Chapter Text
“The gifts, your Radiance.”
It had become even darker. The murk of Garlemald’s nigh-eternal winter made nightfall oppressive and terrifying. Only the white snow provided any light, and that was a pale, strained kind. The freezing darkness was a deadly wasteland, where one would fall prey to beasts. It was ideal for monsters like Emet-Selch — and it was the sort of world Ardyn thrived in, too.
The staff were turning in for another chilly night, wanting to crawl into warm beds and magitek-heated rooms. Even so, one retainer had brought Solus the thing that Ardyn had gifted him in that odd, unprompted display. Oh, this would be fun. The retainer held it to him, head bowed, and Solus took the decorative box with as little care as one collects junk mail.
“Dismissed.”
He closed the large, metal door with the press of a button, before immediately casting off his role. Now he could be himself. Now he could be amused and delighted, instead of appropriately offended over whatever this was. Emet-Selch had contemplated waiting to open the item until Ardyn had arrived, but he decided he didn’t care enough; he waited long enough for important things, and deserved a little short-term satisfaction.
He slid the lid off the top of the ornate container. The inside had clearly been disturbed — his staff had to check the gift for poison, powder, explosives, or anything else that could harm His Radiance. Before, the clothing inside had likely been pristinely folded and arranged. Now, it was a mess of straps and lace, though whomever last handled it had tried their best to keep the sets together.
A his-and-hers set of lingerie. They were like the clothing worn to a traditional Eorzean wedding: black for the man, white for the woman. A smirk cracked his stiff expression as he pulled each piece out and lay it across the foot of his massive bed.
The woman’s set was lacy, while the man’s had far more straps to lift the chest and accentuate the ass. Unlike the bride’s, which had panties and a bra, the groom’s had a completely open chest with straps that pressed around the pectorals, and only a pouch in the bottoms to (barely) tuck the cock into. It looked more like a set of bondage gear than lingerie.
Is this what you wish of me? He contemplated, before the snap of his fingers echoed in the silence of his chambers.
—
Emet-Selch - well, Solus, given the role he was in for this task - was sitting at his wooden desk when the wisps came. It was a dark, ash-scented fog, slithering along the ground; to any other person, it would be completely unnoticed, especially when one was involved in penning letters and signing documents as he was. But Emet-Selch was no man, and he could sense that fetid sickness when it had begun to climb the walls outside. His chamber allowed him one single window, with heavy bars drawn over it to prevent assassins - but Ardyn did not need a window. He needed only the little gaps in it, or under doorways and gates and barricades. He could become a cloud and move as he liked, shifting as the Ascians themselves did so easily.
“Good, I was getting bored, and when I get bored, I get tired.”
The fog had coalesced into a void-like lump in the center of the room, and Emet-Selch turned towards it from his seat. He grunted and yawned, stretching his long arms above his head, before standing up to go greet his clandestine lover. He was dressed in a heavy, fur-laden robe, a great housecoat over his sleeping clothes; he was bundled right up, warm and cozy, ready to turn in for the night. The mass of Starscourge shadow seemed to vibrate slightly, and again, Ardyn reminded Emet-Selch of a giant cat.
Purring as his beloved approached.
As if no mass had ever been there, a man was standing on his nice carpet. At least he had the decency to toss his hat and coat onto a chair before coming to embrace Emet-Selch. Even though he’d technically been outside, he was just as warm as Solus’ vessel, all firm muscle under layers upon layers of fabric. He brought him in close. Emet-Selch canted his head down to kiss the shorter man. The feel of stubble against his face was so achingly nostalgic.
Ardyn felt real when he touched him. It was false, of course - many souls crammed together into one diseased amalgamation - but after millenia of paper-thin beings, it was overwhelming. And he craved it. He yearned for it, as much as he denied himself. It was but a bandage over a gaping wound, but it was something.
