Welcome to The Necessity of Peace! Whether you came here from reading Hide and Seek or just clicked this fic to start with, we want to make a few concepts clear first.

1. This is an OC story - the OC being Rasler's sister who is the same age as Ashe.

2. This is an AU to The Games We Play, and is set after Hide and Seek. We suggest you read it. It's not THAT vital, but it does have a few story points that may matter. Unlike The Games We Play, which starts with the events of the game after Chapter 1, a large portion of this story will take place immediately after this chapter, meaning two years before the events of the game, before eventually crossing into the events of FFXII.

3. Something to note is that in this fic/this series, Ashe and Rasler were sort of arranged to be wed/there were talks of their marriage since their childhood. Cue the This Is Not My Idea song from The Swan Princess.

4. Though The Games We Play and The Necessity of Peace are AUs of each other, the flashbacks shown in both stories are applicable to both, since it is the same Anastacia - just with a different choice between freedom and duty (series title drop!). (Just in case you're interested in reading both stories.)

5. I know we're forgetting something again... but I can't remember it right now.

Enjoy!

The Necessity of Peace

1 - Duty

The palace halls were bathed in midday sunshine, its stained glass windows splashing color upon Gilimas lake below. As such, Anastacia held that it was the best hour to play hide and seek.

"I'm seeker?" she complained, looking around at the other children. Sons and daughters of Nabradian lords who were too shy to confirm this, but the prince was not easily cowed. At least, not by his little sister.

"I was seeker last time," said Rasler, eight and only a year her senior. "And so have we all today. You haven't been it since days ago!"

"Because I'm the best at hiding," Anastacia scoffed. "Rasler, you were the first one Tanis found. You're seeker!"

"I tire of playing seeker," he sighed. "Maybe I'll just retire to my room."

"Noooo!" Anastacia suddenly cried, grabbing his arm. "Just one more round, Rasler! Please?"

The prince turned a nose up at his sister, pretending to think long and hard about it. "I don't know…"

"Please," Anastacia wailed, apparently caring very little if the other children saw her in such a state. Soon she began to whine, something her older brother utterly detested. "Rasler!"

"All right, all right!" he snapped, shaking her off him, only to sigh. "I'll be seeker. I deserve it, anyway."

Anastacia beamed at him with such joy that he had to roll his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he turned to the pillar behind him and pressed his face to an arm as he began to count. "One… two… three…"

The children filled the castle with terrified screams as they ran out of the hall to search for their hiding places. Anastacia knew the best one, and where Rasler would never think to look. Making her way past the courtyard, she stumbled across inner rooms known only to the royal family, leaving servants harried and doors ajar in her wake.

She would have gone further had she not darted past the office with its other door leading to the throne hall. From that office - often where the king and his closest advisors convened after receiving important guests - she could hear voices. Summoned by curiosity, she drew closer and opened the door slightly until she saw her father on his seat and Lord Harthas, his closest advisor, standing at his side.

"Papa!" she grinned, waving as she ran for him.

King Jenomis stiffened at the sight of her, and Anastacia was a child astute enough to see that she had done something wrong. Slowing down as she reached him, she only then looked about the hall.

The king and Lord Harthas were receiving only one today - a comely young man with his dark hair tied in a ponytail. He wore distinct clothes in a fashion she hadn't seen before, but Anastacia paid enough attention to her studies and the colors on his armored clothing to understand whence he came. Gold, green, and crimson, and the blue emblem over his chest. A prince of House Solidor.

King Jenomis sighed. "Lord Lamont… Her highness, the princess Anastacia. My daughter."

"Your Imperial Highness," she said, curtsying at her father's side.

The man gave a small smile, bowing in return. "Your Royal Highness. If I may," he added at once, when he met their gazes again, "I believe the princess highly suitable to the young prince."

"What prince, Father?" asked Anastacia, learned in manners… but not quite perfect yet.

"My little brother, Lord Vayne of House Solidor," the prince answered. "A handsome and well-mannered young man of fifteen. Intelligent - prodigious, really, and princely in every manner of the word, I assure you. It would be a wise match."

The king bristled at the interruption, and held his daughter's hand to help school his features. "The princess's suitability is not for judging today, my lord. I'm afraid I cannot accept your proposal."

Prince Lamont raised a brow, his lips now set in a line. "Perhaps you need more time, Your Majesty. Take all you need to deliberate with Lord Harthas. It is my honor to wait."

