Chapter Text
‘ Her hands used to be so warm...’ The woman’s eldest child thought to himself. He cradled her fingers in his palm. He had to be very careful with her. He had to be careful with everyone, and everything. But with his mother especially... Especially now. Her skin was cold to the touch, gnarled and wrinkled by the passage of time, her bones brittled, her muscles and joints having long since quit. He dared not squeeze her hand, lest it turn to dust in his grasp. All he could do was stare down. If he looked up at her face, that tired, barely lucid expression, he could feel the tears start stinging in his eyes again.
“... Lambert,” Her voice barely reached his ears above a hoarse whisper, “Is something wrong..?”
“No, nothing is wrong, Mother...” He held back a sniffle. He felt her fingers twitch, in an effort to comfort him. He had never been one to tell a lie before, certainly not to his parents. And yet here he was... The Dowager Queen of the United Holy Kingdom, late into her long and prosperous reign, lays on her deathbed before him. What about this was okay? What about this was fine - his mom was dying! “I’m just worried about Aria.”
The old woman’s head tilted towards him, her gaze more alert now, “Have you heard any news from her?”
He shook his head, “Just that it's the rainy season in Almyra at the moment. It slows travel a bit this time of year.” He was putting it lightly. Very few would be brave - or perhaps reckless enough to attempt to move about in the monsoon season. Then again, The Sunset Lady had always been an adventurer at heart. She would be here soon. He knew she would. Everyone else was already... He was here.
El was curled up on the lounger in Dedwen’s arms on the other side of the room, while that man was resting his head on his father’s shoulder. Dedue did not seem to mind his son’s actions. He had grown a bit more aloof in recent years, after the passing of his liege, and the passing of his wife. Now he was about to lose his last remaining friend from the war years. Perhaps the Archbishop was an exception, though it was a bit more difficult to interact with someone who hasn't aged a day, while you and everyone you knew withered. Still, he was not tired, nor uncaring enough to refuse to let his child, and daughter-in-law rest if that's what they needed at the moment.
It made Lambert’s chest ache. Dedue could still speak audibly, and walk about as he pleased. His posture was still tall and strong, and he could still hold his grandchildren in his arms on his own. The Dowager, two years that man’s junior could do none of those things. And yet they had both outlived everyone else just the same. It had been a painful few years. First they buried his father, and then his Queen’s parents - the Duke and the Margrave had died the same day, and then the Dowager’s sister, and now-
“She’s here!” Queen Minerva cried out, the door slamming open and rousing the whole room, “Byleth is with her, they’re here!”
For the first time since he was crowned two years prior, King Lambert II breathed a sigh of relief. Through the winds and torrential rain, the dutiful Princess Aria of Fodlan had made it home from her diplomatic envoy in time...
---
“How was Nadir..?” The Dowager asked her soaking second child, weakly offering her the corner of one of her many blankets.
Draping the cloth over her shoulders, Aria chuckled, “He’s a scheming little shit, just like his gramps.”
“Turning out like his old man, is he?” Their mother laughed, strong, and not with a wheeze as it had been these past few months, “Love that boy... I hope he comes to visit again soon... He looked so much like his grandfather too, last I saw him...”
“He’s barely grown. I’m still taller than him, and it makes him furious!” Aria exclaimed of the young crown prince of Almyra, nearly thirty years her junior. All to get a rise out of her mother.
“Are you now?”
“Dedwen is taller than the both of you!” El insisted, folding her arms.
The Dowager smiled as the gentleman in question grew pink in the cheeks, “It’s not a competition. Dedwen is taller than all of us...”
Her amusement gave Lambert the strength to leave her with his sisters for a moment. The door had barely closed behind him when the sob he had been holding back all day choked itself out of him. He clamped a hand over his mouth to silence it. He was not a man prone to hate, prone to anger, but this feeling in his chest, this pain, this ache - he despised this feeling in a way he could not articulate. This had been so, so agonizing.
