Chapter Text
Garreg Mach Monastery
15 Horsebow Moon 1186
From high up on the balcony, Rhea watches the courtyard below and waits for her guest. Soldiers are exchanging information with the monks, likely updating them with the latest news on rebuilding the monastery. The gentle breeze shakes the leaves from their branches, symbolizing the transition to autumn.
This winter will prove harsh if the Kingdom cannot provide supplies to the war-torn sections of Faerghus and Adrestia. Those regions have suffered more from the war than anywhere else in Fódlan.
The past few months of reconstruction have been arduous, with many in the Church lending their aid. Confided to bedrest due to her injuries, Rhea has been unable to help with the war efforts. The Professor and the Knights of Seiros have spent the past several weeks stabilizing the former Adrestian region; meanwhile, the soon-to-be King of Faerghus leads his forces on rebuilding his home territory.
The Professor’s popularity, as well her allies from the Empire, grant her sway over the people. Still, Rhea worries if it is enough for stability.
Days after the fall of the Empire, a massive riot broke in the streets of Enbarr. The Empire’s remaining forces stubbornly held on to the promises of the late Emperor, unable to accept her death at the hands of the King.
The Church had developed an unfavorable reputation over the past several decades. The citizens of Adrestia especially distrusted the Church.
No, perhaps it was more accurate to say that Rhea was the one who gave the Church an unfavorable reputation.
The Church forces managed to control the situation with minimal casualties but she couldn’t help but wonder how she would have reacted in the Professor’s place.
To see the former Adrestian Empire, the Empire she helped design, fall into ruin because of Wilhelm’s wayward scion- surely she would have retaliated without mercy. Perhaps that’s why Archbishop Rhea is despised so much.
Rhea…how many years I have carried this name now?
She had many aliases over the centuries but this name might be the longest one she’s kept. As for the reason, she did not know.
Her mother used to refer to her as her ‘little bird’. Perhaps it was a reminder of happier times, times she spent with her mother, or with Jeralt or with Sitri. Maybe she needed a more stable identity for Flayn when she finally awakened from her slumber after so many years. Or perhaps, she had grown weary of changing names every couple of decades.
A knock on the door catches her attention and she adjusts herself. The last five years trapped inside an Adrestian cell drained much of her warrior’s spirit and she did not want to appear too frail for her guest.
As Rhea opens the door, she sees the familiar tint of green on the other side. It is the Professor.
“Ah, welcome child,” she greets, warmly. “Was your journey difficult?”
The Professor shakes her head, her eyes calm. Despite her outward demeanor, Rhea senses a deep unrest within the Professor.
“Come now. We haven’t had a moment to chat, just you and I. Is there any flavor of tea you prefer, my dear child?”
She shakes her, dispassionately as ever.
“Very well then. I suppose Leicester Cortania will have to do,” Rhea replies, reaching for her warmed teapot. She guides the Professor to come sit at her table and the Professor obliges.
As Rhea tends to the brewing, she watches her from the corner of her eye. The Professor is truly beautiful, graceful like Sitri but firm like Jeralt. To say nothing about how she compares to mother Sothis…
Rhea brushes the thought away. The dream was dead. Her mother would never return to the mortal plane. The Professor has always been her own person, far different from Sothis.
She brings the tea over to the Professor and pours. The Professor takes her cup and starts drinking, murmuring something about the aroma.
Rhea leaves her cup untouched. When she was a child, her siblings often teased her about leaving her drinks unconsumed until they were tepid. She always hated hot drinks. When the teasing grew to be too much, her mother would come to soothe her, after scolding the others with her sharp tongue. How she misses those days…
Rhea smiles. “There’s something I wish to share with you, Professor. I am stepping down from my position as Archbishop.”
The Professor places her cup down, her widening eyes betraying her usual stoicism. Rhea clarifies.
“I realized, in my imprisonment, the gravity of my actions. I have made many errors in my rule as Archbishop. I have wronged so many people, not just in Fódlan but our neighbors as well. And I’ve wronged you, sweet child. I gambled with your very life, your essence as an individual.”
