Chapter Text
For as long as Byleth can remember she had never been aware of the Goddess trapped in her mind. Sothis herself likely wasn’t aware of it either- if she had been conscious at all. Most people around Byleth simply thought she was stoic, blunt or downright unable to feel.
But Byleth did feel, always had. It had just always been as if there was a strong barrier between her feelings and thoughts. She could access both of them just fine but they hardly mingled. Which means that using emotions in speech or battle was hard, but also that putting emotions into thoughts- into meaning- was neigh impossible.
That had been her life, her reality, until she arrived at Garreg Mach,
It was seeing Lady Rhea for the first time that served as the trigger that had echoed from Byleth’s consciousness straight into that of Sothis, awakening and summoning her presence into Byleth’s mind with a jolt.
Byleth’s senses had been flooded by an unfamiliar surge of urgency as the suddenly awoken Goddess in her had abruptly understood the situation they the both of them were in. Sothis had seemingly panicked and drowned Byleth with flashes of visions and memories, to make clear the both of them were in deep peril solely because of what her daughter had done to Byleth all those years ago, and who was now preparing to reap what she’d sown.
The endless stream of memories, images, feelings and emotions that weren't her own had overwhelmed Byleth and it didn't take long before she succumbed to them, slumping to the ground as she fainted.
She woke up in the infirmary a day later, with a clean bill of health as Manuela couldn't find anything wrong aside from 'sudden overload of stress' which they both agreed on was nothing for Byleth.
Byleth had neglected to tell the healer she could now distinctly feel a murmuring presence in her mind. It wasn't intrusive, but it was certainty alive, with it's own thoughts and feelings contained in a small bubble in Byleth's mind. Byleth was long and well out of the infirmary when the thoughts and memories she saw before she blacked out came back and with a start she realized the presence in her was none other than Sothis, the Goddess of Fodlan.
That was.... rather unique, she mused and wondered what it meant, and what it would mean in the future.
It became clear rather quickly that Sothis couldn’t talk to Byleth -not in words- so communicating was hard at first. But Sothis swiftly learned how to work around it, for while Sothis couldn’t speak to Byleth in words, she could send Byleth her memories, visions and emotions.
It took her some time to get the hang of it, how do make the memories and visions last longer, less blurry, more stable and consistent.
At first the experience had been confusing and unnerving to Byleth, as she had no idea what was happening to her usually stoic and calm thoughts. Suddenly she had feelings and memories to have feelings about.
But gradually the Goddess had begun to inform Byleth of both her knowledge of the past and future, with more and more of her thoughts seeping into Byleth’s own as she figured out how to do so more effectively.
And by now those memories were countless, and despite the fact that many of them were fractured or not that long- they were memories scrambled together from over a thousand years, so Byleth felt she now had more memories of Sothis and Rhea – clear ones that never seemed to blur or fade- than of her own.
Byleth sighs wistfully to herself as she makes her way through the sunny halls of Garreg Mach. She’s not at all looking forward to what is to come. She has now fully resigned herself having to face Rhea and finally saying what’s on her mind despite knowing full well she’s wholly unprepared to do so.
But she’s just done with it, she thinks wryly, the lying and scheming and endless manipulating from the Archbishop.
Because Rhea isn’t at all aware that Byleth knows.
Knows exactly what the holy Archbishop has done in the past, what she’s hiding, and what she is up to now, right down to what she’s planning to do with Byleth and per extent, Sothis.
And Byleth done pretending she doesn’t know, done playing along with Rhea’s sweet lies so the Archbishop can keep telling herself she holds no guilt.
Byleth can’t help but feel a strange sort of amusement at the irony the unpredicted flaw in Rhea’s schemes, because while Sothis might have lost access to most of her powers as a Goddess, she still has all the powers that come with being a godly Mother. So naturally the Mother Goddess knows all about her wayward daughter’s less than ethical intentions with Byleth. Byleth isn’t sure how Sothis knows everything, as in a lot of Rhea’s memories she’s completely alone but she supposes the old saying ‘mother knows all’ also applies to sort of dead Goddess Mothers.
To make thing more interesting for Byleth, the Goddess has been persistently informing her about her daughter’s intentions almost nonstop, there wouldn’t a day go by where she was shown a new memory of Rhea doing something that Byleth only half understood yet could easily conclude that it was both driven by Rhea’s desperation –which would occasionally border on insanity- and nearly always morally ambiguous, if now straight up wrong.
It was clear that Sothis really, really didn’t like what her daughter is planning to do with both herself and Byleth’s body and is desperate to stop her in doing so.
Byleth wonders to herself once more if Sothis can access any of her personal feelings, because they haven’t been matching those of Sothis for a long time now. She feels guilt flicker through her, as she’s pretty sure that if Sothis would have any clue on what Byleth was feeling in regards to Rhea and her intentions for the both of them the Goddess would have drastically switched tactics a long time ago.
Despite the fact that the feelings Sothis would send her regarding her daughter were… less than kind – anger, betrayal, grief, frustration- Byleth had long found it impossible to feel the same way.
Sothis probably operated under the assumption that if she’d send Byleth enough of her memories –of Rhea’s darker and more twisted moments, and her plans for Byleth’s life- it would lead to Byleth sharing her sentiment and avoid Rhea at all costs to prevent her fate from happening.
An admirable plan really, Byleth thinks all things considered.
But Sothis likely hadn’t taken into account the possibility that the memories she poured into Byleth’s memories would lead her on an entirely different path.
Sure, Byleth had been unnerved when she first began putting the pieces together and the memories suddenly made sense and the conclusion she had to draw was painful to say the least.
She had been wary of the Archbishop to say the least when she concluded the woman was planning to bring back her lost Mother, snuffing out Byleth’s life in the process. Although Rhea would never consider it an act of murder, as she didn’t even regard Byleth as alive to begin with.