“Lambert...” Minerva soothed. He hadn’t even heard her follow him out. She reached up to him, pulling his hand off his face so he didn’t accidentally gouge his own cheek open, “It’s alright...”
“It-it’s not, Minnie..!” He stammered in a whisper reminiscent of his weakened mother, feeling like a frightened child, “It-!”
“Shhh...” She curled her arms around his waist, finally letting him have contact with something warm, something that felt alive and well, “This has been difficult for you, Lamb, I know...”
“Minnie...!” The best he could do was weep into her fiery red hair. He couldn’t dare to return her embrace - he couldn’t hug his own wife as he cried his eyes out because he would have crushed her- he had no control of his strength in this state and he would have crushed his sweet little wife, his best friend, his true love-! “I-I don’t want her to go-!”
“None of us do, dearest...” The Queen’s own voice wavered. She loved the Dowager too, deeply, “But when it is time, it is time...”
Queen Minerva spoke from experience, and from the heart, letting her husband grieve, because he wouldn’t get to later. Having to make funeral arrangements, and settle the vassals. Goddess knew that processing pain was seldom a thing the Blaiddyd family had the luxury of doing until very recently.
“Byleth...” The King managed to lift his head from his partner. He found the Archbishop, timeless and ageless, distant in expression in the hall with them, “... How much longer does she have..?”
It wasn’t a fair or kind question to ask, as tears rolled down the Enlightened Ones’ otherwise impassive face. She was his friend too. “... A few more hours...” Even his voice trembled, in a way Lambert hadn’t heard since his father passed.
“... Thank you for helping my sister make it back in time.”
The Archbishop nodded quietly.
---
“Lambert..?” A candle flickered, stirring the king awake. He must have dozed off, much like the rest of the room, packed with vigil family. He found himself knelt groggily at the Dowager’s bedside.
“Yes, mother?”
“I love you all, very much.” She whispered. Every person in this chamber with them. Her children at her side, her grandchildren asleep around the fireplace, her in-laws on the couch, her friends cross-legged by the door and stead-fast as ever.
And the king whispered back, “We love you too.”
“I’m sorry that I’m making you sad...” With her shaking, cold, gnarled fingers, she brushed stray hairs from her son’s face, “But I miss your Father so much...”
He nodded his head, he missed him too.
“He used to tell me he didn’t even believe he could be happy. He didn’t think he deserved it... He did deserve it, Lamb. He did, and it took him a very long time to learn that.” The old woman took a shaky deep breath, “He loved you, and your sisters. He was happy, and I’m grateful I could help him get there. I just... Sometimes I wish I could have helped him sooner...”
Though it was seldom discussed in the royal household, King Lambert knew of the time she was referring to. He had seen it, if only briefly. Those terrifying years where his mother worked tirelessly, and his father had been a hollow, wrathful shell in the shape of a man. He just nodded again, wanting her to continue to speak. He wanted to remember her voice as much as he could, even in this weakened state.
“Lambert... I want to be with your Father again...” She stroked her son’s cheek. He bore such a striking resemblance to the man, save for the eyes which were hers, “I want to be with my Dimitri ...”
A smile, almost against his will graced his lips. He resented it, but knew more than anything that everyone in this room wished she could be at peace. His parent’s love ran deep. His wife was right as usual, when its time, its time. “May you two meet again, in another life... An even happier one, Mother...”
“You’ll be alright if I go..?”
“It’ll be difficult,” He conceded through the tears that would not leave him be today, “But I... I think everyone will keep me steady.”
“Thank you, my sweet boy,” With a grin of her own, she closed her eyes, “You tell everyone what I said, understood?”
“Yes, mother...”
Dowager Queen (Y/N) Blaiddyd, Sun of the United Holy Kingdom of Fodlan passed away quietly, surrounded by the many who had adored her... She was buried beside her beloved husband in a shaded garden on the grounds of the palace of Fhirdiad, as per her and his wishes...
