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Part 1 of The Lion and The Lotus
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Published:
2020-11-22
Updated:
2024-02-11
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44/?
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The Lion and The Lotus

Summary:

The Prince of Faerghus unites with a mysterious Professor from Duscur to uncover the Truth about the Lambert Assassination. Comes with fan art and memes. Starts serious, gets hilarious, tears tears tears.

Excerpt: Ch11

The Prince of Faerghus leaned across her table. “Tell us what you know about the Tragedy of Duscur. You investigated it.”

“I investigated if the people of Duscur were there. They were not. I can't tell you what happened outside of this.”

“Professor Parvati.” Dedue picked up her business proposal. “You are the kind of person who has a backup plan for her backup plan. You made a document like this overnight for your enjoyment. You were hand-selected by the Church of Seiros. You enjoy the patronage of the Prime Minister of Adrestia. Do you really believe you can fool us into thinking you did not do a thorough job? On this?” He put the proposal down. “Please. Don’t insult us.”

Professor Parvati shot him a look. “You are stabbing me in the back, Dedue.”

“No, Professor. I assure you,” Prince Dimitri said, chuckling. “If you ever cross Dedue, he will stab you in the front. I promise.”

Notes:

The Prince of Faerghus unites with a mysterious Professor from Duscur to uncover the Truth about the Lambert Assassination. Starts serious, gets hilarious, tears tears tears.

This work has a fantasy novel-style appendix: Companion Document for Fandom-Blind Readers - useful for anyone. Now includes fan art and memes!

Chapter 1: The Earth That Meets the Sky

Summary:

A mysterious new professor arrives at the Officer’s Academy. Her invite to the monastery is not what it seems.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Garreg Mach Monastery

Fire Emblem Three Houses - Official Art


Deep in the center of Fódlan, a crown of mountains protects its heart. In the center of these mountains is the tallest mount of all, and atop this mount stands the Garreg Mach Monastery.

It is said to be The Earth That Meets the Sky.

Here, white banners of the Church of Seiros pierce sparkling azure skies. Golden bells ring from every tower, and in one year from this day, the hills will be slick crimson with the blood of soldiers who come to knock the Goddess out of the sky.

There are many stories of how this comes to happen. There are many stories why. Thousands of stories from over a thousand years…

But those stories are wrong.

This is the one true story. This one is called The Lion and The Lotus.


Enter the Viceroy of the Monastery. His name is Seteth. He is a man at once gentle and stern. He is second-in-command at the Monastery, and in his office, he directs two trusted subordinates with one untrusting task.

“Catherine, Shamir, I bring you together today for a more covert task. We have a new professor arriving today, and I want you to make yourselves her ‘friend.’ At every step, report to me her intentions, aims and desires. The Archbishop and I have reason to believe she bears ill will towards the Church. We must gather evidence if this be the case.”

Stalwart and headstrong Catherine says it will be done. Knife-tossing sniper Shamir complains about making friends and baby-sitting. But the Knights of Seiros go on their way, seeking the professor who matches Seteth’s description.

“New professor, huh?” says Catherine, trotting out into the apple-crisp sun. From the vantage point of the stairs leading down from the monastery, she and Shamir survey the marketplace below. “What do you think she’s going to be like, Shamir?”

Shamir says, “I don’t know.”

“Oh, pretend like you care,” her partner insists.

“I don’t.” Shamir is too busy being offended about being asked to be a tour guide to pretend. “That must be her,” she says, pointing.

Catherine frowns when she sees what Shamir pointed at. She asks, “Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

Catherine frowns. “But she’s from Duscur,” she says.

“What’s wrong with Duscur?” asks Shamir.

Past the stalls of fruits and vegetables is a tea tent. Past the tea tent and the grill of smoking meats is the blacksmith and the battalion ward. And past them, in a large avenue, mills pilgrims and soldiers. Here, traveling caravans park their loads. A carriage has come to a stop.

Just stepping out of this carriage is a woman who looks Catherine’s age, with the telltale brown skin and silver hair of Duscur. She nods to an Imperial knight. The knight directs the merchant beside him to the cart that followed her carriage, and when the merchant returns to her, she accepts what he was holding into her hands.

“What’s wrong with Duscur?” Shamir asks again.

Catherine says, “Nothing.

