Chapter Text
When Serena first awoke to the commotion that was brewing outside the walls of her room, she immediately feared the worst, as would any who grew up in a nation in the midst of a millenia-old war. Perhaps the Dravanian heretics had finally managed to breach Ishgard’s wards, or hells, maybe the dragons themselves were swooping down on the city, but she quickly realized that it was not that sort of commotion. Servants rushed past her door with hurried footsteps, speaking in hushed voices, but there were no alarums, no war horns piercing the cold Coerthan evening, and if it were a true emergency she was certain that Father would have awoken her already. So, what then?
Unable to satiate her curiosity, she quietly crept out of bed and grabbed the small lantern perched on her desk, lifting the hem of her nightgown slightly so as not to trip over it as she tiptoed towards her door. Cracking it open just an ilm, she heard faint whispers in what sounded like the voice of Guillmont, one of the head servants of the house: “...was found floating in the water just under Black Iron...poor thing must have been freezing...looked almost dead...”
Serena tried pressing her ear further against the door frame, but before she could get anything else, she felt someone push against the door and jumped back as Madeline, her nanny, appeared in the now open frame, holding a glowing orange lantern as she looked down at her with a stern face. “You shouldn’t be up at this hour, dear.”
“I couldn’t sleep with everything happening outside.” As much as Madeline was trying to appear authoritative, Serena had gotten good at working out when she was genuinely in trouble or not. Madeline’s attempt at affected severity was belied by the exhausted look in her eyes, and the concerned looking frown on her lips. “What’s going on?”
With a weary sigh, Madeline said, “Well, I don’t suppose you’ll be able to get much more sleep anyways. Come with me.” Without another word, Madeline turned on her heel and began slowly walking down the dim hallway. With a confused blink, Serena rubbed her remaining drowsiness out of her eyes and quietly jogged after her nanny to try and catch up.
—
After a walk that was stifling in its silence, Madeline led Serena to a guest bedroom. Inside was a whole host of people, mostly servants, a few chirurgeons, and laying on the bed was a small slip of a girl shivering under the thick quilt. Lord Montaigne, Serena’s father, stood over her, his weathered face looking down on her with equal parts concern and wonder. The whole room was cast in shades of orange and red from the roaring fire in the hearth, and despite the heavy atmosphere, Serena couldn’t help but feel her tense muscles relax as she stepped into its warmth. Madeline closed the door behind them, and Lord Montaigne finally looked up at them, as though he only just noticed their arrival. “Serena? You should be in bed.”
“T’would seem the events of this night awoke her. I figured she may as well be let in on the situation.”
Serena stepped closer to the bed, her eyes falling onto the girl therein. She had an alien look to her, though she was almost certainly a Hyur, with an unruly mop of dark violet hair, and pale cheeks that seem to have just recently been scrubbed clean, as they glowed red against the soft light of the fire. She was out cold, though occasionally her lips would twist and grimace as though she were enduring a bad dream. “Who is she?”
With a sigh, her father answered, “We do not know. One of the servants found her floating in a river in the Western Highlands. The healers there were dealing with the aftermath of a skirmish with the Dravanians, so he thought to bring her here.”
“Is she Ishgardian?”
Lord Montaigne shrugged. “She carried no identification, no personal effects, not even any clothes on her back. The chirurgeons couldn’t even be certain if she’s Midlander or Highlander.”
The girl trembled slightly, her lips parting as a small voice muttered a handful of words:
“Hear... feel... think...?”
It sounded like she was asking a question, but when she got no answer, she settled back down, returning to her deathlike slumber.
The brief silence that followed was broken by Madeline, who said, “You still intend to take her in?”
Lord Montaigne nodded. “As long as there is no one else to claim her. I can’t very well throw a child out onto the streets, can I?” His eyes fell to the girl, lips curling into a gentle smile as his hand reached out to pet her hair. “Call it a superstition if you wish, but something deep within me is telling me that this is no accident. Perhaps the child was brought to us by the Fury herself?”
Serena watched as her father doted over the stranger in the bed. The nameless girl that hadn’t spoken more than a handful of words since she arrived, whom Lord Montaigne was already looking upon as though she were his own. Suddenly, she felt very, very tired. She turned back to Madeline and tugged on her sleeve, saying, “I would like to return to my room.”
With a raised eyebrow, Madeline said, “Y-Yes, of course milady. We’ll be off then, milord.”
Lord Montaigne gave little response as his daughter marched out of the room, her nanny trailing behind and gently closing the door in her wake. The stranger in the bed stirred not at all.