased. A part of him was unsure if he would even want to know, while another part of him was so, so tired of feeling like the person missing the plot, while everyone around him seemed keen on withholding information from him. Vital information.
Ardashir, as always, simply waited.
“What exactly… Were we?”
Ardashir’s gaze drifted out towards the window, watching the universe drift by slowly. His tail gave a faint thump against his leg, as he considered his words carefully, for once.
“Everything.” He stated it in a way that made it sound almost simple. Yet, the way his voice came out breathy, strained, like it physically pained him to speak it out loud, betrayed him. His eyebrow furrowed next, lips pressed into a tight line, not a smile for once.
“You were everything.”, he followed up, his voice now a whisper, lingering between them. “To call you my Lord was always honest. To call you my friend, as well.” And yet, it seemed like no term was sufficient enough for Ardashir to describe what they had been, once, to one another.
The Endministrator felt… conflicted. Like one of his worst fears had become true, then.
Yet, it did not seem to deter Ardashir from continuing. “You were my sovereign, my companion.”, he let out the smallest breath, as though the admission had cost him far more than anything else ever could. “My purpose.”, he added. His fingers tightened almost imperceptibly around one another, his head bowing deeply. “And the man I had loved.”
The words settled between them, heavy, truthful.
For the first time since entering the room, the Endministrator found himself unable to answer. He had expected…
He wasn’t entirely certain what he had expected. Not anymore.
Maybe an explanation, another riddle. Something akin to a forgotten oath. But not.. This.
Not something so devastatingly… simple.
Ardashir’s head remained bowed, saying nothing further. He had answered the question exactly as it had been asked. There was no attempt to justify himself, no expectation of reciprocation or hope of remembrance. Only the truth had been presented to his Lord.
The Endministrator’s hands rested on his knees, fingers curling into the fabric of his trousers, a faint tremor in them. “... You say that so calmly.” He had to say something, anything, that did not involve acknowledging the truth just yet - and he knew, the man in front of him did not lie. Not to him, not about this. Not with the way he had spoken it. Especially not with the information he had gathered, himself, over the months.
A quiet smile tugged faintly at the corner of Ardashir’s lips, as he raised his head once more. “I practiced.”
The answer drew an involuntary blink from the Endministrator. “Practiced…?”
“I imagined this conversation many times.” Silver-blue eyes met the mask that concealed the face he remembered better than his own, a face he missed oh so dearly. “I simply never imagined it would occur after you had forgotten me.”
Silence settled once more.
The stars beyond the window continued on drifting by, indifferent witnesses to a confession that had been years in the making, that shook the very foundation of a man holding the world on his shoulders - holding the universe on his shoulders.
“... Did I…”, the Endministrator stopped, swallowing hard. His throat felt strangely tight.
Ardashir waited, always waiting, always so patient.
“... Did I know?”
It was the first direct acknowledgement the Endministrator had given, to the words spoken prior.
“You did.”
Endmin let out a breath, heavy, shaky. “And…”, his voice almost failed him, yet he willed the words to come out regardless. “... Did I love you?”
Ardashir closed his eyes. For the first time since the Endministrator had met him, he looked genuinely vulnerable. When he opened his eyes once more, they held that sadness the Endministrator had seen previously more clearly now. Like he was no longer hiding.
When the white-haired man answered, it was almost inaudible. “... Yes.”
The Endministrator’s heart lurched. A heaviness settled in his chest that he did not want to explain, couldn’t.
“You remember…?”
“I remember everything.”
And you’re certain?”
“I am.”
“... How?”
A faint exhale escaped Ardashir. The smile did not reach his eyes, this time. “Because those had been your own words.”
The Endministrator stared.
“‘Ardashir’.”, his imitation of the Endministrator’s voice was impossibly gentle. Not mocking, not theatrical, merely… remembered. Fragile, almost. “‘Whatever tomorrow brings, do not doubt me. You have never stood beside me because you were commanded, you stand beside me because we chose one another.’” The immortal’s smile was painfully small. “I have carried those words through civilisations that no longer exist.”
The Endministrator lowered his gaze. It did sound like something he would say. And yet… “I don’t remember saying any of that.” He protested weakly.
“I know.”
“... I wish I did.”
The admission escaped before he could stop it.
Ardashir’s expression softened with such unmistakable tenderness that it almost hurt to look at, the Endministrator’s heart squeezing painfully at the sight, regardless.
“I do not.”
The Endmin looked up in surprise at the words. “You don’t?”
“No.”
“... Why?”
“Because then, you would grieve.” The answer came without hesitation. “You would awaken into a world where everyone you knew has become history. You would remember promises you could no longer keep, friends you could no longer save, places that no longer exist.” His gaze wandered briefly to the stars, then he looked back at the man sitting on the bed. “If memory must return…” A gentle smile found the Endministrator again. “I would rather it return because you wished to reclaim it. In a way that will not pain you.”
‘Not because I wished to burden you.’, he never spoke the final thought aloud. He did not need to. Ardashir knew that the other man would understand it, anyway.
After a long silence, he asked the one question that had been quietly growing in the back of his mind, ever since Ardashir had first called him his Lord. Ever since he became aware of the strange behaviour the man showed around him, the difference in said behaviour between the Endministrator and his companions.
“Is that why you never fight me?”
Ardashir gave a tiny shake of his head, snow white hair softly moving with it. “No.”
“No?”
“I simply… cannot bring myself to do so.” He held the Endministrator’s gaze as he spoke, not wavering once. “I have crossed blades with what you would call gods, I have buried companions and survived the death of worlds.” His fingers loosened at last, the tension leaving his clasped hands. “But every time I have raised my hand against you…” His voice faltered, for only an instant, yet the Endministrator picked up on it. “... It has felt like asking my own heart to beat against itself.”
A shaky breath left the Endministrator, his chest painfully heavy, heart thrumming restlessly in his ribcage. A headache found its way into his skull, no doubt from trying to remember anything. Yet even without his memories, he knew the words spoken to him were true, could feel how his body reacted to what it once knew, how his heart sped up in response to the softness and reverence lacing the truth.
He finally had answers to his most burning questions, but at what cost?
“I should leave.”
The Endministrator did not wait for a response, missing the way Ardashir’s hand lifted from the Phidia’s lap, the way eyes widened just briefly and the way a tail uncurled itself from its resting place.
And yet, Ardashir stopped in his movements, his gaze softening.
He understood, of course he understood.
“I shall await your next visit, Endmin.”, he simply said, though his voice was laced with sorrow. And yet, he would wait, as he always had.
With time, just like before, his Lord would remember. Would find his way back to him. Or perhaps, this time, Ardashir would earn his place back next to him.
Time would tell, after all, and Ardashir was nothing if not patient.