The woman turns around. In her hand is a golden birdcage. With her right arm outstretched to hold up the dome cage, Catherine could see what the woman is wearing underneath the gleaming green cloak. It was surprisingly Adrestian: a black turtleneck hugs her body, and black jeans bottom out into flares. Gold chains perch along her waist and her neck, though. It seems she is true to at least one custom of the Duscuri; they are always bejeweled in gold.

The marketplace starts noticing. Looks in passing turn into abject stares. People lean in to whisper together. There are two types of people here: the ones who turn away when her even gaze lands on them, and the ones who hold her eyes in challenge.

She loses interest in them. Then, from across the marketplace, the professor looks directly at Catherine and Shamir.

Catherine gets tense. “Let’s go,” she says to Shamir.

The Knights of Seiros cross the marketplace. When they get to her, the professor is beholding the sheer size of the megalithic monastery behind them. Using the book in her left hand to block the sun, she traces the top of its closest tower with her teal eyes. “Stay close to me, Randolph,” they hear her say to the knight as they approach. The Imperial knight takes a place beside her and eyes Shamir and Catherine warily.

“So I hear you’re the new professor,” says Catherine.

“I am one of them,” the woman says. She pockets her book and extends a hand in a white glove. “Please call me Parvati.”

Catherine is surprised to shake hands the Adrestian way. The professor has a firm grip, and she gives two quick pumps.

“Randolph tells me you’re Thunder Catherine,” Professor Parvati says. “He’s regaled me with your legends for the last two hours, and now, I can’t keep any of them straight.”

“Dr. Sinha!” The Imperial knight gives her a side-eye, to which she returns a remorseless grin. He bows and introduces himself. “Randolph von Bergliez, Commander of the Fifth Division.”

“Fifth Division? Of the Imperial Army?” says Catherine.

Shamir introduces herself, then says, “Quite the non-trivial escort.”

She’s right. Catherine is beginning to see other von Bergliez soldiers marching along two covered caravans entering the marketplace. The carriage itself has the insignia of von Bergliez stamped upon its doors. So focused was Catherine upon the professor, she hadn’t noticed the Imperial knight beside her is no lowly escort. Likewise, the von Bergliez soldiers are scoping Catherine and Shamir out, in more ways than one.

“I brought a few National Treasures with me,” the professor explains, looking back at the caravan. “Is the Viceroy ready to receive…?”

Shamir and Catherine exchange a glance. 

National treasures? thinks Catherine. Who is this woman?

“This must be what Seteth was referring to,” says Shamir. “He’ll come to receive it himself. But until then, Catherine and I are here. We’ve come to help you settle in, take you to your apartment, and deliver you to the Archbishop shortly.”

Parvati doesn’t look prepared for a welcoming party. She looks from Catherine to Shamir, then says, “I think we should wait. I am not entirely…” She looks at Randolph.

“My soldiers are watching over them,” he says.

“I know,” she says in a very meaningful way. She makes the mistake of looking past his shoulder at them.

The von Bergliez soldiers start hooting and hollering.

“Get a room, Randolph!”

“Yeah, Commander, get whipped!”

“Heh heh, like, lit’rally bruh!”

“Laslow! Bacardi!” Randolph yells back. His eyes flicker once to the Knights of Seiros as he turns red.

“Wow,” says Catherine.

Randolph starts blathering. “We should go now. Can we go now, Parvati? We should go.”


When they get to the professor’s apartment in the Faculty Hall, Shamir parks the rolling luggage in a corner. “This is right above Alois,” she says. “You’ll hear him sing nightly.”

“Oh,” says Parvati hesitantly. “Is that a good thing?”

Shamir shrugs unhelpfully.

Catherine follows them in, watching the professor disappear down the hall to explore her new accommodations. Randolph places the bird cage on a table big enough to host large card games. The birds chatter incessantly. 

What was a woman from Duscur doing in Adrestia? Catherine wonders. “Let’s not keep the Archbishop long,” she says out loud.

“The Archbishop!” mutters Randolph. He examines the towels hung artfully alongside one wall and calls, “Parvatiiii…don’t use these towels… Some of them need to be washed.”

“Oookaaay!” she calls back to him.

He turns back to the Knights of Seiros and asks, “So what is the Archbishop like?”

It is the right question to open Catherine’s heart. Before Catherine has the chance to laud her lady, however, they hear an indignant cry. “What’s this?” says Parvati, pointing.

“A bookshelf,” supplies Shamir unhelpfully.

“No, I know that, but — why is it full already?”