---
... Lady (F/N), first and only daughter of the (L/N) merchant family awoke with a groan, feeling like she had been kicked in the head by a horse or three, in a room that was way too fucking bright for someone with this intense of a migraine. In most circumstances, she would have yanked a blanket over her head, and murmured out a string of annoyed curses but- “... Shit... ”
“My lady..?”
Someone was in the room with her.
The young woman’s eyes snapped open, fighting the unbearable light as she attempted to bolt upright in the cot she found herself in.
A hand pressed against her shoulder on the upshot, slowing her ascent effortlessly, “Slowly, (Y/N).” The young man cautioned, “It will do you no good to dash about after keeping still for so long.”
As she adjusted to the bright room, her mouth hung open, gaping up at the person tending to her bedside, “... Dima..?” He had two eyes.
“Yes?” His head tilted slightly at her apparent confusion, and perhaps in his own surprise at her manner of address.
Looking at him... Yes, yes this was prince Dimitri, for certain. Flaxen hair, blue eyed, blue caped, gauntlet cast hands- Prince not King - King? Why would he be king? He was barely 18, he wouldn’t become king until after... After..? She squeezed her eyes shut again, a stabbing pain searing her skull. After what? “Dimitri, where am I right now..?”
She heard the sounds of cloth shifting, and a soft metal clink. The prince had seemingly sensed her distress and elected to kneel next to the bed, taking one of her hands in his, “You are in the infirmary at Garreg Mach,” He was slow in his speech, cautious but specific as she clearly required.
“... Why am I here..?”
“You fainted yesterday, and Professor Manuel thought it best for you to rest here.”
‘ Why did I faint?’ Was a question that almost crossed her lips, but with another throb in her temples, a burning ache threatening to burst her head open, she suddenly came to her senses, “My mother-!” The pain subsided, and the situation became clear to her, eliciting a sob.
“Yes,” Dimitri responded quietly.
A letter had arrived the day before to inform the young lady that her mother had passed from the mysterious ailment that had plagued the region for many months, and in her shock, (Y/N) had fainted into his arms. That was what happened. This was where she was. (F/N) (L/N), young teaching assistant to the Officers Academy. This was where she was, but that didn’t feel right. Why didn’t that feel right? She blinked her eyes open and looked down at her free hand. It was utterly unblemished. No scars, no wrinkles... No rings. She was seventeen, why would she have any of those things? She took in a shaky breath, as her vision blurred, “Mother...”
“I am sorry, my friend...” He whispered, “I can offer you little comfort other than my words from yesterday.”
‘Come back to Fhirdiad with me,’ Yes. Yes that she remembered with striking clarity. She tried not to sniffle in too uncomposed of a manner, not that the young man would have faulted her for it, “Yes, and I thank you.” Her voice was hoarse and drawn in an effort to speak steadily. Fhirdiad. Now that sounded right. That was where she was supposed to be. Right by his side, “Thank you... The capital sounds very diverting. ”
Not that the mood could brighten much with such a tragic topic, but for a split second, Dimitri looked quite pleased at her willingness to consider his offer. It would be of great comfort to them both, each for reasons not wholly known to the other. (Y/N) hardly flinched as he brushed tears off her face. He was the one whose hand reeled back when he realized what he was doing.
She did not fear his touch in the slightest, not that she was aware that she should have to. Or... No. No, she definitely knew he could be quite frightening, but she did not know for what reason... Rather, she felt secure in his presence despite the nebulous danger, she was certain. Safe.
“Would you like to go see everyone? They’ve been wondering about you. Shez came by to check on you earlier.” The prince told her before the silence between them grew too long, “... She... She told me that she understands what you’re going through and-”
“Wait-” The girl appreciated these condolences and all, but- “ Who? ”
It was an uncomfortable situation to wake up to. Brief flashes, certainties and uncertainties haunted (Y/N) everywhere she looked. These strangers around her, she felt so strongly that she knew them, and had deep, core memories with them, so precious to her and so certain that it almost made her nauseous- And then the moment passed and they were strangers again. The situation, and these encounters were brand new. All these fleeting feelings were reduced to strange dreams, and very intuitive gut feelings.
