Book 8 Chapter 25

Joan really felt she was learning something she wished she had known ages ago.

Yes, there was still a lot to do. She didn’t know where her parents were or if they were alive. Heck, she didn’t even know if that mattered.

She didn’t know if Arta and Penthe would be okay, if they’d come around. What they were doing. She didn’t know who that weird girl with Arta was, or why she mattered.

She didn’t know what the ‘blessing’ the fae had put on her was.

She didn’t know what any of her feelings towards Searle, Bauteut and Qakog would mean in the end.

She didn’t know if Lich would be okay, if he would turn on them eventually. Myrin was helping him adapt, at least. Vivian had even gone with her for a little bit, supposedly leaving her with Hardwin to ‘bond’ for a little bit.

She didn’t know if Emeline was going to turn on her again, or if they really did have a chance at something approaching a decent relationship in this life.

She didn’t know what the fates were up to.

She didn’t know if Imp was going to be okay, or why she had been dehorned.

She didn’t know what Francis was going to do or if he’d cause more trouble as a ‘fake hero’ now that there wasn’t a hero to begin with.

She didn’t know how long they had until the Chosen were called to do something else.

She didn’t know if defeating the Hungry One would solve a lot of problems before they started or even which ones.

She didn’t know if the war with the demons would finally end now that there was no real Demon Lord to push it forward. Was peace finally possible?

There were so, so, so, sooooo many things she didn’t know. So many questions that had yet to be answered. And, honestly?

She didn’t care.

She’d care later, she was sure. But right now? She’d done it.

Joan’s head didn’t hurt, the world wasn’t going to melt and there was a real feeling of hope for the first time in she didn’t know how many lifetimes. They’d saved the world and, just this once, she was going to rest. There was still so much to do, but that could wait a little bit. Because, otherwise, she was going to crumble.

So instead, she discovered something else.

While she wasn’t a big fan of bards or singing about her adventures, she didn’t mind singing itself as much. “Got the cute lil red dress, yes I do, lil demon girl who ummmm… does things. Dance dance dance…” she lightly sang to herself as she played with her little dolls.

Joan now had TWO dolls. Korgron absolutely refused to be outdone in anything, so she’d gotten a second, ‘better’ doll for her from Kazora. It had cute little horns, a tiny thin tail and a small red dress. It was so soft as well. Frankly, it seemed silly to her. Why would she ever play with toys? She was older than all of them put together.

“Dressy go swishy,” Joan lightly sang to herself when she made the lil dolls twirl, making their dresses swish around. Nope, she was the Hero, she definitely didn’t have time for things like this. At least, that was what everyone would hear. But honestly? Even if she was too old for this kind of thing it was kind of relaxing. To just lay in her bed and have some silly, stupid fun. “Gonna save the world with a dance party. Dancy dance dance put all the bad guys in dresses yeah…” she lightly sang to herself.

“Awww, that’s adorable,” Bauteut said.

Joan shrieked and whipped around, dropping the dolls and flicking her wrist, a knife appearing in her hand. She flung it, barely redirecting the throw in time, causing the knife to embed itself a few inches from Bauteut’s head.

The healer stared at her, giving a light squeak before slowly glancing back towards the knife. It disappeared after a moment and then she looked towards her. “Why do you still have that?”

“Assassins,” Joan said sheepishly. “Err, sorry. I um, I panicked. How much of that did you see?”

“You almost impaled me with a knife,” Bauteut said, a hand moving to her throat. “Why are you worried about assassins? You’re in your own home! You need to relax a bit more, I swear. The world’s not even at risk anymore.”

“Actually there’s still like six or seven world ending dangers for the Chosen to deal with,” Joan said sheepishly.

“What?” Bauteut asked.

“But those were a lot easier even before the Chosen could do that whole god melding thingy,” Joan said quickly. “The Inferno God was like, the only one that we, that they couldn’t deal with.”

Bauteut took a long, slow breath before reaching up a hand to her forehead. “What is wrong with this world? I swear…”

“No idea,” Joan said sheepishly, slowly moving the dolls behind her. “So, uhhh, how… much of that did you see?”

“Dress go swishy,” Bauteut said with a small, knowing grin. “Good to see you’re, mostly, trying to relax. Maybe later we can get you to put away some of your weapons. Be nice to not worry about being impaled when I come to say hi.”

“Sorry,” Joan said again. “So… if you’re here, does that mean…?”

