One of the PF prompts for October is superstition, and I've had this idea for ages—it's in my fic but I just want to keep a record of it in a more expository form.
The following headcanon concept is in extreme danger of being jossed as soon as the devs decide to release official birthdates or anything, like in the upcoming lore book. But while I have the room to explore—
Since there are Eikons tied to certain specific nations, the people of those countries might start to develop internal superstitions about the best season in which their Dominant should be born, as a good omen of sorts. This superstition/folk belief is heavily inspired by the east Asian astrologies that calculate the date and hour etc. of a child’s birth to predict a person’s life and destiny (and also the compatibility of couples).
Rosaria would obviously think it best for the Dominant of Fire to be born during summer, and places like the Northern Territories would want their Shiva born in winter to signify a strong, divinely blessed Dominant. Maybe the people of the Water want theirs born during the monsoon or peak rainy season, not that I know whether or not Valisthea even has monsoons. So in this concept, coincidentally Rosaria and Sanbreque have the same cultural superstition: that the Dominant of Fire or Light born during summer, and particularly near the solstice, would symbolise luck and power, like a favoured child of destiny. Rosaria because it’s the hottest, brightest season, and similar for Sanbreque, because it is the brightest, longest light.
And in a situation of such folk beliefs being widely held, I would want Dion born exactly on the summer solstice, literally the specialest, most auspicious day, in a “all our stars have aligned” way, the absolute height of divine favour smiling onto Sanbreque to produce this shining godsend (goddess-send), and this is the first, but by no means the last, of the things about Dion that wholly convince his people that their new Bahamut is blessing personified, is the radiant chosen one of Greagor, to usher the empire into a new golden age and defend her against all their enemies and deliver them from penury (the encroaching blight).
(Privately, if I'm honest, Cancer is the least suitable western astrological sign to assign to Dion, not that there’s any real scientific basis in any of it.)
In the reverse, I would want Joshua born in deep winter, which is worrying and ominous for Rosaria. Ideally I really want him on the winter solstice, but he can’t be in “December” [or its equivalent] and remain in the same calendar year as Dion (in my heart of hearts I really want 25 December to go full Jesus on Joshua), but a birthday right at the start of “January” would be great, when it is dark and cold and bleak, a fierce bitter winter that augurs ill, and therefore the Rosarians whispered quiet fears about this, blamed Anabella about this, and when Joshua turned out so sickly and weak, also blamed and doubted the child of ill-fate. A fire of no warmth and little light.
Love heaping the pressure onto Dion and Joshua in opposing and complementary ways. Dion’s countrymen think he’s absolutely perfect, the pinnacle of Bahamuts, an unprecedented prodigy that made his father’s political enemies sweat from the moment of his birth, and when Sylvestre ascended the throne the people looked at their new prince, their guiding light, their radiant star—and approved of it, approved of him, like yes, yes, this is our destiny. This is Sanbreque’s future. This is what the Goddess has ordained.
So: Dion is strong and perfect, is told by everyone all the time that he is strong and perfect; he can only be strong, he was made perfect, he cannot be anything except strong and perfect. Weakness is not only forbidden, it is impossible, for the Goddess’ blessing is flawless and cannot fail, and any personal weakness wouldn’t concern only him, it would spell disaster for his whole country. Which is the sort of thing that gives a child a very particular sort of damage.
And the winter-born Phoenix, imperfect from the wrong and unlucky season of his birth and frail throughout his childhood, knows his people don’t believe in him, that they have no confidence in him and think of him as weak—born flawed and continues to be flawed, with a fragile constitution, frequently ill. The thing about superstitions is that it is worsened by pre-existing doubt or concurrent fears, and since Joshua’s physical condition does not inspire confidence in the troops or the populace, their confirmation bias will amplify their worries and negative gut feelings. It’s a vicious cycle. Child!Joshua, who perfectly perceives and understands his people’s lack of faith in him, will naturally learn to feel self-doubt and inferior, because that’s what happens when children are bombarded by consistent messages from their environment.
We know for a fact he knows this, because at Phoenix Gate he literally says “they don’t believe in me”. He says “I don’t have what it takes”, he says “I don’t have the strength”. And he says to Clive, “it should have been you.” The sense of inadequacy is deep, cutting, persistent, and profound. There is a standard to meet, and he understands how badly he falls short. “They don’t believe in me, they believe in the power of the Dominant.” Will his full prime Phoenix form hold up in battle? This seems like a question that should lowkey eat away at everyone in the prologue. Everyone is hoping that the full primed Phoenix will be enough, the way the Eikon has always been enough, because the current Dominant clearly isn’t. Putting aside how self-doubt tends to lead to self-sabotage, for a 10-year-old to say something that hopeless and crushing in his quiet little voice, this is more than a hushed confession of weakness, it is resignation—and as we discover, he does not even need to enter war to experience defeat, and it is only the first in a string of massive defeats to come. His lack of strength doesn’t concern only him, it spells disaster for his whole country. Which is the sort of thing that gives a child a very particular sort of damage, and makes for a beautifully poetic counterpart to summer-Dion.
It's the contrast and foil between the lucky child/the unlucky child—who is which cannot be clearly defined—and between the weak child/the strong child—or, the child who was always told he’s weak, the child who was always told he’s strong. Which leads into the onscreen transformation over the course of gameplay: the exalted Sanbrequois prince who plummets into weakness and has to learn how not to break, the vanquished Rosarian prince who rises to strength and has to learn how to survive, finding each other as adults who embrace and comfort each other’s weaknesses, and become each other’s strength.
Clive should be born in summer too, probably “August” or something when it was unseasonably hot and dry that year, and even the non-superstitious thought Anabella did a splendid job and were super enthusiastic for their new Dominant to wake—he’s going to be a proper fire Dominant, this one, the world is already scorching at his arrival. I love anything that exacerbates Rosfield family dysfunction.
One of the most amusing things about such a superstition would be that certain Motes would try extremely hard to conceive at certain times. The tribes in the Northern Territories would be like omg time for a new Shiva, we are 8-10 months out from winter, everyone get down to business!!!
People should blame Anabella, illogically, for the time of Joshua's birth and add to the sense of persecution and disgrace she seems to feel about her children. I've a strong headcanon, even without this superstition, that Joshua is a preemie. It's such a but of course concept to me, that Joshua is a premature baby, and not just a little bit premature, but the kind of premature that could never have survived in medieval times without the Phoenix. So if the pregnancy had remained on track, perhaps Josh would have been a "February" baby—still winter, not great, but without turn of the year notions of upheaval and change. So smoll, scrunchy, very premature Joshua pops out at the worst time, and the birth was sudden and horrendous and arduous, and some people think it must be because Anabella didn't take proper care.
This is a phoenixflare post, therefore the point of all this, of course, is that Joshua is the hope in the despairing dark, and Dion is the enduring light, and the Sanbreque astrologers will find upon calculation that they are the perfect complementary match.
