A/N: I swear all the chapters won't be as monstrously long as all these two. But I had the opportunity to cameo a certain group I felt didn't get enough screen-time in the game, and I took it.

Corrin is initially named Kamui here because in my headcanon, he was given a Hoshidan name at birth, but was renamed when Nohr kidnapped him. If you'd like to read more, I did a one-shot about that called "What's in a Name?". Shameless self-promotion is shameless, sorry not sorry.

Around her nineteenth attempt to travel through the water back to Valla, Mikoto finally succumbed to her urges and let out a frustrated scream.

Feeling remarkably better now that it was out of her system, she surveyed the area. From what she could tell, she was in a valley. On both sides of her was a spiny mountain range. The river she had travelled through snaked through the valley, only a few feet away from her. While she had no way to say for sure, she suspected she was in or near Hoshido, as she was supposed to—the grass was too green for Nohr. She had nothing with her; she hadn't expected to get stranded in another country, after all.

She leaned back against a tree, closing her eyes as she remembered how she'd gotten in this situation in the first place.

Her marriage to Hydra had been fast and quiet, thrown together in haste to try and mitigate the damage done by Yuko's gossip. The very day of her argument with Arete, a priest was called up to the castle to marry the two of them in secret. There was no ceremony, no celebration, no guests, just two recited oaths in her quarters and a quick kiss. It was over in the span of twenty minutes.

The first two months of her marriage had come and gone in the blink of an eye. Victory had tasted bittersweet. She was so incredibly happy to have Hydra in her life, to be able to hold his hand or kiss him whenever she liked, to openly love him and be loved in return. But she missed Arete dearly. Before, they used to set aside time for each other, time to just be sisters. Now, Arete hardly spent time with her unless it had to do with the well-being of Valla. Mikoto was still allowed to see Azura, but when she tried to speak to her sister she was quite curtly dismissed. Arete always had been able to hold a grudge, and she'd had five years to nurse this one.

The new year had come and gone when the court mages reported that they might have broken the barrier spell. Anankos had infused all the spells around Valla with some of his power, making them much harder to crack, but they thought they'd finally done it. They'd sent a few soldiers through the water with moderate success, but hadn't yet had a chance to test it with royalty.

Mikoto had volunteered to go through, desperate to make amends with Arete. If her actions had damaged the family's honor and driven a rift between them, then let her actions mend them, she thought.

"Are you sure about this?" Hydra had asked quietly the day of the attempt, pulling her away. Even though he was now technically a prince, he still preferred his plain robes to the richly-colored vestments of royalty, and seemed almost uncomfortable having servants wait on him hand and foot. His humility was just one of the many things she loved about him.

"I need to make things right with her," Mikoto had responded, glancing at Arete. "This is the best way to do it."

Hydra had still looked unhappy, but he'd understood, nodding slowly and stepping back with one last lingering squeeze of her hand. With her retainers, Mikoto had stepped into the lake, listening to the mages explain that they were to travel through it to Hoshido, confirm their location, then step back into Valla. It was a simple five minute mission, not even worth calling together a crowd.

Simple. It was supposed to be simple.

Except something had gone wrong along the way and Mikoto had wound up in Hoshido alone, and for some reason unable to go back to Valla. She wasn't certain why—maybe it was because of her royal blood, maybe it was because she'd tried going in a group, maybe something was still wrong with the spell and the first couple of successes had been flukes. Either way, she was stuck here.

Reluctantly, she got to her feet, chose a direction at random, and headed towards it. She didn't particularly want to leave the river, but nightfall was only several hours away. She needed to find shelter before evening, when predators would come out.

The sun had set when she found—or more precisely, was found by—civilization.

They called themselves the Fire Tribe, and their scouts had discovered her as she stumbled about the mountains. While initially hostile, Mikoto had been able to get them to agree to a meeting with their chief, and they escorted her to their chieftain.

He was an enormous bear of a man, barrel-chested and scowling, with bronze skin and red markings on his cheeks. Like many of the people Mikoto had seen, he seemed to have no conception of decency, wearing only a pair of hakama and a heavy bead necklace. A large club hung from a belt around his waist, and there was a fancy, ornamental headdress atop his blonde mane.

"Chief Kenta!" The soldier escorting her brought a fist to his chest and bowed sharply. "We found this stranger wandering about, alone. She claims to hail from a far-away country and gotten lost, and is asking for hospitality."

It wasn't exactly a lie, just an omission of certain truths. Chief Kenta's sharp grey eyes scanned over her. His scowl deepened. Mikoto stepped forward and curtsied deeply, keeping her eyes low in humility.

