Chapter Text
“Hold the line!”
Alois’ shout wasn’t heard by Catherine, who was in the midst of getting swarmed. Shamir picked off a few enemies, but more kept coming! Where did those bandits keep coming from?!
“
Aggh!
”
Catherine’s scream was piercing, and the adrenaline spike it gave Shamir was enough for her to jump into the fray and stab through their enemies with her lance, without thought or mercy.
“I’m down!” Catherine yelled to her comrades. They heard; Alois stepped in front and acted as her shield, while Shamir acted as her sword.
“Heard! Covering!” Alois responded.
“Got your six,” Shamir said, adrenaline making her voice shake just a bit. No emotions in battle, it wouldn’t do any good to worry about Catherine. Clear the horde, then recuperate. That’s how it had always been, and how it had to be as Catherine laid at her feet, looking up at her with an expression unreadable.
“Shamir…”
She didn’t know if Catherine said it or just mouthed it, but Shamir understood all the same: she was losing consciousness and needed a healer. Time seemed to stop as their eyes met...
“
Shamir!
”
While Shamir was staring at Catherine, a mad rush of axemen and mages plowed through the rest of the Church’s frontlines and headed straight for Alois.
Shamir’s head snapped up, but she wasn’t in an adequate position to properly protect Catherine. She did her best and jumped next to Alois, shaking off her feelings of fear. She wasn’t a frontline fighter primarily -- her armor was for a sniper, after all -- but she could make do.
Normally.
Horde after horde after horde. Shamir was bloodied. She considered the possibility of retreating; she looked down at Catherine, who was unconscious. That wasn’t good. How much bloodloss had she accrued?
“Shamir!”
When Shamir’s attention was elsewhere, an enemy axeman swung and slice right through Catherine’s leather armor under her breastplate. No no no no no!
Shamir sliced through as much armor and lopped off as many heads as she could, getting a second wind of strength.
When the last few enemies went down, Shamir and Alois studied the carnage; the Church won, but only barely - their casualties were immense.
“Help me,” Shamir said, already carrying Catherine’s arms. Alois yelped and grabbed her legs.
“When did Catherine get that nasty wound?! I thought we had her covered!” Alois cried out. He paled at the sight of how deep the gash went. “She’s still breathing, right?”
Shamir narrowed her eyes. “She needs a healer.
Now
.”
“Yes ma’am!”
Seeing Manuela was a bit difficult as far as getting up the stairs went, but it was necessary to hurry; Catherine was bleeding out. Her normally tan skintone was replaced with a sickly pallor.
“Oh! Oh my! Set her down!” Manuela cried out. They did so. “What
happened
out there?!”
“Battle,” was Shamir’s simple reply. Her eyes never left Catherine.
Manuela huffed and ran around her personal apothecary.
“Well, we’ll leave you to it,” Alois said. A puff of relief left his lips as he knew Catherine was in the best hands possible.
“
Oh no you don’t
!” Manuela yelled, one arm filled with vials of potions and the other arm pulling Alois back in. “You two are helping me! Shamir, get the sutures! Alois, start feeding her these potions!”
They both nodded and got to work.
Even with Shamir’s steady hands helping with sewing Catherine’s axe wound, Alois pouring vial after vial into Catherine’s mouth, and Manuela using the extent of her white magic, it wasn’t enough.
Manuela checked Catherine’s pulse and shook her head. “It’s too weak, we can’t…”
“Get Rhea,” Shamir ordered, then looked at Alois. Technically Shamir was faster, but Alois was more trustworthy as a believer in Rhea’s eyes.
“
Yes, ma’am!
” he shouted, already out of breath as he ran. His armor was audible as he ran to Rhea’s atrium.
Shamir stared at Catherine while Manuela tried to perform CPR on her.
Manuela looked a type of frantic that Shamir had never seen her have before, including muttering to herself that only happened when she was drunk. Shamir let Manuela do her thing until she backed up.
“Shamir, I might have some bad news--”
“No. Catherine will survive,” Shamir said.
Manuela turned toward her and was about to curse her out when she realized Shamir wasn’t talking to
her
. Shamir was talking to
Catherine
, as if ordering her to stay alive. The intense look on Shamir’s face, the way she held Catherine’s hand, the way she wouldn’t look elsewhere…
Softening, Manuela asked, “She means a lot to you, doesn’t she?”