That, and Ardyn had the experience of many, many people. His touch was knowing and perfect, his kiss like an old lover, warm and wanting every time. He drank of Emet-Selch without taking too much, and offered himself when Emet-Selch grasped at him in a frenzy. They moved together in a dance only damaged, lonely immortals knew the steps of - ones that maintained fragments of themselves still, anyway.
Tarnished, damaged fragments, rotten and changed forever. But whole, not yet broken by time.
“I didn’t think you were that keen on seeing me,” Ardyn chuckled, rich and healing like honey in a hot tea.
“I’m a professional performer, and this is my specialty.”
—
WIth the necessary consumption of lips and groping of bodies done, they could finally rest and enjoy each other’s company. Emet-Selch could be himself instead of an important ruler, and Ardyn could… well, he never put on airs anyway, but the false sincerity did drop away.
It was no secret the Emperor enjoyed the arts, and he’d been collecting playbooks and literature from the conquered territories. As Ardyn also showed a fondness for the finer things in life, he had shared a few recent favorites with his recent favorite associate. They were mostly comedies, but he had been considering branching into other genres.
The opportunity came as he shifted through some written compilations he’d pilfered or picked out on his “off time”. Emet-Selch lit up suddenly. Ah, this smut collection - the most rancid words ever put on paper. What better way to bridge a genre gap than this?
“Zodiark below, read this,” His face was a mixture of disgust and amusement. Ardyn had said this was one of his favorite Emet-Selch Expressions, now that they’d gotten more familiar - it meant something was happening that Ardyn would find hilarious.
Ardyn took the proffered novel, eyes scanning the pages. His lips quirked and his gaze flicked up to meet Emet-Selch’s, but he said nothing. Nothing until he cleared his throat, and orated like the professional politician he was. Some passage of absolutely bawdy, lewd writing, a sex scene that the writer crafted without any knowledge of anatomy or how a vagina worked at all. He got to a particularly unique word, before Emet-Selch just winced and rolled his head back as if in pain.
“Slut smasher. Slut smasher? Why would you call a cock that? Ever? It sounds like some bandit’s weapon that he brandishes at a highway robbery. Unbelievable. How does one write with a hand down their trousers, to come out with slutsmasher?”
Ardyn had been holding in laughter from before he even read the word, and had to double his efforts as soon as Emet-Selch reacted. He was so dramatic and of course he needed to go off on a rant about word choice. Beautiful.
“Perhaps they really wanted to drive home how massive the penis is. Sometimes ‘big cock’ is not strong enough.”
“I describe you that way, and it works just fine.”
“Do I have a ‘slut smasher’, Emet-Selch?”
There was a pause. He flashed back to a conversation had in the heat of the moment, on one of their quick trysts while the Chancellor of Nifleheim was visiting.
“This seems a bit much,” Emet-Selch held the cock in his hand, palm pressed against the shaft as he stroked; his tone was judgmental, but the hunger in his predatory eyes said otherwise. “This is yours? Naturally?”
“Why, Emet-Selch, are you insinuating I would have such vanity as to endow myself?”
Ardyn’s lips broke into a pleased smirk, a warm chuckle escaping him. It was smug, because Emet-Selch didn’t like it when people could read him at all, and he found it annoying (in an oddly affectionate way).
“I would grade it as such, yes.”
“Such high praise!” Ardyn leaned forward, offering the book back, “especially from one from such a variety of experience as yourself!”
“Yes, you found the oldest, sluttiest person you could smash. Millenia of being a slut, and here you come, weapon brandished. And I had a novel experience to add to my long, dull life.”
Emet-Selch pushed the book back to Ardyn, fingers curling over his companion’s. Ardyn tilted his head, smiling in that amused way he always did; his default facial expression, now with added amused confusion.
“Is this for me? You’re gifting me some torrid romance novel?”
“No,” Emet-Selch’s nose crinkled slightly, “it’s awful, but when you read it… you give a dramatic flair to the words. It’s sultry. You caress your words lovingly in my presence.”
