A/N:

Cirex-Review: I have seen that, actually. I'm not sure what to think on Bolverk-it's definitely not a legendary weapon, the game establishes only five of those were made. It doesn't excude the "totally evil" auras Skadi and Ganglari do, so I don't think it's a creation of Anankos' either. And if Garon did use Siegfried, it would probably be a lot more beneficial to Anankos if Garon kept using it, instead of giving him a new weapon. If Garon has Siegfried, the Fire Emblem's not being completed. I think Bolverk's just a personal weapon crafted by him.

Rapis-Razuri: I don't think there's a particular difference, since in-game Garon's bastards are all eligible for the throne, and being thought of as Sumeragi's bastard apparently has no ill effect on Corrin. Garon's just grouchy and a bit jealous that Sumeragi's womanizing didn't have the same disastrous consequences as his own.

This has in-game roots, unfortunately-Azura came to harm at least once (Saizo's support) with no mentioned consequences for her attackers. And remember, Azura's not the only victim here-his other children were all bullying and killing each other as well, though I haven't shown it beyond Penelope's death and some minor background mentions. There was physical assault in that court for years that didn't stop until the survivors vowed to make it stop. So yes, there really wasn't anything Garon could do, because this isn't an isolated case of bullying-all his kids have experienced some form of it, and actual fist-fighting among them is commonplace (which I mentioned earlier in the chapter). He's afraid that if he only speaks against the bullying when it's one child in particular, after not doing anything for years, it'd be seen as favoritism and make Azura an even bigger target, so the only thing he does is try to smooth it all over quietly-which probably does contribute to things escalating. It's a deliberate flaw of his, that he's too afraid of potential consequences, when it comes to his children, to act.

Don't think I'm excusing bullying, by the way-it is a genuinely terrible thing to go through, and there is a point where the "horrid backstory" stops being valid. But that's the whole point here-Nohr's court was a shitty place back then, and not all places treat bullying as a serious thing, even in the real world. At that time, Nohr was probably one of them, figuring they had larger things to worry about, such as the lack of resources. So bullying to them would be seen as something you just have to suck up or stop yourself (again with the social darwinism mentality).

It had been so long since there had been an actual murder—a full year—that Garon had actually forgotten what the pain of it felt like. Pain was supposed to dull with time, and yet, the crushing blow to his chest, the swooping in his gut as he heard the news, was as sharp and striking as ever. Moreso, perhaps, since he'd grown lax in the peace.

He'd been in court with Arete when one of his soldiers came and reported that one of his children had been found dead. Forgetting where he was, only able to focus on those horrible words, Garon had immediately gotten to his feet and rushed after him, Arete on his heels. The nobles, gossipy vultures they were, had followed them, darting through the halls and up the stairs and through the door leading to the bedroom. And there he saw his daughter, slumped against the wall with a terrified expression on her face and red slowly pooling around her.

Garon couldn't even offer himself the token comfort of thinking Josie's death had been fast and painless, because it clearly hadn't been. His little girl had been stabbed multiple times, over and over again, before the assailant had buried a knife in her eye, piercing her brain and dealing the killing blow. It would have been done last—she would have been in so much pain…

"Call Basil and tell him to start the investigation," he said with a heavy heart, rising and turning away from the small, mutilated body. Next to him, Arete rested a hand on his arm, looking ill herself. Her attempt at comfort was appreciated but futile; the sour taste of bile was in his throat, and he had to swallow it down. The blood squelched beneath his boots as he slowly made his way to the door, where a crowd of onlookers had gathered.

"What need is there for that?" someone called.

Vesta pushed her way through the murmuring crowd into the room, lifting her skirts in a curtsy when she stood before him. Rising, she repeated in a loud voice, "What need have we for an investigation when we all know who the perpetrator is?"

"Do tell," Garon said flatly, "because making an accusation like that requires some very definitive evidence."

"The evidence is right before us. Look at the state of her body." Vesta gestured at it, false sorrow dripping off her words. "Who could brutalize such a young child so thoroughly, but someone who held a grudge against them?" Her eyes lifted, staring at a point beyond Garon's shoulder. He turned to see she was staring at Arete, blatantly disrespectful. "And whose daughter was the one being bullied by Princess Josephine?"