"Your Majesty…" murmured Harthas.

"No," said Jenomis, resolute in his answer. "Your offer is generous, and my regards to His Imperial Majesty. But there will be no arrangements today."

Lamont gave nothing away save a small quiver of his mouth. Whatever his reaction was, his response was a smile. "How unfortunate. We will, of course, respect your wishes. Now… it is likely you will receive a similar proposal from Rozarria, for one of the Margraces' little princes. I hope you will show that offer the same consideration you have afforded ours."

It was Harthas's turn to grow angry. "Lord Lamont," he frowned, "that is not for you to trust."

Lamont only titled his head in temporary resignation. "Then I shall be on my way. My father eagerly expects my return. I thank you for your audience, King Jenomis."

"Safe tidings, Prince Lamont," was all the king said.

"Princess," Lamont said, smiling at the confused little girl before him.

Anastacia could only curtsy before he turned and left the room with his guards. She didn't give her father a moment to breathe before she squeezed his hand in return. "Papa, what's happening? Will I have to marry a prince? Like princess Ashe?"

King Jenomis turned to his daughter, regarding her with a look she would see only once more in his life after this moment. He embraced her before exchanging a look with Lord Harthas, and then answered her question. "I would never make you do such a thing. No Solidor prince will ever be anything like your brother. If you must one day marry, I will match you with someone brave, strong… and good. I promise you this."

Anastacia stared back into her father's eyes. A child could never understand what in a proposal might weigh on the mind of a king, but the princess wanted to understand.

And then Rasler burst in through the door through which she'd entered, his mouth bearing a wide grin - until he saw his father and his advisor.

With a quick, regal bow, he said, "Father. Lord Harthas."

"Your Highness," Harthas bowed in return.

"Rasler," greeted the king, his burdens dissipating with an amused smile. "Carry on."

Another bow, and Rasler pointed at Anastacia. "CAUGHT YOU! And first! You're seeker once I find everyone else!" he guffawed, and left with a cackle.

Anastacia gasped. "You—!"

The princess rushed out after her brother, her question forgotten.

Even on the continent atop the clouds, Marquis Halim Ondore's estate was hot and sunny in the summer. Even then, Anastacia spent childhood trips there in his labyrinthine gardens, returning to his manor a gleeful, filthy mess. Still, it meant hide-and-seek was her game whenever Rasler roped her into it.

Today, however, she was in her uncle's office.

So much had happened in the past year. Too much, to the point that she no longer felt as though she might only be seventeen. The complete and utter obliteration of her kingdom and her father and most of their people with it. Rasler's death and the spectre of him on the cathedral.

And now, given no choice, the decision of King Raminas to shed his kingdom's sovereignty to spare his people. All that was left now was for him to sign the treaty at Nalbina - a 'neutral' area between Dalmasca and Archadia. It was as though Nabradia the home of her house, had never existed.

The princess was seventeen and knew better, and still she sat at the feet of the griffon statue before her uncle's desk rather than on any other chair in the room. These childish habits privately comforted her in troubled times.

Tired of wringing her hands, she looked to the Marquis. "Uncle…"

"I know," he murmured, apparently exasperated with his own habit of tapping at his desk. He rose to his feet, impatiently knocking his cane twice on the ground before making his approach to her.

His office doors burst open right as he did, revealing a Bhujerban sainikah who bowed quickly before offering a scroll to the Marquis.

Anastacia hopped off the ledge and hurried to her uncle. "What does it say?"

Halim shook his head, still unfurling it. Before long, his fingers trembled with his voice. "Raminas…" he began, blinking away tears as he looked upon his niece. "The captain - Captain Basch - assassinated King Raminas during the signing and has been put to death."

The princess released him, slowly shaking her head. "No… That's - that's impossible. He wouldn't. He would never—"

"And Ashelia," he continued on reluctantly, "grief-stricken, has taken her own life."

"No! It's a lie, uncle. Tell me. Tell me it's a lie," Anastacia begged, but the last time she had denied herself the truth, she had lost almost all credibility. She knew this. So she snatched the truth from his hands, nearly kissing the parchment as she read it over and over and over, but the words didn't change. Her uncle Raminas was dead, murdered by a captain she knew to be honorable. That same captain was summarily executed by the empire. And, learning all this… Ashe had killed herself.

"I should've… I should've stayed in Dalmasca with her," she murmured, voice growing in panic, in fury as she went on. "Why did I leave? Why did I allow her to stay behind?!"