“No, Searle isn’t here,” Bauteut said. “Sorry. He’s still with his uncle. How are you… uhhh…” Her cheeks went a little redder and she glanced away.

“Dealing with everything?” Joan asked. “No idea. Feels unreal, honestly. I keep waiting to wake up and have the fates scolding me for messing it up or something. There’s still a lot to do, but it feels… I feel…”

“Relaxed?”

“Hollow,” Joan finally said. “Not in a bad way. Just kind of… I’ve had this focus for so long. Save the world from the Inferno God. Then it turned out there were a bunch of other things. I still don’t even understand all of it, I don’t even know if I ever will. But it felt like I was just holding myself up for so long with it. Now that the biggest threat is dealt with? I just feel like… I don’t know. I don’t know what I want, where I need to go, what I need to do. I feel kind of… aimless. It feels… I guess…”

“Nerve wracking?” Bauteut asked.

“Scary and amazing,” Joan said. “I’ve known for so long we’re all damned and can’t escape. That the world is going to end. That threat has lingered on my mind for so long, there was nothing that could be done and I had to try anyway. Now it’s gone and I don’t know what to do. I feel light and good and it feels wrong. Like I should be doing more.”

Bauteut nodded before walking over to sit by her. Slowly she reached out behind her and picked up one of the dolls, pulling it out and placing it in Joan’s lap. “It’s okay for you to rest and have a little fun, you know. You’ve spent so long trying to do everything.”

“You, uhhh, won’t tell anyone, right?” Joan asked.

“What, that the girl who fought a mad god and managed to fight it off by herself also sings cute songs about dancing dolls?” Bauteut asked with a small smile. “I’m going to tell everyone.”

Joan rolled her eyes. “Thanks for nothing. So, why are you here and not with Searle? I figured you two would be, well…”

“I’m still your personal healer,” Bauteut said. “Especially if Myrin isn’t here. You didn’t expect me to just leave you alone with Hardwin for too long, did you? I wouldn’t put him through that.”

Joan gave a light snort, lifting a hand to cover her mouth. “He’s doing better. He managed to ask me how my day was at dinner yesterday. He even went over some of his duties as lord. He really didn’t like when I corrected some of his mistakes.”

Bauteut blinked a few times, her mouth falling open. “What?”

“What?” Joan asked. “The Hero was a lord as well and had to do those duties for decades. Hardwin usually leaves it all to Vivian, you can’t expect him to know it all.”

Bauteut gave a soft sigh and shook her head. “Only you, Joan, would correct Lord Hardwin.”

“What are daughters for?” Joan asked before reaching down to pick up her doll. “Is… it really okay? Aren’t I too old for this kind of thing?”

“Joan, you were born too old,” Bauteut said. “Now it’s time for you to be old enough to not care about being too old or not.”

“Okay,” Joan said. “Do you ever play with dolls?”

Bauteut cringed before shaking her head, her eyes lowering. “Not for a long time. I stopped a little before I went to the academy. Just didn’t like them very much anymore.”

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Joan cocked her head to the side. She had a feeling there was more to that, but she figured she’d just add it to the list of things she didn’t know. There were just so many. She gave a soft sigh before collapsing backwards. She cringed when she realized she was now laying on the other doll and had to roll off it and tug it onto her lap as well. “I’m a mess, aren’t I?”

“Lots of people are messes,” Bauteut said. “You, the Hero, the Chosen. I don’t know anybody who isn’t.”

“You aren’t,” Joan said.

Bauteut gave a light snort before shaking her head. “I just let my mess out in small bursts and am better at delegating things. Self care is very important for a healer to be able to do.”

“I see,” Joan said. “Please don’t tell anyone.”

“Fine,” Bauteut said before giving her a small smile. “There’s another reason I’m here, though.”

“Oh?” Joan asked. “Should I be worried?”

“No,” Bauteut said. “It’s about your mother.”

Joan went still, her eyes going wide. “My mother? You--”

“No, not yours yours. The Hero’s mother,” Bauteut said quickly. “Korgron’s bringing her here today.”

“WAIT WHAT?” Joan asked, sitting up. “She’s WHAT? WHY? Why would she bring her? I told her to leave her alone! Why?”

Bauteut gave a soft sigh and shook her head. “This is why I told them not to try and surprise you with this.”

“Them? What?”