The teacher distinctly remembers clenching her fist in quiet rage and disgust when she had met Rhea for the first time after she had realized the truth and Rhea had spoken to her in a voice so melodious and gentle yet her words said nothing at all.
She was a monster shrouding herself in false sweetness and gentleness while secretly out for Byleth’s life. She wasn’t human. The Archbishop had had angered and frightened Byleth with her vague kindness and flowery words.
For a short while she had indeed been planning to flee, to get away from Garreg Mach as soon and far as possible.
But the memories wouldn’t stop coming. Their link was now strong enough it was more as if Byleth and Sothis shared the Goddess’s memories, except for Sothis’s private ones which were untraceable to Byleth. And the former mercenary was free to access them. Sothis had even structured her memory so that all memories she considered relevant –of herself, of Byleth and of Rhea- were easy to find while others, when Byleth was curious and sniffed around, would evoke an unnerving feeling of why do you want to see this? So she left those well alone.
All those memories of Rhea…. They were enough, really.
Numerous fragments of memories flood Byleth’s senses and enter her vision in no particular order.
When Rhea is alone she cries so much.
When alone in the dark Holy Tomb, kneeling in front of her mother’s throne, head buried into her arms folded on the seat in an attempt to muffle her sounds of agonized wailing and crying.
When she was faced with the failure of yet another of her twisted experiments and neither Byleth nor Rhea knew if the tears on her cheeks were out of anger or grief.
When she’s in bed late at night and sleep won’t come until dawn breaks and Rhea spends the night clinging needily onto a pillow, trying to suffocate the sounds of her muffled cries, because she’s so cold and alone.
Sometimes there isn’t even a direct cause, Rhea would simply suddenly excuse herself with a pleasant smile from whatever meeting she was in and rush to her room, bolt the door only to lose the strength in her legs, gracelessly succumb to the floor and break down in tears.
While Byleth doesn’t think she knows much about the nature of monsters, she does think that they aren’t supposed to cry as much as Rhea does- especially not when they’re alone.
And while Byleth definitely got the point Sothis was trying to get across fairly quickly –My daughter has lost her mind, she’s dangerous. Get away! - she had also come to care for Rhea.
She had been surprised by herself when Sothis had send yet another memory of Rhea into her mind and Byleth had suddenly been overwhelmed with the desire to comfort the Archbishop in her moment of misery.
At first it had been an almost passive sort of pity. It was nothing short of uncomfortable and disturbing to see a grown woman so desperate, so lost when she thought no one was watching,
But her feelings of pity had quickly began turning into empathy, into understanding.
Byleth had begun seeking more memories of her own.
And finally all the twisted and conflicted feelings she had felt for the Archbishop turned into acceptance.
It took her a while to realize it but Byleth had begun to long for more memories. One day Sothis send her a memory and Byleth thought it might have been an accident because she couldn’t tell what Sothis wanted to make clear with this memory, for there was no sin or desperation or insanity in this memory.
No, it was Rhea, in a long wide nightgown reaching to her ankles as it fluttered around her, her hair loose- the long green locks following her head with untamed grace. It must have been the early hours of the morning because it was so dark, and also in one of the more private hallways as Rhea seemed confident she wouldn’t run into anyone. She was almost gliding through the empty halls of Garreg Mach with a lit candle in her hand. It was almost like a dance, but she’d stop near the windowsills and glance outside – at the stars, at the trees, the sleeping animals, anything that would rustle in the wind- utterly still for moments at the time before continuing on. She seemed free in that memory and it was clear she felt safe too, as she didn’t seem frightened at all.
In that moment, Rhea was truly herself and she was so beautiful when she was.
And so her genuine understanding of Rhea had….
….turned into love.
Byleth sighs again, tiredly and wistfully. Surely Sothis would be disappointed in her.
She’s even a little bit disappointed in herself, if she were to be truthful. If only for her glaring lack of self perseverance- she was a mercenary for heaven’s sake, she didn’t survive all these years in battle only to succumb to a crush on a desperate woman driven to the brink of insanity- one who does not consider Byleth a rightful human being to boot.
It makes sense though, she thinks to herself. Byleth had never been particularly close to anyone – never shared a deep connection with anyone – so she doesn’t think it’s all that strange she’d fall in love with the one woman she now knows and understands more deeply and intimately than anyone.
Even if that connection only goes in one direction and even if Rhea doesn’t consider her alive.
She always had trouble feeling things deeply –and she was now convinced it was because Sothis had subconsciously been leeching of off her emotional capacity- but when the Goddess had started to make her presence more clear in Byleth’s mind, the feelings she’d send to Byleth along with her memories had taught her how to feel. Or rather, what different feelings meant and how to put them into words.
Because whenever Sothis’s feelings would flood her mind, they’d still be in their own bubble, Byleth didn’t actually feel what Sothis felt. Instead it was more as if she was finally able to decipher her own feelings as Sothis unknowingly provided her with the tools to do so –the ability to translate the language of emotions into a language of words.
The barrier separating her feelings and her thoughts had started to gradually melt away as she gained more access to Sothis’s feelings and through those Byleth had finally been able to master emotions and make them her own.
And now Byleth was going to die because of them.
The irony, her lack of emotions had always made her a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield and now it would be her newfound fondness of them that would be her downfall.
Because despite knowing full well what will happen –Sothis would warn her constantly- she is going to sit on that damn throne if it is what it takes to make Rhea happy.
Even if it will kill her- or worse, erase her.
Even if Sothis herself doesn’t actually want to come back.
But before she does so Byleth feels determined to proof to the Archbishop she’s more than a vessel for her Mother’s soul. She fiercely needs the woman to know she is fully her own person and that the choice to sacrifice herself for Rhea and Sothis is wholly her own.
