Chapter Text
She should’ve figured something was wrong.
Victoria wiped a bead of sweat from her brow, a little pissed frustrated upon hearing that the Seneschal had yet to even glance upon his daughter.
Cardinal Seamus used to love his daughter, and whilst his responsibilities would surely take toll on him, Victoria doubted he’d take this much of a backseat to her, though she should’ve known something was up when not even after the… incident happened, he declined giving her the time of day.
She smiled kindly at Barbara as she sat on the medical bed, bored as can be, but unwilling to make a fuss.
It made Victoria wonder about what could’ve possibly of made the Seneschal’ and the Deaconess’ father-and-daughter relationship rot so greatly.
Perhaps it was how much less time the girl spent outside these days? Or perhaps it was the Seneschal’s rotten opinion on how one should only spend their time praying and worshipping? Even as a nun, that bit worried Victoria, as not her or any other nuns had ever spent that much time praying.
Just then, the Seneschal barged in, smacking the door aside. “Barbara, your little trips outside are affecting your health, as well as your worship, I forbid you from continuing them,” he spat, before slamming the door closed and wandering off.
Bullshit. Lies. This type of ‘injury’ is very common in adventurers, not even considered an ‘injury’ and much more an annoyance. The only reason she’s spending time on the medical bed is because that was the only place they could drag her off to without her running away and getting worse sores (despite knowing what would happen, because she wanted to help the other people in the medical ward with injuries, the kind girl)! Not to mention that part about her worship.
Her worship was, as always, impeccable and the most genuine sort Victoria ever saw, from lousy skeptics doing it as formality, or other nuns, and even the Seneschal himself. If anything, her adventures gave Barbara more passion and energy, as well as confidence, her training behind what saved her from bitches like Albert from hurting her.
But no, the Seneschal’s word mattered more over Victoria’s.
Barbara’s head dropped, now facing the bed’s mattress.
Instead of the sad and relinquished expression she’d usually expect to find after Seamus forbids her from doing something (usually good for her) she instead found Barbara confused and seething with anger.
”How can he say that? He hasn’t left the church since he entered, not even for my birthday? He doesn’t know anything, he hasn’t seen anything other than the walls of this cathedral!” The girl ranted, to the pride of Victoria.
So this is how Sister Rosaria felt, it was nice, she’d admit.
Still, she couldn’t really just let Barbara out so that she could get even worse sores.
”I agree wholeheartedly with you, Sister Barbara, but Cardinal Seamus still had a point, hidden behind his blatant ignorance. You will get worse sores if you keep adventuring to the extent you do, so please, how about you just avoid that for a couple of days? No longer, I promise,” Victoria suggested. This was also partially because of the Dvalin incident.
Dvalin (or Stormterror) had been acting up the last couple of days, and wreaking havoc, and Victoria didn’t really want Barbara getting hurt because of one of the four winds. Even if she didn’t get hurt against Lupus Borealis, with these sores there’s still just a chance the wind could lift her up and throw her away, and Victoria and the other nuns have practically adopted this girl - risking losing her is not an option for any of them emotionally right now.
She just hopes the sweetly stubborn Deaconess will listen to her intently for once.
***
The Cathedral was a bit stuffy for Barbara.
She’d become used to the limitless ocean, the trees that grew in bizarre ways and persevered in odd places, the chanting and dancing of hilichurls (sounds that would undoubtedly stop as soon as Barbara ‘took care of’ them) as well as the hymns of birds that she’d match with her own voice.
Now the only sound was the choir’s singing, which she was only really half-paying attention to, and the small talk of patients getting healed.
Then came the rumours of a mysterious blonde traveller - a young boy who fought back Dvalin.
Barbara found those rumours to be the only source of entertainment in the Cathedral; rumours for Barbatos’ sake, something she used to avoid like the plague.
But rumours could be fun, rumours could be helpful, and not all rumours hurt, she learned, just like how not everything her father says is accurate, or for her own good.
But to be honest, Barbara wouldn’t really care for meeting him, because another thing she’d learned was that rumours disappoint - not that she doubted he fought back Dvalin, especially not when it came from the mouths of only about everyone in Mondstadt, including Miss Lisa, or Miss Amber, or Miss Kaeya, even her own sister said it.
