( CHAPTER FOUR && A PRELUDE TO SUMMER SONGS )
❝ turn your back on mother nature ❞
—
THE WINGS OF a callow butterfly withers under the visage of summer sun. For which the insect of lowly earth had attempted to pierce the heavens with humble wings. What came of this was the evident and known fact that no mortal being could ever reach the celestial city above.
Yet the gods who proclaimed immortality and divinity were just as lowly as the insects they mocked.
How odd immortality can be when the gods themselves claimed eternal life and divinity as their absolute dominion. Mortal sickness could never touch the gods and so long as their wounds are reparative, they may live for as long as the passage of time goes on. Though the gods themselves are lonely creatures. Eternally forced to watch and interfere with the lives of mortals, unable to perish even when solitude leaves them with nothing left in the world. But stripped of that immortality, they would be human, mortal.
The gods themselves are too arrogant to allow their eternity slip and give into weakness. As chosen by Celestia, they dictate the alignment of the stars and carve constellations with their sanctitude. The heavens, skies, and ephemeral domain of paradise belonged to them, entirely untouched and pure. Thus they distanced themselves from mortals; yet they couldn't help and watch to ease their lonesome existence.
To entertain themselves, the gods torment the humans. Finding joy in toying with lowly beings as pathetic as insects. They weave fate into the stars, twisting lives to ensure anguish. All to muse themselves of their own boredom and seclusion of life.
The gods only ever found pleasure in the agony of others.
"WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THIS DRESS, BARBARA?"
YOU TURNED AROUND with a beautifully designed verdant organza dress, embroidered onto it was frills of silver and laced upon with white tulle. Barbara, who had delightfully agreed to come dress shopping with you, looked up— eyes immediately lighting up with excitement.
"Oh, it's beautiful!" She marveled, rushing over to examine the intricate details of the dress with twinkling eyes. "Green suits you very well, Big Sister!"
"Does it?" You laughed softly, taking a quick glance in the mirror to watch the dress swish with your every pivot and spin. "Compared to the red, do you like this one more?"
Barbara pulled back, nodding fervently. "The green compliments you very well, Big Sister! I much prefer this dress on you."
Barbara was honest, perhaps too honest and good for the world at times. She truly was a beacon of happiness for all around her but, at the same time, you could almost see the loneliness in her eyes. The idolization, the adoration— sometimes it all becomes far too superficial to be distinguished as genuine. And she was the youngest, standing in the shadows of her two eldest sisters though not by name association anymore.
Of course, that was all because of the separation. Your mother had taken you and Jean to be raised as Lady of the House (you) and Jean to be the next Grand Master of the Knights of Favonius. Barbara, however, was taken to the church to be raised as the beacon of hope at her father's church.
(You often wondered if she minded at all, standing in the shadows of her sisters.)
Likely not. Barbara's kindness is truly a virtue. You'd imagine that if you were in her place, you would crumble from expectations alone. You weren't nearly as strong as Jean or as patient as Barbara.
"Then let's get this one." You smiled at her, withdrawing into the dressing booth to strip off the dress. Once you've taken off the dress, you stare fixed at yourself in the mirror for a long while.
Eyes raking over every surface of your skin, every curve, every slope. You found your flaws detestable, disgusting. A blemish, a discoloration; you glared hard at them all in self loathing. You found the flaws to be inherently displeasing for the eye and for you, it was seen as a defect upon yourself.
"Big Sister? Is everything alright?" Barbara's voice snapped you from your own glare, quickly changing into your silk creme button down and black trouser.
"Everything's fine!" You answered hastily, hurrying to button your blouse, leaving top three unbuttoned before stepping out with the dress in arms. "Sorry for the hold up, Barbara."
The blonde-haired deaconess shook her head at you, extending her arms out to take the dress from you. "It's all good! Don't worry about it!"
Your sister is a good person. A kind-hearted, caring person who always puts herself before others. Sometimes, you wished that you had done more to protect her during her youth. Yet, she remained strong and faithful— believing that everything happens for a reason and her mission was to bring happiness to all.
(How you envied her for her strength.)
