Chapter Text
“Theia, please~”
“No,” she answered vehemently, turning back to face him. Her oldest, closest friend. Her partner. Part of her very soul. It screamed at her as she spoke. No, don’t walk away. You know there is no coming back from this. “There must be a better way, Hades. I can’t just stand by and watch the rest of you throw lives away for something that may not even work-“
“Theia-“ The look on his face was heartbreaking. Theia knew he was scared. It was in the way he stood, shoulders almost rounded with the weight of it all. It was in the way he spoke her name, that softer, sibilant drawl he used only in private. It was in how he didn’t call her Azem like he normally would when talking about something as important as saving the star. It was in the way those golden eyes were almost begging her just to turn around and listen to him for once in her life. He was angry. He was frightened. He didn’t even have his mask on or his hood up. His white hair was a mess and the dark circles under his eyes had only gotten deeper, highlighting how brilliant his eyes were. This wasn’t a plea from Emet-Selch to Azem. This wasn’t an argument between coworkers and colleagues of the Convocation. This was Hades trying desperately to talk his wife out of leaving on a fool’s errand.
“-and even if it does it will bind half of our people to the will of one! How could you possibly entertain such a concept?”
“And I fail to see how you leaving at such a crucial time will solve the problem any faster.” There it was, that superior tone. She was beyond used to it and she knew he was almost never serious about it. It was just how he was, even to her. His arms folded over his chest and his eyes shifted away. He felt guilt over his request. “Especially when you only have a whisper of a lead.” She smiled softly, reached up and dropped both her mask and her hood so he could see her face clearly-her cascading white hair in gentle waves, her white on silver eyes, the straight line of her nose and the strong line of her jaw.
“A whisper is better than nothing. I have done more with less.” The smile faded quickly though, as the weight reasserted itself in her chest. “I must. I’m not letting him sacrifice himself for this.” Hades’ eyes shifted back over to her quickly, eyelids sinking until only the glow of his eyes made it through thick, white lashes. He knew exactly to what she referred and looked as happy about it as she was.
“Three days,” she promised. “Give me three days before you attempt it. If I have not returned by then…”
“They will cast you out for this, Theia,” Hades stated calmly, his voice going deep in the way only his voice did when he was well and truly at the end of his rope. “The Convocation is already considering it. The Seat of Azem will be no more.”
“Then let them,” she retorted hotly. “Let. Them.”
~~~
And, as usual, it was here that Augusta awoke, tangled in her bedding and sweating as if she’d spent the last several hours chasing Estinien around during his self-imposed and inflicted Dragoon drills-jumps and swings and thrusts wearing the ancient armor she’d inherited only a few months prior. She had done that earlier. Estinien refused to let the woman who took the title of Azure Dragoon from him let her skill slip even a little, even if she no longer carried a spear.
She was also certain he loved bullying her, but that was neither here nor there. It was a good workout, and it kept her in good form even though she chose to carry a Reaper’s scythe these days. How he wasn’t exhausted by the end would always be a mystery to her and a reason for her to gripe at him.
It was late but the air in Radz-at-Han was still sweltering. A glance at her tomestone indicated it was only a quarter past two in the morning. With a sigh, she swung her legs over the side of the bed (only after unwinding the soft cotton sheets from between them) and wiped her hand across her eyes and her slick brow, careful as always of the third eye hiding behind her stark white bangs. Up she stood, stretching her full height of six feet and three inches, before padding across the room on bare feet to look in the mirror at her vanity and pour herself a tepid cup of water from the pitcher there. Even at night, she could see the swirls of aether, drifting in long glittering lines in and out of sight like a delicate weave across her vision. Her third eye’s sight had only grown stronger since her return from the First, and with the eighth joining of her soul, she could reach out and touch aether and spin it without the aid of her tech for the first time in her life.
The white hair was still shocking to see, as were the silver eyes. Gifts from Emet-Selch she called them, even if she knew the truth. The bleaching of both her hair and her eyes had been the direct result of either absorbing so much Light aether in the First as to nearly kill her or the sudden influx of memories when she’d reclaimed that part of her sundered soul. Even now, she missed Ardbert but he was resting, she hoped, somewhere in the depths of her soul.
