A/N: Surprise! I'm back and uploading a day early! My mom and I are attending a retreat this weekend, and I realized I won't actually have access to a compute until Sunday. So instead of making you wait three days I'm just giving the chapter to you early. I can't tell you how much I needed that break. Trying to work on this and study for my exams would have killed me; I appreciate everyone's patience in waiting for this chapter.

Special thanks to everyone who reviewed and commented; it was incredibly helpful in motivating me to push this chapter out, since writers block finally slammed into me halfway through and I had to rewrite the whole thing.

Hiromi's words haunted Mikoto all the way back to Hoshido.

The duchess had tried to comfort her when she'd seen how frightened she'd been. "I don't know who this Anankos is, but I don't think you're in any immediate danger. Otherwise he'd just have assassinated you instead of warning you. This is an intimidation tactic, pure and simple," she'd said. She would have been more successful in soothing Mikoto if she hadn't looked so afraid herself.

Just intimidation it may be, but it was working. The message was clear: I know where you are. I know where your son is. I could kill either of you if I wanted to.

She was jumpy the whole trip home, waiting for Anankos to attack them. This would be the best time to do it—they were far from the walls of their protective castle, guarded by only three retainers, with three children to protect. Mikoto scolded herself for being complacent. She should have expected Anankos to be searching for her. She should have guarded her identity more. She should have—

"Mama?"

"Yes, my little dragon?" she responded absently. They were four days from Shirasagi now, and she thought she was going to fall apart from nerves. Her eyes constantly scanned the horizon for soldiers, and every time she saw water, even just a puddle, her hands went straight to her yumi. Sumeragi and the others had noticed her state of high alert, and they'd reassured her that nothing was going to happen, but they weren't aware of the danger, not like she was. Anankos was going to attack now—surely he was—he wouldn't let them get to safety—

Kamui tugged on her sleeve until she relented and looked to her right, where he was riding on the wagon carrying their camping supplies, bare feet swinging. His eyes were hopeful. "Will we get to see Azura and Miss Arete again?"

Her heart melted a little for him. Her son was the only one who had actually enjoyed the banquet; poor shy Hinoka had been utterly miserable being surrounded by so many strangers, and Ryoma had spent most of his time clashing with Prince Alexander. The stress of maintaining a veneer of politeness had constantly weighed on the adults, and even Mikoto's happy reunion with her sister had been tainted by Anankos's message.

"I'm sure we will," she said, smiling gently. Kamui brightened and turned back to the wagon's driver, asking if he could pet the horses. Remembering how upset her step-children had looked and realizing she hadn't checked on them yet, Mikoto urged her horse to the other side of the wagon, where they were sitting side by side. They stiffened at her approach. "How are you two doing?"

"Fine," Ryoma growled, not looking at her. Hinoka didn't even acknowledge Mikoto, just stared at the trees as they passed.

Mikoto bit her lip. The pair of them had grown colder to her after her marriage to Sumeragi, much to her distress. While she had promised Ikona she would look out for them, it wasn't just the promise motivating her; she'd grown truly fond of them over the years, so for their attitude to regress was upsetting. Hoping to mend the bridge, she pressed, "I know the banquet wasn't what either of you was expecting. I'm sorry you had to go through that."

He was unmoved. "Okay."

"It may have been disappointing, but things will get better in the future."

"Okay."

"If you need to talk—"

"You're not our mom!" Hinoka suddenly snapped, whipping her head around. The angry, unexpected outburst from the normally quiet girl startled Mikoto into silence. "So stop acting like it."

"I know, I just—" She faltered in the face of their twin glares. Mikoto was a politician and, occasionally, a warrior; she knew when a battle was lost. Swallowing her hurt, she nodded and let them be.

As she guided her mare back into the center of the convoy, Mikoto reminded herself that she shouldn't be surprised Sumeragi's children were taking offense to her. Living in the castle was one thing, but marrying him, even after waiting an appropriate period to mourn Ikona, must have seemed to them like she was trying to replace their mother. Still, it stung to get the cold shoulder after having coexisted relatively peacefully for several years.