Crumpled parchment fell to the floor, soaked with tears as the princess turned to her uncle for comfort. He embraced her in turn, holding her tightly until Halim the Marquis remembered the need to act. Pulling away, he squeezed at Anastacia's shoulders and looked at her. "There remains time. You are heir to the union Ashelia and Rasler left behind. Do you understand?"

Anastacia met her uncle's gaze in confusion. "M-Me? But I'm only..."

"Once a princess of Nabradia, beloved to the people of Dalmasca. Now the Queen of the united kingdoms of Dalmasca and Nabradia. Anastacia. Listen to me."

"I - I - I… I know this. But…" She shook her head. Repeatedly. "What can I do? You saw the letter! They've marched upon Rabanastre, and Ashe died before she was forced to witness it. And Nabradia is... long gone."

"Rozarria," said the Marquis through gritted teeth. "The House Margrace has many sons. One, unmarried, closest in age to you: Prince Al-Cid. Unite Dalmasca with Rozarria and fend off Archadia's advance."

Anastacia stared at her uncle as though he spoke a language she couldn't comprehend. "Fend them off? They are already in Dalmasca, uncle! You read the letter!"

Halim rubbed a hand over his face. "Then what will you do, Anastacia?"

The princess froze at that. She had never been asked such a question, or perhaps the answer had never been so difficult to give. Bound as a princess with duties to the kingdom, but free enough to do as she wished - that was Anastacia. She was lucky in that the two concurred - know the people, keep them happy, distract them from their worries. That had become difficult with Nabradia in ruins, with her family in tatters, but her role had stayed the same with King Raminas and Ashe remaining. Now…

Now she was alone. Heir to a necrohol and a kingdom recently invaded. Queen.

She gulped. But her nerves wouldn't stop Archadia's advance, and the Marquis continued to watch her.

"I… I will marry."

Halim sighed in relief. "Quickly, then. I will draft the letter to House Margrace."

"No."

The Marquis stopped. "No?"

Anastacia took a deep breath. "No." She stood tall, though her new mantle threatened to crush her. "I will marry into House Solidor."

The implication made Halim's head spin. "Vayne!?" he exclaimed, taking her by the wrist. "Anastacia - that would be surrender! You cannot!"

She shook him off. "King Raminas was going to sign his kingdom away! With his murder, the empire has pretext to subjugate Dalmasca completely. My uncle was no coward… He wanted to protect his people," Anastacia said quickly, as though she wanted to cement her decision before she changed her mind. "If I marry a prince of the Empire as Queen of the united kingdoms of Dalmasca and Nabradia, then I will have… some power. Enough to protect my remaining subjects as per my uncle's wish."

Halim stared at her in horror. "But…"

"If I marry Al-Cid and give the two Empires a reason to finally, really go to war, Rabanastre will be the first and primary battlefield. If I can prevent that… then I must try."

Halim watched the princess with growing pity. That flighty, cheerful, oblivious Anastacia - or so they had thought, he realized - knew enough to understand this and that she would consider resigning herself to such a role broke his heart. "It is my duty to tell you as your uncle - as Marquis of Bhujerba, as your ally - that if you marry Vayne… you will suffer. It may be a fate worse than death. The men of House Solidor do not keep the Archadian senate at its heel by being kind or forgiving. Or good. You will be their prisoner. But in Rozarria, you would be priceless to House Margrace. Protected."

Anastacia met her uncle's gaze. "Uncle Halim… Marquis Ondore. What would you do?"

Save the day of Rasler's funeral, she had rarely been seen without a smile. Where Ashe and Rasler bore the people's hopes, Anastacia was meant to brush away the people's burdens, and her smiles accomplished that best. Effortlessly, even. Now Halim saw that it was just as much work for her as it had been for the other two who had been children to him. Her feelings were plain on her face. "I would…"

Before he could finish, those feelings vanished. She had never looked as much like her father as she did now, face schooled into detached regality. "I would rather bow than watch the last of my people kneel. They became my people too, uncle. It is my duty to protect them."

"I know," he murmured. Halim could say nothing else - he could not even give his assent. The permission was not his to offer. His approval, however, he gave her in a sudden, tight embrace.

"Quickly, then. I… I will draft the letter to House Solidor."

The queen nodded.

Archades was a beautiful city. The most beautiful, Vayne believed, though his older brother Lamont had once claimed that Nabradia was the true jewel of Ivalice.