"Greetings, Chief Kenta. I am Mikoto. It is as your man said: I'm simply a humble commoner from a faraway land, who has been separated from her group. I beg your forgiveness, and ask that I shelter with your tribe while I figure out what to do." While I figure out how to get back to Valla, that is.

He eyed her skeptically, then spoke with a deep, rumbling voice. "You claim to be just a foreign commoner, yet you have the name, clothes and manners of a Hoshidan noblewoman."

Mikoto stiffened, but Kenta waved a hand dismissively. "It's no concern of mine who you really are—a runaway bride-to-be, a spoiled brat playing at adventure. We usually do not let strangers into the village, but there's no other civilization for miles, and I am loathe to send men on the two-week trip it'd take to escort you out, or send you off and have your death on my conscience. So long as you follow our customs and pull your weight, you can stay." His eyes hardened. "Are we clear?"

Relieved that he didn't seem too intent on prying nor on casting her out, Mikoto dipped her head again. "We are. Thank you for your generosity."

Life in the Fire Tribe was difficult. They were a hardy people, living in the shadows of the mountains dividing Hoshido and Nohr, where the weather was harsh and food was hard to find. Following their customs meant rising at dawn to do chores for the camp, then alternating between going out to hunt, scouting for potential enemies or new resources, or guarding the village. While her two-month trip around Valla had given her some experience with poor sleeping conditions and hunting for food, Mikoto had still lived a fairly pampered life, and was unused to physical labor all day, every day.

It was in this time period that she learned she was pregnant.

Mikoto had been trying to think of a way to tell the Fire Tribe about Valla without triggering the curse. She'd considered indirect methods, like writing the information down or communicating through magic, but as soon as she discovered her pregnancy she threw those plans away. She wasn't willing to gamble with her baby's life.

The tribe became somewhat nicer to her when they found out. She was still expected to work, but the medicine man whipped her up an herbal brew to help with her morning nausea, and she was assigned chores that would be easier on her.

During her stay, she asked the chief about the tribe's history, having found little to no mention of them in Valla's books. He explained that in the First War, long ago, the Fire Tribe had worshipped the Fire Dragon and followed it into battle. When the war ended, their god had cast aside its physical form and ascended as a spirit; vowing to uphold what it had taught them, they had retreated to the mountains in the north to practice their solitude. The blurry outline to the north, he said, pointing it out, was the tribe's sacred volcano. They believed the spirit of their god was residing inside it, and would cause it to erupt whenever harm came unto them—or if they betrayed what it had taught them.

That last sentence inevitably made Mikoto draw parallels between the Fire Tribe's dragon god and Valla's. Both had fought in the First War, both had made pacts with sects of people, and both had great power, yet only Anankos had gone insane. For the life of her, she couldn't understand why.

Kenta explained that while Nohr and Hoshido usually left his people alone, the current Hoshidan king, Sumeragi, had been visiting them recently. Not for an alliance—he respected their ways—but to spar with what he considered the best warriors on the continent. He would stay perhaps a week before returning to Shirasagi, the Hoshidan capital, and the process would repeat several months later—in fact, he added, Sumeragi was probably due for a visit soon.

Kenta's words must have been prophetic, for mere days after that conversation, one month since her arrival in Hoshido, Sumeragi arrived.

Mikoto was gazing at the lake near the Fire Tribe camp, melancholy. Every day since her arrival, she would go out to try and travel through the water back to Valla. Every day, she inevitably failed. It had passed depressing and started to get into hopeless.

She was in her third month of pregnancy by now and just starting to show. While she found the Tribe's company enjoyable—she didn't even mind the physical labor, much—she missed her family more with every passing day. The thought of never being able to return to Valla was a terrifying one. She wished she'd been there for Azura's first birthday, which had passed several days ago. She wished she'd been brave enough to patch things up with Arete. She wished she'd be able to see Hydra again and tell him about his child growing inside her.

Behind her was a noise, like the clinking of armor. Mikoto turned, finding herself face to face with a man in spiky, light armor, with a navy blue longcoat thrown over it. Two swords hung at his sides, the handles and sheaths made of finely wrought material. His face was all angles—even his thin black mustache and goatee were sharp. Her eyes flickered up to the wild mane of hair, the crown-like headdress he was wearing, and she suddenly knew who he was.

Immediately, Mikoto dropped into a low curtsy, taking on the manners of a commoner. "King Sumeragi! I—forgive me, your highness, I didn't hear you approach."

She couldn't see his face, but she thought she heard a smile in his voice. "That's fine, that's fine! You may rise, miss…?"

"Mikoto, your Majesty." She rose as he asked, stealing peeks at his soldier. He only had a small entourage with him—he must have been very confident in his abilities to come so far out with so few men.

"A pleasure, Mikoto. You don't appear to be native to the Fire Tribe, if you don't mind me saying."

