Work Text:
The night was perfect. Absolutely perfect.
The tower and everything that had gone into their first date was perfect.
The play-fight with the dogs was perfect.
The hot tub firework show was perfect.
Even the amazing sex she finally got to have with Yasha was perfect.
Everything was perfect.
…except for the fact that Beauregard Lionett is afraid.
She’s afraid of sleep. She’s afraid of dreaming.
She’s had quite a fair share of battles in her life. And this is one battle that she is losing.
She lies in her bed, held close by a slumbering Yasha. The angelkin is oblivious to Beau’s distress.
She’s afraid of waking up the next day with yet another red eye on her body, and gods know what those will end up doing to her. Would she end up being puppeted by Lucien? Or perhaps the Somnovem themselves?
Gods, why did she have to read that fucking journal?! And why did she end up dragging Caleb into this fucking mess?!
Now she’s terrified of ever sleeping or dreaming again.
And though Yasha is right here with her, even she can’t protect her from them.
She can only imagine what Caleb might be feeling, right outside the tower door.
Is he just as restless as she is? Afraid of dreaming like she is?
It’s almost funny, how a long time ago they had promised to help keep each other in check, back in the days before the Mighty Nein had been changed forever.
And now, all of a sudden, they’re going to have to put that promise into practice.
What if… she has to kill Caleb, or let him kill her, just to ensure they’re not a danger to anyone?
Her brain is so tired, she won’t be able to function without sleep. But she knows that she will never get a restful slumber if those eyes and voices return.
It’s a losing battle to stay awake, and the rational part of her knows that she might as well give up. Worry about potentially getting another eye tomorrow.
Perhaps she won’t end up with one, seeing as back in those snowy mountains, she didn’t end up with a second… at least until the very next evening.
Or perhaps she’ll wake up with even less of herself to claim as her own.
She hates this feeling of helplessness, of feeling so thoroughly violated by those voices and eyes. She hates that she could at any time lose herself.
Perhaps worst of all, she hates that she’s dragging the Mighty Nein into this mess and that they might end up falling by her hands should she lose herself… or that she’ll end up forcing them to kill her.
Fjord wouldn’t survive doing that. Jester wouldn’t survive doing that.
Yasha absolutely wouldn’t survive doing that. She’d rather not do that and she could end up paying the price for such hesitation.
Her eyelids grow heavier and heavier, her brain getting cloudy and foggy with exhaustion. If she ends up staying awake for much longer, she won’t be of any use to the group.
She needs to sleep. She doesn’t want to.
She doesn’t want to hurt these people that she loves. She doesn’t want to hurt Yasha. Not after what they just became. She doesn’t want to end up a puppet.
She doesn’t want to die hurting them. She doesn’t want to bloody the slate with Yasha all over again.
Fuck.
She can’t stay awake. It’s inevitable. She’s terrified.
She doesn’t want to cease being Beauregard Lionett. Not after what she had just learned about herself, about the Soul and how she’d been mistaken for several years.
She doesn’t want to miss the opportunity to see her abusers brought to justice.
She doesn’t want to die.
She wants to live. She wants to be free. She wants to keep everyone safe.
She… just wants. Anything she can get her hands on. Friends, love, family…
Family.
Fuck, she’s suddenly realizing that she’s got much more to lose than just her life.
She’s going to need to fight for Mom and TJ. Fuck her dad.
And boy, is that going to be godsdamned complicated.
Still… in case she doesn’t make it… she will still want to at least get some closure.
Beau carefully removes herself from Yasha’s grip and quietly walks to her desk, grabbing a spare journal and ink well from her satchel.
Gods, this is gonna suck. But it has to be done.
She lights a couple extra candles and proceeds to tear a couple of pages from the journal.
And she begins to parse what she would like to write, making sure that there are as few tears falling onto the parchment as possible.
She knows whom she’s writing it to.
She’ll instruct someone at the library to hold on delivering it until the time is right.
For now, though, she’s gotta focus whatever conscious thought she has left into this.
She dips a quill into the well and begins to write a letter.
A letter addressed to Clara Lionett.
To ensure that she knows the truth about everything.
The truth about her dad and his crimes.
The truth about herself.
And the truth that even she had to convince herself was genuine.
Namely, that despite the distance between them… she still loves her mother. And her brother.
She puts her thoughts in writing, steeling herself to say goodbye just in case.
Or perhaps she’ll come out of this and emerge on the other side.
She doesn’t know.
All she knows is that, if this is her last chance, she’s gotta do what she’d been doing the entire night.
She has to be honest, open, and vulnerable.
She has to do this… one more time.
After Beau finishes writing the letter, she folds it up and places it in a small envelope, sealing it with wax that bears the symbol of the Library of the Cobalt Soul. The wax is even blue, just for good measure. She then places it in her satchel and crawls back into bed.
When she does, though, she’s not expecting Yasha to be awake, staring right at her.
“What’s wrong, baby?”
They’ve only been a couple for just a few hours, but the pet name is endearing.
Still, it doesn’t do much to lift her spirits.
