Chapter Text
Everyone kept asking Morgana, the Warrior of the Light, hero of the realm, the same question. “What’s next?” And many of them seemed disappointed when Morgana would smile awkwardly and shrug in response. Surely, the savior should have a plan, right? But she didn’t. Her friends all went their separate ways, each having a clear purpose and destination. Morgana waved them off with a smile.
Since she had no plans, G’raha Tia and Krile had insisted that she come with them to Old Sharlayan. Morgana went along with it, as it comforted her more than they knew to have friendly faces around. She would spend her days working with them and it would keep the unsatisfied feelings in her at bay. It was nice to feel like she was contributing to something. Dinners with G’raha and Krile were at the Last Stand were always rowdy. When she was alone, however, all of the feelings she was ignoring would bubble up to the surface. She would sit on her bed in the Sharlayan Inn and ask herself over and over again: What was next?
There was a layer of irony to Morgana’s situation. After fending off despair itself and saving the realm, she found herself succumbing to her own despair. If Morgana was being honest with herself, she knew these negative feelings had always been there lurking throughout her adventure. She had just been too busy to process any of it, and that was how she had preferred it.
There had been a pervasive loneliness welling up deep inside her heart. It wasn’t just the Scions parting ways that caused this feeling. If she was being honest with herself, she had felt it since that day she parted ways with her friends in Elpis. It had only intensified when she had to say goodbye once more in Ultima Thule. There was a certain empathy she had experienced with Emet-Selch in particular. Seeing the man he used to be in contrast to the man he became devastated Morgana. He had always been moody and lazy, but so was she. And when he said his last words to her, she felt her heart shatter into a million pieces. When he told her all the places he wanted her to see, she was quietly yearning for him to come to see them with her, to be by her side. These feelings were all bottled up, of course. Too afraid of the shame and humiliation she would feel explaining this to her friends. She doubted they would understand her feelings.
Morgana’s dreams did little to ease the confusion and sadness inside of her. Memories she didn’t recognize began to creep into her sleep nightly. The only explanation for these dreams is that they were Azem’s memories as the scenes that played out were consistently unfamiliar to her. It was almost as though the Echo were flaring up in her sleep, giving her the unsolicited memories of her past self. The dreams were filled with lands both familiar and unfamiliar, the skyscrapers of Amaurot were recognizable from Emet-Selch’s that rested deep in The Tempest. There were familiar faces in and of the dreams, as well. Venat, Hythlodaeus, and most frequently Emet-Selch. Morgana figured out very quickly that the bond between Azem and Emet-Selch was less than platonic, and that only worsened the dull ache in her heart.
As the days lulled on and her dreams continued to plague her, it was getting more difficult to feign a semblance of normalcy around her friends.
“Are you okay?” G’raha Tia asked the next evening during their dinner at the Last Stand. “I don’t think I’ve seen you this depleted since our days in the First."
Morgana said nothing, barely registering that anyone was speaking to. She stared down at her burger with a blank expression.
“Morgana?” He waved a hand in front of her face.
“Mmm?” she acknowledged him after a yawn.
“Is everything alright?” he and Krile both ask with concern.
“I just haven’t been sleeping very well,” Morgana answered, staring down at the burger before her. She hoped they wouldn’t pry. She wasn’t in the mood to be analyzed by the pair, and there was no easy way to look G’raha Tia in the eyes and explain to him that she was consistently dreaming of her past life’s epic romance with the man who shot him in the stomach. She can’t imagine either of them would commend her or Azem for their questionable taste.
Krile and G’raha Tia raised eyebrows and looked at each other, but did not push the issue. They finished eating quietly, knowing Morgana’s mannerisms well enough to know she didn’t feel like talking.
“Make sure to get some rest tonight,” Krile insisted as they bade Morgana farewell.
Morgana feigned a smile and promised that she would. She had no way to keep that promise, however, as it would require controlling whatever dream her subconscious had planned for her that night.