How very direct of him, she thought with a pang—his straightforward manner reminded her of Arete. "I am not. I'm simply a guest." She hastened to change the subject away from dangerous territory. "Forgive me for my impudence, Your Majesty, but are you here to meet with the Fire Tribe? I can take you to them."

He smiled. "That would be most kind of you. Though please relax. I'm not as ferocious as I look, I promise."

Chuckling despite herself, Mikoto gestured for him to follow her, casting one forlorn look back at the lake as she went.

Sumeragi was odd, for royalty. Informal and boisterous, he threw himself into the sparring with an almost thirsty expression, and wholeheartedly enjoyed himself whether he won or lost. Yet when the matches were over, he was content to chat easily with Mikoto who, as far as he knew, was a mere peasant. She didn't mind his company—he was always respectful, kindly congratulating her on her pregnancy, and not asking questions when she said it made her uncomfortable. He could also be surprisingly insightful and profound at times, and he was a good conversationalist. She was just surprised that he conducted himself in such a manner.

Three days after Sumeragi's arrival, as dinner was winding down, a scout informed Kenta that another stranger had arrived—a young woman with a kinshi and odd amber eyes, who claimed to be looking for a woman of Mikoto's appearance.

Damaris was overjoyed to have finally found Mikoto, abandoning propriety to hug her. She was surprised by Mikoto's slightly swollen belly, but congratulated her in her cheery way. While both the women wanted to leave for Valla immediately, common sense had them staying for the night. In the privacy of the guest tents, Damaris whispered to Mikoto that "their" soldiers had been searching for her non-stop since her disappearance—her sister and husband were worried half to death about her. Using sending stones Keiji had handed out, the kinshi knight informed everyone that Mikoto had been found.

The next morning, as they prepared to depart, Mikoto curtsied to the chief, thanking him for his hospitality.

He grunted, but he wasn't scowling, and his next words were almost fond. "We didn't hate having you here."

Smiling at his gruffness, Mikoto turned and curtsied to Sumeragi, who had also come out to see her off. "Your Majesty. It's been a pleasure speaking with you these past few days, but I must return home now."

He took her hand and kissed it. "Safe travels to you, milady. If you ever need help—ever—come to Castle Shirasagi, and I'll do what I can for you."

Confused and surprised at such a generous offer, Mikoto smiled and thanked him nonetheless. Damaris led her kinshi over, and it chirruped happily when it saw Mikoto. Damaris smiled, running her fingers through the soft feathers briefly before mounting it. Surprised—the lake wasn't that far—Mikoto followed suit, aware of the eyes on her. Damaris clicked her tongue, snapped her heels into the kinshi's side, and it took off.

Once they were in the air, Mikoto voiced the question on her mind. "Aren't we going through the lake?"

Damaris scowled, an unusually dark look crossing her face. "No, those idiot mages are still 'working out some kinks'. Honestly, they've had almost a year and they still can't figure out what's wrong."

"Well," Mikoto rationalized, "they did say Anankos infused the spells with some of his power. It's no wonder they're having difficulty, they essentially need to overcome the power of a deity."

"Then they should have been certain before putting a member of the royal family at risk." Damaris sighed. "They did fix the way through the Canyon though, we tested that two dozen times, so I suppose I am being unfair. We'll head back that way. It's a good thing I'm the one who found you, the trip from the mountains to the capital would normally take at least a month on foot, but on my kinshi we can make the trip in about six days."

Her return to Valla was met with much celebration. The people cheered with jubilee as Damaris's kinshi swooped overhead, and Gyges was lined up for a celebration.

As Mikoto was dismounting in the courtyard, legs wobbly after doing little more than sitting for days on end, the doors to the castle slammed open. Arete and Hydra flew out almost in unison, tackling her with hugs. She staggered in surprise; Hydra buried his face in her hair, fingers digging into her back as though he were afraid she'd disappear, while Arete whispered grateful prayers over and over. Then they began speaking rapidly, talking over each other in their rush to get the words out.

"Oh thank the gods, love, you're safe—"

"Don't you ever terrify me like that again—"

"—thought my heart stopped when you didn't—"

"—did you think it would make me happy to—"

"—wanted to go looking for you, but they said I had to stay—"

"—gods, I was afraid you were dead—"

"I'm fine," she whispered to them both, hugging them close. "I'm fine, I'm fine."

"A month," Hydra said shakily. "A month, and we didn't know if you were—"

He paused, moving a hand to pat Mikoto's midrift, noting the slight swell of her belly. His eyes widened almost comically. "That's…is that…are you…?"

She smiled. "Surprise."

He gaped openly, stunned. Arete laughed softly, wiping discreetly at her eyes. "Well, I suppose we have double the cause for celebration."