It hurt to see Rhea look at her and see the cruel impatience behind her smile. The Archbishop is a twisted sort of offended by Byleth’s mere existence- seeing her very being as nothing but a hindrance serving to delay the resurrection of her Mother.
Her impatience had only grown worse when Byleth’s hair had changed as it had only added to Rhea’s firm belief Byleth’s body was nothing more than a facsimile of life, an empty vessel waiting patiently until Sothis’s soul would etch into it and take over.
The relentless yet distant kindness Rhea had started to shower her with after her hair had changed just hurt Byleth even more -not to mention it unnerved her deeply because it was both distorted and really not how Byleth wanted Rhea to look at her.
Rhea, having grown so desperate to bring her Mother back, and finally so close, couldn’t resist letting herself indulge in the delusion- Or belief, Byleth isn’t sure Rhea can tell the difference at this point- that in a way Byleth already is her Mother, only not yet fully in control.
It had taken her all her willpower not to scramble away in uncomfortable distress when Rhea had reached out her hand to hold a stray strand of Byleth’s newly colored hair, so mortified she was by Rhea’s distorted display affection for her.
It didn’t have to be love, Byleth didn’t need Rhea to love her the same way she loved her.
But she definitely needed the Archbishop to see her as anything else than her damned mother.
Because she’s not her mother, for Heaven’s sake.
She’s her own person, and she’ll gladly put Rhea through emotional hell to convince her of that, it would merely be one of the consequences of her own actions. If the woman can shamelessly unnerve Byleth by trying to make them both believe she’s Rhea’s mother when she reaches out to touch her, Byleth can sure as hell unnerve her right back by ensuring her Byleth’s feelings for the Archbishop aren’t motherly in the slightest.
She’s not sure the idea should amuse her as much as it does but she really thinks both Sothis and Rhea should have opted for a different tactic if they had truly wanted to be successful in making Byleth bend to their whims in their strange conflict they tangled her in without giving her a choice.
Because the both of them utterly failed and consequently set Byleth on a path to just do whatever she pleased for maybe the first time in her life- which might or might not involve making the both of them suffer for their actions.
She grins at the thought.
Luckily for Byleth –and likely very unfortunately for Rhea- the Archbishop has gracefully provided her with the opportunity to do just that- to do exactly what it is she wants. Out of her own free will.
The Archbishop had requested Byleth’s presence in her personal chambers, under the excuse she needed to inform Byleth of some of the finer details and procedures regarding the holy ceremony to come- all lies, if Sothis’s memories were anything to go by. All Byleth really had to do was sit on the damn chair while holding her sword. She could do it blindfolded, naked, she could probably lie on it upside down, with her head dangling off the seat and her legs aligning up with the meticulously decorated headboard. With amusement Byleth wonders if she could give Rhea a heart attack if she were to wiggle her feet at the upper edge of the headboard.
She gathers her thoughts, temporarily letting everything regarding the Holy Ceremony slip from her mind. She has other things to focus on for now.
Byleth knows she’s unprepared,really has no idea what to say or how to even begin. But she also knows that that simply means she’ll be less than delicate in her words when it comes to it and she can’t help but spitefully think to herself it’ll be Rhea who will suffer through the consequences of that.
She can’t help but feel weirdly amused by the sheer oddity of it all. Here she is, the stoic mercenary who, despite having no heartbeat is now deeply in love with the Holy Archbishop of all people- who also happens to be a thousand year old War Saint named Seiros, can turn into a very large dragon and is somewhat of an immortal Goddess herself, seeing as she is the daughter of the actual Goddess, who is stuck in Byleth's head, by the way- and Byleth is now on a very stubborn path to deeply unnerve and upset the Goddess and her equally Divine daughter.
Byleth can't suppress a laugh as she finishes putting all these utterly strange aspects of her life in order and is surprised by the dim echo of the sound she made.
A quick glance around reveals she’s already in front of the Archbishop’s chambers and it instantly robs her of her high spirits. With some effort she shakes the spiteful feelings which suddenly spike in her chest, softening a bit as she is faced with the reality of truly having to hurt Rhea- the person she loves- if she wants to get her point across.
But she has to, she will not die willingly for the person she loves without them at least acknowledging her humanity, her free will.
She's not that much of a doormat, not even for the person she loves, not even for the Holy Archbishop herself.
Her fist hovers in the air as she hesitates momentarily, before finally finding the courage to knock softly on the heavy wooden door.
It takes long – too long for Byleth as her nerves start to act up- before she finally hears rustling coming from behind the door. A moment later the door opens smoothly as Rhea, complete with her serene smile and gentle composure, greets her and invites her in.
“Professor,” she says warmly. “You got my message I see, I’m glad you could make it on such short notice. I hope it wasn’t any trouble.”
If she notices Byleth’s unusual stiffness as she awkwardly steps inside she doesn’t show it. “Lady Rhea,” she mutters, nodding in greeting. “It’s… it’s no problem, I had a quiet day.”
She’s already cursing herself for being so useless, not making the confident entrance she was hoping to make. She could at least try harder to act normally, she tells herself sternly.
At this rate Rhea will notice something is off before Byleth can find the words to tell her exactly what that is, and she’ll know just how that will end, with Byleth freezing as she chokes on her feelings before hurriedly making a shameful exit as she’s overwhelmed by the need to get away from the source of her discomfort.
She needs to avoid that at all costs as it will make any follow up attempts to reveal her knowledge to Rhea that much more awkward and thus harder.
With a serious struggle she manages to keep her composure. In an attempt to distract herself from… herself she glances around the spacious room.
It’s something in-between a room to receive guests and a personal room. With slight awkwardness Byleth realizes she had been expecting a bedroom but the idea that someone of Rhea’s position would receive a guest in her bedroom is likely unheard of, if not downright inappropriate.
