"Fetch Quests"

Emet-Selch & Warrior of Light, past Emet-Selch/Azem

Emet-Selch accompanies the Warrior of Light on a couple of fetch quests around the Crystarium.
She's not sure why she's so accepting of his company, or why she finds it comforting. He knows exactly why.

Some Shadowbringers spoilers, mostly Emet-Selch centric.
Warnings for grief, angst, and unpleasant flashbacks.
Canon past character death.

"If I were to tell you that this isn't the end... that we will meet again... would you believe me?"

Amidst the dreary and empty Light-ridden wasteland of Norvrandt, the Crystarium buzzed with life, an oasis of safety beneath the towering blue spires of crystal. Darting through the lively midday crowd was a short and slender Miqo'te, a rather unassuming individual if one was unaware that she was the renowned Warrior of Light. Short black hair framed the soft, gentle features of her face, her golden eyes wide and bright as she made her way past the market stalls, her long tail swaying with each step.

Kiara was headed for what they called the Spagyrics… though she had to ask around and learn that it was their medical treatment area. Following the directions given to her by helpful, well-meaning locals, she finally found the right place. It was a vast open room, with large strange mechanical devices, the walls lined with shelves of books and potions and jars. As she entered, she caught the distressed glance of a Miqo'te male, who quickly looked her up and down.

"You don't appear to have any gaping wounds... Are you here for a tincture, perhaps? If so, I'm afraid it will take some time to prepare."

She blinked for a moment, before responding with a smile and a gentle shake of her head. "No no, I was told you were seekin' help, is all."

"You've come in answer to our plea for help? Oh, thank goodness!" He heaved a great sigh of relief. "We don't have nearly enough manpower to keep up with the demand for poultices and restoratives at present, and I constantly feel as if I'm mere moments away from losing my wits from the stress of it."

"I see! Just leave it to me, then." Kiara boasted with a confident grin, despite having no idea what poultices were. "Tell me what you need, an' I'll help you get more of it."

The distress in the man's expression seemed to fade, replaced with relief and reassurance. "In fact, are you available to start right away? I am in urgent need of someone who might go to the Hortorium for more dawn faetail cuttings and nectar. Dawn faetails are large, glowing herbs ─ though I realize that applies to many of the plants growing there. You really ought to ask someone to show you once you arrive."

After getting directions to the Hortorium, she nodded and set out to collect the needed herbs. However, she'd barely made it a handful of steps out towards the Crystarium plaza when she sensed a certain presence behind her, the hairs at the back of her neck prickling even before she heard his voice, rich and smooth with a hint of mockery.

"Ah, the Warrior of Light, gracing the Crystarium with her boundless energy and tireless service. Truly, we are blessed."

Kiara hesitated before turning around, an exasperated smile curling her lips. There stood Emet-Selch, the current thorn in her side - an imposing Ascian with refined attire and an ever-present air of superiority. Despite his slouched and tired posture, he towered over her, his pale yellow eyes gleaming as he gazed down at her. His lips curved into a half-smile that felt somewhere between amusement and… something more inscrutable.

"Emet-Selch," she greeted, her tone at once casual and teasing, "here to pester me again? If I didn't know any better, I'd think you had nothing better to do."

"That's quite ironic coming from the one running around fulfilling mundane tasks when the world is at stake," he replied smoothly, taking a few steps closer.

"And whose fault is that again, hm?" She placed her hand at her hip, her stance relaxing even as he drew near.

"Mine, meaning my plan is the one currently in full force. You have the burden of stopping it, while I can do as I please in the meantime."

It wasn't lost on her how odd it was that they seemed to have such a… relatively amicable dynamic, given the circumstances. The closest thing to hostility he'd shown her since introducing himself was a condescending tone, and for some reason he seemed to enjoy showing up on occasion to follow her around. He also knew to appear only when Kiara was unaccompanied, as the other Scions remained apprehensive and eager to attack whenever given the opportunity.

Shouldn't she feel the same?

He was undeniably her enemy, a murderous villain who has left nothing but death and destruction in his wake for eons. His intent was to destroy this world, along with its inhabitants, and the Scions had been plucked from their own world into this one for the sole purpose of stopping him.

And yet…

"Do as you please? Is that so?" She asked, studying him closely before sighing and giving a shrug. "Well, come on, then." Turning around, she waved for him to follow. "If you must bother me, you might as well make yourself useful."