One hand slipped into her pocket, fingering the little stone there. She'd been able to find Arete before leaving Izumo, and while they hadn't really been able to talk—not in the courtyard, with dozens of eyes around them—the other woman had seen how distressed she was. Her sister had pressed a rock into her hand, whispering that it was a sending stone. "Contact me at sunset, in a fortnight," she'd hissed, then moved on to say her farewells to Duchess Hiromi.

At least I still have that to look forward to, Mikoto thought, and then resumed her vigilant watch for Anankos's attack. But it never came, and four days later they passed through the castle gates back to safety. And instead of being reassured, Mikoto couldn't help but feel even more afraid.

When the time came for her to speak with Arete, rather than going to the bathhouse, Mikoto had the servants bring a tub to her room and pour hot water into it; Sumeragi had been called out to deal with a land dispute between two lords, and wouldn't be back until morning. Which was fortunate, because no matter how well-liked Mikoto was, communicating with the queen of an enemy country would be seen as treason. She disliked keeping secrets from him, but she'd been doing so for years, so what was one more? Once the servants were gone and she was stretched languidly in her bath, she pulled out the sending stone and ran her fingers over the runes etched into it.

Sending stones were another Vallite invention. While the Vallites had been willing to share some of their secrets—Hoshido's throne was a Vallite throne of truth, gifted at the end of the First War, if Mikoto was recalling her history correctly—others they guarded jealously. Sending stones made it possible to communicate incredible distances instantly, which was useful when Valla had to go to war; it would also be just as effective in enemy hands. As such, they had been very guarded; each stone had to be keyed to a specific person, and could only be used by those of Vallite blood.

"Arete?" Mikoto whispered into the stone.

The runes glowed blue in response. "I'm here," came her sister's voice, a little distorted but audible. "Alone. You?"

"Same." Mikoto relaxed into the water, lazily swirling it around with her other hand. "How did you come by these?"

"I started crafting them in secret as soon as I saw you at Izumo. There was no way I was going to let that be our last contact, not after I just found you again."

Arete always had been prolific with spells and magical crafting; Mikoto shouldn't have been surprised she'd be able to make a set of sending stones. As a child Arete had been fascinated by the court mages, following them around and watching them work. She'd tinkered quite a bit in her free time—had her sister not been a princess, Mikoto knew she would have happily become a magic researcher.

"Well, I'm glad we'll still be able to talk. But first there's something I need to tell you…"

When she finished relaying Hiromi's message, there was silence. "I agree with her," Arete finally said. "I don't think you—or I—are in immediate danger. If he knows where we are and hasn't killed us yet, it's because he wants us alive for some reason."

"But we're threats to him. It doesn't make sense to let us live."

A distinctly un-ladylike snort echoed through the stone. "He's mad, Mikoto. Nothing he does makes sense, at least to us. Either way, there isn't really anything we can do about it except what we've been doing—stay careful and try to make peace between our countries."

"I suppose," she muttered, still not quite convinced. "Can I ask you something?"

"Go ahead."

"How do you feel about the concubines?"

"I hate them," Arete said flatly. "And honestly—I'm a little jealous Garon keeps them around. But I can understand why, to an extent. Most of them are very talented warriors or mages or diplomats. He'd rather not make enemies of them. And I think he feels guilty about kicking women he likes out—some hail from the streets like me."

"I see. Sorry for asking, I was just—"

"Curious?" Her sister sounded amused. "That's okay. How did Sumeragi's wife—Ikona, was that her name?—take your arrival?"

They chatted leisurely for almost an hour, free to speak of more personal matters away from the eyes of their retainers. Before they cancelled the spell, they made plans to speak again—once a week, every evening after sunset—both to speak as sisters and to discuss the peace negotiations as queens.

