[P] you'll never settle any of your scores;

[Theodosia]

The slumber she has fallen into holds her tightly, drags her head beneath the streams of her own consciousness and watches her drown in fevered half-memories — it takes her back to Caeleste, to the howling winds of Shishira she had first learned how to fly in, to the disappointment in her sperm-donor’s eyes every time he had looked upon his mortal daughter. Once, she had been born of snow and ice, of the storms that beat upon Dead Horse Ridge with fury — her blood had been half ichor, bleeding red-gold in the sunlight. Now, her mortal divinity fought a war within her body, drew shuddering breaths through her lips and forced her heart to continue pumping sluggishly — it struggled against the chains that Novus had bound it with when she had crossed the borders. She dreams of Shishira, in the grey areas between asleep and awake -- she dreams of Dead Horse Ridge and the Manor in which she spent the first few months of her life, of the god-like family she has left behind and scorned. In her mind, she can picture Shishira’s shrine despite never having visited, the hollow cave that bore howling winds and a cruel temperament that matched the God it was devoted to, and even in sleep her eyelids flutter and her heart races at the mere thought of returning to what had never truly been her home. My child-- The voice echoes in her subconscious, a strange warmth swirling into the memories and melting away the snow and the wicked winds of her memories, the shrine of Shishira morphing into the statue of Vespera that she had prayed to when she had first come to Novus. The statue is still, but there is gleam in the stone eyes, a golden glow that seemed to fill the entire area -- and yet, everything is hazy as though obscured by a fog, some bone-deep recognition that this is not her waking mind. You promised me your services, Theodosia, when you first came here -- and when the time came, you did not hesitate to keep your word. The statue speaks to her upon the peaks of Ruris, with soft moss beneath her feet and sunshine upon her wings, in a place untouched by time or weather. Your reasons for leaving your home are your own -- as is the magic you brought with you, that has lain untouched within you since arriving here. The statue glows for another few seconds before the vision abruptly goes black, a roaring in her ears that drowns out all rational thought, and she is left with the sense of a growing storm within her. She awakes with a choking gasp, her pale eyes fluttering open and landing upon the King at her beside.  “......Sir?” "Speaking."

credits

@Asterion 
Vespera is a fever-dream, and it is unclear whether or not she actually spoke to Theodosia in her dream or whether that was what her fevered mind came up with ;D