He raised an eyebrow, his gaze curious as he watched her begin to walk away, and yet he began to follow after her. "And what, pray tell, are we doing?"

"Collecting nectar, and cuttings from some plant called a dawn faetail, at the Hora– Horo– Horato– the uh, botanical garden."

"The Hortorium?"

"Yeah! That." She glanced over as he walked beside her. "See? You're useful already." Her ears flickered expressively as she smiled.

"Thank you," he spoke, his tone playfully sarcastic, "if I ever retire from world domination, I might consider becoming a tour guide."

"That's the spirit! Always good to have a backup plan."

Their banter continued as he followed her to the Hortorium, a sprawling botanical garden with a vast variety of cultivated plants. As one of the only remaining places in this world still suitable for life, the people of the Crystarium had to learn how to grow everything they needed in one place. There was a multitude of flowers and herbs in colorful pots lining dozens of organized shelves. She tried to remember the description of a dawn faetail - a big, glowing herb…

Curious, she reached out to some sort of glowing plant, wondering if this was it, only to hear a soft "nuh uh" from her odd companion. Taking his word for it, she turned to another glowing plant and was met with a "nope". Moving along to another row, she went to examine a third option.

"Not that one either."

Shooting a narrowed glance to the Ascian, he sighed and rolled his eyes, before nodding his head towards a shelf on the other side of her. She approached the shelf, reaching for the only glowing plant, and examined it until she found the label at the bottom of its pot: Dawn Faetail.

"Thanks… though it would have been easier if you just told me that was it."

"It would have been, yes."

Her brow twitched as she stared him down, and he simply smirked and gave a noncommittal shrug. Luckily, finding the nectar was much easier, as one of the Hortorium researchers had to obtain it for her, and soon they had returned to the Spagyrics with both in hand.

"Welcome back!" The Miqo'te greeted her as she approached. "Doubly so, if you have what we need."

Kiara nodded, pulling out the wrapped cuttings and bottle of nectar, handing it over to him with a smile. "Here you are! Hopefully this is enough?"

"Oh, it's perfect! I'm sure we shall be putting this to use right away ─ the patients haven't stopped coming, that's for certain."

Her tail flickered about, and she felt the warmth in her chest that always swelled when she was able to help someone in need. "That's good, please send word if you need anything else! Also," her voice softened as she regarded the man, "please remember to take care of yourself, too. I can't imagine how stressful this job can be."

"Our work can be grueling, I admit. It's work worth doing, though, and I was glad to have your help with it today. Thank you."

Emet-Selch lingered just outside the Spagyrics while she delivered the herbs, leaning against the wall as he waited for her to finish her conversation. A few moments later, she returned to him with genuine joy and content in her expression, an observation that caused him to sneer.

"Tell me," he spoke as they began walking to their next destination, "do you always run menial errands for people, or is this all just some elaborate way to show off your heroism?"

"I just try to help people, is all," she replied, unsure if his words were meant as a jab or genuine curiosity, "I did this stuff before I became known as a hero. Just feels like the right thing to do."

"How noble of you," he muttered, though admittedly didn't intend for the words to sound so bitter when he spoke them. "So, what's next, O Great Hero of the People?"

"The Amaro keepers' carts were broken in a recent attack," she answered, "so I agreed to help fix it." Her gaze drifted over to him, a hint of playfulness in her eyes as her lips curved into a smug grin. "Think you can handle a bit of manual labor? Or is that beneath you?"

"I've toppled civilizations and raised empires from the dust," he said with mock solemnity. "I think I can manage a cart."

As they approached the Amaro keep, Kiara couldn't help but notice how… natural his company felt. His presence, while initially unsettling, was now oddly comforting. Familiar. Safe. She caught herself stealing glances at him when he wasn't looking, as if searching for a reason to explain why she felt this way. He was her enemy. She shouldn't be feeling this way, and she could practically hear Y'shtola scolding her for being so reckless and naive, for dropping her guard, for being naïve enough to trust him even a little bit.

But there was something about him, something buried deep within her heart.

They began working on repairing the cart - well, in reality it was Kiara doing most of the work while Emet-Selch stood by and provided his commentary - and after a while, their banter faded into a comfortable silence. There was a strange warmth in her chest, a flicker of some emotion she couldn't quite name, until she could no longer ignore or deny it.

"Why do you keep coming back?" Her sudden words had flowed from her lips before she had the chance to stop them, a hint of raw vulnerability in her voice.