She looked at all the students before her as the days crept by. Rumors circulated that she was some kind of clairvoyant or seer. Surely the Goddess had bestowed The Sight unto her. It was uncomfortable. She knew their names and faces. She knew their favorite foods, and the kind of gifts they would prefer to be given. She knew their handwriting, and their favorite flowers- (All explained as a hunch.) Except for two. She was largely unfamiliar with but aware of a friendly girl named Monica, but she had no Goddess-Damned idea who ‘Shez’ was.
She had never seen this person before in her life.
“Wait, are you serious?” The purple haired woman exclaimed during their first encounter, wide-eyed, “You say you don’t know me at all?”
“I’m sorry but, I really don’t.” Upon her initial confusion, the prince had summoned Manuela, and the young lady was promptly diagnosed with some acute amnesia, likely caused by the stress of her grief, “I only know your name because Dimitri said it to me.”
“That’s such a bummer to hear,” Shez frowned, “You and I were getting along really well!”
“I’m sorry...”
“Oh hey, c’mon! You don’t have to be sorry,” She offered the young lady a pat on the back, “We’ll just have to start from the top. Nothin’ to it!”
Without hesitation, (Y/N) tapped her closed fist against Shez’s outstretched one. A simple fist bump, but one that was reflexive. Such instinct indicated familiarity, didn’t it? She let out a weak huff of laughter, “I guess so!”
(Y/N) came to the conclusion, after hanging out with Shez for maybe an hour at most, that she was cool as hell. She adored how plainspoken the mercenary was, and how nice it was to have someone she didn’t necessarily need to be so formal around with. Weird powers included, they were really fun to be around!
But all the while, a sinking feeling sat in her chest. These people were friends, new and old but...
Someone was missing, and it caused her great pain that the thought would not come to the surface of her cloudy mind and reveal their identity to her.
---
It soon became apparent that the Keen Mercenary was not the only one with a strange, nearly inexplicable ability. Oh no, in addition to her eerier premonitions and instincts regarding the lives of others, Lady (Y/N)’s magical abilities were seemingly out of her control now.
Once she was up and working again, and managed to swallow her absolutely debilitating fear she experienced from Professor Jeritza’s absolutely rancid vibes - which was a whole thing to deal with, as she couldn’t quite recall what about him made her near irrationally afraid of the masked man, nor why he was so familiar - she came to watch over a joint sparring lesson for the Blue Lion and Golden Dear classes, ready to both advise on magic, and to heal the students afterwards. Things had been a bit tense at Garreg Mach following the reveal that the old librarian was secretly an evil skin-walking type, so some cooperative exercises were in order!
“(Y/N)?” Annette tilted her head curiously, though her brow furrowed in frustration. Unfortunately for her, she was far too soft to look angry, and simply looked to be pouting at the small magic shield flickering in her hand, “Why is my barrier breaking so easily?”
“Ward magic is tricky like that! It can help in a pinch, but it’s not foolproof.” The teaching assistant smiled, waving to have Annie lower her spell before it exhausted her, “It’s much more effective if the caster uses it to protect a separate person, since the duration of the spell is tied to how much strength the caster has. If our hypothetical magic wielder stays out of the thick of things, the spell will stay strong.” It was not the young lady Dominic’s lack of strength affecting the spell, that was certain. The girl was a prodigy, for goodness sake! “Casting it on oneself means you have to tie its strength to another person or object - remember, casting white magic directly on yourself is... dubious , so you should reflect it off another person - BUT! If you cast a shield for yourself off another soldier, should that soldier fall, your shield disappears.”
“Oh! I’m not casting it on a person, I’m just trying to conjure the shield.”
