Arc 1, Chapter 13

A Caged Bird in an Open Cage

The Saintess

Content Warning:

Contains some references to abuse and child abuse. Please remember that this is fiction, and no part of the conversation within should be considered professional therapy or proper medical practice.

Crisis Text Line: Text HOME to 741741

When I next woke, I no longer felt feverish. Sitting up with only a bit more effort than usual, I looked around my empty tent warily. I was not sure how much time had passed since I had talked to Doctor Mortona, but it was still raining.  She had given me a tonic that tasted faintly of mint before I had fallen half asleep. The small, glazed clay cup was still on my bedside, half full. Perhaps it had not been that long at all.

My hair tugged uncomfortably, stuck under my hip as I turned my head around. It was in a single thick braid that had started to come undone, and I pulled it apart, running my fingers through the tangled, too-long strands. I had never been allowed to cut it, and the feeling of it against my back was strangely suffocating.

As I had that thought the tent flap opened, and Doctor Mortona came in. This time she was alone, and she smiled at me when she saw me sitting up. Her smile was like the tonic she had given me; clear and refreshing, mild and comfortable.

“How are you feeling, Saintess?”

“Much better. Thank – thank you.”

The obvious kindness and professional confidence she was radiating made me feel uncertain and childish. I glanced back at the tent’s entrance, and she shook her head.

“I wanted to have a private conversation with you. I think it’s important that you understand your health is yours.”

Well, that seemed pretty obvious. The doctor must have seen some of this thought on my face, because she looked at me seriously.

“What that means is perhaps a bit more than you might be familiar with. I mean that our conversation is private. No one can demand you explain your health or past to them, not the Emperor or the High Priest.  Now, there is some obligation to public health – if you consider a plague, for example – but I need you to hear me when I say you deserve the opportunity to decide your treatment for yourself. You get to choose what, if anything, to share.”

I tried to understand, I really did, but it sounded more like platitudes than truth. Perhaps this could all be true for someone who was not responsible for collecting information vital to the safety of the Empire, but for me? Fake or not, I was raised to live for others. I served a purpose – incompletely, yes, but faithfully. I was raised to protect everyone. I could not just stop because I felt like it.

Doctor Mortona sighed lightly. “There is no reason for this to be easy for you. If we had more time now, I think there is a lot we would need to discuss before we could really begin to help you move forward. Please consider this for the future. After all this is over, I would very much like to work with you on a long-term treatment.”

I frowned. What long-term treatment? My physical health was not the best, sure, but that was only to be expected as long as I was consuming Holy Water. What could possibly be done about that? More confusingly, she seemed to be alluding to more than just my physical well-being. None of this was familiar to me, and my disorientation was only compounded by my still-vague awareness that for the first time since I was four years old I was actually outside the temple.

“Well, we can talk more once we’ve gone over your symptoms and history more.” If possible, she sounded even gentler now. This was also unfamiliar. I was used to being punished for being too slow to understand, and here was this person calmly accepting my confusion.

I nodded, eager to appease her with a clear willingness to cooperate in case her patience was limited. Silence stretched between us for a moment, and I started to panic a bit. Was I meant to share something now? I honestly was not sure what information a doctor would want.

“Apologies, Saintess. I’m only considering where to start and how best to do so. I assure you without arrogance I am one of the best doctors you could find in the Empire, but I too need to consider carefully what is best when I’m faced with a new situation.” She smiled again, and I relaxed a bit.

Doctor Mortona reached toward the cup with the tonic and handed it to me. I drank slowly and carefully as she seemed to consider something.

“How about we start where we left off, my dear? How are you feeling now as compared to when we first spoke?”

A bit startled by the words ‘my dear’, I answered honestly.

“Better. My lungs still burn but I think my fever has broken. I couldn’t really focus before. Usually it lasts much longer, though, and I haven’t had any –“

I cut myself off, a bit horrified. I had almost admitted to my half-visions. They often came more frequently and vividly when I consumed Holy Water more often.

“I see. May I touch your forehead to test your temperature?”

I nodded mutely, and her dry, cool hand rested briefly against my brow.