“Sorry. Just… needed to do some reflecting. And… I don’t want to sleep, and yet…”
Yasha pulls Beau further in and holds her close, like she had done a while ago.
“It’s okay. We’ll worry about it in the morning.”
Of course Yasha would know precisely what is holding her back from sleeping.
“Sleep now. I’ve got you.”
Yasha Nydoorin… her girlfriend, lover, soulmate, what have you… begins to sing in Celestial, the tongue of angels bringing comfort to Beau’s sleep-deprived mind.
And at long last… sleep finally takes her as her eyes close.
She’s not sure if it’s the singing. She’s not sure if it’s just luck.
But when she finally awakes the next day, she finds that she not only didn’t dream of the eyes again… but that the dream that she did receive was like a mosaic of the mind.
It was herself and Yasha, holding hands and standing over a field of wildflowers, overlooking the barren wastes of Xhorhas.
Somewhere out there, the first love of Yasha’s life is resting.
If she… if they make it through this, she will want to go back.
And gods willing, Yasha will come with her.
She just has to hang in there.
Six months later, 2nd Misuthar, 837 PD
It is a surprisingly sunny day in Kamordah.
The town is bustling with workers tending to the vineyards, eager to help the local wine barons with their business.
It’s on this day that there is a knock on the front door of the Lionett manor.
The master of the house is not present, currently away in Zadash for… reasons.
The lady of the house, however, answers the door.
”Hello?”
The courier bows their head. “Excuse me. Am I speaking to a Mrs. Clara Lionett?”
The lady nods. “Yes, that’s me. Is there something I can help you with today?”
The courier wastes no time in handing off a notice to Clara. “You should be made aware that your husband, Mr. Thoreau Lionett is bound to be released and should be on his way back to your home any day now.”
Clara blinks, taken aback by the sudden news. “Is that so? I’m… unsure as to why he was being held in a prison all this time. What did he do?”
At that, the courier hands her a sealed letter, the wax bearing the symbol of the Cobalt Soul. The envelope is, oddly, dated the 29th of Brussendar. Six months ago.
”If you want to know, read that letter.”
The courier than bows once more before departing, no further explanation given.
Clara frowns, still trying to process this strange occurrence that had happened just now.
Sighing, she closes the door and walks to the salon. She places the notice on the table and, her curiosity piqued, unseals the envelope and retrieves two pages of parchment that appear to have been torn from a journal.
She’d been expecting a written explanation from someone high up in the Cobalt Soul’s chain of command.
She hadn’t been expecting it to come from her own flesh and blood, for this is her handwriting.
Steeling herself, Clara begins to read this unexpected correspondence from her daughter.
Mother,
I hope this letter finds you well. I also hope that TJ is doing well. I know I’m shit at trying to voice my opinions, especially in regards to whatever the fuck has been happening in our family. But given recent events, I need to come clean about something that I’ve only just learned.
It’s about that night. The night I was sent to Zadash. To make a long story short, Dad lied to the both of us. Turns out that he made a backhanded deal with an archivist for the Soul, bribing him in exchange for taking me on as a student. They even organized my being taken.
Yeah. I was fucking kidnapped. It was deliberately planned. By that shithead you call a husband.
Okay, I know you care, and I know you’re normally not combative or confrontational, but for Kord’s sake, Mom, wake up! That man is a scumbag and he’s finally getting his just desserts.
I know what you’re thinking. Why am I telling you this, thinking that you won’t believe me and thus you’ll take his side?
Well, to be completely honest, I don’t think I’ll be coming home again. Look, shit’s gotten complicated out here and, well, something bad is happening to us. It’s happened to me, and to be frank, I’m fucking scared. I’m scared for my friends, but I’m also scared for you and my little bro. And I got this feeling that I might die just to see this resolved.
I don’t know when you’ll receive this letter or even if you’ll get it at all if Dad gets his hands on it first, but as we speak, the archivist in question has been put under arrest, and I’m pretty sure that Dad will be raked over the coals soon enough. I don’t want you to be involved in this shit. I just want you to be okay.
So if you’re able to, please take my advice.
Run. Run far, far away and take TJ with you.
And if I don’t see you again, I want you to know something. I’ve had some rather harsh words to say to you when we last met. But if I had known that it would be the last time, I would never have said that.
So I’m going to take a cue from a very dear friend of mine and I just want to tell you that I’m sorry. I mean it, Mom. I am so fucking sorry.
I know this is a lot to take in, but I’m just about out of time. I have to finish what I started with the Mighty Nein. We could very well die in the process, but at least we’d be dying for a good cause. What better way for a fuckup like me to find some sort of penance, right?
At least, that’s what I once thought. I’ve gotten better at being more confident in myself. But even so, I know that we’ll be doing the right thing.
Anyway, I have to get going. Please take care of TJ for me. And if you ever need anything, come to Zadash or Rexxentrum. Seek out Expositor Dairon. They’ll help you. Trust me, because she did the same for me.
I love you, Mom. Goodbye.
Your little lion,
Expositor Beauregard Lionett
P.S. If you can, please give Dad an ass-kicking for me. Thanks.