She lets her awkwardness slip from her like water. It’s not her fault she’s inexperienced in the matters of nobles and the like, all they gave her was a room with a bed and a desk after all.
As Rhea leads her inside, to a duo of chairs with a small round table in the middle by a large window her eyes come to rest of a larger armchair in another corner of the room. It’s the only place with some evidence of life in the otherwise perfectly still chamber. Books and papers litter the armrests of the chair, with some of them scattered around it was well. Byleth even notices pencils laying around.
“What were you doing?” she asks her promptly.
She can tell by the way Rhea can’t quite hide how the sudden question startles her- as her eyes widen slightly and focus on Byleth with a little too much intent- that asking what the holy Archbishop does in her own time is perhaps considered inappropriate, if not at least unheard of.
To try and stop making this more awkward she gestures at the chair. “My apologies,” she mumbles. “I just couldn’t help but notice the books and papers.”
Rhea visibly relaxes and smiles at her. “Oh,” she says. “I was just reading.”
“Reading about what?” Byleth presses, knowing full well Rhea doesn’t expect nor wants her to ask her such a thing but she’s just genuinely interested.
She realizes that the only two sides of Rhea she knows are the overly kind and vague one that says nothing about her true self and the deeply desperate and grieving one she doesn’t want anyone to know of and suddenly Byleth finds herself now achingly curious to all the parts of Rhea that exist in between those two extremes- like what kind of things she enjoys reading about.
Rhea seems unsure of what to say for a moment, giving her a long questioning look. “I was reading about… about," she starts awkwardly, perhaps even strained, as if she never really shares these kind of things with others and isn't quite sure how to. "Well, it’s fiction foremost- but the story contains an analysis on the human psyche and it has been written with such realistic detail and provides a lot of logical foundation people have begun theorizing that the author’s findings might have been based on truth, if not outright true.” She points at the papers scattered about. “Those papers are theories by several different people, all experts in their field,” she finishes and gives Byleth a gentle smile. “I was making notes with the pencils, for my own ideas,” she adds as an afterthought.
It’s probably the most Byleth has ever heard her say- or rather the most Byleth has ever heard her say compared to the amount of words she uses, as she had no reason to skillfully skirt around the subject and be needlessly vague- which she usually does by adding so many words that say so very little.
“I didn’t know you held interest in reading about such things,” Byleth says softly, tone perhaps slightly too curious but she can’t help but feel fascinated by Rhea’s interest.
The Archbishop flashes her a tiny but knowing smile. “In truth I’m not all that busy of a woman, you might as well know,” she reveals with just a hint of genuine mirth. “I have to find some ways to occupy myself with,” she explains nonchalantly.
Byleth can understand her need to do so, as Rhea doesn’t strike her as someone who can bear to be alone with her thoughts for too long. She nods in understanding. “It’s nice, that you enjoy such a thing I mean. I wouldn’t have guessed you to be one to hold an interest in fiction.”
Rhea seems once again slightly taken aback by her words, she opens her mouth as if she wants to say more- and Byleth fiercely wishes she would, utterly curious to know just what she enjoys about the story- but closes it again without saying anything before lightly shaking her head.
Her expression changes, a more confident smile settling on her features again but Byleth has long learned to tell her smiles apart from each other and this one isn’t the genuine kind. “Regardless, you didn’t come here all this way to hear me chatter about fiction,” she says and Byleth finds herself desperately wishing that hearing Rhea tell her about the story she likes was exactly the reason she had come.
Still she sits down without saying anything in one of the chairs when Rhea gestures for her to do so before the Archbishop sits down in the opposite one herself.
After an almost dismissive glance at Byleth, Rhea begins informing her about the Holy Ceremony that is to come.
Before Byleth knows it she’s trapped in an endless string of unfamiliar customs and rituals being thrown at her. Something about clothes she has to wear and the importance of bringing the Sword of the Creator. She can follow that much- it makes sense- but she completely loses Rhea's reasoning after that. And why do her students need to be present? Byleth really doesn’t want them to see her… to see her die.
“You’re truly someone special, professor,” Rhea muses wistfully, forgoing her excessive lecturing momentarily to give Byleth an indistinct smile instead. “For being granted the opportunity to get a vision from the Goddess like this.”
Special. The word hits Byleth like a fist in the stomach . How dare this woman shamelessly lie and manipulate her into her doom ‘unknowingly’ without a hint of guilt, even having the nerve to make it sound like a special occasion worthy of celebration.
She looks at Rhea and her smooth smile that doesn't meet her eyes and something inside Byleth just snaps.
“Please, Lady Rhea,” she pleads, surprising the other woman with the tension in her voice, who blinks at her with wide uncomprehending eyes. “Just… just stop, please,” she continues, unable to keep the fragile edge from her voice. “It’s alright, I… I know. So just stop this,” she adds softly, sounding more sad than she anticipated.
She thought she’d feel more angry but all she feels is sorrow and relief at finally bring able to breach the subject.
The Archbishop on the other hand is clearly not comprehending what Byleth is getting at. “I’m… I’m sorry, I’m afraid I don’t follow,” she says with in calculated tone. “Are you alright, professor?” She adds, sounding more wary than worried.
“No, I’m not alright,” Byleth responds abruptly, her voice containing slightly more life now. She takes a deep breath and resigns herself to the consequences of what she’s about to say.
“I know, Lady Rhea. I know what will happen if I go down in the Holy Tomb and touch the throne of the Goddess.”
Rhea completely freezes in fear at her words yet there is still confusion lingering in her eyes so Byleth continues. “I know I will not live to see through it, so please, please stop pretending like I will, like I’m someone special. Because I’m not and I cannot bear it anymore to have you pretend I am.”