Two blotchy spots of color appeared high on Arete's cheeks. Her eyes flashed and her knuckles went white at her side, but when she spoke her voice was carefully controlled. "How dare you insinuate I would do this to a seven-year-old child? Josephine and Azura were quarrelling, yes, but unlike some, that's not enough cause for me to murder a young girl."

The maid scoffed, flipping her braid over her shoulder. "So you say, but we're all very aware of the front you put up. Why—"

"Be silent!" Garon thundered, pounding a fist into his palm. "Vesta, think carefully on who you are accusing. You accuse Queen Arete Rheos of Nohr," she'd asked to keep her last name when they'd wed, which he'd agreed to, but which certainly hadn't won her any public favor, "of murder and treason on nothing more than heresy and suspicion. And while I know you enjoy such things, they have no place in the courtroom of Nohr. Do you actually have tangible evidence to back up your words?"

Vesta glared, and he glared right back. Then she dropped her gaze and curtsied again, sickly sweet. "…no, Your Majesty, I do not. My...apologies. I withdraw my accusation."

"Good. Remember that someone may have attempted to frame her for this before you speak in such a manner again." He waved a hand to the crowd, cowing them all with his gaze. "Leave, all of you. Court is adjourned for today."

They did, and it was only when he was alone in the room with Arete and his precious daughter's body did Garon collapse into a chair and bury his head in his hands.

The investigation, of course, turned up no candidates for Josie's murder, and was quietly closed. A funeral was held, and then life moved on. Garon personally didn't believe Arete could do such a thing—he refused to believe it—but Vesta's words, true or not, were the death blow to her reputation. They spread like wildfire, and now his wife couldn't even step into town without people booing. Some outright threw rotten vegetables at her. They were arrested, of course, assaulting royalty was a crime, but she isn't really royalty, they yelled as the guards dragged them away, she's nothing but an imposter, a thief, a murderer! Death to Queen Arete!

Arete refused to crumple in the face of this. His brave wife would show up at court when needed, attended to her duties, and still went into down, keeping a stiff upper lip. But she was withdrawn, even more distant than usual—Garon almost only ever saw her early in the morning, as they woke, or late at night, as they prepared for bed, anymore.

Raoul was crushed by Josie's death, and even moreso by the fact he was one of the suspects for her murder. He had an alibi and was cleared, but the scandal of it and his self-loathing for his failure to protect Jeanette's daughter left his shoulders bent. Garon gave him leave of absence from his duties to recover.

Between Raoul being too guilt-ridden and broken to speak to and Arete's scarce availability, Garon found himself confiding any troubles he had to his only other retainer, Iago. The young man proved to be a good listener, and was willing to offer his advice. Garon didn't always agree with it, but he appreciated having an ear nonetheless.

"There's a simple solution to it all, my lord," the raven-haired man said some weeks later, when Garon had finished another furious rant about the lack of justice in Nohr, "Align yourself with a greater power."

"What greater power is there? Nohr has the greatest military in the land, and I am its king."

"Not worldly. But religiously." The dark mage stroked his tome as he spoke, and his insinuation clicked into meaning very quickly.

"You're petitioning me to pledge myself to Anankos?"

"Merely a suggestion, my lord, but one worth considering. His power is vast. And unlike some deities…" Iago's eyes slid over to the effigy of the Dusk Dragon in a move too calculated to be accidental, "he does not sit in silence promising future aid. He offers immediate gratification, gold and power and glory, and he grants them…as you have seen with me.

"With his power at your fingertips, your people would have no choice but to fall in line. Why, he could even give you strength enough to overthrow Hoshido. Imagine—storming that country, taking their lands and their resources, so your people might never hunger again. Just consider it, is all I ask."

His words painted a pretty picture, and Garon found himself thinking on them as the days went past and negotiations with Hoshido went nowhere. Abandoning his deity when an ill wind came his way sat wrong with him. Indeed, the Dusk faith preached perseverance even in the face of opposition. But he had seen Anankos's strength; wasn't he duty-bound to do the best he could for his country?

