Chapter Text
Golden leaves of the Erdtree stretched into the sky far above even the tallest rooftops in Leyndell, visible from everywhere in the capital and bathing Miquella in its light where he lay in bed. The bright luminescence overwhelmed even the rays of the sunlight far beyond it during the day, granting light at all hours, even now in the dead of night. Despite having spent many nights sleeping beneath it, Miquella wished it was to blame for keeping him awake. But that was just an excuse. The real reason he was still awake, restless and unable to sleep, was currently in the room with him.
He rolled over, turning his back to the window as his eyes followed the stretch of golden light across the room to where Malenia had fallen into a fitful sleep in her own bed. Miquella could just barely make out the furrow of her eyebrows, her right arm coiled tightly against her chest. She'd confidently, stubbornly claimed it was feeling better just before they were sent to bed for the evening. The Perfumers that Marika had brought to look at her arm hadn't believed her, and apparently had been right not to.
Quietly so as not to wake her, Miquella moved to climb out of his bed and across the room to Malenia's side to take a closer look. She'd refused to let him see her arm even after Marika and the Perfumers had left and he hadn't pried at the time. Instead he'd tried to eavesdrop as they'd left the room, but Marika had a way of slipping away before he could try to follow her.
Malenia's fingers subconsciously curled around his as he turned his attention back to her, lightly squeezing her hand in turn before gently pulling her arm away from her chest, grateful that the action didn't seem to rouse her. Even though they were twins, it was apparent now that she was starting to grow taller than him, her hand had grown ever so slightly larger than his. But more importantly, it was freezing, her skin dry and unnaturally cold. Miquella frowned as he moved her arm so the fabric of her nightrobe slid down to her elbow to reveal her forearm. Like her hand, it too was cold to the touch, and with the light of the Erdtree he could also see bruises forming at the tip of her finger. He didn't remember seeing it earlier and Miquella knew she hadn't trained in days - perhaps it was why she had been so spirited in refusing to let him see.
He let go of her hand and watched the way Malenia immediately curled back around it, her face still scrunched up in an expression of discomfort. Miquella reached out to push her hair out of her face - as if that could help her feel better - feeling the sheen of sweat and the way her forehead burned to the touch.
Surely there had to be some explanation, something they weren't being told. He thought back to the expression on Marika's face when she had been talking to the Perfumers and was certain they had to know something. But if they weren't going to tell him, then Miquella was going to have to find out on his own what exactly it was they were keeping from them; to find out what was happening to his sister.
Pulling on one of his outer robes, Miquella was careful to open the door slowly, only pausing to make sure he hadn't woken Malenia before he slipped out of the room into the hallway. The guards posted in the halls turned to look at him and exchanged a glance. Miquella paused in the doorway as one stepped forward. "My lord, the hour is late, is there something you need?"
"No," Miquella replied as he turned to the man. Even if it was late, why should he need to explain himself? He knew they were only here to keep tabs on him and Malenia just as much as they were to protect them. "I will return soon."
"Queen Marika has requested–" The guard started but stopped mid-sentence as Miquella stared up at him.
He didn't care what Marika needed or wanted or requested. All Miquella knew was that he couldn't sleep and wouldn't be able to bear lying awake uselessly when he could be doing something to try and help instead. He needed the guard to let him go and not send him back to his room. The words tumbled out of his mouth almost without thought as he said, "She does not need to know."
Silence stretched between them as the guard's gaze seemed to drift to some spot behind Miquella before he eventually stepped back and muttered, "No, of course not. My apologies for interrupting you."
Miquella hesitated after the guard backed down so quickly, wondering if it was a trick somehow. Would he really defy whatever it was Marika had requested of him so readily? But the guard was no longer looking at him, having moved back to his post where he stared blankly out into the night. Not one to pass up such an opportunity, Miquella walked down the hall past the guards, pleasantly surprised when they did not stop him.