“Hardwin and Korgron,” Bauteut said softly. “They thought it’d be a nice surprise. To try and cheer you up a bit. But--”

“I’ve ruined her life once already, I don’t want to do it again!” Joan yelled, unable to keep herself calm. She could feel her heart pounding and anxiety rising. “No no no. We need to stop them, we--” A finger was pushed to her lips.

“Joan,” Bauteut said gently. “You’re not ruining anybody’s life.”

“She was smiling,” Joan said softly. “I can’t ever remember seeing her smiling. Please, you need to stop them. She--”

“She’s likely had her memories returned since that spell was broken,” Bauteut said in a soothing tone. “She’s likely going to have questions. A lot of them. More importantly, she was a part of your life. A big part. While I don’t think having it sprung on you like this was the smartest choice, I do think facing her will be helpful for you in the long run.”

“But… but…” Joan said, struggling to come up with a response. But what could she say? As much as she hated to admit it, Bauteut was right. Her mother likely had a lot of questions of her own. The Hero’s mother, not hers.

Maybe it would be good for her as well. Maybe it would give her a small sense of closure, to truly put the life of the Hero behind her. One final task.

Maybe.

------

“So… uhhh…” Joan said nervously, keeping her eyes down. It was only now that she realized she didn’t even remember her mom’s name. Well, not her mom. The Hero’s mom. But she still FELT like her mom. She had a lot more memories of her than she did her actual mother.

“So… why… exactly was I asked to come here?” her mother asked.

“Korgron didn’t tell you?” Joan asked, another small knot of worry forming in her stomach.

“Not exactly,” her mother said. “But when one of the Chosen tell you it’s important that you come with them, you trust them. Or at least try to. Err, where are the Chosen?”

Joan took another slow, deep breath. She could do this. She glanced back towards the door. She wondered if Korgron and Hardwin were out there still, having practically shoved her into the room. How did she even begin? Right, from the beginning. She slowly raised her eyes to look at the Hero’s mother. A C name. Her mom’s name started with a C. Right. Caroline? No.

She looked so much younger. Happier. Less thin and sickly. But she wasn’t smiling now. If anything, she looked worried. Not that Joan could blame her.

“You’re not in any trouble,” Joan said quickly. “It’s actually kind of the reverse.”

“Reverse of trouble?” the woman asked. “Is there anyone else I can talk to? You’d think if the Chosen came and grabbed me the least they could do is have someone here to explain what’s going on.”

“Err, right,” Joan said before nervously coughing. She knew that look. Distaste, annoyance. Christine! Her name was Christine! “It’s, well. A little bit ago I’m sure your memories started to return.”

“Memories?” her mother asked.

“Before you became… well…” Joan took another slow, deep breath. She could do this. “Memories of your life as Christine Raullin.” The words hung in the air for a few moments.

The emotions that flashed across her mother’s face were clear as day, at least to her. Confusion, horror, worry, then anger. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Christine said, her voice vicious.

Joan blinked a few times. Of all the reactions she expected, that wasn’t one. “I’m sorry?”

“My name is Ysabel. I don’t have any memories of this ‘Christine’ you mentioned,” Christine said before getting to her feet. “Is that why I was summoned here? To--”

“You’re lying,” Joan said. It was clear as day to her. But she couldn’t remember her mother ever being so emotional about… well… anything.

“How dare you, you snot nosed little brat!” Christine yelled, slamming both her palms down on the table. “Where are the Chosen? I’m not going to just sit here and listen to some miscreant call me a liar.”

‘Joan? Is everything okay?’ Korgron’s voice echoed in her head.

“It’s fine,” Joan said before cringing and quickly answering over the bond. Well, at least now she knew they were listening. ‘It’s fine.’

‘We’re here if you need us,’ Korgron said.

“It’s NOT fine!” Christine said before shaking her head. “This has all been a waste of my time. You’d think the Chosen of the Gods would have more important things than pull some stupid--”

“Christine Raullin,” Joan said. “Wife of Ernald Raullin.” She saw the way the woman cringed at that, but she kept pushing. “Mother of Owain Raullin.” Oh, that one definitely made her grimace, she could see the look of contempt on her face. “Now, the only living person of the Raullin name.”

“I don’t know who you think you are,” Christine said bitterly. “But I’m Ysabel. I don’t know who this—”

“Stop lying to me!” Joan yelled, unable to stop herself. “For once in our damned lives can you just tell me the truth? It’s just like Chase says, you’re nothing but a bunch of masks and I am so tired of it!”

