forget-me-not.

That was the plan, anyway. What Rinea hadn’t anticipated on was encountering familiar faces from her homeland. No doubt there might be Valentian exchange students, but certainly no one that Rinea recognized... Not that there were too many faces she knew in the first place. But somehow, somehow, the stars had aligned her path would cross with someone she truly never would have expected to encounter again—her fiancé’s cousin, Alm. Now the king of the newly-unified Valentia, but before that, she saw it, she remembers—he was just a shaken young man with no noble status to speak of. She’d spoken to him, albeit briefly, in the short time that elapsed after Emperor Rudolf’s death and before her own demise.

She had heard so much of Alm in the long months that the Deliverance he led had made their swift, unrelenting assault on Rigel’s borders. Justly so, Rinea had quietly thought—in the end, their soldiers were nothing more than interlopers, invaders, though she would never have dared voiced the opinion in aloud. Mostly, any encounters Berkut had made with the young man were relayed to her, and of course, he never had anything nice to say. It was terribly frightening to watch her fiancé’s sanity erode, bit by bit, with every battle he lost to Alm—and of course, Rinea was always by Berkut’s side first and foremost, so a part of her couldn’t help but resent Alm. It wasn’t right or just, but what in this world truly was? Couldn’t he have just accepted the lot he’d been given in life like everyone else had and try to make do?

Her one, short-lived conversation with him had done more than enough to rectify the image she’d formed of him in her mind. As he was then, humbled and down-trodden in the wake of his unknowing patricide, Rinea quietly understood him. He wasn’t a power-hungry conqueror looking to turn Zofia into an empire that would put Rigel’s to shame... he was just a boy who was now too far in over his head to ever hope of returning to a life of normalcy. His distress was the same as hers—subdued, able to quietly carry on conversations, but no less palpable to her. He was a good, kind person who had been made to do an unthinkable deed—she couldn’t find anything in her heart to feel towards him but compassion.

Even now...

At first, Rinea had deliberated heavily on what to do, whether to try to keep herself more isolated than ever so as not to accidentally catch his eye and have him realize, too, that she was here and not buried in the deep, cold earth. But she knew for certain that her death must have weighed at least a bit on his mind at some point—she could somewhat recall his horror, though her recollection of what she heard as a witch was a blurry haze. It seemed only the right thing to do to let him know that she was alive now.

So, after a bit of silent sneaking after him, Rinea managed to find Alm in a secluded location, somewhere they could just talk without fear of prying eyes... She tightens her hands into fists and tries to walk towards him with her head held high.

As soon as she stands face-to-face with him, her mouth runs dry and any last whisper of confidence she had evaporates like mist.

“S-Sir Alm,” she begins, uncertain, “...It’s me. Rinea. Do you... remember?”

“ aw, that’s cute. did you think that i really loved you? “

“ i didn’t want to do this. but you betrayed my trust. “

“ this hurts me more than it will ever hurt you. “

“ you reap what you sow. “

“ what did i do? what’s so wrong with me that you can’t just love me? “

“ if nothing else, let’s make the most of being alive and together. “

“ i think i fall in love every day. “

“ i’ll save any life so long as it isn’t not my own. “

“ they didn’t bury you deep enough. “

“ my god, what’s become of you? “

“ enough of your games already. “

“ be careful what you wish for, ____. “

“ i know exactly what’s best for you. “

“ maybe if you weren’t so damn stubborn, we could get something done around here. “

“ you promised me. you promised. “

“ let’s play a game. it’ll be fun. “

“ if this is you when you’re calm, then i’m terrified of what you’re like when you’re actually upset. “

“ i didn’t mean to hurt anyone. i just wanted to help. “

“ i know i’m guilty. i am. i’m guilty. “

“ i don’t know what you want from me. i can’t fix you. “

“ it hurts, doesn’t it? i can make it hurt more. “

“ try not to get yourself killed or i’ll bring you back just to kill you again myself. “

“ you were the only person who understood me. you were my only friend. “

“ i know i shouldn’t care about what you do or who you do it with, but… i’m just—so lonely. “