He absent-mindedly followed the path to Marika's private library, the path so familiar he was certain he would be able to walk it blindfolded or in his sleep after having walked it with Radagon and Godwyn so many times. Shelves upon shelves of books greeted him as he pushed the doors open and stepped inside and began traversing through the maze of them. Of all the books - a collection that had been carefully collected and curated over centuries or perhaps millennia - Miquella had barely even managed to scratch the surface of the knowledge contained in the room. He had, however, spent hours looking through all the books and already learned how they'd organized it, allowing him now to easily find where the Perfumers kept their journals and notes. Though he'd never managed to make it even through the first page of any of their journals in the past, if it could give him a clue about what was happening to Malenia, he had to try.
Hours passed and Miquella quickly became lost in trying to decipher the notes, soon surrounded by piles of other books he'd gathered to look up what many of the words meant, or to get more background on whatever historical events they were referring to - even if it didn't end up being of any help. What Miquella had not expected was how many of the journals were detailed accounts of Omens more than anything else; how to keep the mother alive, how to raise them… how to dispose of them. It talked about it as if it was a kindness but across all the notes Miquella hadn't seen anything explaining why it was such a bad thing to be born an Omen.
He'd had to remind himself not to get sidetracked; it wasn't why he had come here and did nothing to help answer his questions. Flipping through another set of journals, eventually Miquella stumbled across the notes of Tricia; years of meticulous documentation. She was one of the Perfumers who had worked with Marika the longest, the same Perfumer that had looked at Malenia's arm earlier, and it seemed had also spent many years overseeing Miquella's half-brothers Mohg and Morgott that were Omen born – Marika's best kept secret that Miquella learned even he was not supposed to know about.
"I thought I might find you here," interrupted the comforting voice of his other half-brother; the very same that had exposed Marika's secret of his Omen brothers to Miquella and Malenia before it could even be considered one. Miquella turned to see Godwyn approaching him, golden hair unbraided with his loose fitting black robes trailing against the ornate floor. Despite looking as if he had just woken, something told Miquella his brother too had not slept this evening. Godwyn made his way to the desk Miquella was seated at and leaned against it; his expression as warm as always, but was also stained now with concern. "How is she?"
It didn't surprise Miquella that Godwyn had already heard about Malenia despite it being raised so late in the evening; somehow his brother always seemed to hear about everything. It was comforting now, as it always was, to know Godwyn was always there for them. Miquella shrugged in answer to his question and closed the journal, pushing it off to the side. "She is feverish, there is a strange bruise on one of her fingers, and her skin is like ice. But… she sleeps."
"Unlike you," Godwyn noted as he reached out to pull the journals and other tomes into orderly stacks on the side of the desk. It was an observation, Miquella realized, not judgment. "I know Marika brought Tricia to check on her, so why is it that I have found you here in the dead of night?"
"She and Marika would not tell us anything," Miquella said bitterly.
Godwyn's eyes fell on the journal Miquella had pushed to the side. "So you came to find her notes to try and find answers. Despite not knowing anything about the Perfumer's craft?"
Said by any other it might have been condescending, but Godwyn sounded… proud. Miquella knew he was in over his head, that he was too young and inexperienced to truly be able to help - that much had been made clear already. But if he didn't try, he would never learn, and if he didn't learn then he would never be able to help. "Am I supposed to do nothing? Because I am too young? Too helpless?"
"You are strikingly similar to her at times," Godwyn said softly after a long pause, placing his hand on Miquella's head and ruffling his hair fondly.
"Who?"
"Marika," Godwyn said plainly as he pulled his hand away.
Miquella couldn't help but scrunch up his face at the comparison since she was the reason no one would tell him anything. "I am not."
"You have her wit and her determination but also her frustration when you encounter something unknown. If she is withholding anything from you, she is doing it either because she believes it is in your best interest or because she does not yet fully understand the situation herself."
"But she knows everything."