The Ascian's expression was… unreadable. "It's amusing," he finally spoke, "to annoy you."

"Is that it…?"

He scoffed quietly. "What can I say, you're insufferable and I'm a glutton for punishment."

She laughed, the sound genuine and light. "Well, whatever the reason…" her voice trailed off for a moment. "I've enjoyed your company."

"Tch," he quickly averted his gaze, turning away just enough so she couldn't see his face. "Then you're a bigger fool than I thought." Despite his words, there was a rare hint of affection in his tone.

They were both quiet as she finished the last of the cart's repairs, and after speaking with the keepers, Kiara returned to where Emet-Selch had waited for her… only he wasn't there. Curiously, her ears perked up as she glanced around, wondering where he would have gone - and caught herself feeling a sense of dread. Did she dread parting ways with him? She wasn't sure how to process that, but before she could get too lost in her thoughts, his voice rang out behind her.

"Miss me already? I only walked off for a moment."

She turned around and was almost ashamed at how relieved she felt to see him there. He reached out to hand her something, and her eyes settled on the cup in his hand. "You got this for me?"

"It's just jasmine tea, nothing fancy." His gaze shifted to the side as she took the cup and gently sipped at the hot drink. "Don't let yourself get dehydrated or you won't be saving anyone."

"Oh… well. Thank you."

"Don't get used to it."

As she took another sip, she suddenly saw Thancred round the corner, followed by Y'shtola. Their eyes met with surprise, until his gaze flicked to the Ascian beside her. In one fluid motion, he withdrew his gunblade, his body tense and ready to leap into action.

"Emet-Selch," he spat, readying for a potential confrontation, "trying to catch our friend alone? That's low, even for your sort."

Emet-Selch let out a long, drawn out sigh, rolling his eyes as he turned to Thancred. "Oh yes, you got here just in time." His tone was soaked in sarcasm, though it was different than before. There was malice and irritation in his voice, instead of amusement. "I was about to slice off her head, but you've foiled my plan. My disappointment is immeasurable, and my day is ruined."

Y'shtola narrowed her gaze, poised to attack at a moment's notice. "Then why have you come?"

"Wouldn't you like to know." He slouched a bit more, his brow furrowed, eyes half-lidded. "But, worry not, I was just leaving."

A portal manifested behind him, tendrils of black and purple energy writhing and pulsing with darkness. He stepped backwards, allowing the darkness to consume his form. Just before he vanished, he stole one last glance at Kiara, a certain gleam in his eyes that she couldn't quite read. Within seconds, he was gone. The darkness collapsed in on itself and vanished, and there was a strange silence as Thancred and Y'shtola put their weapons away.

"Kiara, what did he want?"

She sipped on her tea, thankful for something to bury her face into, even if for a moment. "He just… wanted to observe, as always."

"He's following you around again?"

She paused. "He behaved."

"Kiara. He doesn't need to be following you around when you're alone."

"If he wanted to hurt me, he would have tried already. I think he just wants–"

"He's a genocidal psychopath, Kiara. There's no reason you should ever be alone with him. Next time he shows up, you call us, okay?"

She looked down to the tea in her cup, a sigh of defeat escaping her lips. There it was. That feeling of dread. They were right to be protective and concerned. They were right not to trust him. They were right to assume the worst. They were right to not want her alone with him. They were right.

And yet…

A writhing mass of darkness appeared and Emet-Selch stepped out into the cold, empty, silent streets of his fabricated Amaurot, a city of ghosts hidden at the bottom of the sea. Its once magnificent buildings were now a haunting, eerie echo of a bygone era, shrouded in eternal twilight. Carefully crafted shades drifted about the streets like hollow, lingering memories of its former inhabitants.

He slowly made his way through the dead city, a personal hell of his own creation. With each step, he felt the weight on his shoulders grow heavier and heavier. The playful banter and light-hearted jests had long since faded, replaced by the profound sorrow and emptiness that plagued his soul. The light had left his eyes, his smug countenance now void of any expression at all. He finally reached his grand abode, a towering building that twisted into the sky, and pushed open the heavy doors to step inside.

The extravagance of his home, with its high ceilings and intricate architecture, only served to remind him of what all had been lost. Golden chandeliers hung from the ceilings, casting a dim, melancholic glow over the pristine yet lifeless surroundings. He moved through the cold, empty, silent halls as if walking to his own execution, his footsteps echoing off marble floors.