When she wasn't off doing her own secret things, Arete also made her opinion on the Hoshido-Nohr tensions known. Unlike Iago, she was a passionate advocate for peace when he spoke to her about advice. She'd had enough of fighting and death, she claimed, and pushed for him to acquiesce to Hoshidan demands.

He'd listened and "hunted down the criminals" raiding Hoshido, as Sumeragi had asked, hoping that offer of placation would make the Hoshidan king more agreeable. Agreeable enough to offer some of the territory by the Bottomless Canyon, perhaps. Unfortunately, while Sumeragi had thanked him for complying, he wasn't budging on that front.

Garon ranted about it late one night to Arete, pacing furiously in their suite. She sat in a chair, legs tucked up beneath her and a half-made stave in her hand, watching him move about.

"—and if he weren't so stubborn—"

"He just wants what's best for his country, the same as us," she pointed out.

"Well what's best for his country isn't what's best for mine," Garon grumbled, finally relenting and sitting next to her. "The fact is, he isn't offering us anything concrete to seal a peace treaty with. Land would be simple to give, Dusk knows he has plenty of it, but he refused my offer." Even a small amount of fertile Hoshidan land would be a great boon to barren Nohr. They were doing alright now—it was spring, their best season for harvest, and they'd stocked plenty of food from the raids—but he had to think about the future.

"What about a mutual agreement to lower export taxes, them on food, us on military, sealed with a betrothal?" Arete suggested, and Garon blinked.

A betrothal? Why, that was—that was a fine solution. In fact, it was a perfect one. Forge a formal alliance to get discounts on trade, cease the fighting, and prove to the rest of the world that Nohr was not a mere barbaric country, all wrapped up with the marriage of a prince and a princess. He'd legitimized all his bastards, so it wasn't even as though offering one of them was impossible. He'd been so focused on getting some of that land diplomatically, he hadn't even considered this as an option.

"That's a fine idea!" he exclaimed, smiling and leaning over to kiss her cheek. "I'll start writing immediately about a match for Xander. Princess Hinoka is the eldest daughter, so—"

"Actually," Arete interrupted, "I was thinking of betrothing Azura to Prince Kamui."

Garon stared, the smile dropping. "That's…an odd request," he finally said, because it was. In these types of situations usually the eldest were engaged. It wasn't unheard of to do otherwise, but odd. "Why her? And why to the second prince, not the first?"

She shrugged. "You saw how well they got along in Izumo. A betrothal where both parties like each other is stronger than one where they don't."

She had a fine point there—his own parents had encouraged his childhood friendship with Katerina for that very reason. But Arete was still offering up her own daughter for a betrothal, which he couldn't help find at least a little suspicious. He knew how much his wife treasured Azura and disliked political games, so for her to suddenly try and make Azura a part of it was…unusual.

Perhaps he was reading too much into it. Perhaps she was just trying to prove to Nohr that she and Azura were dutiful and committed to their country. But perhaps he wasn't. He had no way to know, and he hated that.

"Won't you at least consider it?" she pleaded, seeing the light die from his eyes.

"I am considering it, Arete. And it is a good idea with plenty of merit. But I…" Don't understand why you're so eager to offer up Azura. "…don't want to make any rash decisions."

She stared at him, looking disappointed. "Well, that's understandable. But you can't just dither forever and hope things resolve themselves, Garon. Look at what that's done to the court."

"I don't want to argue," he muttered, shaking his head and turning away. Her words stung, all the more because of how true they were. But most of the time he a decision it had somehow been the wrong one. Not being able to trust your own judgment was a terrible thing.

One eve, three months after Josie's murder, as spring died and turned to summer, the tension between him and Arete finally spilled over.

He'd returned to their room from a very long meeting settling a land dispute between two of his nobles. His wife was reading a book about different kinds of shielding spells, one hand jotting down notes next to her. Occasionally she crossed out a phrase or went back, adding in additional footnotes. One her lap was an intricate stave.

"You're hard at work," he said, placing his crown on the desk beside her and removing his cape. "What's that?"