The feast celebrating her return and her pregnancy lasted until midnight. It was as grand as the one for Azura's annunciation, grander, perhaps, thanks to the end of Valla's famine. Mikoto didn't remember much of it, finally having crashed from the high of returning home. The day seemed over very quickly, and she soon found herself collapsing on her bed in her chambers. Moments before her head hit the pillow, she registered Hydra curling himself around her, one hand lightly on her stomach, and smiled. Then she was gone in the deep recesses of sleep.

When she woke, sunlight was streaming through the window, and her husband was still sleeping, tightly clutching her to his chest.

She quietly disentangled herself from his grasp. Mikoto was a little surprised the servants hadn't woken her—perhaps she'd been given a day off from her royalty duties. Humming, she dressed herself and exited to find Arete sitting in one of the chairs in the main room, a tray with tea and buttered croissants next to her.

"Good morning," Arete said quietly.

"Good morning." Mikoto took a seat and hungrily reached for a croissant. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be getting ready to run the kingdom?"

"I've asked my advisors to handle it for today." A heavy silence settled. Mikoto chewed her croissant. Arete looked down at her fidgeting hands. Her hair was still long—Hydra's had been, too, Mikoto remembered suddenly. Had they not cut it, refusing to believe she was dead?

The sound of a throat clearing yanked her out of that thought. "Mikoto, I… I am so relieved you're safe. You were the only one who went through the water that day, I don't know why. And then, when you didn't resurface…" Arete shook her head. "I was suddenly terrified—you were in unknown territory, alone and unarmed, with no way to get back. All I could think about was how our last real words were venomous ones. I wished so badly I could take them back."

Mikoto slowly put her food down. "I did too. I was miserable at the thought of never getting to set things right with you. But you did have a point. I didn't consider your feelings or include you in my plans. I looked at the big picture without looking at the little picture. I was awful to you, the sister I love. I'm so, so sorry, and I promise I'll be more considerate in the future."

Arete smiled, clasping her hand earnestly. "And I'm sorry for calling you selfish. I know you've given up a lot for me, and for Valla. I didn't hate Theo—he was a good friend—but I resented you for making that choice for me. And I let that resentment build instead of talking to you about it, like I should have. But no matter what happens, you will always be my beloved little sister. I love you."

Tearing up—she wasn't so emotional normally, it must be because of the pregnancy—Mikoto launched herself at her sister. And that was the scene Hydra saw when he walked in, the two sisters embracing lovingly, having made up at last.

The rest of her pregnancy seemed to fly by, neither Hydra nor Arete willing to let her out of their sight. It was a relief to talk to her sister again, to resume their afternoon tea sessions and weekend evenings singing together. Mikoto was grateful for that awful fight, in some strange way; with their confessions out in the open, an unknown weight was lifted off both their shoulders, and there was a very subtle difference in the lightness of their interactions now.

Azura was delighted to have her aunt back, hugging her and talking in her clumsy toddler speech about how much she'd missed her. While initially fascinated by Mikoto's growing stomach, she lost interest once she realized it wasn't going to do much but grow. The little girl was quite excited to be getting a playmate, though.

Hydra was hyper-attentive, bowing to her every will as the months went by. If she craved fried dumplings in the middle of the night, he would run out of their bed to make some. If her feet hurt, he would kneel to massage them on the spot. When the mood swings came and she went from happy to furious to crying in the span of a minute, he endured it all with gentle warmth in his eyes. When their child kicked her hard enough that Mikoto thought it had broken a rib, he'd run loving hands over her belly and quietly ask it to stop—and it always did.

Finally, in the hottest month of summer, she went into labor.

The childbirth was long and awful, lasting from sunrise to almost sunset. The day outside was scorching hot, and the stone walls of the palace turned the room into a furnace, until Mikoto thought her flesh would surely cook. If the pain did not kill her, first—it was ungodly, and she screamed herself hoarse as she clung to Arete's hand.

After what felt like forever, the lusty wails of an infant filled the room. Mikoto collapsed backwards, boneless after the long labor. Distantly she registered the midwife calling out "he's a boy!" One of the servants rushed out to inform Hydra, who hadn't been allowed inside the birthing chamber, of his new son; another took the baby off to be washed and clothed. Arete patted the sweat from the new mother's forehead with a damp cloth, softly congratulating her, and Mikoto closed her eyes.

She must have dozed off, for when she woke the chamber was empty save for herself and her very worried husband. She gave him a weak smile, and he returned it broadly, squeezing her hand with relief.

The door opened and the wet nurse entered, starting when she saw Mikoto was awake. Her son must have just finished feeding, for she immediately handed him to Mikoto with a smile. The princess eagerly took him, having not had a chance to see her child yet; Hydra rose and stood behind her, peering over her shoulder at him. Unnoticed, the wet nurse slipped out of the room.