The new year came, and two months later, Sumeragi departed for his annual visit to the Fire Tribe. Despite Mikoto's pleading, he refused to have an escort greater than Akio and Saizo, insisting that the three of them were perfectly capable and that bringing more soldiers than necessary would just put undue strain on his hosts. She loved the man, but gods, there were times he made her want to pull her hair out.

The peace talks with Nohr were slow going; letters took several days by raven (for Nohr) or hawk (for Hoshido) to reach the other's castle. Once they arrived, the king would have to confer with his queen and his advisors about the terms being offered, which would take up to several weeks. Then they would send their counter-offer and the process would start again. It could have gone faster if neither man was so stubborn—Garon was adamant about not paying the raised taxes, Sumeragi was adamant about raising them, and neither was really willing to meet in person, which would definitely have decreased the time spent talking. The fact that Nohr hadn't stopped their raids didn't help.

In spite of Mikoto's best efforts, Ryoma and Hinoka remained frosty towards her, and worse, their quarrel with her leeched over to Kamui; they were usually willing participants in his games, but as of late had been ignoring him too. He was admittedly a little spoiled, thanks to Mikoto, and unused to not getting what he wanted. After realizing the rather horrible temper tantrums he'd thrown weren't working, he'd taken to roping the older children into playing with him. Kaze seemed to be his favorite, so far; he'd even asked if he could have the green-haired boy as his retainer when he was older. She'd said it was up to Kaze, but he'd seemed pleasantly surprised, and had promised his service when the time came.

At least Takumi and Sakura still liked them, though considering they were too young to really do otherwise, that didn't mean much.

Despite her worries, Sumeragi returned from the Fire Tribe safely and on schedule, and Mikoto was only too happy to see him back. Chief Kenta had sent his greetings to Mikoto as well as a gift, to her surprise; a lovely red gem, offered as a sign of friendship. She didn't say it out loud, but she hoped it was also a sign that he was willing to offer his tribe's services, should war come.

The next time Mikoto spoke to Arete, she learned that a new mage in court, Iago, had wormed his way into Garon's inner circle, and was the main cause Nohr was stalling on the peace talks. He was stirring up the court, according to her sister, going on about how Hoshido couldn't be trusted and how he was sure to guide Nohr to victory. In Arete's words, "he's your typical power-hungry creep spouting typical political bullshit, but he's good at making it sound convincing." There wasn't much they could do about him, besides stooping to murder—which Arete was loathe to do—so in the end they resumed efforts to find a compromise that would benefit both countries, one that would convince Garon even with Iago about.

She heard her sister groaning through the stone and could easily envision her pacing, the way she always did when frustrated. "I'm telling you, the only way Garon will accept Hoshido raising the export taxes is if you offer him a valuable, fertile piece of territory in return."

"Sumeragi will never agree to that." She was outside today, relaxing in the palace garden. It was a bit of a risk to be in a public area, but she had Reina standing guard near the entrance; the blue-haired woman wouldn't question her actions and would announce visitors if they came. Mikoto stared out at the blooming cherry blossom trees, fiddling with the edge of her kimono. It had been another month since Sumeragi's return from the tribes, and the peace talks still hadn't gone anywhere. She'd been debating with her sister for almost twenty minutes now; there was one idea she'd been toying with for a while, but she wasn't certain how Arete would react.

Still, she was getting desperate, and it had always been her duty to bring potential solutions to light, even if it earned her the ire of her sister. "We're going about this wrong. Let's set that aside and go back to the main cause of all this—the reason Hoshido raised the taxes in the first place. We did it because we're in a bout of economic trouble."

"Yes," Arete snarked, "the land of wealth and prosperity is telling the land of barrenness they're having economic trouble."

"Arete, please." She could practically see her sister's eye-roll, but she did apologize, and Mikoto continued, "Our exports are primarily agricultural crops. The farmers who harvest those crops pay tribute to their respective feudal lords, who pay tribute to Sumeragi and me. Leftover harvest is given to us, and we give it to merchants. The merchants travel to Nohr to sell the extra harvest, then return and give us most of the money, keeping a portion for themselves.