“Hanneman’s surplus,” Shamir supplies, this time helpfully.

“Hanneman! Half these books are discredited already!” cries Parvati. “Tell him to take back his books!”

“May I suggest not making that the first thing he hears you say?” Randolph warns. He makes a hand motion she must be accustomed to seeing, telling her to lower her voice. With his foot, he gently closes the door.

“Oh, he’s heard plenty from me,” says Parvati. “Where is he?”

Shamir looks at Catherine. She knows Hanneman? the look says. Shamir tells her he is away for some personal business.

This does not please Parvati. She says, “What! He was the one who told me, Bring Randolph!”

Randolph’s eyebrows go up. This is new information to him.

“Come on,” says Catherine, getting impatient. “The Archbishop is waiting.”

“Wait! I have a present for you!” says the professor.

Shamir and Catherine looked at each other.

“You’re starting to give them away already?” asks Randolph.

Parvati moves one of her luggages onto its side and starts rummaging. She tells Randolph to close the door.

Catherine starts to say that Randolph already closed the door, but apparently the Imperial knight understands Parvati means the bedroom door. Parvati has already closed the living room blinds, so the primary source of light now pools in from the bedroom window. With the closing of that door, the rectangle of light gets skinnier and skinnier, until it slims into a line under the door.

It is dark now. Catherine can feel Shamir come to high alert. They wait for their eyes to adjust as they listen to the professor harrumphing. She is, after all, now searching through her luggage in the dark. Shamir gives Catherine a look that says, I’m not sure she has all her marbles in there. If Shamir could see Catherine’s expression, she would see Catherine replying with: Just like Hanneman.

“Ah hah!” says Parvati. She is now approaching them with what looks like two — she screams.

“Put your weapons down!” snaps Shamir.

From the other side of the room, Randolph yells. “What’s happening?” He halts in his tracks when he sees the glint of Shamir’s dagger at Parvati’s throat. With her other arm and a knee along the professor’s back, Shamir has the professor doubled over in a Dagdan hold meant to break an arm.

“Put down…the weapons,” Shamir repeats again.

The professor drops what she is holding and squeaks, “Not weapons!”

Catherine picks them up — two white batons.

“So what is it?” Shamir asks, her breath on Parvati’s ear.

“They’re Aegir lights.” Parvati’s voice is strained. “You turn them on by tapping the base.”

Catherine turns the strange white batons back and forth, then taps one of the ends. A pure, straight beam of light shoots up into the ceiling.

“It’s consistent and controlled,” the professor says. “Not a flicker, you see? It makes no shadows dance.”

“Huh,” says Catherine. She zigzags the three-inch wide circle of light across the ceiling, then to the bird cage, then to the shelf. With each movement, things pop out of the darkness and into sharp relief: the yellow plumage one of the birds, a glass of honey on a shelf, glinting, the shock on Randolph’s face, dusty books on the overstuffed shelves.

Catherine has to admit, the professor is right. The shadows do not dance. This is way better than a torch or lamp.

“Now can you let me go?” asks Parvati.

Shamir releases her, and Parvati stumbles away, rubbing her neck. Randolph pulls Parvati behind him. Needless to say, it is Shamir he pays attention to now, rather than her storied counterpart.

“Is this the usual greeting for a professor?” asks Parvati.

Randolph shushes her. “Forgive her,” he says. “She will explain what she wants to demonstrate in advance from now on. That way, no soldiers encounter any surprises. Right, Parvati?”

Parvati huffs.

“How does it work?” Shamir asks, changing the topic. Catherine proffers her the second baton. It fits neatly into her hand.

“It’s captured lightning,” the professor explains. “You won’t ever leave without it on your expeditions. I am sure of it.”

Catherine has her misgivings about the woman, but she is too curious not to ask. “How did you capture it?” She taps the base of her own Aegir light. The room falls into a fresh, palpable darkness.

“It’s Ancient Technology,” says Parvati. “That’s what I am, the Professor of Ancient Technology.”

“You mean — like Agarthan Ruins?” Catherine asks.

“Precisely.”

“Agh!” says Catherine. Shamir has turned the light on directly into Catherine’s face. “What are you doing?”

Shamir tilts the light up to the ceiling. She says, “Sorry.”

“Great… Now I’m seeing green on the back of my lids.”

Shamir makes an approving sound. “We can use this for blinding then…”

Parvati’s bangles clink in the silence. “To the Archbishop, then?”