Barbara deserves better. You often told yourself that, reminding yourself of how helpless you three were as children when it had happened. The separation came as a shock to the younger two of them, having never been burdened with the horrors of your parents' fights. The afflictions of their discontent with one another were deflected onto you. As the eldest child, you were there to shield your younger sisters and there to play devil's advocate for your parents.
Oh, you recalled the fights. One grew to the point where it was necessary to move the children out of the house entire because Barbara, who was too young to understand, was crying and Jean, who accidentally witnessed the wrath of her parents, was trying to console her crying sister— and you, was attempting to break up your parents' arguments that spiraled into catastrophe. The words screamed at one another, the utterly devastating words that left your mother's lips like a curse cast upon your father.
That was the only time Barbara and Jean witnessed such a thing.
(That night, your perceived conception of marriage shattered like glass.)
When you finished purchasing the dress with Barbara, the sun had already begun to set behind the horizon line. You decided to take her back to the church so that she wouldn't have to walk back alone. Rumor has it, someone has been stalking Barbara lately and the news unsettled you greatly.
"None of your fans have been too close to you, yes?" She was old enough to be self aware of these sorts of things yet you couldn't help but worry. Some people may take advantage of her kindness to twist it for their own personal desires.
Barbara flushed a bit at your words, shaking her head fervently in denial. "Oh no... of course not! They're all very respectful..."
You could tell she was uncomfortable by the way she was playing with the material of her deaconess dress; the way her eyes casted downwards as if guilty of lying to you.
"Barbara..." You paused in your steps, turning to face her with a worried expression. "If anyone is bothering you or making unwanted advancements, you need to tell them off."
Barbara pursed her lips, her gaze fell to the cobblestone path. "I know... but, as an idol and deaconess... I want to satisfy everyone and make them happy."
(She takes after you, the way she wants to please everyone around her.)
You smiled softly at your sister's words. "I know... but you need to think of your own safety. I'll have a talk with the Knights and see if they can offer more protection for you. Or at the very least, apprehend whomever it is that's bothering you."
Barbara looked up at you, eyes wavering. "Will you have a talk with Big Sister Jean...?"
It crossed your mind— when was the last time the three of you sat down to have a proper chat as sisters?
"Jean is fairly busy... I'll see if I can get in touch with Kaeya or Lisa." You assured her, patting her back gently. "Look after yourself, okay?"
Barbara nodded, smiling childishly before turning to leave for the church. She waved goodbye, shouting 'good night' as she left. You couldn't help but smile a bit, seeing her all grown up, wanting to help others— it made you reminisce about the past a bit.
(When reality offers you nothing but anguish, you can't help but wish to return to the past.)
The summer nights of which you and your sisters were sent away to the Ragnvindr home to stay until the fighting was over— those were the most distinct in your memory. Under the casting of twilight stars, you sobbed violently until your lungs caved to your breathlessness. The scent of grapes thick in your nose as you desperately tried to capture air for your body. Time and time again, you begged and pleaded for your parents to stop arguing yet your words went unheard.
Your presence was entirely ignored, discarded.
Useless, you felt utterly and completely useless as the eldest child. Unable to stop your parents, unable to somehow mend the existing problems so that they wouldn't have to fight. Of course, it wasn't your fault in the slightest.
(But it's the burden of the eldest child, to witness such a tragedy play out.)
Sheltered with only your sisters and your determination to protect them, you took on any and all challenges. A child at only the age of ten watched as life began to wither away like the wings of the butterfly under the sun— cruel, it was terribly cruel. And no one could ever understand what exactly you went through to have shouldered those many years of internal turmoil behind the walls of the great Gunnhildr home. No one could ever see the darkness lying within the light and grandeur of such a prestigious title.
"Would you mind if I sat beside you for a bit?"
His first words to you came out almost too naïvely. Of course, now you were an adult looking back fondly at this moment of your past but you wouldn't help but remember his soft tone. The way he looked through your blurred tears; the weaving crimson tresses flowing in summer air, the captivating scent of grape and cedar wood, the boyish smile that brought lasting impressions to you— the smile of the boy whom you were destined to marry one day.
"Go ahead..."
You recalled how your words came out choked, thick with tears and frustration. It wasn't the best way to present yourself to your future husband but at that time, you did not know.