Shamir looked up; gaze still intense, she didn’t respond. Manuela patted her on the arm.
“You’re right. She will survive. She’s a tough cookie.”
Never having heard that phrase, Shamir blinked. “A… what?”
Manuela waved her off. “Nevermind. All that matters is--”
“Catherine…!” came Rhea’s voice from the doorway. She rushed to Catherine’s side, automatically parting Shamir and Manuela. “Oh, those
brutes
!” she said, resentment in her voice as she inspected Catherine.
“We did all we could, but…” Manuela said, trailing off. She sniffled, causing Shamir to look at her; to her surprise, Manuela had started to tear up. She had no idea Manuela cared about
any
of them she couldn’t fuck.
Interrupting Shamir’s thoughts, Manuela reached down and, out of instinct, held onto Shamir’s hand. Shamir raised her brows, but said nothing, and let her. She even squeezed Manuela’s hand for extra comfort.
They were in this together. Besides Rhea, Catherine united the entire Church, whether some people wanted to admit it or not.
Rhea placed her hands an inch or two above Catherine’s body and swept the length while they glowed a greenish-white.
“I’m afraid this situation is indeed dire. You were right to come to me,” she said, turning to the others.
Manuela’s grip turned vice-like, nails piercing Shamir’s hand.
“Ow,” was all Shamir had the heart to say.
“Sorry,” Maneula whispered, retracting her hand.
“I am going to perform magic that is forbidden beyond these walls. Do you understand?” Rhea explained. It came across as a warning, but no one else in the room had the magical ability, whatever the spell was.
“Will she survive?” Shamir said, almost cutting Rhea off.
Rhea gave her a sharp glance, which then softened when she saw the intensity, the stiffness, the almost imperceptible shaking.
“Yes, most assuredly. Please, calm yourself.”
Shamir opened her mouth to dissent, but Manuela grabbed her hand again. It was strange to Shamir how that seemed to work in calming her, even a little.
“If you are sensitive to bright lights, please close your eyes,” Rhea warned, with a melodic, soothing tone. Everyone obeyed except Shamir, who regretted it almost immediately: the flash that occurred was as bright as a flash of lightning. It filled the room with white for what felt like forever. Shamir finally shielded her eyes; when she did, the blinding white light turned to black, then purple, and Shamir, again, couldn’t see.
Although she wasn’t versed in any of the magical arts, she had never seen a spell like that before. What exactly did Rhea do?
“Catherine!” Shamir yelled, then gasped, watching as Catherine groaned and stirred.
Rhea stood back. “My dear Catherine, can you understand me?”
“L-lady Rhea…?” Catherine mumbled, then groaned again.
Rhea nodded. “Excellent.” She placed a hand on Catherine’s hair and stroked down to her cheek with the softest of touches. Shamir felt herself stiffen. “My dear Catherine, you had almost -- again, mind you -- given your life to protect us. To protect me. For that, I am eternally grateful, and you shall forever be known as Catherine the Great.”
Hardly awake and already tearing up, Catherine bowed from her bed. “Lady Rhea! I could not possibly accept such an honor - I was only doing what I had to.”
“I know this, my dear child, and yet, you know not the value your life brings others, myself, and
you
. You are the greatest Knight I have ever had, but do not let pride get in the way of surviving.” Rhea chuckled. “Stubborn girl.”
Shamir saw the flush on Catherine’s face, indicating she was
more
than just alive. That was a good sign, but Shamir felt mixed emotions of relief, happiness, and jealousy.
“Y-yes, Lady Rhea! I will be more mindful in the future!” Catherine shouted, her strength returning.
Rhea placed her hand from Catherine’s cheek to her forehand and pushed it back down onto the pillow.
“For now, Catherine the Great, you would do me the biggest service by
resting
,” Rhea said. She put emphasis on ‘resting,’ as Catherine had a reputation for hiding her wounds and charging into battle after battle, anyway.
“Understood,” Catherine said, face still red.
Rhea nodded. “Excellent. Your valiant efforts have saved the Church once again. For that, I thank you.”
Just as Catherine was about to disagree, Rhea leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Catherine’s forehead.
“Sleep well, Catherine the Great,” Rhea said, then took her leave.
Catherine immediately swung her legs off the bed.
“
Catherine
,” Rhea warned, from outside of the room.
Catherine immediately swung her legs back onto the bed, with a sheepish grin.