Godwyn shook his head. "Not everything. Even Marika is not infallible or omnipotent – things would be far different if she were."
"What will happen?" Miquella asked quietly, fear taking root in his gut at the thought that even Marika may not know what was happening. "What will happen to Malenia?"
"We will figure out what afflicts her and help her. Together." When his brother said it, Miquella could not help but want to believe it. That was just the effect Godwyn had. "But for now, you need to sleep."
"But–"
"Even if you are more clever than any should be at your age, you are still a child. Trust me when I tell you that there will be plenty of time in the years to come once you are grown to fret and worry and take responsibility. You need not be in such a rush to grow up. For now, allow me to worry enough for the both of us and trust that we will handle it. You trust me, don't you?" He offered Miquella his hand with a small smile.
Miquella stared at it and hesitated. He'd wanted to argue that they clearly weren't taking care of it, and that's the whole reason he was even here in the first place. But Godwyn had the look on his face; the one he got when he was trying to keep the mood light, when he knew more than he was saying but would not openly admit - as if it would be too painful to say aloud.
He did trust Godwyn. Of all their family, save Malenia, it was Godwyn who Miquella felt he could trust with anything. His brother's hand was large and warm as it engulfed Miquella's, entirely different from the chill of Malenia's smaller hand from only hours earlier. He let Godwyn pull him to his feet as the exhaustion of being awake for so long finally swept over him. Godwyn released his hand as soon as he was on his feet, shifting it instead to the top of Miquella's back to guide him through the maze of bookshelves before moving it to rest on his shoulder as they made the walk together back towards his room.
The guards were more relaxed than they had been earlier upon seeing Godwyn at his side; the guard that had tried to stop Miquella earlier not even acknowledging his return now. He tuned out the pleasantries they exchanged with Godwyn, single-mindedly focused on getting back into his room to check on Malenia.
Godwyn followed him to the room but stopped in the doorway, staying back and quietly watching as Miquella shuffled his way inside. Miquella was struggling to keep his eyes from drooping, but that had to wait as he made his way over to the edge of Malenia's bed. She had shifted to her other side in the time he'd been gone, facing away from him and the window now, knees pulled up to her chest as she curled tightly in on herself. He wished he could make it better, or at least comfort her somehow, but he hadn't found anything to give her answers or help. All he could do was reach out and touch her shoulder lightly so at least she might know he was there with her.
"Miq?" Malenia's voice was small, slurred by sleep as she stirred awake at his touch and sat up to face him. She winced, wrapping her other hand around her forearm, her lower lip quivering which she quickly bit down on to stifle her whimper. When she spoke next it was so quietly Miquella almost didn't hear her despite being right next to her, "...hurts."
He couldn't remember a single time before when his sister had complained about something hurting; not through all her training or their playing. But Miquella was helpless to do anything for her. The only thing he could think to do was what they did when the other woke from night terrors, moving to sit on the edge of her bed. "I'm here."
Malenia instinctively shuffled to the side to give him room to slide in beside her, her arm once again being pulled tightly against her chest. She slumped forward, forehead pressing against his shoulder as her disheveled hair tickling his chin. Miquella wrapped his arms around her shoulders as she moved to lie down, her face still pressed against his shoulder with her left hand loosely gripping his robes. He buried his face in her hair in turn, hoping that at least by being there she might be able to get back to sleep.
His eyes began drifting shut as he curled around Malenia, right at the cusp of sleep as he remembered that Godwyn had walked back with him. Sitting up just enough to look back toward the door, Godwyn was already gone, the door shut as if he'd never been there. As tired as he was, Miquella forced himself to stay awake until at last he felt Malenia finally drift back asleep, only then allowing himself to sleep as well.
*
Feet digging into the soft soil with every step, they ran ever forward, on and on with no end in sight. Tall reeds stretched above on every side, making it impossible to know where they were and where they were going. But for some reason, it didn't matter. They didn't need to see - they just needed to follow.