He watched her shoulders tense slightly, then relax. "Just a spell I've been trying to create for a while," she mumbled. "It's pretty much done, there's just a wrinkle or two I need to work out."

A shielding spell of some kind? Interesting. "Do you think you'll duplicate it when it's done?" That sometimes happened—most tomes were generic and mass-produced, but customs ones sometimes found their way onto the market, with the original creator's approval. Iago had won favor very quickly by granting permission to replicate Ginnungagap, and additional copies were being written even now. It would be very rare, expensive, and hard to master, but powerful. Garon predicted only a few elite sorcerers and sorceresses would even be able to muster up a fraction of its true power.

Arete's mouth twisted bitterly. "I don't think most would want a stave produced by the queen of Nohr."

"I would."

"That's sweet of you to say," she chuckled. "How was the meeting?"

"Long. A messenger came in and delivered Sumeragi's latest reply, so I'll need to look that over tonight…" As he spoke he pulled the letter, folded neatly into eighths, out of his pocket and placed it on the desk. He knew he was fast running out of time to reach a decision, but he would at least like a hot bath first to soothe his aching muscles. He'd already told a servant to start one.

"The betrothal still seems like a good idea to me," Arete muttered as he unlaced his boots. "I don't approve of Iago and the way he goes on about glory and war. Why is he so certain we'll win?"

Arete and Iago didn't spend much time together—Iago seemed to disappear every time she showed up, and she was wary of him. It was no surprise she wasn't aware of his promises, so Garon filled her in. "His confidence comes from the power of his deity. He says Anankos could deliver any victory if we served him—"

A clatter cut his sentence off. The book had dropped out of his wife's hands. Arete had accidentally stabbed her quill too hard, tearing a hole in her paper, but she didn't seem to notice as she stared at him, face pale. "Anankos?" she repeated. "You're certain he said Anankos?"

"I'm positive." He paused. "Why? Arete, do you know of this deity?"

Her eyes slid away from his. "Nothing concrete," she said after a pause, "nothing I can say. But Garon—I beg you—we're so close to peace with Hoshido. Don't throw that away for promises of glory."

Garon studied her. She was definitely lying now, he was sure of it. What else is new, the cynical side of him snarked.

Shaking it off, he tried a reasonable approach. "I know. But I have to do what's best for my country. I'm not dedicating to anything right now—only considering my options." He took her hands in his. "That's why…Arete, please, if you know something, anything, tell me, so I can make an informed decision."

Rather than dismiss him outright, she looked pensive, and his heart leaped. Could he finally be getting some answers from his mysterious wife?

"If…" she said slowly, as though testing water, "if you were willing to go to the Bottomless Canyon with me, I could explain then."

He stared at her incredulously, that feeling of hope crushed as soon as it had been born. "You want me to leave, go to the Bottomless Canyon, with no explanation?" He pulled his hands away.

She twisted her wedding ring around one finger. "It's not as bad as you make it sound…"

"Arete, I can't just run off on an adventure with no reason. I have a duty to my country—a king who goes gallivanting whenever he pleases is a king not worth respecting."

"There is a reason, I promise, I just…can't tell you now."

Garon threw his hands in the air, frustration welling in him. "Oh, you can't tell me now. When, then? When it's convenient for you? Or maybe never? Do you intend to just dangle vague promises in front of me forever?" Somehow, he'd found himself shouting, and rather than be cowed, as many would, Arete's eyes flashed with her own anger.

"That is not what I'm doing! I want to explain things, I do, but it's difficult!"

"How is it difficult? You just need to come out and say it! The only reason you wouldn't is if you have something to hide!"

"I do, I'll admit that, but it's nothing bad—"

"How am I supposed to know that's true?!" he exploded.

Arete's mouth moved wordlessly. Garon's chest heaved with angry breaths, and his fists trembled at his sides. The air between them hung with heavy silence.

When she spoke, she seemed very small, deflated, the anger whizzing out of her like a faulty firework. Her voice was a mere whisper, cracking with pain. "…You believe them? You believe what all the concubines, all the people, are saying about me?"

He rubbed his forehead. "I've tried not to," he growled. "Dusk, I don't want to! But you aren't giving me a reason to do otherwise!"

