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It’s been so long since they saw, truly saw, the City. The last time they had been… Ghost would tell them not to linger on the memory. It was necessary to protect their people. Still, the fear in her eyes permeates their mind, just barely accompanied by the thanks of the House Light. It feels almost inconsequential next to the thought of her corpse.
Lakshmi would have had the Vex invade the City. They would not let those lives be lost to such dismissiveness. They would do it again and again, if they had to.
Still, her eyes linger. They see her eyes in the civilians’ and even Guardians’ whenever one recognizes them.
Except, the most unexpected pair gave them something new. While Crow gave them a mask, a cloak, a chance—An opportunity to see the City like he does, without so much fear; their own and others’—It wouldn’t have been possible without the Empress.
The Empress. While they don’t know what she said or did, they know Crow came to them with news that they could come back, and that she had played a hand in it. They didn’t believe him, at first. How could they? After years of exile and self-annihilation, an offer of return? It felt like a trap, but Crow followed through, as promised. Even took them around the City. It felt…strange.
It didn’t feel like coming home, but… it wasn’t all bad. Maybe they would have named the feeling if they had the courage to, but it’s the reason why they march through the halls of the Empress’s flagship now—and isn’t that strange? To march again?
It isn’t confidence, far from it. But, for the first time in perhaps years, they feel a determination beyond that of destruction. Something beyond eliminating a threat. A purpose without… violence (and that idea is dangerous, but with it comes an ember of hope even more so).
Were it confidence, they might have turned back already. They stare straight ahead, letting their footfalls be heard, and refuse to look at a single stationed Cabal. The eyes are too much and set off an upset in their heart, but they have to do this. The Empress needs to see it.
Passing another soldier and the head following their movement pricks at their nerves. Every instinct screams at them over being in the depths of enemy territory. Ghost sits in their hood, trying to put off calming waves, but it does nothing to assuage the budding shake they feel deep in their bones, itching for a trigger.
They aren’t here to fight, they know, yet it itches and reminds them they’ve disarmed themself. It was an intentional move, but one that works its way deep into their tendons.
Ghost chimes in, so quiet as to be almost inaudible, “Just like we planned. You’ve got this.” For all the gentility of his voice, he all but cuts through the tides of their Light to deliver another assuring pulse. It helps.
Finally, finally, turning one more corner and the council room doors are in view. Their heart beat returns to a more manageable tempo, no longer halfway bursting out their chest. Steadied in the knowledge of what must be done.
The doors pull open at their approach and they observe for a moment the miscellaneous soldiers scattered about, talking to one another. They are thankful not to see Saladin among the groups and relieved when Empress Caiatl nods an acknowledgement to them. The relief is short lived as they consider for a moment exactly how to proceed. It would be stranger still to continue standing blankly in the door frame.
They opt to keep walking as the anxiety builds. There’s a plan, yes, but what if–
Ghost must have felt the impending spiral, as he bumps a fin against their neck. They try their best to swallow down the building lump in their throat as they continue on, though it's not easy. Empress Caiatl has taken notice of their state by now. It must be concerning to see them march towards her, surely, but no guard raises a weapon.
On auto-pilot, they stop before the Empress. They know what to do. The action tugs on their muscles before they’ve even done it. In a motion equal parts fluid and jerky, they bow their head, bring a fist to their chest, and kneel.
It is not a position they are used to holding. They have never kneeled before. There is a momentary panic they might not be doing it correctly before the concern is subsumed by the knowledge the room has gone silent. Horribly, deathly silent. The quiet churns in their gut, twitching with the need to look around, search for danger. As they have today, they continue to hold as their breath grows shallow beneath their mask, but it isn’t panic.
It’s the memory of the City. How beautiful it has become. Perhaps it has always been, and only now can they see it truly. Appreciate it. The memory of something as small and simple as a plushie pricks at their eyes. During the trip, they almost hated it because of that, for a few brief moments, before they realized it was fear that was speaking. Truthfully, they loved it. It occurs to them that they never thanked Crow as they raise their head once more, eyes wet and voice sore with emotion, and speak.
“Thank you.”
—
It is days later, on another operation up-rooting Shadow Legion pawns, that Empress Caiatl watches from aboard a carrier as the Young Wolf tears through her father’s forces. It’s one thing to hear reports of a Lightbearer’s might when confronted with one before her, but it is another entirely to watch the ensuing carnage. There is a weight to being the one to direct that power on her own enemies. Watching the very being of the wretched clones come unraveled to the power she watched the Guardian learn.
As she watches the carnage, she reflects.
In the past, she wondered what bravery there was in something undying, cushioned in the knowledge of returnal, but she has since seen it. She knows otherwise now. Perhaps they do not fear an ordinary death, but the death of those behind them. A Guardian knows death intimately in loss. Even in the face of their own permanent deaths, they do not falter, for the preservation of their people.
She remembers eyes piercing in a way she had never seen on that face, always downcast and trodden. Then, they were soft and tired, yes, but steeled. Faltering yet strong. No, she had never seen that gaze on anyone, and as they kneeled to her and brought a fist to their chest, she smiled.
Yes, she understood.