"However, recently the head of one of the merchant clans found his cut of the profits to be unsatisfactory and started demanding more. He was able to rally the other merchants around him, and soon we had a near-uprising on our hands. We could put them down with force or press Nohr for more money; we chose the latter."

"And we can't give you that money," Arete explained, sounding tired again.

Mikoto sighed. "I'm aware. However, we wouldn't need the increased taxes if we were able to pull money from other ventures, such as what we pay Nohr to protect our merchants. If Nohr offered its' protection freely, we could use the money originally used to pay you to pay the merchants, so we could return the export taxes to their original prices. That, of course, means an alliance, which means—"

"Sealing it with a marriage."

"More specifically, Azura and Kamui's."

Her sister's tone was unreadable. "Any pair could get married and solve the problems with Hoshido and Nohr, so why them in particular?"

"Because their marriage is the only one that would solve that succession crisis."

Her loyalties may be to Hoshido now, but she still had to account for a future where Valla could be rebuilt. As the current Vallite king's firstborn son, Kamui was technically the crown prince of Valla. But Anankos was a usurper who had stolen the throne; with that in mind, any surviving Vallites might consider Kamui taking the crown as stealing it from the true princess, Azura. With enough people with that mindset, factions could form and a civil war over the crown could happen, which would likely ruin whatever was left of Valla.

But marrying the cousins to each other would avert that entirely. A side effect of keeping marriage in the upper class was that it wasn't uncommon for first cousins to wed; Hoshido, Nohr and Valla, as well as many noble houses, all had at least one such marriage in their history, Mikoto knew. If you wanted a lasting alliance with a noble house or a different country, you had little choice but to continually marry your line to them. It was also useful for cases like this, where two people had equal claims to something, but you didn't want to war over it. So having Kamui and Azura marry was the best solution; it would not just seal an alliance between Hoshido and Nohr, but an alliance with Valla as well, and both would be able to take their claims on the Vallite throne, satisfying all but the most extreme of Vallites.

Silence was all she received for a few moments, and Mikoto braced herself for the worst. But when Arete spoke again, she sounded thoughtful, not angry or opposed like Mikoto had been expecting.

"It sounds…almost perfect," Arete finally said, slowly. "It won't be easy, of course; Nohr's primary source of income is our military services, so we won't be willing to just give it up. And your country's isolationist and xenophobic tendencies probably makes accepting free services from outsiders a sticking point. But it's probably our best shot."

"I think it is. I was expecting you to be angry," she admitted.

Her sister sighed. "I've known that Azura would probably have to have an arranged marriage; it's part of royal life. I've accepted it, and she will too, in time. Still, I can't help but worry: what if it makes her unhappy? Having to choose between a loved one's happiness and the good of my entire country…that's a nightmarish choice."

Mikoto could understand that. She wanted her son to be happy, of course she did, she wanted him to fall in love and have a wonderful marriage and beautiful children and all the good things in the world. But he had a duty, as did all royalty, to do what was best for his country and his people, even if it meant sacrificing his own happiness. She had done it, Arete had done it, and their children would have to do it too. Little wonder some royalty could be selfish, after giving up so much.

"Well, we saw them getting along in Izumo," Mikoto offered. "If we could talk our husbands into letting them visit or write letters over the years, they'd probably build a friendship. So their marriage wouldn't be unhappy, at least."

"There is that," Arete agreed, sounding more cheered.

"So we're agreed, then."

"We're agreed."

Mikoto let out the breath she'd been unconsciously holding. "Good. The suggestion should probably come from Nohr; Sumeragi might try to put forth Ryoma as a candidate instead, since Hoshidans usually try to get their eldest son married first." Which would still work for Hoshido and Nohr, but it would make things even harder for Valla.

"Whereas if Nohr presents these terms—these very agreeable terms—he'll be less likely to argue with them, in case it makes us change our minds," Arete finished, "Yes, that makes sense. I'll bring it up to Garon tomorrow."