The anger and annoyance slowly gave way to confusion as the woman stared at her. “What in the world are you talking about?”

“I just… I… I know who you are,” Joan said. “Why don’t you want to admit it? Nobody is mad at you! Nobody is going to hurt you or anything! What are you hiding from?”

Christine stared at her for a few seconds before sighing and sinking into her chair. “Who are you? Did my parents send you to look for me?”

“Your parents?” Joan asked. “Wait, you have parents?” Were the Hero’s grandparents still alive? She’d thought they’d died… well, who knew how long ago?

“Everyone has parents,” Christine said with a roll of her eyes. “Fine, what do you want? Not that I am this ‘Christine’, but let’s say I was. What do you want?”

“I just…” Joan said before giving another sigh. What did she want? “I just… want to know. I… guess. Do… you remember them? Your husband? Your son?”

“Barely,” Christine said with a shrug. “Why?”

“I mean, they’re dead? Don’t you want answers? Or… something?” Joan asked.

Christine just stared at her before sighing. “I really don’t know what you’re looking for here, kid. I don’t know what happened to them. Why do you care so much that I do?” She then cringed and looked her up and down. “Wait, you’re not… listen. If… Ernald had another child then--”

“Ernald is dead,” Joan said, her voice cold. “He died in a bandit attack long before I was even conceived, let alone born. After fighting them off, your son was killed by a powerful demon general who wiped all memory of his existence from everyone’s mind.”

“Oh, huh,” Christine said. “Okay then.”

“Okay then?” Joan asked. “Why are you so indifferent towards it?”

Christine gave another soft sigh. “Is that all this is about? Fine. Just that? My memories have been returning. I remember everything. Especially how miserable it was.”

That rocked Joan to her core. “M-miserable?”

Christine opened her mouth, once more annoyance on her face. However, she stopped after a moment and gave a sigh. “Right. Kid, you’re still young. But you’ll understand one day. Your parents will probably choose someone who you’ll be married off to and your only choice will be to do as you’re told.” Joan suppressed the urge to snort at the idea of doing what she was told. And if Hardwin thought he could dictate who or if she would get married, she’d have a lot to say in that regard. Though, honestly, she suspected the idea of that worried him even more than it did her. “If you’re lucky, you’ll end up with someone you can care about. If you’re not, you’ll… end up trapped. Tending to a man you can barely stand, taking care of a child you don’t even want and stuck in a life you would give anything to get away from. I’ve spent years not remembering that misery in the slightest. I’m not going back, ever. I’m not this ‘Christine’, nor do I ever plan to be. So whatever you and the Chosen need, find someone else.”

Joan stared at her, struggling to keep her tears in. “You didn’t even… want him? Your… son?”

Christine gave a small shrug. “Not really. I never liked kids. It was just my wifely duty. I…” She trailed off before sighing again. “It’s nothing personal, kid. I’m sure you’re... fine.” Joan doubted the woman believed that. “I just really… can’t stand children. I never could. I certainly never wanted one of my own. But it wasn’t like I had much of a choice. Now I do. Congratulations on all those memories returning, I guess. But if they’re both dead, there’s really no need for you to harass me over this. I’m free and I don’t want to go back to a cage.”

Joan gave a small, tiny nod. “I… I see. I… see… I… I guess that makes sense.”

“Hey, wait, kid. Don’t cry, listen. That’s me. You’re not mine. I’m sure your parents love you very much,” Christine said, her voice nervous now. “Seriously, where are the Chosen? This… isn’t a talk I should be having to have.”

“They’ll… they’ll be here soon,” Joan said. She reached out over the bond. ‘You can… come now. It’s okay. Can… you call Bauteut too?’

‘Uh, sure,’ Korgron said over the bond. ‘Are you okay?’

‘It’s fine,’ Joan said softly. ‘I just… I raised my expectations too high. Don’t be mad at her, please. Just take her home.’

‘Joan?’ Korgron asked again.

‘Just take her home, please. I don’t… want to ruin her life again,’ Joan said. What was wrong with her? Why did she care? Why did it matter? She always knew her mother hadn’t wanted her, hadn’t she?

Hadn’t wanted him. Hadn’t wanted the Hero. It didn’t matter, did it? He was dead now. He was dead. He wasn’t around to be hated.

People loved her. Cared about her. So what did it matter if the Hero’s mother didn’t and hadn’t?

Why did it hurt so much knowing this, now?