Of course, he would never know now.

Though, much as he appreciated the view from the Imperial palace, he had little interest in matters within the state at present. As he strolled into the emperor's office, he couldn't help but frown. Taken away from a victory, called back into the capital when he could have met with the doctor to discuss further plans.

"Your Excellency," he greeted. Bowed. With all his business abroad, everything in the capital was perfunctory now. Even, he realized, its beauty. A natural complement to the changes made by House Solidor. He found pride in it, but little joy. Not these days.

"Vayne. Welcome home."

The prince could only nod, both stunned and disgusted by his father's sudden warmth. His offhanded tone was to be expected, but that he uttered those words to begin with sealed the suspicion in Vayne's mind. "Have you need of me, Excellency? I thought I best served the Empire's interests abroad."

Emperor Gramis motioned to a piece of parchment on his desk. Vayne approached with a poorly-concealed sigh, only for his father to explain his summons belatedly. "A proposal ten years too late."

Vayne quirked a brow. "I do not confess to remember all your great deeds, Lord Father."

Gramis gave him that with a hum. "A union between Nabradia and the Empire."

"Nabradia?" he repeated. "That is too late. Months, if not the last decade, as you say."

"To be precise, the united kingdoms of Nabradia and Dalmasca."

"Ah. That ill-fated union, I do recall." Vayne paused, as if he'd only heard his father speak now. "A union between Nabradia and the Empire? With whom?"

"You've been a prolific champion of the Empire of late, Vayne. Surely you know. An eligible son of mine and the princess he thought unremarkable enough to let live. Survivors, I should call them both."

At twenty-five, Vayne found few things still surprised him. This one was good enough to make him blink. "Marriage?" he exhaled. "Forgive me if its necessity is lost on me. Dalmasca is already ours."

"You are forgiven," said Gramis. "Dalmasca is angry. Factions within the empire already horrified by Nabudis will be appalled-"

"That has been taken care of. Captain Basch fon Ronsenburg was most helpful. And since when have detractors swayed your heart?"

"This has nothing to do with my heart, but the people's. A marriage has never failed to pacify unrest; moreso an heir. You claim to know much about appearances. Did you not know this?"

Vayne set his deadpan expression to the grand windows behind the emperor. "Such petty politics is beneath me."

"That you have won the empire a new kingdom is undeniable, but so is the necrohol you left behind to acquire it. Even a brute knows not to drive those lesser to the brink."

"If I am a brute, it is for the sole reason that I had the empire's finest teacher," he said pointedly. "As did Valdis and Lamont, who have paid the price."

"You are wise to learn. And to know your place, as they did not," Gramis sighed, clearly tiring of this game."The people love and now pity Anastacia. Cowed they may be, but they will rally around her. Possess her loyalty and you may dissuade remaining rebels from raising resistance forces. Especially on the part of the princess you considered inconvenient enough."

Vayne knew the exasperation in his father's voice well. He had earned it many times - not for falling short, but for performing beyond his expectations. He assumed it was the same now. "I know little of this Anastacia other than that she did not involve herself in matters of the state. The people's princess, they called her," he said mockingly. "I doubt she possesses the political acumen her sister bears. But I also doubt this Nabradian gem is so foolish as to simply bend to my will."

"Not Nabradia. Not its princess," Gramis corrected. "The new Queen of Dalmasca. Weigh the problems she will pose against the fortune she may bring you."

Vayne regarded his father quietly. "You have not graced me with lessons so patiently since I was a boy. This must of great significance to you, Excellency."

Gramis shook his head. "I will speak plainly. A pretty wife may temper your greed."

"Solidor greed," said Vayne, taking his turn to correct his father. "Did mother do the same for you?"

The emperor was silent.

Vayne took the victory without a smile. "Do you command me to do this, Your Excellency?"

"I do not. And I do not believe Ondore forced this decision upon her. He was like as not to seek Rozarrian aid."

"And yet, on her part, a final effort to keep Dalmasca alive," Vayne enunciated thoughtfully. "Perhaps this new queen is not so foolish, after all."

When the emperor gave him the silence to truly ponder the proposal, Vayne found that he was not repulsed by the thought of marriage. It was simply something he'd never considered - his ideals lent to grander thoughts than a lavish ceremony - but a marriage would not interfere with his plans. It might even advance them, for as long as his dear wife knew her place.

Now Vayne smiled. "Very well," he inclined his head. "I will wed the girl."

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