The Professor’s gaze sharpens. She likely suspected as such. Jeralt’s diary informed her of the circumstances regarding her birth and Aelfric’s experimentation in Abyss must have made it difficult to fully trust her. Her selfish actions caused a lot of her followers and friends to distrust her.
“I believe in the vision that our new King has proposed. A Fódlan where Crests no longer have value and where the strong help the weak. I think it will serve as a marvelous foundation for a new nation.
“The Church will have to serve as his ally in order for his vision to come to pass, but I fear I lack the wisdom and adaptability as Archbishop to help him see it through. Therefore, I’d like to make a proposition. I want you to take my place as Archbishop.”
The Professor clanks her tea cup. She stares, her focused eyes and impassive face assessing the proposal. The slight tremble of her fingers on the dish betrays her feelings. Silence fills the room.
“I know nothing of the teachings of Seiros,” the Professors mumbles.
“You know enough,” Rhea reassures. “That is for the best. As I am sure you already know, the teachings are warped. They are unbalanced and they have caused countless inequalities throughout Fódlan, especially among the Crest-bearers and non-Crest bearers.”
The Professor clenches her hands. Rhea reminisces on her compliancy with such a contemptible Crest system.
When she defeated Nemesis, there was already a Crest system in play from his rule. The Crest-bearers and their children assumed high positions within the human governments, not unlike the system her own people used to rule Fódlan. To strip them away from such power would only create instability if those descendants decided to fight amongst themselves. Such wanton chaos and destruction could not be permitted to come over Fódlan again.
So Rhea had to make up a lie- an explanation about why these people had so much power. It had to be from the Goddess. No one else. It was the truth, in a sense.
How many lives did she ruin with that lie?
Over the centuries, she’d heard over and over again from disinherited children, from forced husbands and brides, and from the disenfranchised masses, the cruelty of the Crest-system. Yet she turned a blind eye to their suffering.
In the flow of time, all struggles were irrelevant. Once the Goddess returned to Fódlan, all her people’s suffering would cease. She believed with all her heart, that peace needed to exist in the continent in order to prevent the repeated follies of the Agarthans and Nemesis.
Even if was a forced peace. A false peace.
How foolish she was, to ignore the struggles of others for her own selfish wish.
“There are many deacons and bishops within the Church who’ve served for far longer than I have,” the Professor counters. “People who understand the inner workings of the Church and the ceremonies. Seteth would probably make a better Archbishop than me.”
Rhea hums. “I have already spoken to Seteth. He too believes you are the best person to handle the role of Archbishop. No one else could unite the Church in its darkest hour, the way you did.”
The Professor furrows her brows, unconvinced. Unperturbed, Rhea gives her another warm gentle smile. “During my imprisonment, I teetered on the verge of death, too many times to count. My days blurred into one unending dream. And in that dream, I saw a vision of my mother.”
The Professor’s gaze softens. “You spoke to Sothis?” She asks, her tone pining.
“Yes,” Rhea answers, her voice softening at the memory. “For the first time in many, many years. She existed in a space between this world and the next. She came before me as I remembered her- warm and motherly. Though she did scold and chastise me for all my mistakes with that sharp tongue of hers. She’d often rebuked me, when I was a child. I never thought I’d long to see that side of her again.”
The Professor nods. She clearly understands. The mixture of warmth and assurance that comes from speaking to the Goddess, even in one’s darkest hour.
“She begged me to stay alive. Pleaded and promised that my savior would arrive. She wanted me to stay alive, even after all the sins I have committed. Even after all the times I misused her title and warped her teachings for my own convenience.
“I realize now, that I truly did you wrong. You are not Sothis. I just refused to see it and I foolishly believed that once she regained her memories, you two would combine as one with hers as the dominant spirit.
“How foolish I was. She would never steal a life in order to bring herself back. Her heart would never allow it.”
The Professor’s gaze sharpens once again.