In tonight’s dream, she took on the role of Azem once again. The person laying across from her was unmistakably Emet-Selch. They were in a field dappled with pink flowers looking up at the starry sky. He was running his fingers through her hair affectionately, a side of him Morgana could have only dreamed of. There was no way the Emet-Selch of her lifetime could ever gaze at someone like this. He had a warm smile on his face that reached his eyes as he stared into her eyes. He reached his hand out and Morgana followed suit, entwining their fingers together as they lay in the field. He leaned in closer and pressed his lips to hers. She kissed back, shivering at the way she could feel him— the way she could taste him. His lips were soft and there was a sweetness to his kiss.
"I love you," Emet-Selch whispered before kissing her deeply.
"I know," she answered.
"This is normally where one would say 'I love you, too,'" Emet-Selch sighed in annoyance but the look of adoration in his eyes remained.
"You know, you aren't supposed to say it just to get the other person to say it back," she teased as she rejoined the contact between their lips. "I love you too, Hades."
Emet-Selch cupped her cheek in his hand as he kissed her. If she weren't lying down, her knees would have likely given out. There was a hunger in both of their lips and Morgana breathed out a longing sigh into the kiss.
Morgana awoke in the middle of the night from the dream with her cheeks red and butterflies in her stomach. The way Emet-Selch touched her, or rather, Azem, in her dream was more tender than anyone had ever been with her in reality. The rush of emotions flooding through her was confusing. There was longing, wondering what could have happened between them if he had not broken that spell in Ultima Thule. There was envy, wishing that she was the one he was looking at so softly instead of Azem. Morgana's heart was broken seeing that smile on his face, knowing full well he likely never smiled like that again after the sundering.
She walked over to her window and stared out at the night sky. The stars twinkled from above and with that view, it didn’t seem too far off from the world that he so loved. She found herself wondering why Emet-Selch couldn’t have just stuck around and tried to be happy here. Surely, he must have tried before Morgana met him. She had no idea what his life was like, and she knew on some level it was unfair of her to admonish him for not trying harder. As miserable as she was, she should be more understanding that not everyone is capable of being happy— and his circumstances were infinitely worse than hers. Just getting a taste of what Azem had lost through these dreams was tearing her up inside. Emet-Selch had a thousand thousand years of these memories and burdens weighing over his head.
She couldn’t explain what made her decide to put on her clothes and run out the door of the Sharlayan Inn. It was irrational, completely irrational, that she decided to make haste to Ultima Thule. But still— she needed to be where he stood. She needed to rectify in her head that he was gone, that he lived a lonely, miserable, unbearably long life, and that he was gone. When she arrived at the glowing field of Elpis flowers of the purest white, her heart raced at the sight. She would never get over how stunning they were, the way the light flickered off of them. This was the first time she had been back to this spot since all that happened here.
Morgana sat down in the field of Elpis flowers, feeling sadness overcome her. She gazed up at the radiant sky and pulled out Azem’s soul crystal that weighed heavily in her pocket. She stared down at the crystal with watery eyes, remembering Emet-Selch’s last words to her, the gentle smile that he gave her before they parted ways. It wasn’t so unlike those smiles that he gave Azem all those years ago.
As Morgana's tears fell, her soft cries deepened into sobs. The Elpis flowers beneath her started to darken; grey and then pitch black. As she cried for those she lost, those she couldn’t save, the field went from a shimmering white to a swirling black void. She cried for Venat, the person who chose her now and all those years ago, the woman who gave every last bit of her essence for this world. She cried for Hythlodaeus, her new-old friend who she knew better than anyone and didn't know at all. She cried for Hermes whose sadness and uncertainty were so immeasurable he had cursed the entire star. And of course, she cried for Emet-Selch. For the man that Azem had loved. For the man who spent longer than she could ever fathom trying to bring back the people and brethren that he loved so dearly. The tears continued to fall as she thought back to his smile in his dreams, in their past, how she wished he could see that smile even if it was just one more time.
She cupped the soul crystal between her hands, raising it to her face almost looking as though she were in prayer. As she did so, words she didn’t expect fell out of her own mouth.
“I want Hades to be happy,” she said aloud. “I want him to smile again.” She was surprised at her conviction as she said them.