“There’s your problem, since you didn’t pick a specific target to apply the spell to, it's just fluctuating a lot, rather than solidifying.” She took a few steps away from the ginger, “Cast one at me, and it should maintain itself.”
Thankfully, things had gone as she had predicted and preferred, and Annette had willed a barrier on (Y/N). Solid one at that, they learned as she leaned forward to tap it a few times. It gave off a sound like a clinking glass. “Very nice, Annie! I’m pretty safe as long as you stay standing!”
“Well those are just casting options. Say I pick the right target. How long am I out of harm's way for?” Claude never struck (Y/N) as someone who took much interest in magic - Whether or not she was able to call upon the terrifying amount of information she knew of him for some reason. Like his real name. Why did she know that? She didn’t want to know that, it was a breach of his privacy - He was the archery guy. Her funny jokester buddy. What was he plotting that he wanted magic knowledge for? “Because I prefer to make my plans carefully.”
“Like I said, nothing about it is foolproof! Nor is there a definite time limit! In fact, any old fool can trash a barrier whenever they want if they’ve got enough force behind them, no matter who casts it, and how strong they are.” (Y/N) shifted her stance suddenly, before throwing a solid right hook into the forcefield before her, making everyone jump, and creating a shattered glass-like fracture in the middle of it, “If I kept swinging, it would keep fragmenting, given enough time. I would recommend using it as a stalling tactic, over anything else. But keep in mind, a fully charged Hero's Relic could bust a barrier maintained by one person entirely.”
She stole a glance over her shoulder at the sound of blades clashing, landing on a few key individuals in the sparring pit. Shez and Felix looked like they were trying to kill each other, which she anticipated as something that was going to be her problem in a few moments. She also quite enjoyed getting to see a certain young man look like he was genuinely having a good time.
“Heck, if Prince Dimitri jabbed hard enough with a sturdy weapon, I reckon he could pierce one with brute strength alone.” She turned back to her audience and gave a nonchalant shrug not wanting to be leveling wistful gazes in front of someone as perceptive as Claude, “Thankfully the average schmuck will never be able to conjure that much power, so you can get by with only worrying about the first half!”
Regardless of anyone’s wants, Claude noticed anyway. “Very informative, thank you.”
Before a further defensive magic lecture could continue, a loud SNAP rang out. All eyes in the sparring hall whipped in its direction.
“Ack- ribs..!” Shez wheezed, “Definitely ribs..!”
“Your guard was open.” Felix was making a concerted attempt to look indifferent, but there was a slight scrunch to his expression that angled a bit more concerned, rather than uncaring. Probably because it was his crest activating that did it, if the fragments of busted training sword on the ground were any indication.
“Yeah, yeah I know..!” She managed to stop being doubled over long enough to lock eyes with (Y/N), “Medic..!”
“Oof, I gotcha buddy!” She hustled over to the merc turned student, offering one hand for balance, and the other to give the area of impact a cursory look, The diagnosis was vocalized confidently and clinically, “The primary damage appears to be to the fourth and fifth rib. Based on touch, the fifth rib is floating.”
“Ew!” Shez half scoffed, half groaned, “Felix, you dick!”
“Keep your back straight, Shezzie.” (Y/N) gently pressed her friend to stand so she could get to work “I’m surprised that you’re the one that broke something today, Felix.”
“What's that supposed to mean?” The lordling growled.
... What... What did she mean by that..? Oh! “I understand that breaking weapons is a distinction belonging to another member of the Blue Lions.” A very soft smile just barely curled at the edge of her lips, as Dimitri took in a huff of air, then promptly kept his mouth shut. “Hold still, Shez,” (Y/N) instructed, light emanating from her fingertips. She decided on using Fortify, both to nurse her friend, but also to give the students back some of their energy from their rigorous training. The Mercenary felt her bones realigning in response to the powerful magic, when the two were suddenly engulfed in the glow.