But... what were they following?
Slowly, they came to a stop. And waited. The gentle summer breeze rustled the reeds as they closed their eyes, listening to the way the stalks bent and swayed around them in the wind, the ebb and flow of it reminiscent of the ocean. It was peaceful, but they could not help but feel as if something was missing. Perhaps that was why they were here. Not to follow but to find.
The sounds of the rustling reeds faded and they opened their eyes again. The reeds were still there, but different now. No longer stretching as tall and far as the eye could see, now seeming to all bend in the same direction, bowing toward a gap that had not been there before. They followed the path, the reeds receding further with each step until the they parted entirely and revealed an open field with a young girl lying in the middle, long red hair pooled beneath her as it fanned out on either side. She held her right arm outstretched towards the sky where a sole butterfly had perched on her fingertip.
Something about her gave them pause as they stopped, not quite stepping into the field. But the girl noticed them anyway. The butterfly flew away when she lowered her arm, but she paid it no mind as she sat up and smiled at them, recognition flashing over her face. They didn't know how they knew, but deep down they knew that this was what they had been following. This is what they had been trying to find. Who they had been trying to find.
The girl rose to her feet and started walking over to them with an ease and sense of familiarity they hadn't been expecting - as if they were anything but strangers. She stopped within arm's reach and now that she was closer the recognition in her expression disappeared, replaced instead with curiosity. She tilted her head to the side as she stared at their face, confusion clear in her voice as she asked, "Who are you?"
They opened their mouth to reply but hesitated, staring down at their own hand. Who were they? They glanced around at the distant reeds that had begun to sway again as the wind picked up around them. Where exactly were they?
"I'm–"
*
"Surely this is too extreme." It was Godwyn's voice that dragged Miquella from his sleep as he rolled over only to find the bed empty beside him.
In a panic he sat up and glanced around the room, relief washing over him at the sight of Malenia standing at the door. She was holding it open with her left hand, just wide enough for the sound to carry clearly into the room and for her to peer out into the hall beyond it. She hadn't noticed that Miquella had awoken yet, her attention entirely on whatever conversation was happening outside.
Tricia's voice was patient but she sounded exhausted, "Over the course of just one night her condition has already deteriorated drastically. I have never seen anything like it before - not in one so young and healthy. We cannot simply ignore it."
"I am not suggesting we ignore it, but there must be other remedies that we should try first. At least until we can figure out what is causing it."
Miquella's stomach curled; he'd never heard Godwyn sound so stern before. As he rose from the bed, Malenia glanced over her shoulder to look at him. If she was still in pain, she wasn't showing it, but her eyes were wide with fear as she looked at him.
"What is it?" he asked, stepping closer to her.
"They want to take it."
He frowned. "Take what?"
"My hand," she whispered, turning to fully face him now as she uncurled the fingers on her right hand and held it out towards him.
He gently took it into his own hands. It was still freezing, the same as it had been the night before, but now he was able to see clearly how the bruise that had started to form at the tip of her finger had spread further along it and darkened into a mixed hue of browns and purples and blacks.
"Are you certain?" Marika asked, causing both Miquella and Malenia to peer back through the small gap in the door at the sound of their mother's voice.
"As much as I wish I were wrong this time, the flesh is already dead and there is nothing that can be done to heal it. The best we can do is try to stop the spread while it's still localized," Tricia answered.
Malenia pulled her hand away and took a step back from the door, resignation already clear in her posture by the way she stared down at the floor. Miquella stepped past her and pulled the door open, staring up at the three of them as they paused their conversation.
"Miquella," Godwyn started, pausing when he caught sight of Malenia just beyond him. "You both heard."
"How much?" Miquella asked, turning to Tricia. There were dark circles under her eyes he noticed now that he was closer; had she actually been working through the night as well? She looked down at him but when she didn't answer his question he repeated, "How much do you want to take?"