As soon as the words left her lips, something changed in the atmosphere around her. Manifesting before her eyes was a tall man with white hair in ancient robes. Morgana’s eyes widened as she took in the sight. Her hands trembled and the soul crystal slipped out of her grasp and landed on the flowers below, their color lightening rapidly as she processed what was happening.
Emet-Selch looked up, down, and around, utterly confused as to what was happening and why he would be pulled out of the aetherial sea so suddenly. His confused expression furrowed into a scowl as his piercing yellow eyes landed on Morgana and the crystal.
“Goodness gracious, woman,” Emet-Selch snapped. “Can’t you leave well enough alone?”
Morgana’s mouth fell open in surprise. The voice, the attitude. That was Emet-Selch alright. But she didn’t use the crystal on him, did she? No, she didn’t. This wasn’t deliberate. This was an accident. She respected Emet-Selch enough to let him rest. It was clear to anyone that he wanted nothing to do with her or this world.
“Please, you really think I would go out of my way over here to bring you back?” Morgana bickered back. She felt her face warm. “This was an accident.” The flowers had gone back to pure white, and she hoped that he hadn’t noticed the color they were before his arrival. She bit her lip and broke his gaze.
“Then, why in the name of gods that you people barely even remember,” his voice was trembling with annoyance, “am I back here? Why couldn’t you just let me rest in peace?”
“You really think I have a clue?” she answered defensively. “I was just minding my own business before you decided to show up. Maybe you should look inward; ask yourself why you’re so hellbent on disturbing my peace.”
“You’re right,” Emet-Selch huffed. “Bold of me to assume that you know anything about anything. So let’s say I take you at your word. Is there any brain to your brawn that might have some explanation as to why I’m here? You know, other than some bored little girl playing with Azem’s magic?”
Morgana stood up, dusting off the flower petals that clung to her as she did so. She picked up the soul crystal and stared down at it before pocketing it once more. She massaged her temples, retracing her steps mentally one by one. She was here, she was thinking about the ancients. Then she was crying, then she wished for Hades’s happiness. In that order. So, how did she get from point A to point B?
Morgana thought back to everything she learned before visiting Ultima Thule and the power of Dynamis. Could it be that Emet-Selch was brought back by her own emotion, by the power of Dynamis akin to a Primal summoning? Her blush deepened at the thought. That explanation couldn’t be correct. Who would want this arsehole back so badly that they could summon him through sheer emotion? Certainly not her. Right? She stood there, trying to process the shock and horror of what she may have accidentally done.
“Well, Warrior?” Emet-Selch asked, his eyebrows raised expectantly.
“Nothing is coming to mind,” Morgana shrugged as she shoved down every single thought that did come to her mind. “Lucky for you, my friends are smarter than me. I’m sure they’ll have a satisfactory explanation for you.” And hopefully, it would be an explanation that was literally anything other than the one that she thought of. She had never wanted to be wrong more badly in her life.
Unable to maintain eye contact with Emet-Selch any longer, she teleported to Old Sharlayan. She knew he would wordlessly follow. Perhaps she should have thought better of bringing him there, but she didn’t know where else she could go than the place she was currently calling home. She should have expected the look of shock on Krile’s and G’raha’s faces as she marched into The Baldesion Annex with Emet-Selch by her side, G’raha practically falling out of his chair.
"Could I speak with you both alone?" Morgana asked, ignoring the confused whispers of the surrounding scholars.
“What did you do?” his tone filled with exasperation at Morgana’s potential antics.
“Nothing!” she insisted. “Or at least, nothing on purpose.” Her voice was quieter in the last sentence as she looked at G’raha Tia with a look that clearly said, “help me, please.”
“Oh, Morgana,” Krile said, keeping her voice low. “We leave you alone for a few hours and you come back with a dead Ascian. What happened?”
Morgana looked back at Emet-Selch. He heard Krile's comment and stared at her awaiting her answer. Despite his scowl and annoyed demeanor, Morgana would have sworn she saw the ghost of a smirk dancing behind his lips when their eyes locked.