Rhea remains utterly frozen, the smile having disappeared from her lips, but Byleth can tell the exact moment when her brain starts rapidly spinning to come up with a way to salvage her plan as her eyes nervously glance to the door quickly before darting back to Byleth with an expression so cold and calculating that Byleth is momentarily convinced Rhea will now forcefully trap her in this very room and personally drag her to the Holy Tomb when the time is right.
Before things can escalate to such an extend she quickly speaks up again. “You don’t have to be afraid, Lady Rhea,” she assures. “I’m not going to make a run for it,” she explains to the Archbishop who seems to be panicking inwardly. Byleth sighs in resignation, too saddened by the Rhea’s reaction, however minuscule it was, to care anymore. “I’m not going to resist at all, you don’t have to worry. I’ll comply and do what you want of me.”
When Rhea hears her say this she finally does find it within herself to react. “I..I don’t understand,” she stutters warily. “If you know what will happen then why would do so willingly…”
It means more to Byleth than she thinks it should but she can’t help but feel some sort of relief because at least Rhea acknowledges her as enough of an individual she finds the idea that Byleth would willingly erase herself without hesitation unlikely.
The relief probably clouds her mind because she’s pretty sure she has some sort of brain lapse, completely forgetting what she should and shouldn’t share as she speaks without thinking.
“Because I know how badly you want your Mother back,” she says softly.
She realizes her mistake when Rhea’s eyes riddle with fright, which bleeds into a desperate anger as the Archbishop feels like a caged animal when she realizes her hidden connection to the Goddess is crudely exposed by Byleth.
It’s somewhat mesmerizing to witness the ever calm and controlled Archbishop completely lose her composure within mere seconds, Byleth thinks to herself with a sense of detached curiosity and wonder.
“You,” Rhea snarls and Byleth instinctively backs into her chair in self-perseverance at the enraged tone. “How do you know that?” She demands forcefully.
Byleth feels her last bit of resolve fade as her will crumbles underneath Rhea’s overpowering aura. “Your Mother let me know,” she admits awkwardly, stuck somewhere in-between wanting to come clean and desperate to hide the finer details of just what she knows and how she came to now it. She’d rather not let the Archbishop she’d be able to speak to Sothis through Byleth, she shivers at the prospect of being subjugated to listen to Rhea endlessly speak to her Mother while she servers as mediator.
Her words at least seems to take the wind out of the Archbishop though, giving Byleth precious time to gather herself and hopefully come up with something actually useful to say.
“My…my Mother?” she whispers disbelievingly, her voice painfully fragile. “She spoke to you?”
“Not exactly,” Byleth admits, feeling a pang of guilt for slightly misleading Rhea. “She send me her memories… memories of you.”
Rhea looks at her with a burning desire to ask her questions she doesn’t dare ask, fearing she might reveal things to Byleth that will work detrimental to her plans.
“I think I know most of the important things,” Byleth answers for her instead. “I know what you did to me when I was born, I know what you’ve been trying to do all this time and I know what you want to do to me.”
“And despite knowing what will happen to you, you are still willing perform the ceremony in the Holy Tomb,” Rhea repeats carefully.
“Yes.”
Rhea is silent for a moment, deep in thought. “I see.”
Byleth suddenly feels very conflicted with herself, as if she’s deeply angry with herself without knowing why.
The truth hits her hard along with a deep feeling of dread.
Oh no.
It’s not her own anger she’s feeling, it’s that of Sothis.
Byleth had somehow completely forgotten to calculate in the fact the Goddess would be right there with her to witness her awkward and dramatic revelation to her daughter and said Goddess is now rightfully upset after having learned Byleth is planning to do the exact opposite of what she’s been trying to tell her to do for months now.
She curses inwardly.
She curses inwardly again when she realizes she has more to reveal and finds herself fiercely wishing she could tell the Mother of the woman she is planning to confess her feelings to -in what can be nothing but a disastrous spectacle to behold- to bugger off while she does so.
Ah, to hell with it, she thinks to herself. It’s wholly the fault of said Mother and daughter Byleth is in this mess to begin with, let them suffer with her.
Sothis’s interference had managed to momentarily distract her from Rhea but the other woman makes herself known again, promptly going for one-upping her Mother in their race to make Byleth as uncomfortable as possible.
“I’m glad you feel this way, Professor,” she says in a tone that arouses Byleth’s suspicion and instantly makes her dislike where she is going with this. “It’s further proof you are the perfect vessel for the Goddess and she’s been preparing you for her arrival.”
Byleth chokes on her own breathing at Rhea’s words and gives her a deeply offended look because no, no Rhea. No, that is not the right angle at all, Byleth thinks to herself with discomfort and frustration.
Does this woman even know how utterly wrong that sounds?
The way Rhea looks at her- with that tranquil smile that gives her an air of conviction- clearly tells Byleth Rhea either doesn’t know or doesn’t care.
She opens her mouth to protest but the words die in her throat as she realizes she’s not sure she has it in her to tell someone who has been going mad with grief for centuries at being unable to cope with the loss of her Mother that said Mother doesn’t want to come back to her at all and is frankly very upset with her – with both of them- at this point.
Why do these two insist on making things so hard for her?
She wishes she could take herself out of the equation, that she could just channel Sothis for a moment or something. Let them fight and bicker while she idly waits in some sort of mind space.
But no, that would be too easy.
“I’m my own person, Lady Rhea,” she mutters stubbornly, still unable to tell her about Sothis’s feelings on the matter and hoping she can just focus on talking about her own instead.
“Of course you are, dearest professor,” Rhea tells her sweetly, clearly lying in an attempt to soothe her and keep Byleth's compliance.
“You don’t believe me,” Byleth scoffs in frustration.
Rhea is quiet in contemplation for a moment as she chooses her words carefully. “I do not believe that someone without such a strong connection to the Goddess would give themselves to the Goddess as willingly as you want to,” she settles on, her voice calm but convinced.