“Ah, so, you want me to recite erotica to you! Well, I don’t mind, since you keep me well watered with wine.”
Emet-Selch leaned against the arm of his elaborate velvet chair, ever the visage of a bored, judgemental emperor, flicking his hand at him with a twist of the wrist.
“Read, read. You and I both know any servants stupid enough to approach me at this hour will be punished. That, and I can tell if any little rats are scuttling around, listening for voices.”
There was a moment of silence as Ardyn’s amber gaze fell downward to the page, and that little smirk flickered for a moment. He began to read the smut without further banter. Emet-Selch reclined back, arms folded across his middle, content.
—
Emet-Selch felt his body relax, even though a looming, hungry monstrosity was pacing around the room. The other Ascians would claim him insane for daring to let himself be off guard around the Adagium, after what they’d learned. He had decided that what they didn’t know couldn’t hurt them. Emet-Selch had to show some level of trust so Ardyn would trust him in turn, and therefore, let himself be tamed and form an attachment.
The trouble was, he didn’t want to form an attachment in return, and that was… happening, to some degree. His personal secret and shame.
Emet-Selch wasn’t really listening to any words, but the timbre of Ardyn’s voice. His breathing slowed, letting his tired vessel drift off as he did almost every night. But something from his third eye kept him from drifting completely - that extra spacial awareness that granted Garleans greater combat skill. Emet-Selch could not detect souls through the miasma of Ardyn’s existence, but in the physical realm, he absolutely sensed something getting close to his face.
Yellow eyes met with amber, and two of Ardyn’s fingertips gently pressed to either side of the third eye. He rubbed gently, kneading the hard pearl-like organ. And Emet-Selch gave a tired, throaty groan.
“Oh, it is true,” Ardyn chuckled, “it does have nerves there, so I suppose that would make some sense… rubbing one’s eyes can feel nice.”
Emet-Selch’s eyes fluttered. He’d seen some soldiers rub around that third eye before, and done it himself to try it - but never considered another party may rub the area, either. It felt relaxing, honestly.
“That’s enough,” he reached up to gently nudge Ardyn’s hand away, only to have it taken and held. It was so simple and sweet, he smiled without realizing it.
“You seem tired, Your Radiance. Will you be retiring for the night?”
“I appreciated the ribald bedtime story, my dear. Yes, but I think I would like you to accompany me, if you are willing.”
“Well, I am being extended on offer to be the concubine. Is that not my exact place, while I am here? To keep His Radiance’s bed warm?”
Emet-Selch laughed.
“In a sense. I think I’ll be using you as a mount more often than not.”
—
Just as Emet-Selch had complained of wanting, he got his time to luxuriate. From their first night together, he had discovered Ardyn’s clothing simply could not be snapped away, and it took ages for him to peel off each layer of his ensemble. As Emet-Selch was saving his disrobing for dramatic display, he remained lazily perched on the foot of his bed. One long, pale, naked leg crossed over the other, foot idly bobbing as he observed. Ardyn’s mess of an outfit - an entire closet he put on daily - was far more intricate than it looked.
And then he just… covered it with scarves and a big coat. So unnecessary, but when your allergy to the sun is like his, perhaps it’s not entirely wasteful.
“We have a moment longer to chat, don’t we? I noticed your world beyond uses a variation of traditional Garlean for names and so on. We’ve discussed this before, yes?”
Ardyn gave a little hum of acknowledgement, before pulling a long knife out of… who even knows where. Was it on him, or did he simply conjure it? What odd foreplay.
“Is that a trend, there, to give everyone names like that?”
He did not answer, only giving a little chuckle, and pulled out another knife. Now he was certainly prolonging it, intentionally.
“Your real one is beautiful, if I translate it to what it means in old Garlean. Well, if I put a bit more of a poetic spin on it - the sky ablaze. Except you have a woman’s name.”