Garon peered at her, hoping desperately Arete would do something, say something, to assuage these worries. Give him some proof that those rumors were only rumors. She did not, and he shook his head and turned away.

"…alright," she murmured behind him, and he turned, seeing her shoulders slumped in defeat. The sight sent a bolt of guilt through him, but he was too focused on the fact that she was finally relenting to dwell on it. "Alright. I'll…I'll tell you everything about me. Just… give me some time to prepare first. A week, that's all I ask, then I swear on my parents' souls I'll tell you."

"A week," he agreed. "I'll hold you to it." Then, gods be willing, we can put this whole mess behind us.

When the week was up, Garon went to visit Azura before bed, as always. She was already tucked in, playing with something in her hands, her regrown hair falling in front of her face. The occasional sniffle could be heard from her direction.

"What's wrong?" he asked quietly, the bed dipping as he sat on it.

She jerked up when she saw him, blinking owlishly. "I...was just thinking about something that happened earlier today."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

But she shook her head no. Garon didn't know what strung worse—how sad her eyes looked, or the fact that she didn't trust him enough to confide in him, either. She'd stopped calling him Father too. He suspected it was because of her step-siblings, but it still hurt.

Swallowing, he patted her hand. "Alright. But I'm always here if you want to."

She shrugged, one thin shoulder lifting lightly, obviously skeptical. Garon's eyes drifted down to what she was holding in her hands—a gleaming pendant, gold with a smooth blue stone in the center. It looked an awful lot like Arete's pendant.

The king blinked in surprise and took a double glance—no, that was Arete's pendant. He'd never seen his wife take it off, except for bed. "Is that your mother's necklace?"

Azura nodded quietly. "Mother…gave it to me for comfort, when she visited me tonight. I…I hope I can return it to her in the morning."

That was an awfully odd way of phrasing things. But he brushed it off as the oddities of a young girl, stooping to kiss her forehead. "Alright. Get a good nights' rest, and we'll see you in the morning."

"Your Majesty," her nanny, Cassita, greeted as he exited Azura's bedroom. The woman's family had been in service to his for a long time, and she had been Xander's wet-nurse. She was one of the few he felt he could entrust the "unwanted daughter of Nohr", as the nobles cruelly sneered, too. He gave her a respectful nod.

Then, he headed off to his and Arete's suite, determination for answers burning in his heart.

His wife was sitting at the desk in the main room, a fire burning in the hearth and casting golden shadows on her. The quill in her hand was still, and her shoulders were hunched as if a heavy weight were upon them. Her eyes stared blankly at the paper—was it just him, or were they a bit wet?

"Arete?" he called, an odd feeling of foreboding settling upon him.

She jerked, looking up at him, and whatever shine he'd seen in her eyes was gone. "You're here," she stated, sounding almost surprised. "So it's time…"

"Yes," he agreed, moving to stand in front of her. "It is. Will you tell me everything of your past, now?" Give me reason to dismiss these rumors.

Her golden eyes closed briefly. "I shall. Just…give me one more moment." He waited; after a few minutes she moved. Arete dipped her quill in the inkwell and set it to the paper, and then it struck Garon what she was going to do.

His eyebrows arched. "Writing? Arete…"

"Please," she interrupted. "It's…easier for me. To write things down than to say them."

He sighed—what was a bit of strangeness, as long as he got the answers in the end? "Very well."

Garon stood behind her, so he could peer over her shoulder at the paper. Arete took a deep breath; then, her quill began to dance across the page, in short, hasty strokes so unlike her usual careful penmanship.

"I used to be royalty. Not just royalty—a queen. A queen of a kingdom destroyed by the very deity Iago wishes you to submit to. I know what you're thinking—how can you be queen, when I've never heard of you or a destroyed kingdom? It used to be well-known, but Anankos cast a spell that cursed its very name. He struck it from the minds of the living and all the history books, and damned it to never be spoken outside its borders again without consequence.

"My kingdom's name…was Valla."

Valla. A fleeting sensation of familiarity—reading the name in books, learning of relations with it, childhood visits—flickered in Garon's mind and was gone just as quickly. He shook his head, wondering why it suddenly ached.