Their son was not a cute baby. He was an albino—skin so pale as to nearly be translucent, thin white hair clinging to his brow, pointed ears sticking out a bit too far from his head and red eyes blinking up at her sleepily. He looked a bit like one of the gremlins from Mikoto's childhood storybooks.

Mikoto loved him immediately.

A son.

She had a son.

A year ago, it had seemed like such an impossible dream. And now, the reality of it hit her for the first time. She had a child, a son, a little precious person, to raise and love and guide. She couldn't have stopped the smile from lighting up her face if she'd wanted to.

She turned to Hydra, wanting him to experience what she was feeling right now. "Hold him," she encouraged, holding the babe out.

Hydra took him with trembling hands. Their son cooed happily as he stared up at his father, fascinated by this strange new face. Hydra's mouth opened into a soft, silent o, and his eyes held a look akin to awe. It was a moment Mikoto would have captured in a painting, if she could.

He stiffened suddenly, eyes widening, but Mikoto was too caught up in the perfection of the moment to notice.

"Isn't he beautiful?" she squealed. "He has your eyes."

"He does," Hydra said, sounding vaguely horrified. "He does."

"And your ears, too—I've always been curious about that, why they're pointed, it must be a quirk of your family. And look, there's my nose, and I think my jaw—"

Hydra interrupted her rambling by very carefully putting their son back in Mikoto's arms. "I'm sorry, I—there's something I must do. I'll be back soon."

And with that, he rushed out of the room. Mikoto watched him go, deflated, her smile sliding off her face.

Perhaps twenty minutes later, a servant informed her that Hydra had asked her to the throne room. She pressed a loving kiss to her son's forehead—he was now sleeping soundly—handed him off to the servant, and briskly headed over. Arete was there, too, arms crossed as she watched Hydra pace.

"What was that about?" Mikoto asked curtly, still a little miffed at his reaction to their son.

He looked up, his expression tortured. "I got my memories back."

Her face softened. "Oh."

Hydra sat in the throne and buried his face in his hands. "I…I don't know why they returned at that exact moment. But when I looked at him for the first time…at our son…when I held him…all my memories came back. That's what I was upset about."

"Upset? Hydra, whatever your past is, it surely can't be that bad." Mikoto took a step closer to him, beseeching. "You can tell us."

He laughed humorlessly. Opened his mouth to speak, then just shook his head. "It'd just be easier to just show you." He glanced at Arete. "Did you bring one of those scrying crystal balls like I asked?"

"Yes," Arete said slowly.

"Could you and Mikoto just…look into it? Focus on me."

The sisters exchanged glances. The scyring crystals were enchanted with magic that could locate nearly anyone, ripping through illusions to show the truth—Mikoto couldn't imagine what Hydra wanted one for. Deciding to humor her brother-in-law, Arete, with a frown, pulled the orb from her robes. Mikoto took it from her, and the two women peered into intently.

Her husband's familiar visage filled it, lined with sadness. For a moment, nothing—then Mikoto gasped as the image flickered and was replaced by a dragon's face. A terrible face, with massive spikes and multiple eyes on an orb in its mouth. It was a face every citizen of Valla knew, a face that had once been inscribed on temples across the country.

She dropped the ball and it shattered on the floor, horrified tears welling in her eyes.

Arete's reaction was the opposite. No sooner had the ball broken than she whipped out one of her tomes. Three snakes materialized, lunging for Hydra—no, Anankos, oh gods, how could that be true?—and slammed him into the throne. Two of them wound around his ankles and wrists, pinning him there; the third wrapped itself around his neck and began to squeeze.

"Wait!" he sputtered, gasping for air. "Wait, please—you need to listen to me—"

"Why should I?" Arete spat. Her face was pulled into an ugly snarl. "You've terrorized our country for years! You've been killing the royal family with your song—you murdered Theo—"

"I didn't mean to!" Anankos cried out. Mikoto was shocked to see tears swimming in his eyes. "We were arguing—I got so, so angry, and I just—it was an accident, I didn't mean to. He was my best friend, I swear I didn't mean to."

His face was starting to turn purple, and spittle was foaming at the corner of his mouth.

"Let him breath." It took Mikoto a moment to realize the words had come from her.

Arete threw her a sideways glance. "This bastard is our worst enemy, and you want to let him go?"

"No. Keep him pinned." Her voice was curiously detached. "But let him breath. I want to hear what he has to say."

For a moment, she thought Arete wouldn't listen to her. Then her sister scoffed and flicked her fingers. The snake around Anankos's throat loosened. But it didn't move away, remaining like a noose around his neck, a reminder it could tighten again at any moment.