He could feel Marika's eyes on him, equal parts curious and concerned; he held his breath waiting for her to interject, to tell him that she had already made the decision. But instead she merely watched silently, her gaze like Godwyn's drifting over his shoulder where he knew Malenia was; could feel her own shoulder brushing against his back.
"The entire area expressing symptoms would be safest. My lady, may I have another look?
Malenia stepped out from behind Miquella and out into the hall; her entire demeanor had changed now that she was in front of the others. She held her chin up high as she moved to stand in front of Tricia, extending her arm out towards the Perfumer. Tricia pulled the cloth mask around her neck up over her mouth and nose before taking Malenia's arm, though whether she did so out of an abundance of caution or habit, Miquella couldn't tell.
They were all silent as they collectively watched Tricia first examine the blackened finger, then her hand and forearm, tracing all the way up to her shoulder. She then reached into the pouch on her hip, pulling out a small needle which she pressed against Malenia's arm from the shoulder down to the finger, watching her reactions to each prick of the metal. Seemingly satisfied with her brief examination, she put the needle away and lowered Malenia's arm before pulling down her mask again. "As far as I am able to tell, she is symptomatic up to her elbow, but given the rapid presentation of her worsening symptoms, I would caution that it is not unlikely that it has spread further."
"If this is to be done, can you guarantee it will stop it from spreading further?" Marika asked.
"Without knowing the underlying cause, I cannot guarantee anything, my Queen. But if this is not done, there will come a point where we will be unable to stop it from progressing."
"If we still do not understand the cause then we should not take such drastic measures," Godwyn countered, placing his hand on Malenia's shoulder and squeezing it lightly in reassurance.
Tricia was about to counter when Malenia spoke up, "What if you only took my finger?"
"There is still the risk–" Tricia began.
"But with the finger you could figure out the cause, could you not?" Miquella asked, thinking back to her notes that he had started reading through the previous evening; detailed accounts of what she had learned from carving open the bodies of those who had died both in and out of her care.
"It would take time, but yes, it is possible I could learn more information."
She looked to Marika who seemed to be contemplating the options. It should have been Malenia's choice - but they were all beholden to Marika's will. Eventually Marika answered, "How long will your analysis take?"
"It depends on the cause. It could be immediately apparent at best; at worst it may take days or longer."
"Then you will start with the finger and ensure that she is observed while you perform your examination so that we can monitor her condition and pray that it does not worsen."
"Then we should begin at once. I will need to prepare, but first if I may have a word, your Grace?"
Marika nodded. "Godwyn–"
"I will bring her," Godwyn reassured them. The two of them turned to leave, Tricia immediately lowering her voice as she followed Marika. Once they were out of sight, Godwyn knelt in front of Malenia, both of his hands on her shoulders now. "How are you truly feeling?"
Miquella moved to stand by her side when she glanced over her shoulder for him before she turned back to Godwyn. "If it has to happen, I will do it."
"I know you will. Out of all of us, you have always been the brave one," Godwyn's expression softened. "But you can be brave and scared at the same time. You do not always need to be strong."
Her hand found Miquella's, squeezing it tightly as she looked away and quietly confessed, "I am scared."
"We will be by your side for it, there is no need for you to endure this alone," Godwyn said.
Godwyn let go of her shoulders and stood up, glancing over to where a guard now stood at the end of the hall, motioning for them to follow. Miquella and Malenia trailed behind them, Malenia's grip tightening like a vice around Miquella's hand as they got closer to the Perfumer's room. The cloying smell of the incense burning in the room was suffocating as the guard pulled the door open and Tricia appeared in the doorway. Her mask was already pulled up over her nose and mouth, seemingly already prepared as two other Perfumers in the room behind her were at work. One was tending to a fire while the other was setting up the space.
"Given the delicate nature of what must be done, I must ask both of you to keep your distance, my lords," Tricia politely requested, all the while making it clear it was not a request. "No matter what happens, you cannot interfere."