The raven-haired woman nodded, feeling a weight lift off her shoulders. She watched the pink petals drift lazily down from the trees, inhaling the scents of the flowers. Mikoto loved the gardens in spring; it was tranquil. She wished she could bring her sister and niece here to see it, someday.

Maybe she could, if this went through.

"You know, Arete? You've mellowed," she said finally.

Her sister chuckled. "And you've gotten more considerate. You could be kind of a secretive bitch when it came to your plots."

"Gee, thanks."

"I'm just saying, the old you would have tried to manipulate me into agreeing, not told me upfront."

"And the old you would have yelled at me for doing so."

"Hm, I wonder why?"

Mikoto rolled her eyes and shook her head, glad Arete couldn't see that she was smiling.

"Did you hear about Duchess Hiromi?" Mikoto asked as she and Sumeragi prepared for bed, six weeks later.

Her husband ran a hand through his spiky hair, his mouth pulling down sadly. "Yes, I did. It's tragic; she may have been eccentric, but she was mostly harmless. I don't know why anyone would want her dead."

The letter from Izumo had come earlier that day. Sumeragi had been out training Ryoma, so Mikoto had received it in his stead. It had announced that Hiromi was dead and Izana the new duke; information from their spies confirmed this, adding that Duchess Hiromi had been found floating face-down in the lake a few days ago, the water filled with blood and a red smile on her throat. None of the Izumites had any idea how someone could sneak onto the palace grounds and just assassinate the duchess like that, but she had her suspicions.

Anankos…what are you doing? You'll kill the duchess, but not me? I don't understand.

It was a warning, that much she knew. No good assassin would be so obvious. A fall from the balcony, for example, could be construed as an accident, but a slit throat was always the work of outside forces. You only were so overt in your actions when you wanted a message sent.

She just couldn't work out what the message was. He'd already told her he knew where she was, and he was still letting her live. Was he trying to scare her again? But why, what was the point? There wasn't any strategic benefit to be gained from it. The uncertainty and fear that had died down in the weeks after Izumo rose up again.

Making things worse was that Nohr had yet to offer the betrothal, so the cold war was still dragging on. The last time she spoke with Arete, her frustrated sister had said that she was having trouble at court. The concubines were being worse to her than usual—they'd almost killed her—and Iago was interfering with her attempts to get Garon to suggest the betrothal.

"Izana has his work cut out for him," Sumeragi continued, pulling his wife out of her racing thoughts. "Poor boy, he only came of age…what, five months ago? It's not easy to take up the mantle of rulership so soon, especially after losing his mother in such a way."

"We'll send him a letter of condolences and offering to help," Mikoto murmured. She turned away from the mirror, where she'd been pulling pins out of her hair, and embraced her husband from behind. Ignoring the long hair tickling her nose, she pressed her lips to his shoulder blades.

"Sumeragi?" she whispered into the warm skin, fear sticking in her throat.

"Mmm?"

"I love you."

She felt him turn in her arms and drop a kiss on her forehead. "I love you too."

Mikoto hadn't seen the Brightwood since before Valla's destruction. Stepping out of a river into it was almost surreal—although the forest had had years to regrow, it was still devastated, charred black trees fallen like corpses among the soil. The river she'd emerged from was murky and dark, the once-clear water clogged grey with soot and ash.

It had taken a lot of verbal trickery on Arete's part to tell her the meeting place. "Woods that were once bright but are now burned" was vague enough to dodge the curse, but only a Vallite would glean what destination it meant. Though she couldn't understand why Arete would want to meet here; sneaking into Anankos's territory was an invitation for trouble, especially if he was behind Hiromi's death as she suspected. But she had understood the anxiety in her sister's voice, so she came, against her better judgment.

Mikoto tilted her head back, squinting against the sunlight. There were…islands in the sky? No, her eyes weren't deceiving her; huge chunks of land, floating in the sky, some sideways or even upside down. How in the world…?