But the dreams she’d had since then, since ending the threat of Emet-Selch, had haunted her. Given the context of both Emet-Selch’s many conversations with her-hindsight, of course, being 20/20, knowing now what words he used when reminiscing about those times-and her last battle with Elidibus, she knew she was seeing memories of her life as an Ancient. Someone Emet-Selch had known and known well. It wasn’t until recently that the dreams had begun to become clearer. She could see faces, even if she never remembered them. Even now, Hades’ features faded from what they had been in the dream to the familiar, tired face of the man she was forced to kill.
But it was the names that stuck with her. Hades, of course. She’d known that in the First, when he’d told her what it was just before trying to commit her soul to oblivion and cause a Calamity.
But Theia. Theia was new. Theia rang in her like a bell, like the very utterance of the name plucked a string so deep in her that it echoed through the halls of her memory.
Knowing that sleep was going to be beyond her, she went to the pile of her armor-she really should hang the long coat, even it if was mostly straps. The feathers along the collar, at least, would thank her-and once again fetched out the orange, glowing stone etched with the ring around the sun. Knowing that Hades had created it after the others and without the other Unsundered Ascians' permission made her smile because she was certain that Lahabrea and Elidibus would both balk at his use of the sun as it's symbol. Emet-Selch might have thought the world revolved around Azem, but the others certainly didn't, even if they hadn't recognized her.
It was the only such crystal she had kept when she’d surrendered the rest to Elidibus at the Crystal Tower in the Crystarium (no matter how she’d wished she’d kept Emet-Selch’s) and she found herself sitting with it more and more often as the dreams became clearer. Or perhaps it was the memories contained within, memories that weren’t Theia’s but Hades’ own, memories of her and the things he did and saw and thought as he carried both the titles of Emet-Selch and Azem, that had offered the clarity her dreams now seemed to possess. She sat with it again, and, as usual, at the slightest mental prodding it opened up like a lily to the sun and poured images into her mind: sun: dappled fields and light through crystal glasses and clearer wine. The swing of a weapon clearly too big for her (a penchant she seemed to keep carrying even as she heard him say the words). The grapes she'd risked her life to save because who else would know of their sublime sweetness if she didn't save them.
Theia. She turned her thoughts to Theia and as surely as the sun rises, Theia's image swam to the forefront. Long, waving silver-white hair. Eyes glittering like silver coins or stars in the firmament. Skin almost too pale, that flushed at his compliments into a rich rose that he'd tried a dozen times to capture in paint and portrait but never did it any justice. The fact that Theia's face was almost identical to Augusta's.
Then came the doubts, ones he either could not hide or did not bother to: it is not possible that this wayward, broken soul could be Theia. He refused to believe that she would stand against him. How could he do this to her? Had he not made her suffer enough through the Ardor, through the repeated violations of his own oaths to guide souls to the Lifestream, not force them to cross? That wretched Warrior of Darkness, interfering with such carefully laid plans as his. How d a r e she think herself his equal? How dare he besmirch her memory so by comparing them? Clearly they were not one and the same and yet he could not help himself feeling drawn to her. Repeatedly, he visited her. Never alone. He did not trust himself that much. He did not trust that she could not convince him of a different way. No, he would stay the course. After all, look at the sins he'd already committed in her name. All of these thoughts of his, so crystal clear in his timbred, cultured voice shifting between calmness, longing, and almost insane wrath. Theia. How he wished he could see her again. How he wished he'd never have to torment her shattered soul again. How he wished he could destroy her forever so that her memory would stop plaguing him so he could finally work in peace.
And, as usual, the stone closed the memories off, locking them again behind chained doors as if it were still bound to Emet-Selch's stubborn will. Each time she tried this little exercise, she got more thoughts, more context. More of his anger and anguish. More of the context of his life, his tormented existence, and Theia's influence.
She sighed, tucked the stone back into her coat, and took the time to hang it up on the hanger next to the door. From her shadow, she felt her Avatar shift and rise. He was worried. She sensed it more than felt it or saw it. The strange void-bound creature with whom she'd made a deal was odd for a demon, but she was grateful he didn't act like his more bloodthirsty brethren.
"It's fine, Erebus," she hummed. "Go back to sleep. We have much to do come dawn and you know know much you hate working in daylight."
The shadow hissed, but did as he was told, leaving Augusta viator Aurelius to her thoughts once again as she grabbed a clean towel and headed towards the sauna. If she wasn't going to be able to sleep, she should at least get a better start to the day than a two o'clock in the morning start would normally allow her. She would need her energy and her wits to sole whatever oddities were going on in Thavnair.