Julianne, who entirely overdid herself in defeating Mannimarco, was brought back for her convalescence to the chapel in Bruma. Her magicka having been entirely spent, she is forbidden from doing magic for a bit, so as not to overexert herself again.
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‘Ah! it’s marvellous to see you up and about, Miss Traven,’ said Cirroc interrupting my nothing, ‘but for all our sakes, don’t overdo it, will you?’
I had already tramped over to the opposite wall, and back, and repeated the action; I had already, for want of other things to do, stretched my arms and combed my hair; and all this having tired me beyond what I thought was possible, I’d taken to leaning against the wall and staring at it as if there were a window there. Father had brought me a small stack of books; but they were some, dry, on theology, and all the rest on magic; and magic was my damnable prohibition, – for a few days, Father had beseeched me, while your font of magicka heals, – you don’t want to overdo it.
‘I don’t think,’ said I desperately, ‘that I can underdo things. I am going insane in here. O how do you live like this!’
‘By appreciation of simplicity,’ said Cirroc shrugging, ‘and devotion to the Nine who provide us our every need, – but I know you are not the clerical sort. I shall see tomorrow if Novaroma has anything lighter to read, or the library, –’
‘I think I’m beyond even Waughin Jarth’s help now,’ said I; but good-humouredly; and cast a last glance out of my non-window before collapsing onto the bed: ‘oh! you’re a mage, Cirroc, it’s like cutting off your damn arm. I am going insane!’ said I, again, –
‘Only another three weeks,’ said Cirroc chuckling sympathetically.
He must have thought that Father had informed me of this, – that though Father had seen my sinking disappointment, he’d not melted in the face of it and understated, – he must not, in short, have suspected that Father had told me: you must not do any magic for a few days. A few days! and I’d battered at the bars of my invisible dungeon and protested and he’d put an arm around my shoulder and said that everything would be all right, –
‘Three weeks!’ I cried.
‘Then,’ said he, ‘ – no doubt you’ll be back at the University by then, – you will have a strict regimen to get your magic back without straining yourself, –’
‘Three weeks!’
‘Think of it as a muscle, Miss Traven,’ said he, ‘have you ever sprained your foot, perhaps? It needs rest, and a slow return to normal, –’
I am sure that sparks might have flown from all my hair and fingers, – had the thing not been banned, – were the font on which I drew, so out of reach, that even had I wanted to, I’d have made a half-glowing cinder at best, and watched it die on the same bed I’d barely survived in.
‘Three weeks!’ I murmured: and buried my face in the pillow.
He thought at first that I’d burst into tears: moved closer: but when I raised my head, I was as surprised as he was, to be laughing. Laughing, – because it was silly, – because it was trivial, – because I’d lived weeks, months in despair, three days in hell! – and now that all was said and done, I complained that I was deprived of a pleasure, for but three weeks, – a small repercussion, for killing a man, and bringing light all upon the world again!
Father had said, honestly though not without some paternal pride, that: you’ll be one of the greatest mages of the era, when they write the history-books. Here sat the greatest mage of the era, staring at a wall, with not the least bit of magic in her fingertips! o what a sorry pathetic unmoving sight I may be, now all was said and done, –
‘Three weeks,’ said I leaning back: ‘a most inconvenient prescription. Thank you, doctor.’
‘It will fly by,’ returned Cirroc.
‘Like a new alterationist and his novice levitation-spell,’ said I: ‘well! Cirroc, – I won’t turn my nose up to a bit of Waughin Jarth, –’
‘I’ll have a look tomorrow,’ he promised and made to leave.
‘It had better be the complete works,’ said I, ‘that will occupy me for a day or two,’ and when he closed the door, I closed my eyes still laughing, – and you will none of you believe it, but I was happy enough for three weeks, – happy that it was over, and I was alive, – alive enough, that my mind, unfettered, raced to complain!...
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I have major brain worms for the big brother Alhaitham AU thank you 💛
How much of a difference is there in Kaeya's personality as an adult (since both still have that 'unsure if they're allowed to belong' childhood trauma up until the diverging paths of dead relative day) or would the Akademiya/unknown impending abyss take the place of Diluc trauma (to a lesser degree) and still give him some of that feeling of needing to wear a mask and keep some distance for protection?
OR! Emotionally awful bonus question I just thought of: Would the Kaeya in this AU still believe he is inherently bad and incapable of being good or would he understand that doing good things(even if it's to make people like you) is still acts of being good?
Thank you for the ask! And I'm glad this AU has given you some brainworms hehe
as for your questions, i have an answer, and having Alhaitham as an older brother can be a good and bad thing
(I just realized I typed a lot and revealed some of the plot in the bonus question! Sorry for the lengthy answer, I just got really excited!)