"Anankos's doing, probably," Arete said darkly, emerging behind her. "Literally ripping apart a country and putting the pieces in the sky is the sort of unnatural that only happens with the assistance of very powerful magic."

Her sister's hair was cut freshly short; last time Mikoto had seen her it had reached her lower back. Her makeup did a poor job of hiding the bags under her eyes, and she looked thinner. Concern spread through Mikoto, but before she could ask what was wrong, Arete cut straight to the chase, pulling out a woven blue bag.

"Let's make this fast, I don't like staying here long. This bag has the project I've been working on as well as some research notes. It took me months to make the stave—I used the resources in Nohr's library along with my knowledge of Anankos's barrier spell—oh, damn it—"

Her sister fumbled the bag, and its contents, sheets of paper and a gleaming, decorative stave, spilled onto the ground. The Nohrian queen cursed and bent to collect them; Mikoto noticed she looked like she was going to cry. She grabbed her sister's arm.

"Arete, wait, what's going on? Are you alright? Why did you call me here?"

Arete stalled, slowly sweeping everything back into the bag. When she finished she straightened up, clutching the bag to her chest, looking very young. "I'm going to tell Garon about Valla."

For a moment Mikoto thought she'd misheard her. Once the words registered, her heart dropped to somewhere in her stomach. "What? No! Arete—"

"That mage I've been complaining about, Iago?" Arete wiped at her eyes with one hand. "He works for Anankos. He's been going around telling people about how they should stop worshipping the Dusk Dragon and worship Anankos instead. He brought the subject up in court a few days ago, talking about how Anankos would deliver our country into greatness, and the courtiers were listening to him. Garon was listening to him. That's why the peace talks have been stalled; he's starting to think that Anankos will save Nohr. If he does, he'll invade, both our countries will be destroyed and Anankos will win."

She leaned forward and grasped Mikoto's hands. "Mikoto, I love Nohr. I love the sky at sunset, when it's awash in indigo and orange. I love the buildings carved artfully into stone. I love the people, who are good-natured despite their hard lives. Nohr has a lot of bad things, but it has a lot of good things, too. I want to save it."

"I can understand that, but you don't have to do this, Arete," Mikoto begged. "We can—we can find a way around the curse, somehow—"

"I've tried," Arete interrupted, the despair evident in her words. "I came here once to write down all the information about Valla and brought it into Nohr, but as soon as I pulled the note out it dissolved into water. I've been using the royal library to research ways to break either the memory or the speak-not curses, and it's just not possible. When our mages cast the spells, Anankos infused them with his power, his very life; they'll only break when he dies."

"But the other one—"

"—was weakened, yes, but only broken completely when your Anankos contributed. We don't have the resources necessary to weaken these spells, and we can't break them either."

Ignoring her protests, Arete pushed the bag into Mikoto's hands. "Take this. Use it. It'll be helpful in protecting our countries, and I've left instructions for you in case I don't survive.

"I'm not going to tell Garon verbally, I'm not a fool. I'm going to write everything down, while he watches. Maybe an indirect mention won't trigger the curse, and if that's the case we'll be saved. He'll know the truth, you'll be able to tell Sumeragi, and once Kamui and Azura get betrothed an alliance will be formed and we can unite against Anankos."

Mikoto took the bag slowly. It seemed to contain the weight of the world. "And if it does?" she whispered, almost unable to bear the thought, "If even writing the information down kills you?"

Arete closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. "Then you'll hear about my death and you'll know indirect communication isn't safe. And you and Azura will still be around to help Kamui."

"Azura? Wait, you've been telling her about this?"

"You haven't told Kamui?"

"No! He's a child, why would I? How could you?"

"Because my daughter lives constantly in danger and not knowing about it is liable to get her killed!" Arete snapped, bristling. "She's mature enough to not speak of it outside Valla, and she knows not to use our song unless necessary."