He glanced at Arete to see that she had stopped, gasping slightly, and seemed slightly stiff. But, picking up her quill again, she forcefully continued, "Anankos was our god, once. But he fell prey to madness and evil. Almost five years ago, he destroyed Valla—my sister, the very same Queen Mikoto of Hoshido, and I were separated in the fleeing. Now Anankos desires the end of all humanity. He can't leave Valla himself, but he'll manipulate people…you…to bring the destruction he wants. Iago must know this…and be working for him…"

Her letters were slowing down, becoming sloppier and leaving trails of ink in their wake.

"The Canyon is the…the way there. That's why I wanted you to go… so you would jump in and I…could explain things properly…"

"This is madness," he muttered, shaking his head and stepping back, "This is—Arete?"

The quill had dropped from her fingers. She was hunched over, clutching her arms and shaking. Alarmed, Garon grabbed her shoulder and yelled as he felt something that was most definitely not skin beneath his hand. It felt smooth and cold, like crystal or ice.

"Arete!" he shouted, dragging the chair out and around to face him. Her face slowly lifted, half-lidded eyes searching for his, and horror spread through him when he saw it. Her skin was crystallizing, a patchwork of flesh and ice. The air around her was chill, and her breath was rattling in pained gasps. As he watched in abject terror, the crystal—oh gods, the crystal began evaporating, melting into water and trailing into the air. Her body was disappearing, pieces passing before his eyes almost too quickly to comprehend. All thoughts of disbelief immediately disappeared from his mind as she collapsed, falling out of the chair into his arms.

"What sorcery is this?!" He turned and shouted at the door as loud as he could, "Guards! Healers! Get a healer immediately!"

"No good," Arete rasped, and Garon returned his attention to her, trembling in his arms. "The curse can't be healed."

"It's spreading so fast," he said numbly, shocked. "It's…it's true?" But of course it was, the proof was right before his eyes. So much was happening his mind didn't even know what to latch onto first.

She nodded, tears filling her eyes. "I hoped it wouldn't activate…if I only…wrote the name down…instead of speaking it… Guess I was wrong…"

"Healers!" Garon yelled again, his voice cracking. "How long—no, never mind. You just need to hold on, Arete. Someone will come. You're not going to die."

But she seemed to fully believe her fate was sealed, shaking her head and pleading on a different subject instead. "Don't do…what Iago's asking. Promise me…you'll make peace with…Hoshido, and…save this world…"

Where were the damned healers? "You're not going to die," he repeated numbly, his heart cracking, "You can't. Don't leave me. I'm sorry for doubting you, I'm so sorry—"

"Promise me."

"I—damn it, I promise!"

"Good," she breathed. "I—"

But another wrack overcame her, and she screamed. All her visible skin was covered in the crystal now, save her face, and the disintegration was getting faster, larger chunks breaking off. Garon watched in abject dread, hands moving over the patches as if he believed he could hold them down.

Oh gods, what have I done? If I'd only believed in her—if I'd only ignored those stupid rumors—she wouldn't have done this. I drove her to this. I drove—

"Not yet…" Arete moaned, the tears spilling over and down her cheeks, "please…there's so much left…to explain…"

But her plea went unanswered, as the crystal spread its fingers over the final stretches of her body. The weight in Garon's arms vanished completely. Water streamed up to the ceiling; hovered; and then fell among him, indoor rain kissing his teary cheeks.

A/N: So, curse of Valla, aka big ol' plot device. To make this thing actually believable—to explain why Corrin and Azura never tried indirect communication—I had to show why such a thing wouldn't work. That meant clearing up that it's not a "speak the name Valla and disappear" curse, it's a "mention the name Valla at all and disappear" curse. A tad too powerful? Perhaps, but then again Anankos can summon black holes at will, so something like this shouldn't be beyond him. We also never actually see the curse in action, which is partially why I wanted to write the scene, to give it a bit of oomph. How it kills is pretty much exactly how Azura dies at the end of Birthright just because that seems to be Anankos's favored method (his servants disappear into water when defeated).