“Let’s go!” Catherine nods. “Professor of Ancient Technology, huh? I look forward to seeing more.”


So she has finally arrived, thinks the Viceroy to himself. It has taken longer than he had expected. Much longer.

Escorted by his trusted knights, she is captured by the stained glass mural on the Audience Chamber’s ceiling as she approaches. When she recognizes what it depicts, she looks back down, self-conscious. She meets Seteth’s eyes. The Imperial soldier bows beside her, and she follows his example. Her long silver braid slips over her shoulder. She catches it before it touches the floor.

“Dr. Sinha,” says Seteth. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

He can see that the weight of time bears down on her shoulders. This is especially true since the mural currently hanging above their heads is a massive depiction of the Imperial Calendar. By the Imperial Calendar, she has taken four Goddess-damned years to respond to his summons.

How bold of her.

Beside him, one of Seteth’s other knights inserts himself.

“Pleased to meet you! I am Alois!” The man breaks into a large smile.“Let's start by breaking the ice. It's kind of a slippery subject, but I know we can crack it!”

“Oh no,” the Imperial soldier says, visibly dismayed.

Parvati beams beside him. “Pleased to meet you too! I am Parvati. We Duscuri are often good at currying flavor, but I am only good at currying favor, so don’t you ask me to cook!”

The Imperial knight closes his eyes.

Alois explodes with laughter. He prods Seteth. “I like her! I like this one!” 

The Imperial knight introduces himself. Seteth blinks. How did Enbarr Imperial University acquire the escort of a Commander? Why are they protecting her so seriously? What do they know?

She turns to Seteth. “Thank you for your patience! I had to finish my doctorate and postdoc, but — now I’m here! What an extraordinary opportunity.”

Seteth nods solemnly, and looks at something behind her. Parvati follows his gaze. He knows what she is seeing: the Goddess reincarnate floats across the marble floors. With her headdress tassels bobbing, jewels faintly clinking, a dark blue cape floating about her shoulders and a white gown pooling at her feet like water in a waterfall, the Archbishop makes her entrance.

Catherine, Shamir and Alois sink on one knee to the floor. Randolph and Parvati stand transfixed. A common reaction — the reaction the Church of Seiros has consciously constructed to be the norm.

“Professor Parvati,” says Lady Rhea. “Welcome to Garreg Mach, and the Officer’s Academy.”

Parvati seems lost in a trance. “With a voice like that, there must have been many who were instantly assured of the Goddess’s existence.”

“And you?” asks Lady Rhea. “Are you assured of the existence of the Goddess?”

Parvati cocks her head. “Of course. I believe in many gods and goddesses.”

Seteth sees Catherine looking over to him. The room has gotten suddenly cold.

“As I had promised you may,” Seteth says to Parvati, looking at Rhea. “Faith in the Seiros Doctrine, though common, is not a mandate for anyone serving in the Officer’s Academy. Or the Knights of Seiros. We only look for the best.”

Lady Rhea looks at Parvati for a long moment. When the Archbishop nods finally, more than one person lets go of their breaths. “Do feel free to attend the Cathedral and find any comforts you need. Know that the Church will always have you, regardless of past or deed.”

Parvati bows. “That would be lovely! I’ve been there before.”

She doesn’t miss the way Seteth and Rhea exchange glances. When had Parvati previously been to Garreg Mach?

“I must go now,” says Rhea. “I leave Seteth to provide instruction. He will be your guide and steward in your time at the Officer’s Academy, just as he guides and commands the Knights of Seiros. Please listen carefully to what he has to say. Until tomorrow, farewell.”

Parvati and Randolph bow, waiting the full time it takes the Archbishop to exit the Audience Chamber. When she does, Seteth holds an arm out towards his private office. It is the room underneath the Star Terrace, locked by an enchanted door.

There is no overhearing what gets said beyond that door.

As Parvati moves in its direction, Commander Randolph follows. Seteth gives him a look, making it clear he hadn’t expected the commander to come in with her. The commander looks at Parvati.

“It’s all right, Randolph. It won’t happen again,” she says to him.

The commander takes in a deep breath, then says, “I will be right here.”

Ah, thinks Seteth, for the Commander’s look of apprehension makes it crystal clear. He wasn’t sent here by Enbarr Imperial. He has come here for Parvati himself. The smile the Commander won from the Duscuri professor validates Seteth’s impression.