Shez felt (Y/N)’s grasp on her slip away. She didn’t understand what was happening quick enough to react.
The healer slumped backwards, landing rather gently (when she should have hit the ground like a brick) in what she registered as a massive tuft of grass. As her vision blurred, and as she lost the battle to keep her eyes open, she folded her hands together over her chest in prayer.
“(Y/N)?!” A cacophony of cries reached her ears.
‘Dear Goddess,’ She thought to herself, more than fed up with these things that reality had thrown at her, ‘Will you gimme a fucking break already?!’
“(Y/N)!” Dimitri’s voice cut above the rest.
Passing out twice in the span of like a week seemed quite excessive! Especially in front of him! She let out a heavy sigh, and let the vertigo drag her into unconsciousness as more shouts for her attention faded into silence.
On the brightside, the students in these two classes had never felt better! Dimitri’s constant migraine even dissipated!
—-
“My beloved… Why are you weeping?”
…
“Were you having that dream again?”
…
“(Y/N)… it’s alright, my love…”
…
“I’ve got you… you’re safe, (Y/N).”
—
“She’s going to be fine, Dimitri.”
The young lady stirred at the name, and at the voice, “ K-Khal..? ”
“Eh, no. Not quite, Miss (Y/N).” He sounded... Strained for a moment there. Caught off guard, maybe. “Speak of the devil…”
She was starting to get sick and tired of passing out at the slightest stress or exertion, thats for fucking sure! With a grunt, she remembered where she was, and who she was addressing, “Ah damn... What’s up Claude?” Best to correct herself before she accidentally revealed information she should not know in the first place.
“Not much, other than you doing all this.” The trickster waved his arms in a sweeping motion, having enough good humor to also sweep the anxiety inducing moment aside.
“Doing wha-“ She strained to look around the sparring hall, only to find it changed from marble whites, and dirt browns, to overwhelmingly green. Bricks were lost to moss. The dirt had given way to grass and wildflowers. The columns and walls had surrendered to ivy and vines, and then there was a fucking apple tree? “-ah shit.” She knocked her head back, prefering to not challenge the rising vertigo further, only to hear a soft metallic clank. She rolled her line of sight back further, and she found Prince Dimitri staring back at her. Well shit, again. It was a bit early for him to learn she had a sailor's tongue, wasn’t it? Her head was in his lap. Early for that too, right? “ ... Hi. ”
“ ... Hello. ”
“...”
“...”
“So, do you two need a room or-”
“Claude, buddy. I need a doctor .” In far too much pain to blush and unable to take a swing at von Riegan, she resigned herself to civility. “How long have I been out?”
“Relax (Y/N), it's only been a few minutes.” The heir of Leicester could not hide his snide grin from his previous remarks.
“Professor Jeritza has gone to fetch Professor Manuela already.” Dimitri assured her.
“Guess I caused quite the disruption,” She grumbled, “Where’d everyone go?”
“Oh, they’re enjoying the makeover you’ve given the place,” Claude snickered.
She strained her neck again to lift her head. Sylvain and Ingrid seemed to be scaling the apple tree to search for a snack, Dedue sat with Mercedes and Annette in the wildflowers - apparently making flower crowns, Felix, Shez and Ashe were surveying the brunt of the lovely damage done. The Golden Deer were there too, but looking around proved tiring, “... Thats nice.”
“How do you feel, (Y/N)?” The darling prince, who recognized his ultimate purpose in this situation as her makeshift pillow, asked.
“It’s… I don’t know how to explain…” Her expression twisted in discomfort, “It… I feel like I can consciously feel every single bone in my body… and every single one of them hurts.”
“Would you like to sit up?”
“Absolutely not.” She was perfectly content where she was.
And so was he. “As you wish.”
Before Claude could get third wheeled into oblivion, Manuela arrived with the returning Jeritza, who promptly declared the lesson over, given that the training ground was a mess, and that all the students had grown tremendously distracted.