He didn't say much afterwards; rather simply, he allowed you to wade in your own anguish for a while. But his presence brought you comfort whilst you cried; the presence of a stranger whom you did not know.
Eventually, the tears subsided and you sat there sniffling. The young boy, all the meanwhile, was humming a quiet song as evening birds chirped. The sun began to set across the horizon— casting the world over with a halo of equatorial vespers. Hues of crimson, orange, and yellow painted the sky like thick acrylic as the subsidies of nightfall brought its varnishes of midnight navy and silver splatters of glowing starlight.
"I'm sorry you had to go through all of that."
He didn't know you. Didn't understand what you were going through yet apologized nonetheless. His words almost angered you— why was he, of all people, apologizing? It should've been someone else. Your parents... perhaps. Yet this stranger who knew nothing of you apologized... said those were the words you needed to hear most.
"It's not your fault."
He assured you of it. You knew it wasn't your fault for the collapse of your parents' marriage but you felt partly responsible, being unable to stop it from happening. Feeling partly responsible for not being able to protect your younger sisters' childhood.
"I know..."
You answered him with remorse heavy upon your tongue.
"I wish I could've done more..."
You buried your head in your knees, arms covering your head. Your lungs burned, chest tightening as tears began to spill over again.
"I wish that they would've listened..."
The boy continued to hum that repeated song quietly, a prelude to summer. It soothed you.
"I wish that they would've stayed together..."
A crescendo of ascending notes, gradually to a mezzo forte before dwindling down to a pianissimo— much like the subsiding sunlight behind the heights of cedar trees.
"I just wish... that they would've thought about us..."
Selfishness defines you. Only now do you understand your parent's separation on the account that you've experienced unrequited love. It was a marriage of convenience for them— and that reflected in your current arrangement with the man who had once provided you comfort in a time of distress.
"Father told me that you and Jean will be staying with us for a while."
The boy stood up, taking a few steps to stand before you. Slowly, your head lifted from your knees to watch as the cast of the waning sun illuminate behind his fiery hair. He extended a hand out to you.
"My name is Diluc... Diluc Ragnvindr. What's your name?"
He already knew your name, his father had told him when you and Jean moved to the Ragvindr home to stay until the divorce was officiated.
(Still, it was kind of him to ask.)
"I'm... (y/n)... (y/n) Gunnhildr."
He cracked a smile, that charming boyish smile that you grew to fall for. You reached for his hand, taking him into yours.
"From now on, I'll make sure you will never cry again. I'll always protect you!"
(Ah... How terribly ironic that he is the reason why you cry most these days...)
But you believed him then. He was your knight who vowed to protect you from the horrors of the world. Combating the ugliness of reality with fiction and naïve promises (lies). It was only once you had accepted your role as the heir of Gunnhildr when you realized how terribly naïve you were. Perhaps the fact that you've lived a life of privilege obscured your understanding of the real world. From there, you become reliant on your past to comfort yourself.
Every night, you wondered to yourself, if the gods found your fate to be amusing to watch. To have designed this story, to watch it play out.
(Perhaps that was why you didn't have a Vision like your sisters. Because the heavens found even more amusement in the torture of someone like you.)
Standing in solitary for all of eternity, their existence began to fade and bleed with the fabrics of time. As divine and proud as they are, their very feelings of boredom and lonesomeness drove them to toy and manipulate the lives of the mortals who they deemed as insects. They found amusement in watching them writhe and suffer, desperately trying to fight against their own destinies. Their hands tugged and pulled, manipulating and weaving new stories within the stars.
Their hands moved to pluck the wings of the innocent butterfly.
—
END OF CHAPTER FOUR
author's note.
i promise that there will be more drama ,, this chapter was more or less a way to flesh out the family relations :)
also im not exactly positive if i got jean and barbara's story right ,,, i read a bit of their character story and some reddit theories sooo yeah... i do apologize if i did indeed misunderstand something
but we like the dramatic, the flair! i did mention slight canon divergence so i think im fine haha
oh ! and here's a reference pictures of the dress (credits to the original artist) :
of course, if you don't like the style — that's fine! feel free to imagine your own dress ~
anyway !! thank you as always for reading :)
hope you've enjoyed this chapter ! until next time, my dear readers