He brought up this matter with Teclis when the mage returned to Tor Caleda. They convened on a moonlit rampart at the summit of the fortress, the lights and sounds of the city far below while the odd footfall of a guard broke the still on the walls beneath them.
‘You really do not understand that which you have hungered after for so long,’ Teclis said, with a rare moment of genuine humour. ‘Your majesty, you have become the Phoenix King and the fire of Asuryan burns within you. Morathi is no doubt confused, because she will see the fire but not recognise it.’
‘Surely she would remember such a thing from her time with my father?’
‘Her memories are splitting, her mind finally dissembling after so many years adrift on the tides of magic. She thinks Tyrion is your father reborn. Now that he has lifted the Sword of Khaine, has become the Lord of Murder, her self-deception is complete. She was young when Aenarion was Asuryan’s chosen, and likely if she ever did witness him at that time the memory of it is quite obliterated by the towering force that was the blood-wreathed avenger he became. It was not your father she craved, it was the power of the Widowmaker.’
‘My mother is more than just the power-hungry witch as she has been painted by the lies of the Phoenix Kings,’ Malekith said. ‘Of late a madness has consumed her, and her ambition has never been a secret, but I cannot doubt that she cared for me and loved my father.’
‘It is nigh impossible for a son to think harshly of his mother,’ Teclis replied. The moonlight made his pale flesh glow with silvery light as he turned away and looked east towards the Inner Sea. ‘Family makes fools of us all at one time or another. I was blind for so long to Tyrion’s weaknesses. He was lauded from Caledor to Chrace, and that works a terrible toll upon the mind. When you despatched your daemonic ally N’Kari to kill the Everqueen, and my brother saved her and became her consort, you initiated a turn of events that led us to this current point.’
‘Your brother’s amour and the Everqueen’s poor choice of lovers is my fault?’ Malekith gripped the rampart in metal fingers, clawing grooves in the stone. ‘Is there any woe of the world for which you would not lay blame upon me?’
‘You misunderstand, your majesty, or I do not explain myself well.’ Teclis looked at the Phoenix King. ‘All of the choices we have made have laid the path that brings us to the place we are in, here and now. When I came to you and offered to make pact with you, do you think it was easy for me? Lileath showed me the grief and death to come, and I could have ended it with a single blow of my sword. I could have slain Tyrion without effort, forestalling this war.’
‘Your love of him stopped you?’
Teclis shook his head, saddened. ‘No, my fear of the consequences did. Without Tyrion we would have failed against the daemons and you would be the lone survivor in Naggarond, fighting with your last breath against the very creatures of Chaos that you unleashed upon us so many times.’
Malekith wondered if he had ever really made a decision himself, or if they were all simply pawns of powers far beyond their comprehension, playing out petty games for the amusement of otherworldly entities. They fell silent, contemplating the past.
Turning, Malekith leapt up the stairs three at a time, chasing after his mother. Despite his haste, Morathi was already standing beside the balcony window by the time Malekith reached the top of the tower. She turned and smiled as he strode into the room, and held out an arm for him to hold. Sighing, the prince allowed his mother to lay her hand upon his and led her out onto the balcony. This time, the seeress-queen and prince of Nagarythe were greeted with rapturous cheers and applause. The streets were packed with elves in every direction, and windows and balconies were full as the people of Athel Toralien sought the best vantage point to see their mysterious, glamorous visitor.
‘What are you doing here?’ Malekith whispered as he waved to the adoring crowds.
‘I have come to visit you, my wonderful son,’ replied Morathi, not turning her smile from the masses below. ‘A mother worries, you know that. Word came to me that you were heading off into the wilds for some ridiculous adventures, so I thought it best that I finally visit your new home before you left.’
‘You will not dissuade me,’ Malekith warned her. ‘I am ready to leave within days.’
‘Dissuade you?’ said Morathi with a faint laugh. ‘Why would I not want you to go? Was it not me that stood upon the quayside when you left Nagarythe, and told you to earn glory and renown for yourself and your people? Have you not done so, and have I not looked upon all that you have achieved with great love and pride?’
‘Forgive my misunderstanding,’ said Malekith. ‘If you are here to lend your support, then I am very grateful.’
Morathi did not reply straightaway, but instead indicated discreetly that they should retire inside. With a final wave and a grin, Malekith stepped off the balcony and his mother followed. Closing the window, Malekith rounded on his mother.
‘So why is it that you are here?’ he asked, not with accusation but with genuine curiosity.
‘It is not my support that you need, at least not in any physical way,’ Morathi replied.
Seeing his mother wave a hand towards the bottle upon the desk, Malekith took a clean glass from one of the many cabinets in the room and poured wine for Morathi. She took it with a nod, had a sip and then continued.
‘You have been away from Ulthuan for too long. I was of a mind to persuade you to return rather than go gallivanting across the Wastes, but then I realised that such a course of action would be a fool’s errand and only earn me your enmity, perhaps even your disdain.’
‘You are right, I will not return to Ulthuan,’ said Malekith. ‘Why do you think it is so important that I do so now?’
‘Not now, but soon,’ Morathi said. ‘I sense that Bel Shanaar’s rule is fading. His usurpation of your relationship with the dwarfs was an attempt to bolster his flagging fortunes. Now that the colonies are well established, all of the kingdoms enjoy the comfort and wealth that the realms overseas bring to us, Tiranoc no less so, nor more so than any others. Nagarythe’s most adventurous spirits have departed the shores of the isle, for new generations look to the likes of you to emulate, not to the staid and overly sincere Bel Shanaar. In comfort there is frailty, for a sword must be forged in the burning fires before it can rest in its scabbard. There is no more fire in Ulthuan. Even as her empire continues to grow, Ulthuan herself is diminishing.’
‘If Ulthuan has become lessened, then it is the fault of the princes who rule there,’ said Malekith, pouring himself some wine.
‘That is my point,’ snapped Morathi. ‘There is none capable of succeeding Bel Shanaar – his court is as weak as he is. Your achievements here have been rightly lauded, but your success has been copied and appropriated and demeaned by others. If only you had returned to us before Bel Shanaar accorded himself and his rule with the dwarfs and stole your victory. It is time to create a new legend for yourself, and return in triumph to reclaim what is rightfully yours.’