"Talk," her sister growled.

Anankos closed his eyes, sucking in deep breaths. His throat would likely bruise, and when he did speak his voice was raspy. "I am Anankos, but at the same time, I'm not. He…when he killed Theo, he was so horrified by what he'd done that his already fragile mind completely snapped. He decided he'd rather never feel anything again than feel this sort of pain again, so he ripped his soul out and discarded it. That's what I am. I'm his soul, all his positive thoughts and emotions, given physical form."

"That sounds like utter garbage," Arete said flatly.

Anankos nodded his chin as best he could towards the throne he was sitting on. "This won't let me speak anything but the truth."

He was right; Arete's throne wasn't an ordinary throne. It was a throne of truth, designed to reveal falsehoods and break spells. Similar thrones were commonly used during trials, as it was physically impossible to lie when sitting in one.

His story was too incredible for words. And yet it had to be real.

"I can't turn into a dragon, which is why I didn't as soon as I sat down in this, but I'm still considered one. As soon as Anankos cast me out, I lost my—our—memories. I wandered…he sent men after me. Somehow I escaped them, but not unwounded, and made my way to the palace lake. I collapsed there, and that's when you found me, Mikoto. You know the rest."

"So, what?" she whispered. "What has all this been? Some…lie? Some trick from him?"

"No!" His words were desperate, vehement. "My feelings for you, they were real. They are real, Mikoto, I swear…"

The throne did not react, and she closed her eyes, almost wishing it would.

"So what are your goals?" Arete asked, sounding slightly less wary. "You talk as though you don't share the other Anankos's ideologies."

"I don't. Like I said, I'm the good part of him. You were right that he wants to destroy Valla, but he won't stop there. He'll destroy every human in the world with his own claws if he can—and if he can't, he'll manipulate them into destroying each other."

"Then why hasn't he already?"

Anankos's grief-filled eyes turned towards Mikoto. "Our son," he whispered. "He's the one my song is about, the one who will eventually decide the fate of the world. I knew it as soon as I held him, and the other Anankos knows it, too. He hasn't attacked yet because he's been waiting for us to fall in love and conceive our son. It won't take him long to learn of his birth. And once he does..."

"Oh gods," Mikoto whispered, sick to her stomach. "He'll try to kill him."

The deity shook his head. "No. It's worse.

"He'll try to corrupt him."

Anankos wanted them to flee at once, but Arete refused, saying she would not be the kind of queen to just abandon her country in times of danger. They would go, she said adamantly, once her people had been warned. Letters were sent out across the country, warning the Vallites to pack their bags and flee through the Bottomless Canyon as soon as they could. Mikoto did not know how many of them heeded their warnings, or even if they arrived.

She named her son Kamui, but he was not presented to the kingdom. There simply wasn't time with all the preparations and rushing going on. Arete made breaking down the barrier in the water top priority for every mage in the city. Everyone with even a little experience in magic was put on the job, working twenty-four hours to iron out whatever little quirk was making travel so unstable.

After deliberation, they let Anankos go. The throne of truth proved he was not lying, and Anankos, having recovered his powers and his memories, instantly joined the mages in their efforts.

Three days after Kamui's birth, she walked into Kamui's room to see Anankos gazing down at him as he slept in his crib.

Mikoto faltered, uncertain. She'd been avoiding him after his reveal, lost in a torrent of feelings. His song had killed her father, he had murdered who knew how many people, and a part of him was evil enough to try and destroy everything she loved—but he was also humble and kind, self-deprecating and intellectual. He'd washed into her life and changed it forever, loving her with a quiet kind of passion that simmered like a fire. And try as she might, she was having a hard time separating those two.

She almost left. But, remembering her fight with Arete, all the things that could have been left unresolved if something had happened to her in Hoshido, Mikoto straightened her spine and approached her husband.

"Why did you do it?" she asked softly, finally. "Why did you go evil? When I was with the Fire Tribe, they told me about their deity. It sounded similar to you, but it didn't…"

"I couldn't become a spirit," Anankos murmured, not looking away from Kamui. "The strain of my powers on my body is what drove me to madness; with madness came depravity. Without a physical form, I would have stayed sane. All this would have been avoided if I'd just figured out how to ascend. I'm sorry."

Mikoto nodded, slowly. Silence settled over them.

"I'm leaving." He said suddenly. "The court mages and I finally tore down the spell; travel through the water will work now. There are people out there—people who could help. Other places...I need to find them and recruit them to protect our son."

Her heart stopped for a moment. Mikoto slowly exhaled, grief settling its talons into her. "I see."

With a quiet kind of desperation, he continued, "I'd stay if I could, but the two of you are so important to me. I have to leave, to help secure your future. That's why I came: to say goodbye. I know you're angry, but I couldn't bear leaving without seeing both your faces one last time."