"But what will the weight of that knowledge do to her? How stressed and afraid is she going to be? Arete—"

She stopped, her face going pale. They'd been raising their voices without realizing it, and it had attracted the wrong sort of attention. Arete's brow furrowed, and she looked over her shoulder. The blue-haired woman swore lowly, instinctively moving to press their backs together, one hand reaching for a tome.

Black fear swallowed Mikoto as she watched the figures climb out of the river and fan out in front of it. The glowing purple eyes, the Vallite insignia on their armor, the slight stiffness of their limbs and rank smell of their flesh. Anankos's undead soldiers. Her hands immediately went to her yumi, nocking an arrow, and her eyes scanned them, mentally weighing their odds.

But instead of attacking, the one in the lead stepped forward, opened its mouth, revealing a set of jagged yellow teeth, and, to her horror, spoke.

"Hello, princesses."

She recognized the voice immediately and barely stopped herself from screaming. It was warped by the raspy throat and the timber of the previous owner's voice, but she recognized it.

You don't forget the voice of your husband, after all.

"Anankos," Arete hissed, ever defiant, ever bold, even in the face of a god.

The soldier's cracked lips pulled up into a macabre grin. "Not quite in the flesh, but yes. You should consider yourselves honored. Pathetic gnats like you aren't worthy of being in the presence of even my corpse puppet. Though it seems to disturb you." It hummed mockingly.

"Would you like these better?"

The water bubbled; glistened; then more soldiers emerged from it. This time Mikoto really did scream, while Arete let out a strangled shriek.

Her horrified eyes swept over the new ranks of undead that had emerged. Her parents were there; Mother astride her horse, axe held firmly in her grasp, Father running a hand along the bowstring of his yumi. And there was Ikona, her naginata hoisted over a shoulder; Theophilus on his horse, with his sword and tome in hand; Damaris and Keiji… All of them had glowing eyes and blank expressions, and the animals were just as dead; the feathers on Damaris's kinshi were falling out, and the horses were skeletal, thin fun clinging to bone. Theo had a gaping hole in his chest, and Damaris and Keiji's bodies were still bearing the marks of the explosions that had killed them.

I think I'm going to be sick, Mikoto thought, horrified.

And then: Oh gods, what if their souls are still in there?

And then: Oh gods, we're going to die. His soldiers were between them and the water, and while she and Arete did have their weapons, there were only two of them. There were at least three dozen opponents right here, not counting however many more Anankos could summon. Nausea filled her and she swayed; she was going to die because of one stupid, stupid lapse in judgment.

"Oh, don't worry," Anankos said, as if reading her mind, faux comfort evident in his voice, "I'm not going to kill you right now. I just wanted to deliver a message again, and watch you squirm in fear. It's amusing."

As her mind tried and failed to process that, the corpse drew its lance and twirled it experimentally. "You see, I could have sent someone to kill you, like I did Hiromi—yes, that was me. She was becoming an annoyance, sticking her nose where it didn't belong, so I eliminated her. But unlike her, your living benefits me more than your dying, currently. I can tolerate letting a few knights run amok if it means I capture the king in the end.

"Because the truth is, my pathetic little princesses, you aren't threats to me. You've been patting yourselves on the backs, been proud of escaping Valla and seducing kings and sitting on new thrones, but don't fool yourselves. Your achievements are nothing. You can't stop me. Hoshido and Nohr can't stop me. I was sovereign when your people were crawling out of the muck, and I will be sovereign when the land has forgotten the names of your nations."

Then, shockingly, the gathering of soldiers stepped aside, like a mockery of a royal procession, giving the sisters a clear shot to the water. Anankos's puppet smiled. "So go ahead. Make your alliances, warn your kings, gather your armies. Bring them to me, and I will sweep them aside just like I did Valla. Because in the end, you're only human, and humans are weak, fallible creatures."

"Do you plan to ever act on your threats, or are they just empty air?" Arete taunted, voice bold on the surface but quivering just the tiniest bit underneath. Mikoto wanted to shake her, but she knew her sister was only scared; when Arete got scared, she got snippy. Mikoto, on the other hand, just froze, much like she was now.