Q1: Good influence from Alhaitham! He is so self-assured and logical that he managed to help Kaeya on his sense of belongingness (it helps that Kaeya confessed younger (13) and thus was able to think better on these matters and discuss them with Alhaitham). What's left for him to fear, however, is the helplessness or the inevitability of his past catching up someday.
What he feels, instead of a sense of unbelongingness, is a sense of justice and righteousness for the outcasts. He is basically a poster-child for it, and he gets to experience discrimination first hand as he continues to live near the center of the city. He wants to prove that people who are different could still belong and find a home. (This is in correlation to Alhaitham's opinion on being different as well)
He, of course, still keeps his secrets and wears a mask. Some of the things he learned or found out about are not for everyone to hear, and some people are better kept in the dark *wink wink*
Q2/bonus: Alhaitham's reputation and Akademiya mindset+actions affected Kaeya's, unfortunately (though you will find that Alhaitham disagrees with Kaeya's conclusion).
He isn't a knight in this AU, and his brother here isn't exactly known for kind acts, so he has even less to fall back on other than him just doing something good. He was just Alhaitham's brother, then a scholar, and later on, an actor. It's not his job to be kind this time. He just is (not that canon Kaeya isn't, but he also likes a feasible excuse for his behavior)
The thing is, most people don't just freely "help" in the Akademiya- not as much as in Mond anyway. Those who do usually have ulterior motives, and if they seemingly do not, then they must be hiding something. Rarely are those who are willing to share their time and effort when it could be spent on their own studies and research. Odds are, when people help in the Akademiya, it is for an academic exchange.
An Akademiya scholar who used to be as anti-social as his older brother, suddenly willing to help out others with no equivalent value? That's suspicious... It could only be beneficial for him to be kind, according to his doubters. Thus, he was investigated on, trailed by the general mahamatra, and slandered by his peers, giving him even more trauma and self-doubt.
He got thru it all after the investigation led to nowhere, but the damage to his reputation and mental health had been done.
Every natural kind act, Kaeya would then think how it would affect him. Him thinking about how it affects him would then, in turn, make him feel guilty because what others may think should never have been any of his concern. He doesn't stop being kind, but he also doesn't stop doubting his kind actions too.
All-in-all, self-esteem issues Kaeya is thriving!
Again, Alhaitham does disagree with the conclusion Kaeya came up with, but he, of course, can not simply fix trauma with just his logic. He knows his brother has a natural kindness to him, a rarity in the Akademiya that they trampled on. Alhaitham was not happy after he found out and does feel like he failed his brother on this matter.
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Fic inspiration
Ulla ducks her head and gives a humorless chuckle. “It was never the mother, was it?”
Her father regards her with a pained smile. “No, it wasn’t.”
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He loved Ulla, truly, grey skin and all, she was still his child. Her laughs and giggles would fill the air with a joyous melody. He knew Ulla showed more promise as a baby than most sildroher ever have during that age.
On dark days a small, ugly part of him thinks of taking her back to shore, finding her birth mother, and thrusting the baby in her hands without a word as she did him, never visiting again.
During the times when Ulla’s wails would bounce across the walls and make the flowers shrivel and rot. He didn’t have a problem with it, she had a strong voice after all, but when the others complained it was a different story. How they glared at the two of them or sneered at the baby for the tone of her cries.
The times when his wife would look at Ulla with an odd look, something akin to fear, repulsion, or pity. When that specific look would be on him instead. He remembers squashing down the hurt at the time she recoiled at Ulla reaching her little hands out to her or having just stood there as the baby cried.
He would never want to give Ulla away though, for he never regrets her in the first place.
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“You can hold her if you want.”
She’s broken out of some trance by his voice as he comes over to the crib. He chuckles a little at that, recalling the occasions when she would hold Ulla with a smile on her face, entertaining her with a song almost as if she forgets about the baby’s heritage. Though now it seems she remembers the other half.
“She won’t bite,” he says amusedly.
“I know that,” she mumbles, glancing at Ulla’s tail and his. He sighs and moves to pick Ulla up instead, scooping her up in his arms.
“You must think I’m a whore.” He tells her bluntly. Sometimes he sees her looking at him with what could be a trace of disgust. Remembers how uncomfortable she seemed when they were courting each other and she first met Ulla and he confided in her about Ulla’s true parentage. Still, she wanted to marry him and look after her like she was her own, despite it all.
“What,” she’s taken aback, “no, no I don’t think that's all, it’s just…” she trails off, gripping the edges of the crib tightly. It’s silent for a moment before his wife speaks again.
“I wish she had been mine.” She whispers.
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He still thinks about her at times, the shadow summoner, either with anger or nostalgia. Looking back to when she made him sing symphonies during their lovemaking.
Sometimes he wonders if he ever would’ve met Ulla had she not been born with a tail. Or would she have taken her away wherever she went and he would still be waiting for the bell to ring?
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Brave little Ulla. Coming home on the bad days when there’s too much teasing with tears in her eyes, yet still acting strong and holding her head high.
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