Finally, the shirt came off. An achievement.
“An odd thing to say to the man you’re trying to seduce.”
“Men I seduce don’t pull multiple knives out to prolong their undressing.”
“Oh, should I keep them on? We’ll have to do a lot of intensive cleaning up, but I’m happy to try a little something different. I wasn’t aware you were interested in such play!”
Ardyn came close, standing before Emet-Selch; the latter had helpfully parted his legs, letting Ardyn slot in close. He lifted his hands to his bare chest. It was coated in that field of amaranth-coloured fluff. Garleans didn’t have much body hair (and neither did the Ancient people), so it was a treat Emet-Selch got to play with.
“Cheeky,” was all he cared to say on the matter.
“Oh, but it gave you time to watch me move. You do that with such intensity! An apex predator’s gaze. But you’ve found the one person who could swallow you whole instead…”
Emet-Selch ‘s eyes fell to the hand creeping up along his arm, strong, scarred hands closing in around his neck. His messy brows pinched together, pushing his third eye up in a rich arch.
“You spread your lonely legs to a beast from a world beyond. And I, equally alone, feast upon the meal offered to me. You like that, don’t you? Being so condescending to me. Even when I am stripping down before you, you find a new needle to prick me with. For fun, is it?”
Emet-Selch was not afraid of his act of dominance. It was no threat, and he shrugged a shoulder, almost demure. The collar of his oversized house coat slid down, revealing the bondage-style “lingerie” he’d been “gifted.” The muscles of his chest were separated by tight leather pressed into his flesh, the strip beneath almost hefting them up. Presenting a part of his anatomy like a prize on display.
“We’re trying to win at a game we both have mastered, and the usual tactics of threat, domination and baiting simply don’t work. If I apologized for any offense, would you even believe me? Or would you take it as me begging for mercy?”
Ardyn’s thumb moved over Solus’ apple, pressing down on it and making the vessel grunt slightly. Emet-Selch’s piercing yellow eyes almost glowed, even in the dim light of the chamber. The thumb moved, both hands sliding down to pull the coat further off.
“I want you to beg for my cock, and nothing else.”
“Now, or when it makes an appearance?” Emet-Selch grabbed Ardyn’s nipples, chuckling warmly. He took the opportunity to gently cup him, warm flesh and chest fluff brushing his palms. Ardyn stepped back, pulling away slowly.
“You liked my present?”
“I got the message, certainly!”
Emet-Selch stood and shed the whole coat, leaving him bare except for the leather straps that made the “outfit” up. Leather straps cutting into his upper thighs, under his ass, accentuating other important parts of his anatomy. Ardyn gestured with a finger, in a circle, which Emet-Selch kicked his housecoat aside so he could twirl dramatically.
And then plant his hands on the foot of the massive bed, looking over his shoulder as he bent with an arched back and displayed himself. Nothing to cover the part he needed filled - that was going to be his concubine’s job.
“I’m telling everyone the Emperor is a simple tavern whore when you get him into bed.”
“You’re going to lick me with that mouth?”
“More than that.”
As soon as Ardyn took a step closer, Emet-Selch slid back onto the bed, rolling over and crooking a finger. It was playful, sincere and he was having fun. And fun was not something he had very often any more, unless he indulged in taking a break from the endless work.
“Saucy little minx,” Ardyn prowled towards him, unzipped, trousers loose on his hips. A juicy bulge had formed, wanting to come out and be played with. Emet-Selch purred, catlike, his chuckle muffled as Ardyn pressed their lips together. Their bodies moved as one, Emet-Selch’s legs being grasped at the thigh and pulled around Ardyn’s waist. Ah, to have someone so desperate to touch him… it had been so, so long.