Byleth sighs almost angrily. “I’m not doing it for her, Lady Rhea,” she says bitterly.
When Rhea hardly seems to acknowledge her hurt, simply looking her with a curious smile, she continues. “I’m doing it for you.”
That, at least, gets a reaction out of the Archbishop. She blinks several times while her eyes say nothing as she's not at all understanding why she would be the motivation for Byleth’s choice.
“I don’t understand,” she says, her voice soft yet mildly confused. “Why would you care about what I wa-”
“Because I love you,” Byleth interrupts her impulsively, losing herself to her emotions.
She feels a painful tug at the edge of her mind and is pretty sure Sothis has just given her the mental equivalent of a slap in the face.
Rude, Byleth thinks, but not unfair. Byleth had been Sothis’s only ally in this fight, one where Sothis was already rather powerless, and now Byleth had betrayed her. Betrayed her by confessing to the person who is currently both the enemy in her fight and her daughter. Byleth once again marvels at how utterly delicate this whole situation is and still doesn't quite understand how she somehow became the deciding factor in it all.
Rhea’s mouth opens and closes several times before she can wipe the blank look from her face. Sadly, she regains her bearings quickly and instantly uses Byleth’s words to fuel the momentum of the uncomfortable path she already was on.
“Professor, it’s impossible for you to know what love is,” she tells her bluntly, although her body is tense.
Byleth glares at her. “I might not know that much about love,” she admits. “But there is no doubt in my mind that I hold feelings of love for you,” she finishes. Nervously she realizes she’s blushing. Well, maybe blushing will help Rhea convince her love is genuine.
Rhea doesn’t seem very interested in Byleth’s flustered expression, pays it no mind at all really. “You don’t know enough about me to love me,” she points out nonchalantly.
“I have your memories,” Byleth counters.
“You have my Mother’s memories,” Rhea corrects her abruptly. “Which means that any feelings you think you might be holding for me are nothing but an echo of the Goddess’s love for me,” she says airily, yet her voice wavers ever so slightly, as if she’s just as much trying to convince herself as well as Byleth.
Byleth is too taken aback by her words - her implications- that she promptly forgets to respond. She doesn’t even know how to feel about this. Should she be upset, enraged, disturbed? She feels the uncanny urge to just laugh but is sure that wouldn't help at all. Does Rhea truly belief that Byleth’s –very romantic- love is a watered down version of the late Goddess’s motherly love for Rhea? The idea is disturbing to say the least. How many mental hoops does Rhea have to contort herself into to be able to claim this without a hint of discomfort or shame?
Rhea’s unnerving words at least serve to unify Byleth’s and Sothis’s minds again however, as she feels the Goddess’s indignation at Byleth for confessing to her daughter instantly being redirected to said daughter instead, as Sothis also is way less than happy with Rhea’s twisted reasoning.
“My feelings for you are not motherly, Lady Rhea,” Byleth hisses, raising her voice slightly in frustration.
Rhea turns to look uncomfortable, shifting in her chair and sitting more up straight, clearly unhappy at Byleth’s insistence at pulling Rhea out of her ‘reality’.
“You don’t know what love is,” she growls and the Archbishop mask begins to fracture and crumble. Her eyes are blank yet underneath it Byleth can feel the repressed anger and fear. “You had no soul when you were born,” Rhea tells her, with subdued rage and fear, which makes it seem like she’s afraid of the implications that Rhea might be wrong, if only about a few things.
Byleth remains silent, feeling that letting Rhea get out of her chest what she truly feels first will give her the opportunity to break down her arguments all at once afterwards.
“You do not have the capability to love on your own, Professor. All you can possibly do is mimic the feelings the Goddess has shared with you, and likely you are confused and incapable of how to interpreted them” Rhea goes on, her face devoid of emotion and her voice lifeless. She tries to at least, because Byleth can see flickers of fear, confusion, grief, longing all flash behind Rhea’s eyes. Even her voice isn’t completely monotone, as it wavers in pitch as Rhea struggles to keep speaking.
“You had no life when you were born, you were nothing but a husk which I gave life to,” Rhea insists, her voice cracking slightly as she seems intent on throwing Byleth of her path to protect the fragile illusion she created for herself, no matter how much it will hurt Byleth in doing so.
Her words do hurt Byleth, but not enough to make her lose control. “You don’t know that,” she argues. “I had no heartbeat when I was born, that is correct. But that says nothing about my soul.” Byleth ponders in thought for a moment. “Lady Rhea, do you even know how a soul manifests into a body? I might have been still born, a birth defect that prevented me to live, but even then I must have had a soul, one that would have never lived and grown. But still, as a newborn I had a soul, and you merged my soul with that of Sothis, or even just her heart.” Byleth points out.
Rhea looks at her with subdued anger, not liking what Byleth is telling her. Yes, because what if it might be true? She wonders how Rhea will react when she accepts the reality she’s been denying herself for her own peace.
“Lady Rhea your experiments were clumsy at best, if not downright cruel. You have no idea what you are talking about when it comes to my soul.”
“Neither do you,” Rhea retorts in anger.
“I might not,” Byleth admits. “But no matter what you did to me, your experiment was a failure, Lady Rhea. For I still don’t have a heartbeat." she tells her with confidence, then looks at her determined. "But despite that, I still learned how to feel.”
Rhea looks deeply uncomfortable now, even unsettled, as she tries to not acknowledge the things she has done to Byleth and those who came before her.
Byleth notices her silence and uses the opportunity to say what she wants to say. “Lady Rhea, you had no idea what you were doing while doing those experiments. You lacked the expertise and substituted that lack with your desperation. I saw what you did to those before me. They suffered, Lady Rhea. They suffered in your arms as you suffered along with them, for you had grown to love them. You watched them all die, cradled in your arms as their bodies grew too weak to sustain them any longer.” Byleth finishes fiercely, before coming down from the passionate drive she was on.