The songstress did not waste a second checking in with her charge, “So, what do you think went wrong, sweetheart?”
“I… I would guess magic fatigue - but I’m not sure how that would have occurred.” She hadn’t done anything to cause overcharge her power. No stimulants in her system, not sleep deprived, no emotional outburst.
“That's not a bad theory.” Manuela nodded, “But this looks a lot more like the ability level of an experienced magic user, from a person whose body can’t handle it.” She put her hands on her hips, “You may be another Sorcery School prodigy, (Y/N), but you’re classed as a very young priest now. This is too much power for someone your age.”
“What-” What do you mean, I’ve been a Gremory for decades - “Oh.”
“That's what happened, but how did you manage to find that kind of strength?”
“... I’m having a very strange time.” What she did required a lifetime's worth of skill. A life she had not lived. In addition to being stuck in Dimitri’s lap, and being unable to punch Claude in the face, (Y/N) found herself further resigned to the fact that she was now a magic glass cannon, because this stupid teenage flesh prison couldn’t handle her remarkably well cultivated power.
“What do you say we get you to the infirmary, huh?”
“That sounds great, but given that every nerve in my body is currently rioting, I don’t think I can walk right now.”
“Don’t worry about that, I’m sure Prince Dimitri wouldn’t mind carrying you again!” Manuela looked far too pleased with herself for the suggestion. And so did Claude, who turned his back to this conversation as the wider grin spread across his face.
Again. Goddess, this was happening again! “Dimitri, I am so sorry.”
“I assure you, I do not mind in the slightest, (Y/N).” He plucked her off the ground without a shred of effort, trailing after the physician.
“I didn’t know you two were on a first name basis!”
Craving death (Y/N) piped up, “Prince Dimitri and I share an active dislike for needless formality.”
“You kids are such good friends.”
... Was... Was Manuela trying to wingman..?
His Highness had fallen into a strained silence, as had the lady. What could they possibly say in response to this?
“Goddess above, why is this happening to me..?!” (Y/N) buried her face in her hands with a groan. Dimitri had been instructed to place her into the infirmary bed, where she had spent more time in these past few days than her actual bed, before bowing and taking his leave quietly.
“The Goddess gives her toughest battles to her strongest soldiers, dear.” Manuela answered her with a perfectly straight face, resting a hand on the girl’s forehead to cast restore.
‘I am not one of her strongest soldiers. I am not one of her soldiers to begin with. I am very much a civilian. Goddess Sothis, please stop giving me battles. If I am a soldier, I am the weakest and we are going to lose so badly-’ “Okay.”
“That's not what you needed to hear, was it?”
“Not even remotely, no. Oh-! B-but thank you for trying. Really- I appreciate your effort-”
“Relax kid, its fine.” Manuela shrugged but grew chipper again, “And there's a bright side to all of this!”
“And that would be..?”
“That musty old training ground has never looked prettier!” The Songstress patted her on the head.
This was fucking embarrasing.
While (Y/N) sat, (decidedly not interested in whatever strange destiny the goddess had planned for her with these strange premonitions and over active powers, thinking about the most polite way to ask the deity to revoke them so she could move on with her life,) Manuela offered her some parchment and a quill. “Why don’t you give your father a little update on how you’re doing?”
“Oh, what would I even tell him?” Though she had her strength returned to her, she couldn’t find the energy to take the pen, “‘ Hi dad, there’s something deeply wrong with me and the monks don’t know what to do. Can you come get me? I’m scared! ’” Her family was dealing with quite enough as it was.
“That’s a little dramatic. You’ve just over exerted yourself.”
“Exactly. Nothing to write home about. As long as I’m not too reckless, I can probably ride this out for at least another few months!” Right. Because there was somewhere she had to be. She could feel it in the pit of her stomach, and in her bones, and in her heart, and in her soul.
She needed to be right next to Prince Dimitri. Especially now...
Because there was some major shit going down in Fhirdiad.