The prickle of beard on his face. The soft kiss of a lover, practiced, knowing exactly how to move with you. Playful chuckles and genuine desire. But there were no blue or lilac eyes staring back at him now; it was hungry amber, from a world beyond, tarnished with eons of pain. They were rolling against each other, Emet-Selch’s nails catching on the crossword of scarring across Ardyn’s back as they took their time together. Ardyn’s hands seemed keen on his thick ass, kneading it and occasionally brushing a fingertip against Emet’s exposed hole.
“I want it,” Emet-Selch didn’t beg - he demanded. He was owed cock, for his pleasure, and without letting Ardyn reply he reached down to pull those ugly trousers off him properly. “I want it now, and stop dressing in so many stupid layers.”
Ardyn laughed. He obliged, kicking the offending last layer away into the pile of robe on the floor, and his breath caught audibly as Emet-Selch pulled his cock free. Two hungry hands stroked it, holding it like a prize, fingertips tracing the veins. Emet-Selch wet his bottom lip.
“You’ve been patient.”
“I tire of waiting for what I want. This should not be so difficult to have when I want it. On your back.”
Ardyn said nothing else, simply obeying; a wise decision, especially when a powerful sorcerer of eld has your cock in their hands. He was greeted by Emet"s heaving bulge hovering over his face as the other man placed his legs on either side of his head. Emet-Selch made a contented sigh as Ardyn reached up to gently cup it, before pulling it free.
Emet-Selch hadn’t tasted a thick cock like Ardyn’s in his long, varied life. It was weighty and throbbed every time he touched it, like it was too heavy to stay up; Ardyn had commented his size was shameful and “beastial,” back in the time he was a mortal. How foolish! It just needed to be patient for an Ascian’s hungry holes to give it the love it deserved.
He practically purred as it slid past his lips, feeling the prickle of stubble on his thigh. Warm breath caressed up against his balls, followed by a slick, hot tongue; it made him groan into the head of the cock in his mouth. Yes, this was worth it - not a little wank with hands, no rutting or playful groping. To really take time and feel each other.
Ardyn’s hands pulled his hips down, and Emet-Selch paused to look back over his shoulder. He was careful, letting his hips drop as Ardyn took his cock into his mouth - they’d establish a rhythm and go from there. Emet-Selch continued to play with the foreskin, pulling it back more to get at the ruddy head.
He closed his eyes and let himself get lost in the repetitive motion, building a consistent pace. Ardyn’s hands were firm on his hips, there in case he wanted Emet-Selch to slow down, stop, or perhaps pick up the pace; it was as he felt fingers dig into his ass that he decided he wanted to focus on one task (sucking cock) or lay back and fully enjoy it (get sucked), instead of being distracted like this. Or having Ardyn distracted, really - they had time. A whole night to play.
Emet-Selch pulled off the cock with a pop, about to suggest they switch to something else, when his eyes caught it.
That stupid portrait. That painting of himself and his future empress. Undead eyes, staring down at the two of them, engaging in sinful extramarital affairs. He found it amusing, but at the same time, a bitter reminder of his current reality.
Ardyn had pulled off, nuzzling the inside of his thigh, voice coming out muffled under flesh: “Is something the matter? Unless you’re considering touching my ass - I don’t like it, so please don’t.”
Oh? Huh, Emet-Selch made a little hum, but his mind was elsewhere. He snapped his fingers, and one long curtain from the bed’s canopy was pulled off. Ardyn startled slightly, head poking up and around Emet’s ass.
He covered the painting with it.
“I see,” Ardyn absolutely did not, “any other things that need doing, then?”
“You’re going to fuck me, now,” Emet-Selch pushed himself up. Ardyn grabbed Emet’s hips, pulling the other man towards himself as he mounted up, rutting his hard cock against him. The thick, wet tip caught on the exposed hole, Emet-Selch groaning immediately.
“Would you like to do things the traditional way?” He was clearly keen on getting started, judging by the throbbing Emet-Selch felt against his ass.