And then she spots a mysterious blonde stranger speaking to Sister Gotelinde, asking about the holy lyre with the wind-borne bard who seemed to be drinking himself away in the tavern earlier.
She’d heard praises of this Traveller based on appearance, but she now realised that they really must’ve been rumours, or perhaps that’s her lack of interest in men, even romance, speaking.
Still, she brushes it off, and returns to her singing.
***
She sneaked off to the Tavern that night, not for a drink or anything alcoholic, but instead for the delicious Chilibrew that only they seemed to know how to properly make - even if there were some chilli’s missing.
It was simply as a way of treating herself for all the suffering she had to bare because of the sores and all.
Well, in the time she was gone, apparently the Holy Lyre De Himmel had gotten stolen.
Stolen by the fatui, after the Traveller and the Bard had tried stealing it.
Oh for fuck’s sake, it’s always as soon as Barbara’s gone that people decide to do this type of bullshittery, it’s like they expect not to rip them to shreds once she finds out.
She might as well find the lyre first though.
”Excuse me, it appears you’re trying to find the Holy Lyre De Himmel, am I correct?” She asks, in her sweet idol voice.
The Traveller skeptically nods and motions at his flying fairy companion to speak. “Ah sorry, Traveller here doesn’t know the language too well, but Paimon will speak for him! Yes, we are going to go find the Holy Lyre! Uhm, who are you by the way?”
Barbara smiles, trying her best for it not come out as an expectant grin. “I am Barbara, Deaconess of the Favonius Cathedral, please, leave the healing to me!” She does a little bit of a shy pose, partially because she knows it helps people to trust shy people, and also because she is a bit shy.
The Traveller seems to be thinking for a moment, before nodding. They have the audacity to look bashful and a little sorry about the fact that they did, in fact, attempt to steal the Holy Lyre. Who she believes to be Paimon speaks up. “Oh, haha, P-Paimon’s sorry for the whole stealing the Holy Lyre thing… we promise we’ll give it right back!”
It’s really sweet how Paimon talks for this Travller like that, but Barbara can’t dwell on how cute that is of this little mascot fairy thing.
She assured them it was all totally fine, she swears, and as long as she gets it back in the end, nothing matters whatsoever.
It was also part of the lie she told herself so that she didn’t end up lashing out at anything.
After all, 30 seconds was up, and that meant all that anger didn’t matter anymore.
That was also because part of that anger was pain directed at her sister and Mr Diluc for deciding to not get her involved despite how important this is, as well as simply directing the Traveller to where they have to go and waiting ‘patiently’ for them to be done.
On their way to finding out the Fatui hideout, the group also came about the drunk bard that joined on the thievery in the first place, but he simply decided to go back to drinking.
***
At first, Paimon thought that bringing the Deaconess would be kind of a waste, since she’d probably just sing and heal in the corner all day, oh how Paimon was wrong.
Barbara Pegg is a powerhouse.
Every hilichurl, every fatui throw-away, every treasurehoarder, all cowered in fear as soon as she entered the room, because they all witnessed how she smacked down their friends and enemies as though they were ants just moments prior.
The traveller nor Paimon didn’t even have to raise a finger.
At the end, the lyre was locked behind a cage, the key likely in one of the many rooms surrounding that cage, but Barbara is clearly not that patient, though, because instead of searching, she just bent the cage apart.
The Fatui Pyro Agent that attempted to ambush them was just punched into the ground.
Paimon was almost a little too scared to ask, but she managed to mutter, “Is it okay if we borrow the Holy Lyre…?” Barbara’s head did a 90’ angle twist to stare back at Paimon, beckoning for Paimon to speak.
“A-ah, we are going to use it to summon Dvalin so that Traveller can purify him! We’ll give it back as soon as we can! Paimon promises!” Paimon promised wholeheartedly.
Then Barbara’s face formed into a kind smile.
”Of course! Just bring it back in one piece. Do remember, if it’s broken or in any bad state, not even Barbatos will be able to save you. Trust my word.” She answered, with that overly kind idol voice of her’s.
What did that Tone-dead bard send them to do?!!