Once he reached the dimly lit study, Emet-Selch poured himself a drink, the amber liquid catching the light as it filled the glass. He took a long sip, savoring the burn as it slid down his throat. It was a temporary solace, a brief reprieve from the relentless, maddening ache that gnawed at his heart.

Pouring himself another glass or two (or three), he moved to the far end of the room, where a heavy red curtain covered a large painting. With a deep breath, he slowly reached out, fingers tightly gripping at the thick fabric before pulling it aside to reveal a portrait. Were it not for the lack of Miqo'te features, one might have mistaken it for a portrait of the Warrior of Light. Her soft, gentle features, framed by wavy locks of raven hair… and those golden eyes, wide and bright and full of life.

"Seph," he whispered, his voice breaking. His fingers brushed against the canvas, as if he could reach through the veil of time and touch her once more.

It was the end of the world, and the sky was aflame. Buildings crumbled and collapsed onto the streets, littered with corpses and rubble. There was nothing but death and destruction around him, echoes of screams and the roar of falling structures filling the air. Desperate and panicked, he ran through the streets of a burning Amaurot, stumbling on the cracked pavement and nearly slipping in the blood.

Amidst the chaos, he found her, his beloved Persephone, lying broken and bleeding among the ruin and rot. He cried out, running to her until he fell to his knees beside her, gently cradling her fragile form in his arms, her blood smearing into his robes.

"Seph," his voice was shaking, choked with desperation. "Please, stay with me– Don't leave me– Not you, too–"

Persephone gazed up to him, her eyes dim. Light crackled across her body as her very soul began to break apart, blood seeping from her smiling lips. "Hades," she spoke softly, her hand reaching up to rest at his cheek, her fingertips tenderly wiping away his tears. "It'll… be okay."

"No… No, no– No…" He could feel his heart break with each word. "I– I can't lose you– Not like this– Not now–"

"You're gonna… have to be strong, okay? For them– for us."

"No, I– I can't–"

With a flash of light, there was another loud crack across her flinching body, and blood gushed from the corners of her mouth. With a sob, he tightened his arms around her, pulling her close against him as she wailed in pain.

"Please– there must be something I can do– I'll do anything– Seph, please–"

Her hand fell to his chest, where she gripped at his robes, her breath heavy and labored. "Hades… Do you remember… how every time I left to travel… you were always there to send me on my way?"

"Of course I do," he whispered, choking back the tears as he used his sleeve to carefully wipe the excess blood from her face.

"Well– think of this… as just like that, okay?" She moved her hand to rest on top of his. "You're just… here to send me off… on some grand new adventure."

His eyes widened, the tears streaming freely down his face as he shook his head. "No– No, this is not like that– I can't–" His body slumped further down, his shoulders heavy. Memories flooded his mind of their shared laughter, of quiet moments under the stars, of passionate debates. "I wanted more time with you– I should have– I'm so sorry–"

With yet another crack, she cried out in anguish, wincing in his arms as her soul continued to fracture. She clung to him, weak and dying, and he felt so utterly helpless.

"Hades…" Her lips curled into a faint smile, her eyes beginning to glaze over as life slowly ebbed from her body. "If I were to tell you that this isn't the end… that we will meet again… would you believe me?"

He stared down at her, his eyes wide with despair and desperation, and he swallowed hard to choke back a sob. "Y-Yes…"

Her smile softened. "Good… So you can… come pester me again… promise?"

Tears speckled her robes as he let out a hollow laugh in between sobs. "Pester you– gods, woman, even on your deathbed you're a brat."

She attempted a chuckle, but it was too weak to produce a sound. "Just, promise it, jerkass…"

"To pester you?"

"Always."

The word struck him deep in his heart, and a lump formed in his throat. The air between them was heavy with tears, blood, and so many words left unspoken… but he knew what she meant. He nodded his head. "Always."

Emet-Selch took another long drink before nearly slamming his glass down onto the table. He reached for the bottle to pour some more, before realizing he'd emptied the full thing. He must have guzzled it down while lost in his memories, the alcohol doing little to numb the pain that consumed him.

He stared at the portrait, the painted eyes of his beloved Persephone staring back at him. Kiara's eyes staring back at him.

"Is this what you meant, Seph…?" Taking a step closer to the painting, he sighed and leaned forward, gently pressing his forehead against the canvas.

"In any case… I've kept my promise."