“I could simply… moisten myself, but I think I’ll make you work for it. Like a cunt. Make me wet.”
Ardyn growled. A challenge he wanted, then! Emet-Selch was flipped over, sudden and rough, legs up in the air, Ardyn pushing them up behind Emet-Selch’s head to expose his hole to the air. And to his wet, hot tongue.
Emet-Selch rewarded him with loud cries, the kind that hopefully were muffled by the curtains, that would likely echo through hallways. The staff could deal with hearing their Emperor in the throes of passion - they would be hearing it a lot come his marriage. For a time.
Ardyn’s tongue was hungry, his lips occasionally sucking the pink, twitching hole as Emet-Selch tried to focus long enough to let himself slicken. Saliva mixed with natural gushing, before Ardyn finally let his legs go; Emet rolled onto his stomach, Ardyn kissing his neck while gently fingering the hole. Now it had to be warmed up to take a hefty cock.
His thighs were stinging from being held up so roughly, and he felt something warm and soothing move down the sore spots. It was akin to the tingle of peppermint, cool and refreshing, and the cramps in his legs were gone… only the heat of Ardyn’s palm remained. He looked over his shoulder at his lover, curious, even in the heat of passion he wanted to know what that magic had been.
“Healing?” He murmured between whimpers and whines, a third finger prying his ass open as he cried out. Ardyn didn’t answer: he was busy spreading him and commenting on how tight Emet would be for him.
“No other cock will do for you, will it? Not even your kindred. Only me. You want to be split open by me, and you dress in leather for me, and beckon me in. Isn’t that right?”
“Nothing feels as good,” Emet relented, but he would not beg.
“When you breed your woman, you will think of me, won’t you?”
Gross. “I promise you I will.”
“I would do the same,” Ardyn gently kissed his shoulder, “how would you like this, Emet-Selch?”
The title. It made him long for something, something long gone.
“... in your lap.”
“So romantic,” Ardyn sounded so sincerely insincere. Was this mockery?
“And? Hold me, you ancient slut.”
“Oh, is that it!” Ardyn picked him up - surprisingly effortlessly, and it made Emet-Selch’s stomach swoop - and pulled him in close. They paused there, Emet-Selch’s arms over Ardyn’s shoulders, Ardyn’s arms around his long waist.
Emet gently pressed their foreheads together, Ardyn guiding his cock up to the readied hole, lips locked together as Emet slid his hips down onto it. The first bit of the head felt heavenly, and then he was full, so full with a dense person. This would not be a fast affair, but Emet would ride him slowly, rotating his hips around as the cock brushed his inside. Rocking back and forth slightly in Ardyn’s lap, his own length leaving wet tails of pre against Ardyn’s stomach. Ardyn’s hands rested on the small of his back, kneading his ass, tugging his nipples before they were covered with a hot mouth.
This was luxuriating. This is what he deserved: a huge cock, a “real” lover, and the chance to feel like a person instead of a man playing a role. And he also deserved lots and lots of good orgasms.
“Finish me,” he commanded, pulling off Ardyn. He lay back, pulling his thighs up as before; Emet-Selch offered himself up like a meal, and Ardyn pounded him viciously until his pale ass was pink and flushed. Emet’s piercing cries began to turn into feral growls, head lifting to watch Ardyn’s cock taking him. His hole was red from use, wet, Ardyn’s cock glistening and all the veins pronounced. He wanted to know it would leave a bit of Ardyn inside him.
“I said finish me!” He commanded, before the sound of struck flesh echoed across the room. A bright red hand-shaped welt lay on Emet’s ass, and Ardyn glared up at him.
“Beg.”
“Finish me?” Emet-Selch managed after a whimper.
“Again.”
“Please, finish me?”
“Please yourself, you ancient slut,” Ardyn was able to grin. It was amazing he didn’t sound too breathless, even as sweat visibly beaded on his brow and shoulders.