And as the enchanted door closes behind him, Seteth thinks, Commander of the Fifth Division. What an important ally Parvati has made.


Parvati is standing where Catherine had been standing when Seteth assigned the mission. Seteth motions to the chair in front of his desk. “Please, sit.”

Parvati remains standing behind it. “Please, sir, I’ve been sitting so long on my journey. It feels good to be standing.”

“Very well,” says Seteth. He takes a seat at his desk.

It is after he runs through academy logistics that Parvati comes alive. “The Museum — ” she begins.

“Is not ready,” the Viceroy finishes.

“Oh!” says Parvati. She traces the Crest of Seiros carved into the top of the chair. She does not know what to say.

Seteth says, “In a bizarre move, the builders we contracted had canceled. It took a while to find other sufficient builders. I know we had promised a museum for your artifacts, and this will still be the case, Professor.”

Parvati blinks slowly. He can see she is thinking.

In reality, there were no such builders, because in reality, the Church building a museum for Agarthan artifacts is ridiculous. But this is what he had to tell her in order to lure her in, and through her — all the Agarthan artifacts Enbarr Imperial might possess. She is the conduit, the world-renowned Ancient Technology Professor, who has the signing power to request the license on behalf of Garreg Mach. Despite the Monastery being a great political power, E.I. University had spent extraordinary capital to discover the Agarthan ruins and excavate the artifacts it now covets close to its chest. Thus, it was Seteth’s — no, St. Cichol’s idea — to use E.I.’s own trusted, beloved professor, to acquire each piece of Agarthan technology so the Church of Seiros could disappear them away.

Which means the reverent Cichol is playing a game. They could have killed her, after all, at any time. But St. Cichol is not like St. Seiros. St. Cichol is thorough, and he is patient, more patient than his counterpart. Thus, he will wait until he has acquired everything…before Parvati too is taken out of the light.

Parvati speaks. “So, the artifacts I did bring…”

“The Church will take care of them immediately. While the museum is constructed, we will store them,” says Seteth. Then he thinks, Permanently.

Parvati nods. “Then I can help ensure they are being properly stored.”

Seteth shakes his head. He cannot have her getting in the way. “There is no need. You need not fear about that. We will be storing them with the same care the Church stores its own valuable treasures.”

Parvati’s eyes widen. “Wow! I would love to know what techniques you use to handle treasures! Perhaps the Church’s techniques are even better than Enbarr Imperial’s. How do you handle humidity?”

She is very attentive, thinks Seteth. He says, “That is, unfortunately, private information.”

The professor looks put off.

I have to give a little, thinks Seteth. He does not want her to get suspicious. He says, “Apologies. The location is private information, but I can certainly introduce you to an archiver. I am sure she can appease you and all of your questions.”

Parvati looks pleased. She bows and thanks him. "The Agarthan Museum…” she begins. Then there is a moment she cannot speak. She clears her throat. “This will be the culmination of my parents’ work. I only wish that my parents could see it.”

Seteth hesitates. “Your parents, they were the linguist and archaeologist, were they not?”

Parvati nods. “What you are doing for me…” She bows again. “Dear Viceroy, you are fulfilling a dream.”

Parvati leaves. Seteth stares at the Crest she had been tracing on the head of the chair, the Crest of Seiros, thinking, No, Parvati. I am not fulfilling a dream.

I am fulfilling a nightmare.

Notes:

Author's Notes:

Welcome, Fire Emblem Three Hopes fans! What began as a Duscur fix-it has turned into a multi-installment epic complete with murder mysteries, mythic prophecies, and magnanimous courtroom trials. Justice will be made.

Some special thanks:

  • To my Boo, for listening to me talk about this story non-stop since July 2020 and unblocking me when I’m stuck!
  • To kiri / @royoon_ on TikTok, for drawing Parvati fan art (featured later) and helping me with Character Design.
  • To MashPotato2424, my first Beta Reader! Her feedback was critical in setting themes and mood for this piece, and you can thank her for the absolutely burgeoning role Randolph is going to play. ;) 
  • And last but not least, to Moyou / @budgie_qm on Twitter, who saw me request a South Asian Dedue, and then she did this:

 

Dedue South Asian Inspired

 

This picture took my breath away and helped me set a foundation for Duscur full and rich. Thank you, Moyou, for helping me visualize it! Now it’s time for me to make it real. 

You can look forward to this Dedue at the Ball. ;)