Abruptly she thinks she might have pushed Rhea too far now because when she looks up to look at the Archbishop her eyes are instantly drawn to her eyes. They look beyond sad, all of her does. She looks utterly weak and deflated. As if she’s shouldering a burden that’s been way too heavy for her for a long time now. “I’m sorry,” Byleth mumbles, looking at the ground. “I shouldn’t have… confronted you like that.”
When she looks up to Rhea again she sees her eyes are wet and her shoulders are twitching as she’s struggling hard not to cry.
It hurts to see her like this, fractured between her Archbishop persona and the deeply rooted feelings of grief now threatening to slip through the cracks. She shouldn't have to repress everything and restrain herself constantly, Byleth thinks.
“Crying is not a flaw,” she says soothingly. “You don’t have to restrain yourself so much.”
Rhea is using all the self-restrain she has but still a few tears start rolling down her cheek regardless as she shakes her head in desperation.
Byleth fiercely wishes she could touch the other woman, just her hand or her shoulder, place a hand on her cheek. She wants to comfort her so badly. “You can cry, you seem to need it.” she repeats gently, almost encouraging Rhea.
Tears begin to spill from wide eyes, and Byleth can see the sorrow, guilt, grief and her deeply rooted inferiority complex all there pooling in the depths of her eyes.
She notices the fingers of both of Rhea’s hands unsuspiciously tapping frantically on the small table between them, perhaps out of nerves or out of a need to somehow physically express the heavy stress she’s under.
Byleth slowly hovers her own towards Rhea’s rhythmically tapping fingers. When Rhea notices Byleth’s hands she stills her fingers’ movements and glances at Byleth with both apprehension and a soft curiosity.
Once Byleth’s hand's are above hers she stills them and searches for the Archbishops eyes. When she finds the apprehension and fear diminished in favor of anticipation and curiosity she gives Rhea a confident smile.
“May I place my hands on top of yours?” She asks sincerely, with the gentle hope Rhea will let her.
Rhea gives her a wary look but the curiosity and something in her eyes win from the wariness. She flattens her hands on the table. “Yes...You may, if you wish,” she mutters, her voice so quiet as if she half wished Byleth hadn’t heard it.
Feeling rather ecstatic at the prospect of being able to touch Rhea’s hands, she lowers her own hands slowly down until they come to rest on the pale fingers and hands of the Holy Archbishop.
When her fingers cover and curl around of the Archbishop’s own the woman gasps softly and then breathes out contently.
A wave of curiosity comes over Byleth as she notices the calming effect her touch has on the other woman
Creativity had never been Byleth’s greatest skill but when she gently brushes and strokes along Rhea’s delicate fingers the other woman seems to completely relax under her touch. Her eyes flutter shut, with drying tears still on her cheeks and her breathing slows down to a steady and gentle rhythm. Occasionally she’ll inhale softly when Byleth’s fingers gently brush along a sensitive spot. Much to Byleth's surprise and equal elation Rhea seems to genuinely enjoy what Byleth is doing, as she accepts her touches, even welcomes them as she simply, contently lets it happen.
She wonders how long it's been since someone has touched Rhea in a gentle and innocent manner such as this- or touched her at all for that matter- as she can't imagine that people are allowed to touch or even come to close to someone of Rhea's position. She must feel so alone and distant from everyone, as she's so far removed from everyone around her.
Byleth gently keeps stroking her hands until all the tension has dissipated from her fingers and then carefully flips Rhea’s hands over.
Rhea gives her a slightly unsure look but doesn’t complain. Byleth starts brushing the palms of her hands with her fingers, extending her ministrations all the way up to from Rhea’s fingertips and down to Rhea’s wrists. The older woman occasionally sucks in a breath or meet Byleth’s eyes with lidded eyes and the tiniest insecure smile on her lips. Every time she does so Byleth momentarily forgets how to breathe, yet she continues keeps touching Rhea exactly where she seems to find it most pleasant.
Byleth keeps doing this for a while, gently kneading all the tension out of Rhea’s hands. The Archbishop seems completely content by now, eyes closed and breathing softly, even her shoulders are slumped and she’s leaning backwards against her chair in comfort, Byleth thinks that seeing Rhea like this is one of the most beautiful things she’s ever seen.
Feelings of tenderness, affection and of course, love begin to rise in Byleth’s chest, clouding her mind with bliss and the high of being able to touch Rhea in a way that is pleasant for both of them- something she never expected to happen.
Hazily and with lidded eyes she looks once more at Rhea’s face, who senses her gaze and opens her eyes to glance back. Byleth’s breath hitches ever so slightly at the sight. Rhea has a blush on her face, her eyes are lidded too and her mouth is slightly open as she breathes calmly,
Seeing her like this is overwhelming. Sothis might be the Goddess, but right now it’s Rhea who is the most Divine thing Byleth has ever seen. The entire essence of Rhea takes over her mind and she becomes all Byleth can think of.
“You’re so utterly beautiful,” she mutters softly yet elated. She looks the Archbishop in the eyes and her feelings of adoration and love grow so much she can’t help having to express them.
“I truly love you, Lady Rhea,” Byleth murmurs, feeling slightly giddy.
When she looks at the Archbishop however, she feels her breath being taken away violently and all the warm and loving feelings she had been feeling turn icy cold.
Rhea’s relaxed and satisfied expression abruptly disappears and she looks at Byleth with blank yet piercing look. It frightens Byleth and she finds herself desperately wishing she could get away from those piercing eyes.
Without hesitation Rhea pulls her hands away from Byleth’s and folds them protectively on her own lap. The loss of warmth feels like a slap in the face for Byleth and suddenly she feels very alone.