“So you were trying to fuse us into a single being,” the Professor said flatly, her calm voice unable to hide her anger. Understandable.
Rhea had gambled with her life and stole many of life’s precious joys and gifts from her, as a human being.
“I am truly sorry for the things I have done to you. You have every right to despise me and words will never be enough to make amends. All I can do is try to atone.”
“By running away from your position?” the Professor accuses. The accusation stings, but it is anger well justified.
“I realized that I cannot change who I am. This new Fódlan requires a leader who can unite the citizens, someone with a clean slate. The Church needs a leader who will actually listen to the people. Who better than the one who united the three nations of Fódlan?”
The Professor’s eyes suddenly grow solemn as her anger fades. “I was unable to unite all the nations, even as a professor,” she spoke, her tone melancholic.
Rhea nods. More than anyone, the Professor had tried to befriend the wayward Princess and her valet at the Academy. They had a rapport, an understanding, and the young Princess seemed so fond of her.
Alas, sometimes friendship simply wasn’t enough to save everyone.
“That’s true, dear child. Not everyone accepts a hand when it’s reached out to them. Your first task as Archbishop will be to crown the new King. What higher honor for a former teacher than to watch their pupil shine?”
The Professor nods, her hands clenching within each other. “There are things I wish to do,” she replies softly. “This position might interfere with my goals.”
“Do you wish to share your life with someone?” Rhea teases. The Professor hides her hands in her lap, similar to how Sitri once behaved when she told Rhea about her engagement to Jeralt. Rhea beams.
“I suspected as much. The role of Archbishop typically involves taking an oath of celibacy, but do not fear, my child. I will do everything I can in my power to persuade the other leaders of the Church. My only wish is for you to be happy. After all the hardship I forced on you, it is the least I can do.”
The Professor hums, brushing through her beautiful green hair. “Tell me Rhea,” she falters, uncharacteristically. “Am I… like you?”
Rhea hesitates. The extend of the Professor’s transformation and the changes it entailed were unknown, even to her.
“I’ve noticed with Seteth and Flayn,” the Professor mumbles. “They don’t change. They don’t age. Father was tight-lipped about his time with you but I suspect that he didn’t want both your secrets to slip. And then there’s my mother. Her body was in perfect condition when we first went down to Abyss. Am I the same?”
Rhea gives a gentle smile. She spoke of it with Sothis. Sothis’ power now flows within the Professor and if she was certain of anything, it is that Sothis will never allow the Professor to be unhappy.
“I cannot say for sure but the flow of time is not something one can predict. It brought you back to me and to the monastery but you managed to carve a destiny far beyond what I had ever imagined. I am sure that time will flow in your favor.”
The Professor nods, perhaps not ready to believe Rhea’s words. The time will come, surely, and the Professor will live out her days in peace.
“Rhea- I still haven’t agreed to take the position yet. There’s also something else I need to ask you.” Rhea nods, taking a sip from her tepid tea.
“During the war, we came across a group of strange mages dressed in black. Lysithea had previously mentioned a group of mages in black; mages who seem to exist outside of the Adrestian Empire. They performed blood experiments on her regarding Crests, implanting her with a second Crest. I also believe they were behind Edelgard’s inhuman transformation at the palace.”
Rhea sighs. No matter how many falsehoods and limitations she tried to instill in Fódlan, Fódlan’s dark past always finds a way back to hurt the present. Those fiends, who have always slithered in the dark, might have been the puppet masters of this latest tragedy. If the Professor- no, Byleth- if she was truly to take her place as Archbishop, she needs to know.
The two talked for a long time, about Fódlan’s past, the Hero’s Relics, Rhea’s true nature, almost everything really. It was soothing. Rhea could not recall the last time she was able to speak so freely to someone but then again, Byleth was always such a kind and patient soul.
Rhea was confident that even if Byleth refused her position as Archbishop, she’d dedicate herself to helping Fódlan rebuild in some form or another.
A war-damaged continent, now unified into a single nation. A chance to reconstruct Sothis’ dream.
It will surely happen.