Father—no, just his body, surely his soul wasn't still in there—nocked, drew and released an arrow in the span of seconds. It whipped by Arete's face, leaving a thin red line on her cheek. Her sister recoiled backwards slightly, involuntarily raising a hand to the cut, staring at him with stunned eyes.

Anankos's puppet's lips curled into an ugly snarl. "I am letting you live, you miserable worm. Be grateful for it, because if you ever speak to me like that again, I won't just kill you; I'll raise your corpse and use it to strangle your daughter to death. Now get out of my country."

Mikoto's mind raced—was he really so overconfident, so arrogant, as to just let them go? Her eyes drifted to the water a few meters away, then back to the assembled soldiers. Or was he just toying with them, offering them a glimpse of hope before snatching it away? She took a few tentative steps towards the water, yumi in one hand, Arete's bag in the other, but Anankos's soldiers made no move to stop her.

The nauseating scent of decomposition filled her nostrils as Mikoto passed through the gap offered. Unnatural silence filled the air, and she was acutely aware of the dozens of eyes upon her. Arete was behind her, unnaturally quiet. Damaris' undead kinshi shook itself as Mikoto brushed it, snapping its beak at her face irritably. She flinched; Damaris—no, her body, not Damaris—laughed. Dark amusement was somehow sparking to life in her dead eyes, and the eyes of her fellow corpse soldiers.

It couldn't have been more than a few seconds, yet the short trip to the water seemed to last forever. Shaking, Mikoto fought the urge to immediately rip open a portal and dive through it; she wouldn't give Anankos the pleasure of seeing how afraid she was. Gathering their dignity around them like cloaks, the sisters slowly, calmly opened a portal to their respective kingdoms, and retreated.

"I'm doing it tonight."

Huddled behind the door to the pantry, Mikoto closed her eyes, feeling wetness clinging to her lashes. It had only been two days since that terrifying encounter with Anankos, and she was still shaking off the vestiges of fear. Her dreams had turned to nightmares of undead soldiers grabbing at her and dragging her under the water, drowning her screams. After Anankos had basically dared them to come at him, she'd hoped that maybe Arete wouldn't call his bluff. That maybe she wouldn't go through with her plan to tell Garon. That maybe—but no. If anything it would have only strengthened her sister's resolve.

"Alright," she whispered, knowing she couldn't change her mind.

Her sister hesitated, "Mikoto, I know you don't agree with me telling Azura—"

"I don't," she interrupted. "But I don't want to argue. Not…not now…"

An exhale. "I'm glad." A heartbeat. "I love you, sis."

"Yeah, I know. I love you too."

Silence. Mikoto tried to think of something to say, but words failed her. What could either of them say? Nothing would change Arete's mind, and nothing could capture how much this scared her, how much she hated this, how much it hurt to know her sister was going to leave her behind again. She wouldn't be saying anything Arete didn't already know. I just got you back! It's not fair!

But this was Arete's choice to make.

Finally, softly, Arete breathed: "Goodbye."

The lights of the runes went out. Mikoto hugged the stone to her chest and let the tears run down her face, begging any god that would hear her that Arete would survive.

Three days later, in the midst of a council meeting, a courier arrived and informed them that Queen Arete of Nohr had died in mysterious circumstances.

While Sumeragi and his advisors began buzzing with this news, wondering how it would impact their talks with Nohr, Mikoto heard nothing but the pounding of the blood in her ears. She managed to keep herself together for the courier to leave the room, then, claiming to need a chamberpot, rose and left.

She entered the first empty room she found and slid the door shut. Then her shaking hands pulled out the tanto she kept up a sleeve. Eyes blurry with tears, she blindly grabbed at her hair and chopped at it in vicious but clumsy strokes. As the black locks fell and curled on the floor, a choked sob erupted from her throat. Mikoto buried her face in her hands, crumpled to the ground, and wept.

A/N: Next chapter's the big one, folks.