If only Zenos and Emet-Selch got into a 'no, this is MY friend' conversation regarding the wol. X'D
Emet-Selch sighs, rubbing at his eyebrow and temple as he watches through a mirror as the Warrior of Light begs off from celebrating with their friends.
“...What are you doing, hero? Are you not happy? The evil has been defeated.”
Well, that was what he needed them to think. For now.
A sly smile quirks his lips, and he waves a hand over the mirror as his door bursts open.
Zenos yae Galvus stares at him blandly as if he hadn’t just splintered his great grandsire’s chamber door with one well placed kick.
“I care not for your grand schemes, great grandsire. Whatever your machinations, you will leave the Warrior of Light to me.”
Emet-Selch blinks slow and turns on his great grandson with a bored expression. “Will I now?”
Zenos settles a hand on his sword, eyes intensely blue. "I will not allow anyone to stand between us."
"Oh?" Emet-Selch seems entirely unimpressed. "Finally found yourself a worthy opponent?"
Zenos regards him warily as he turns and strolls towards him. "I have."
"Oh dear," His great grandsire is smiling at him in a way that Zenos misliked. "You truly have, haven't you?"
Emet-Selch sighs, his smile comically rueful and his tone of voice dripping with pity as he shakes his head, "Poor child. You've grown attached.. to the enemy."
Zenos narrows his eyes. They were that, yes, but also... "My friend."
The Emperor balks, expression shifting minutely. Eyebrows lowering and lip curling in the barest of a sneer. "...Your friend? That word implies mutual feelings of fondness, my dear boy."
His laugh is offbeat and entirely derisive. Zenos's grip on the hilt of his sword tightens, lips thinning.
"...What do you know of them, hmm?" The Emperor croons, continuing on. Fond of his own voice. "You've hardly had any interaction! Have you spoken with them at length? Stood at their side as a comrade? Slept under the same star filled sky? Listened to their inane ramblings. Learned what they like, what they fear; why the persist so on this fruitless quest."
The Emperor shakes his head, a hand pressed to his brow, lips quirking up in a sardonic smile. "Well, have you?"
Zenos does not answer. Only looking to his great grandsire with a vile feeling of murderous envy. "Am I to believe you have?"
"No, I suppose not. Believe what you want to, dear boy. The truth ever remains."
Zenos clenches his teeth, seething with emotions he dare not name, and unsheaths his blade to slice through his great grandsire in one smooth, swift motion.
He watches his body fall, dispassionate.
He turns away and meets the bored, golden eyed stare of the very same man leaning in the doorway. The shadows playing across his features giving him a sinister, fey-like quality. His eyes too unnaturally bright in such swallowing darkness.
Zenos feels a prickle of unease meeting that stare. He had thought once that his father had the same eyes.
He can see now that he was very much mistaken.
"Like father, like son. And as such, you commit the cardinal sin of boring me," he sighs, shaking his head, "I pity you, I really do. Ah, but I have things to do and precious little time to do them in. You understand." He pushes off from his recline against the doorframe and turns away. One gloved hand raising up, and waving lazily as Zenos watches him walk away.
Zenos stares down at his sword, and then at the body on the floor as it disappears in a puff of darkness.
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