“ you don’t know what you’re doing. you could kill someone. “

“ just let me help you. you don’t have to do this alone. “

“ aw, you’re no fun. no fun at all. “

“ you’re making me look like an idiot, i hope you know that. “

“ since when did you come back from the dead? “

“ i can rip you apart just as well as i can put you back together. “

“ there’s always something worth fighting for. “

“ pull yourself together, please. i can only afford one of us being a mess. “

“ stay with me. you’ll be fine. “

“ you clearly don’t belong here. “

“ you’re better off dead than alive, ____. “

“ do what you’ve been told. “

“ i can’t just sit around and let people get hurt. it’s my responsibility. “

“ you’re so busy taking care of everyone else that you can’t even take care of yourself! “

“ can i pay you to leave me alone? “

“ you’re running out of excuses and i’m running out of patience. “

“ is it really worth it? is all the blood and the death worth it? “

“ ____. you’re bleeding again. “

“ don’t act like you love me. “

“ i can’t feel anything. “

“ you’re going to tear yourself apart. “

“ i just want you to be safe. is that so much to ask for? “

“ i don’t think there is a right choice, just a choice you have to make. “

“ i could really hurt you, you know. “

“ am i even a person to you? “

“ you don’t even care. they’re just something for you to use and discard. “

“ don’t treat me like a child. “

Supposedly, it was the point within the monastery which was closest to the Progenitor Goddess's embrace. A place wherein any fool could stumble into, could make a wish and have it heard and in their naievety could pretend, at least for a moment, that the Goddess might harbor a care for those she held dominion over.

It was the chatter of the town in the winter, so he heard, but it was chattered about even moreso lately as one by one, the towers and outposts and any high place found those atop it stranded, left alone with that Goddess until such a time as some Knight of Seiros in shining armor came to save them.

Supposedly.

The fact of the matter was that ladders, stairs, even rigging and basic ropes had begun to be systematically removed from Church property, and whether or not his gruesome handlers had their dingy claws dug into the matter, Berkut found the drive within him to investigate this most famous case, which had, most amusingly, had its entire staircase stolen, bricks removed to form a smooth line from ingress to egress to make either impossible unless one was very, very determined.

Or very unlucky, as to have already been there.

The brick and stone shuddered under his grip, but the climb was not so bad, ultimately. A quick series of scrambles – less dignified than he would have preferred, surely he had not lost all grace in coming here – leaving Berkut far more winded and tasting the iron in his lungs, but after some time he found himself in the dense green dome of the tower, surrounded by whatever these people considered holy.

It was a mess, and he could not have claimed to have felt anymore divine in that moment than when he miraculously opened his eyes to the sheer darkness those months ago. That was what the touch of divinity had felt like, to him, in this life and the last.

He picked his way around the loose stone and debris, and shivered at the light, whirling on his heel at the shifting sound of another person in here with him.

The breath hitched in his throat as she appeared, her visage blocked out by the immense bright of the sun, illuminating everything but what he truly wanted to see, bathing them in incandescent white and gold, the draperies they might have worn in another life.

There wasn’t much to do, but she had managed to busy herself with idle needlework, willing her thoughts not to drift too far.

At one point, she had considered praying, but — Rinea was never a particularly pious woman. She had always been a follower of the War Father in the most obligatory sense, mildly sharing in Berkut’s distaste for the Faithful.

And of course, Fódlan was neither Duma nor Mila’s domain, even if the twin gods were in a state suited for divine intervention. Rinea knew little of the Progenitor God, for whom the Goddess Tower was named after; even that she stood foot in such a holy place was a thought she barely paid any heed to.

She’s startled out of her thoughts by a sudden sting of pain upon her finger — she had lost focus and pricked herself with the sewing needle. Clumsy as always. Perhaps she should do something else for now…

It’s only just when she’s set her things down that she hears an unexpected clamor from… outside? She stills, eyes widening at the realization. Scrambling up from her seat, Rinea quietly darts from her spot to the source of the commotion in the next room over to see for herself.

… And there, against the glow of the setting sun, stands a figure she could pick out even from the most ethereal of dreams. She can’t quite make out the man’s features through the glare of sunlight filtering in, and for a moment, she’s certain she must be seeing things, but then—

“Rinea—?”