Summary:Misaha; I am lonely and I am losing my strength, but your hand in mine gives me the strength I never had.
Notes: Made AU by the memory scene between Sephiran and Misaha in the Tower of Guidance; spoilers for Micaiah and Sephiran
It's Really Good to Hear Your Voice
Misaha, heir to the thirty-fifth Apostle of Begnion, was bored. As in, really, really bored. There was nothing for a curious fifteen-year-old girl to do in Mainal Cathedral, or in Sienne at all, really. Not when Misaha didn't want to play politics or flirt with young noblemen who she might or might not end up marrying. No, the young princess was bored of all that.
In fact, she was bored of being the next Apostle.
Oh, she loved hearing the goddess's voice, but the goddess spoke mostly to her mother, the Apostle. Misaha was mostly below the goddess's notice, the violet-haired girl supposed, and probably would be until she became Apostle—if she became Apostle. Her mother might live long enough for Misaha's daughter to come of age.
Well, that was becoming unlikely, Misaha knew. After all, she had that mark now, the one that proclaimed her laguz blood. Misaha had been very careful to keep her mark hidden even from her mother and the goddess, because Sephiran had told her to not let anyone know. Misaha wished she could at least tell the goddess, and wondered at her ancestor's warning to not tell her.
As if thoughts could summon her, the goddess's presence loomed in Misaha's mind and eyes, a friendly aura that enhanced everything that happened around Misaha rather than blinding her to the outside world. "Why so sad, my daughter?Surely you are not so fed up with life so young?" the distant midnight voice whispered.
Phrasing her thoughts as arrows, the young princess sent out, I am lonely, my mother. I have no friends, for everyone here seeks only to use me.
"Oh, my child, I fear that you will never love neither husband nor son, but the granddaughter that you know will be a treasure to you for the time that you know her," the goddess promised.
Many years later, Apostle Misaha, thirty-sixth Empress of Begnion, looked down on her young granddaughter and smiled. "Hello there," the young-looking woman cooed. "Come to see me work, sweetheart?"
Misaha didn't really expect an answer, since the child hadn't spoken in her presence before, seemingly shy around her grandmother, so the girl surprised her with a shy, quiet, "hello, Grandmother." The Apostle of Begnion stared, but that wasn't the last of the surprises. "Grandmother, what is this?"
The dark-haired ruler stared at her descendant's right hand, tawny eyes taking in the intricate red marking on the young girl's hand. "Micaiah, sweetie," Misaha told her granddaughter, "you have just helped me solve a very important problem. Thank you for showing this to me. Now, why don't you stay here with me? I know someone who will be very pleased to meet you, and he can explain everything."
You win, Sephiran. I'll tell them what I am and free the slaves. I'll enrage the entire damn nobility. And the only reason I'm doing it is because of the granddaughter that the goddess promised me. So you had better protect her, because the Senate, at least, will be out for our blood. Ah, Micaiah! Only for you, my dear, dear child.