Emet-Selch was graciously helped as Ardyn hooked his legs over his shoulders, freeing his hands to play with himself. It didn’t take long - he just had to look up at Ardyn groaning above him, and at the giant cock spearing him below. Emet’s sharp cries were enough for Ardyn to slam in, stop, rolling his hips against the plush ass, finishing inside. Just as Emet-Selch had wanted so badly.
That tingling on his thighs again, the cramps fading away in a soothing peppermint touch. Ardyn pulled out, leaving a red, slightly gaped hole, fresh white cum leaking out slightly. Lining the well-used rim. Emet felt a gentle trail of kisses being planted down his sweaty, flushed chest, the tickle of beard accompanying each one. Ardyn’s wet tongue poked out when he reached Emet’s torso, making a pleased purr as he tasted the cum splattered there.
“Happy to be of service, Your Radiance.”
“Enjoying your tip, I see,” Emet huffed, hand going to play in Ardyn’s sweaty, mussed hair.
—
“I’d best be going, before your staff start fussing over you, and my guards wonder if I’m just a late riser.”
Emet-Selch slept soundly. Usually his dreams were uninteresting memories of past lives, painful memories of when the world was whole, or nightmarish ones that kept him from resting at all. It was true he didn’t really need to sleep, but it was part of the act, and… well, it was a wonderful way to pass time. Very relaxing. A favorite hobby of his, he’d picked up over eons.
But he had slept soundly, well-fucked, with a solid existence at his side. A warm body, smelling of ash and sandalwood, a little salty with sweat that had faded as the Starscourge… regenerated Ardyn? He had no idea. The man had been wet with it, and then dry as soon as Emet had flopped down to fall asleep.
Emet gave a lazy flick of his wrist as a goodbye, burrowed into multiple blankets and curled on his side. He’d have to get the canopy curtain back and off the painting before anyone saw it, actually…
“Oh, that – that other Ascian I saw. Igeyorhm? She was interesting.”
Emet lay there, unsure if he’d heard that right. He slowly uncurled and rolled over.
“What about her?” Emet-Selch’s tone was careful, and then immediately shifted to displeasure. “She absolutely botched her mission, so now she’s in Eos to make up for it.”
“I know that,” Ardyn shook his head, “but an interesting choice to send the one who creates a void to oversee a man who is essentially a sentient void.”
Emet-Selch stared at him. How…
In that moment, seeing that cheeky little grin of Ardyn’s - impossible to discern as either insincere or genuinely amused - Emet-Selch felt a stone in his stomach. Cold spread through him. It was a deep feeling of dread, something he hadn’t felt in eons. A feeling he hadn’t experienced since the skies rained fire and abominations ran wild…
Helpless fear. Because Ardyn could consume and absorb someone - all their skills, memories, their very form and face. Even as the most powerful Ascian, he likely could fight back, but how successful would he really be against the Adagium?
And now he was here, in this moment, trapped. He was at his most vulnerable, naked, comfortable, letting himself fall into a moment of rest, just coming out of sleep; he was the closest to a weak mortal he could be. And he’d let this beast into his home, his heart, his secrets, and his bed.
Is that why he was mentioning it now, of all times?
“Yes?”
Emet-Selch hoped the next words would not be, she was delicious, ripe with knowledge and magic.
“You look upset! You don’t want me meeting your friends? You’ve met my friends… well, coworkers. Are you actually friends with your coworkers?”
“No,” Emet-Selch answered immediately, not even having to act. The whole Convocation was a broken mess, and it was becoming clearer to him that he, alone, would have to make the world better again. “More importantly, why are you bringing this up?”
“Because I have no idea when we’ll get to talk frankly again. Carpe diem!”
Emet-Selch did not have a chance to press further; Ardyn sublimated himself into that Starscourge gas, his method of teleportation. The Emperor was now laying in bed alone, a collection of tainted mist letting itself out via tiny cracks around his bedroom door.