"I'm not angry," she whispered. Her eyes were watery, but she held the tears back. "I've just been so confused these past few days. I wasted the little time we had together trying to figure out how I feel. And the conclusion is, I…I still love you."

Anankos smiled, a little sadly. "And I you. I'm…relieved we won't be parting on a bad note. I actually wanted to give you a gift, something to help you survive the coming days." He pressed one hand to her forehead. Mikoto felt an odd tingling, like when a limb feel asleep, spreading out from his touch—then it…popped, that was the best word for it, out of existence. She blinked.

"What was that?"

He dropped his hand. "I've given you some of my foresight. Not all—you have a strong will, but you're only human, and no human can bear that burden. But enough, to let you predict the future in flashes. It won't be constant, but it should come through in times of need.

"There are two last things I would ask of you. First: that you never tell Kamui who his father is."

"What?" Mikoto protested, voice cracking. "How can you ask me—"

"Do you think a child would want to grow up knowing his father is a murderer?" Anankos asked pointedly. "Knowing his father is a madman and a monster? No child should be burdened with that knowledge." He paused. "Actually, don't tell him about Valla or his destiny at all, not until he's of age. Let him have a carefree childhood."

Her shoulders slumped. When he put it that way, she could see where he was coming from. Protecting Kamui from cold, harsh truths, so he could grow up happily… "Alright. I promise."

"Good. And second…" Anankos hesitated. Ran a hand along her cheek. "Don't wait for me," he whispered. "Promise me that, Mikoto."

He raised a hand, forestalling her protests. "I don't know how long I'll be gone. I don't know if I'll even be able to return. Perhaps he'll find and kill me first. I don't want you spending the rest of your life waiting for a man who may not come back. If you see the chance for happiness with someone else, then take it. Promise me you'll be happy."

The tears she'd been trying to hold back spilled over his cheeks now. She didn't try to stop them. Choking, she replied, "I…I promise."

His smile was bittersweet, and he dipped his head low to kiss her. Mikoto closed her eyes, reaching up to tangle her hands through his hair, clutching him as close to her as she could. Once the kiss was over, she knew, he would go, and she wanted to delay that moment as long as possible. When he first tried to pull back, she chased after him with her mouth, greedily grasping at seconds even as they slipped through her fingers.

But eventually, it did end, and he rested his forehead against hers. "In all my years of existence," Anankos breathed, "none have been so joyous as the single year I spent with you."

Then, before she could respond, he was gone, leaving just the ghost of his kiss on her lips, and the most awful certainty that she would never see him again.

The next day, the morning they were supposed to leave, the other Anankos came.

Kamui was screaming at the top of his little lungs, loud caterwauls that Mikoto could somehow hear over the destruction taking place. Azura was petrified in Arete's arms, staring over her mother's shoulder at the enormous dragon ravaging the city, too scared to even cry. Damaris and Keiji were in front of the sisters, her naginata and his magic cutting down Anankos's strange, dead-eyed troops. Mikoto cursed their bad luck; they'd gone for the stables as soon as the fighting broke out, but Arete's retainers, as well as Damaris's kinshi and Arete's horse, were dead when they arrived. The original plan had been for their mounts to ferry the royal sisters to the lake—now they would have to go by foot, which would take more time, and every moment they were in Valla increased their chances of dying.

The attack had come in the early hours of morning, when everyone was still half-asleep. Part of the palace had been blown apart in the initial attack, and the halls and castle grounds were cluttered with bodies and rubble. Bile filled Mikoto's throat as they passed a corpse, its yellow eyes wide with terror, face half-melted off—her young handmaiden, Yuko. The smell of cooked flesh filled the air. It was horrific.

She could have sobbed when they finally saw the lake, several hundred feet away. To her left, in the valley below the castle, Mikoto could see the fires of what used to be Gyges. The skies were dark with smoke, and tiny figures—Anankos's pegasus knights and wyvern riders—were flitting about in the distance, swooping down to prey upon whatever unfortunate local they saw.

She slowed despite herself, watching in horrified awe as the city literally split in two, a huge chunk of land tearing away and…was it floating up into the sky?

"Keep moving!" Keiji yelled, snapping her out of her shock. He spun around, aiming a burst of lightning at something above them—she heard the distinct, pained screech of a wyvern.

Mikoto's vision swam and her legs burned as they raced down the hill, but she kept her gaze fixed on the image of the lake, growing steadily larger. They were almost there. Once they reached it, they'd go to Hoshido, petition the king for—for aid? No, he'd just be sending more men and women to their deaths. Shelter, then, yes, they'd find shelter with the king, shelter and safety, where they could rest, regroup…

The earth shook beneath her feet, and behind her came the sound of rocks being ground to dust. Instinct screamed at her not to look, but she did anyway, her sense of dread building as she turned.