Rhea sneers at her. “You have no idea what emotions mean and so you have no right to claim you love me.” Her voice is cracking, it’s hoarse and uncontrolled and Byleth can hear the pain she’s feeling in her words.
Despite the pain evident in Rhea’s voice Byleth growls at her in frustration, enraged at Rhea’s stubborn insistence on clinging to delusions. She’s a person, damnit. She can think for herself. Tears threaten to well up in her eyes but she steels herself so she can say what she needs Rhea to hear.
“I damn well do, Rhea,” Byleth spats angrily, the nice and gentle feelings now completely gone. “I love you. No, I’m in love with you.”
Confused and overwhelmed Rhea loses her temper and raises her voice. “In love with me? How dare you?!” She drawls.
“Yes, how dare I.” Byleth retorts defiantly. “And so help me Lady Rhea, do not force me to prove or define the nature of my love for you because I will point out exactly how my love for you differs from your Mother’s love, and trust me that just will serve to make the both of us very uncomfortable.”
Distress crawls into Rhea’s features and she seemingly struggles to come up with something to say, something to counter Byleth with, but she keeps faltering, too distraught by her inner turmoil and the prospect of having to talk about such delicate things she’s dreads to even think of.
Byleth realizes that even if Rhea could think of what she wants to say- likely something about the complex nature of love- the Archbishop would never be able to put it in words, not under all the stress, conflict, shame, fear and dread she’s currently threatening to break under.
She frantically glances at Byleth once more, who simply watches Rhea trying to find her words, but no matter what, they won’t come. Frustration pours out of Rhea’s expression as she opens and closes her mouth several times.
Moments later she sighs in resignation and hangs her head slightly.
“…”
“That’s what I thought,” Byleth mutters stubbornly and hurt when the Archbishop remains silent.
There is a tense silence between the two of them for a long moment, but Byleth can see Rhea is already on another line of thought.
She struggles with herself and her thoughts momentarily, before taking a deep breath and looks out the window, as if the distraction of the soothing sunlight will help her find the strength she needs to talk.
“I’m not sure,” she starts tentatively, her voice unsure, “just how many of my memories you have access to, but from what I gathered you seem to have seen me in my most darkest and desperate moments…” Suddenly she still, her body trembles, and her eyes turn haunted.
She slowly turns her head to Byleth, and when she speaks her voice is eerily quiet. “You cannot love me Byleth,” she drawls, her voice soft yet high, fragile. “If you have truly seen me in my darkest moments there is no way for you to even feel a shred of love, or even of pity for me.” She stands up from her chair and with unexpected speed she’s in front of Byleth, who responds by unintentionally squirming back into her own chair and putting her hands in front of her chest out of some sort of useless instinctive self-preservation.
“I’ve seen more than that, you know.” Byleth counters her gently. “Brighter things, beautiful things, all in you. And even in the darker moments I found glimmers of beauty that I fell in love with.” She’s smiling at the memories without even realizing it.
She had hoped to soothe the Archbishop with her words, to give her some reprieve of the darkness she clings to so desperately, but when Byleth looks at her face all she sees is growing panic and crumbling self-control.
It was too much to take for Rhea, Byleth realizes guiltily. The woman who had been hiding all the dark and painful things she’d been doing -with herself getting hurt in the middle of it all- feels now utterly exposed to someone who has secretly seen her do it all.
“I’m sorry, Lady Rhea,” she mumbles genuinely. “I shouldn’t have trespassed on your private memories like that.” She shakes her head apologetically. “I would have avoided seeing them at all if I had known how…it’s wrong. They are your private moments.”
Rhea gives her a weary look and Byleth notices how exhausted she looks.
She wants to reach out to Rhea- she’s still so close- but the nature of their relationship just distorts any sort of physical contact.
Awkwardly she shifts in her chair, fumbling with the hem of her sleeve. “…Is there anything I can do for you Lady Rhea?” she asks gently, fiercely wishing she could. She just wants to be there for Rhea so badly.
The Archbishop shakes her head sadly and Byleth sees the beginning of tears pool in her eyes.
“…Just leave me alone, please,” is all she whispers, sounding almost pleading.
Byleth nods, respecting her wish. Mercifully Rhea backs away from her so Byleth has the space to get up from her chair without being uncomfortable close.
She glances at Rhea but the woman is no longer meeting her eyes. With a soft sigh she walks to the door. Truthfully she feels some relief at the prospect of being away from Rhea who is in such deep emotional turmoil and whom Byleth can’t seem to reach out to, not to mention the heavy tension in the room.
It makes her feel guilty.
She feels so useless.
As she reaches the door handle a nagging question floods her conscious. She turns her head around to look at the Archbishop, who is giving her a tentative look when she senses Byleth’s hesitation.
“I cannot help but wonder, Lady Rhea,” she muses out loud. “Aren’t you at all afraid I will still make a run for it and ruin the Holy Ceremony?”
Rhea looks at her with an indescribable look -calculating and assessing- before she smiles lightly at Byleth.
And Byleth feels her heart sink, because that’s not a good smile.
“No matter what you think you are or what you are feeling, you are still the vessel for the Goddess and it’s written in your body, into your heart, that you wish to bring her back, so I’m confident you’ll do the Holy Ceremony, no matter what.” When Rhea sees the anger and defiance flare up in Byleth’s expression she casually adds, “And if you somehow think that won’t be enough then let me assure you the Goddess will guide you exactly where you need to go.” The pleasant smile she gives Byleth sends her straight past anger and right into rage.
Byleth groans in frustration and bristles in anger. How dare this woman.
Fuming she exits the room with haste, no longer able to bear to be in Rhea’s presence. When she steps out into the hall- into freedom- she slams the door back into the frame with as much force as she can muster.
Damn this woman.