"Of course," Godwyn agreed.
He wanted to protest, but Malenia squeezed his hand once and gave him a smile before letting go as he was led away, following Godwyn over to Marika's side. The three of them watched as Tricia led Malenia into the room, gently guiding her into a chair before stepping away. One of the other Perfumers approached with a cup and placed it in Malenia's hands. Whatever it was must have been awful by how her nose scrunched when she raised it to her face but she drank it down anyway, passing the cup back.
"Restrain her and prepare the bindings,'' Tricia ordered as she moved to the table, grabbing various tools leaving the two other Perfumers to maneuver Malenia's arm onto the table where they secured a strap around her wrist to keep it in place. Then, with a material Miquella couldn't quite see, they wrapped her finger at two points before stepping away again. Tricia returned to Malenia's side, placing a wood slat at her lips, instructing her, "Bite down on this. I will try to make this as painless as possible, my lady."
Malenia opened her mouth, complying as she bit down on the wooden slat and waited. Tricia and the others wasted no time on beginning their work; Miquella forced himself not to look away despite how much he wanted to when they took the blade to her finger. Even though he had read about similar things the night before, it was entirely different to see it first hand and happen to someone awake - it was different when it was Malenia. His sister was impossibly brave; even though he could see the way her chest heaved as she leaned her head back and squeezed her eyes shut, she never cried out or made a sound.
Time seemed to crawl, feeling like an eternity as the Perfumers worked. Beside him, Godwyn and Marika were in the middle of a conversation, keeping their voices lowered as if that would prevent him from overhearing - but he wasn't paying attention to them anyway. Their conversation stopped soon enough though when Tricia set the bloodied blades aside, moving the blackened finger away while the others tended to Malenia.
"Your Grace?" Tricia called out, looking toward Marika as she paused with the blade over the severed appendage.
"Continue."
Tricia nodded and dragged the blade through the flesh, splitting it open as the remaining blood spilled forth. She used a bandage to wipe away what remained before splitting the dead flesh further, using a small blade to sift through it before reaching for a pair of tweezers. Slowly, Tricia pulled forth something Miquella had never seen before, thin white strands all interconnected - more than seemed possible to have been pulled out of something so small.
"Stop," Tricia called out, expression shifting to one of horror and the tool clattering on the table as she dropped it, moving back to Malenia's side. She pushed the two Perfumers out of the way to grab Malenia's wrist, angling it so that she could use a small blade to poke at the wound, searching for something. It only took a few moments for her to find whatever it was she was looking for; she lowered Malenia's hand and set down the blade before stepping away. Hesitantly, she turned to face Marika. "Your Grace… it's Scarlet Rot."
Marika moved forward; when she spoke her voice cold, "You speak the impossible. She would have had to come into contact with an outbreak; there would be others."
"The growth of the mycelium is mature; it is clear that this is not a new infection. While I am no expert in this matter, if I had to guess, I would say it has been developing within her for years."
"Years?" Godwyn echoed in disbelief.
Tricia hesitated, glancing back toward Malenia before meeting Marika's gaze. "It is possible she has had it since she was born, especially if we consider the circumstances of her birth."
Malenia's eyes were filled with fear as she looked away from their conversation, seeking out Miquella instead. He wanted to move to her side, to reassure her, but the moment he tried to take a step forward Godwyn's hand was on his arm pulling him back. Miquella tried to pull his arm free but Godwyn's grip only tightened, holding him in place as he said something to Miquella. But Miquella didn't hear it. Didn't want to hear it.
Their voices all faded away as Miquella was forced to simply watch as the other two Perfumers cast the mycelium into the fire. It had been discussed more as legend than fact in all his readings, but no matter how the legend was told, it always made clear two things: that Scarlet Rot was fatal, and that it could only be held at bay by fire. The Perfumers pulled the blade from the fire once more, metal glowing from the heat trapped within as they pressed it to her flesh.