Her blood froze in her veins. Not a hundred feet away, Anankos had landed on top of the palace, the stone crumbling easily beneath his massive claws. His wings were spread intimidatingly, blocking out most of the sky, and his spiny tail knocked over a building as it thrashed. And he was staring right at her, his multiple red eyes gleaming malevolently.

All her calculations, all her plans, flew right out of her head. There was nothing left, nothing she could focus on, except the pure, primal emotion of fear. In that instant she wasn't a human being, but a rabbit, a piece of prey cowering before a predator. She was distantly aware of Arete tugging on her hand, voice growing louder and annoyed, yelling at her to come on, Mikoto!, but her legs had stopped working; a whimper broke out of her as she gazed upon the thing that had once been their god, and found nothing but evil and madness.

His lifted his head, a brilliant ball of violet light gathering above his mouth. Mikoto stared, transfixed, as the orb of death grew in size. It crackled like lightning, expanding until it could have eclipsed the sun.

Several things happened at once, as time slowed to a crawl and sound drained from the world. Anankos whipped his head forward and fired the attack. Her sister's hand slipped through her slack fingers. Arete's voice cracked, tear-filled, begging her to move. The wind began whipping around them as Keiji chanted some kind of spell. Long brown hair flashed across her vision as Damaris interposed herself in the way of the attack, raising her guard naginata defiantly. Memories flooded her mind—

—the lavender scent of her mother's perfume—

—the texture of her father's tunic against her cheek—

—the feel of Azura's hair in her fingers as she brushed it for her niece—

—the deep, throaty sound of Arete's laugh, rich like chocolate—

—the fragile weight of Kamui in her arms—

—the slight curl of Anankos's mouth as he smiled—

Time resumed its normal speed. Sound came rushing back. The gale Keiji summoned threw her and Arete the rest of the way towards the lake. The orb exploded where they had been standing. Damaris and Keiji screamed once and were incinerated, their bodies taking the brunt of the attack. Mikoto cried out as she hit the water back first, curling Kamui protectively into her chest. Bitter cold swallowed her—the world spun—water flooded her open mouth—pain exploded across her temple—her vision flickered dangerously. Hoshido! Her mind screamed. Hoshido! Hoshi—

The water responded to her blood and to her call, swirling around her and her son and sucking them through a vortex, away from their dying country.

For a moment, Mikoto was unaware that anything had changed. But then she registered the sharp temperature difference, the lack of soot and blood in the water. Her legs kicked—one arm pushed at the water around her—her head broke the surface.

The princess coughed, tears of pain pouring down her face. Her feet found the earth beneath them—she was in the shallows. She stood up shakily, lifting her son out of the water—the poor thing was soaked to the bone, the shock of the cold silencing his feeble cries. For a moment she was terrified that he was dead, but then he sneezed violently and began wailing anew. The weight in her chest loosened and she laughed, partially in relief, mostly out of hysteria.

Making her way to the shore, one hand left her son to feel her temple—yes, there was a nasty gash there, oozing blood. She'd probably hit her head on a rock when she went flying into the lake. As her feet sank into the grass, Mikoto looked about, taking in the lush foliage and pastel sky. It was early morning—she was in Hoshido.

Their clothes were sopping wet; they needed to warm up, or else catch a cold. Mikoto hadn't had time to pack a change of clothes, so they'd have to start a fire. She turned to ask Arete if she had a Fire tome with her and just then noticed she was alone. "Arete?" she shouted, her heart starting to stutter in her chest again. "Arete? Azura?"

A few birds chirped cheerfully in the distance, as though they were mocking her. Sunlight broke through the clouds and danced gently on the surface of the pond. The very still, very empty pond.

"Arete? Azura?"

This isn't happening, she thought numbly. It just wasn't. Any moment now her sister and niece would emerge from the water, coughing and cold and wet, but alive. Arete would slosh through the lake furiously, Azura in her arms, golden eyes flashing and soaked dress clinging to her skin. She would yell at Mikoto for a few moments, admonishing her for letting go of her. Then she would collapse, sobbing with relief, and embrace the younger woman, trapping Azura between them. Azura would wiggle and complain about her mama and auntie squishing her. Kamui, startled by the noise, would start crying again. Mikoto would laugh and kiss each one of their precious faces and gather them close and never let them go.

"Arete?! Azura?! Arete?!"

Any moment now.

"Arete! Azura! Arete! ARETE!"

Her yelling grew louder and more frantic, her head whipping this way and that, as she searched desperately for her sister and her niece, and found only silence.