“Well, I’ll need to examine you more to be exact, but it does seem your fever broke. Do you always get a fever after a… prophecy?”

The doctor said the word ‘prophecy’ with a delicate sort of distaste.

“Yes, usually it lasts a day, but lately with the more frequent Ceremonies and also increasing the amount – well, anyway, last time was longer. I think. It’s – it’s been two days, right?”

“Yes. How do you normally manage recovery? Hydration and nutrition must be difficult.”

Well, that was one way to put it. I felt a bit stupid answering. “Water? And, um, porridge? I’m not – maybe Emilia could be more exact.”

On second thought, would Emilia be honest? I did not really want to put my only – what, friend? Family? Ally? Whatever she was, I did have some lingering goodwill towards her, if not proper affection, and having her held responsible for anything Doctor Mortona might disapprove of felt risky.

“I see. I’ll be sure to provide additional supplements to help aid your current recovery. Or anything else that might strain you.”

The questioning continued. What was my usual diet? Sleep habits? Exercise? Any consumption of alcohol?

Porridge? At night, if I could? Walking the hallways? Never?

At first, my answers felt like their own questions. I was certain I was not giving her quite the information she needed, but she never showed any sign of frustration, only probing gently with ever more specific questions on each topic. The topics began to shift more to my routine, my social habits, my hobbies, and I gradually felt less self-conscious under the steady, gentle pressure of her inquiries. Once I started talking about reading, my only hobby, it began to feel more like a conversation.

I did not realize until I started talking about my confusing feelings towards Emilia that Doctor Mortona was intentionally guiding me to open up. She wove her questions like a artisan working a loom, bringing back previous topics at the ideal moments to encourage me to share more.

“And I don’t really want to think about why but lately it’s as though she’s changed back to how she used to be. I was always so disappointing and I lowered the status she should have had, and it probably made her life much harder than she expected when she started taking care of me, but I still don’t feel as though – it’s just hard to trust now. She even almost said my –”

I cut myself off again and looked at Doctor Mortona in alarm. This was too much. What was I really trying to do here? No doctor would or should care about this.

“She almost said your what?” In contrast to my frozen one, the doctor’s expression remained calm and open. Without any conscious choice on my part, my feelings started to pour past my hesitation and into the patient silence between us.

“My – my name. You aren’t supposed to, you know. It’s – you – a proper Saint is more than a person. The embodiment of duty, without ego or selfishness.”

“But Emilia used to say your name?”

“Right, when I was new. I was never good or a obedient, and took a long time to learn, and I missed – I missed before. So when she would call me – it would calm me down. But is was a secret. And I thought she was, well, that we could just keep it a secret. But then when Kielan – when Priest Kielan took over, because I was too slow, everything started to change. Emilia lost a lot because of me. So I know it’s unfair, but I still wanted her to, you know, call me. But she couldn’t, and I understood. But now, ever since the Ceremony with Captain Oesten, everything is changing. I know I changed first, but when she acts warm again, it hurts more than it did before when she was cold.”

“Of course. She broke your trust, and you struggled for a long time. You are justified in feeling that way. You do not owe her forgiveness now.”

I couldn’t speak anymore. I felt so strange, my words felt so childish, and I never, ever, ever expected to hear someone say that to me. I could admit my resentment to myself, my sense of betrayal, but I knew – or I thought I knew – that I had no right to those feelings. And here was this stranger, in this tent, saying of course. Saying I was justified.

The silence then was gentle. Doctor Mortona waited for my response what felt like a long while, but I had no idea what I could possibly say next.

“I would like to talk a lot longer, my dear. I would like to give you time before I ask my next questions. But I’m afraid circumstances are not on our side, and in the next hour or so we have together, I would like to learn as much as you are willing to share before I leave for a short while. That way I can do my best to give you advice and support for the time I am away. I will be back, and we can start on my long-term care for you. Do you feel comfortable continuing?”

I nodded. Her words still did not make much sense to me, but I wanted to trust her. I wanted to trust that she was trying to help, and that she would come back someday to continue to help me after she left.