A/N: So you know how most written works have a chapter that doesn't really move along the plot, but is necessary for setting up the groundworks for the plot to move? Yeah, this is that chapter, sorry. It features the first notable timeskip, establishes the relationship between Mikoto and Sumeragi (and Hoshido at large), has still more worldbuilding for Hoshido and Nohr, and introduces the gray and grey morality the game was sadly lacking in. Not a lot of drama, but Mikoto deserves a bit of a breather, given what she's been through and what she's going to go through.
…In other news, this is also known as the "Let's see how many Fates cameos I can sneak into one chapter" chapter.
Disclaimer: I've never done toddler-speak before. If it sounds unbelievable to you, please let me know and I'll do my best to fix it.
"…eleven injured and two dead in the last raid. The Nohrians made off with five barrels of fish, ten of bread, and seven of fruit. The village suffered moderate damage, nothing that can't be repaired, but the people are starting to whisper that we can't protect them from Nohr."
"And their demands?"
"They've changed slightly, Your Highness. They still want the export taxes lowered, but now they're insisting we drop them to below their original price, as reconciliation for raising them in the first place."
Yukimura put the reports down, an apologetic look on his face. The meeting with Sumeragi's advisors was taking place in a small, private room, set apart from most of the palace. Those gathered were sitting cross-legged on the ground around a low wooden table. Only the king's most trusted advisors and his retainers were present, as the subject was a rather contentious one.
Sumeragi sighed and rubbed his forehead with one gloved hand. He glanced to the woman to his left. "What are your thoughts, Mikoto?"
Mikoto bit her lip, musing over the question. In the three years since her arrival in Hoshido and accumulation into Sumeragi's court, she'd wormed her way into the valuable position as an advisor and a concubine, though the latter was in name only.
The pond she had emerged from had been a week's journey from Shirasagi. Cold, wet, terrified, and grieving, she'd fled there, remembering Sumeragi's kind offer months ago. It had not been an easy trip; she was constantly jumpy, avoiding water for fear of Anankos's troops chasing her through it, and she got almost no sleep, afraid she'd open her eyes to find Kamui dead or missing. Things had not improved much when she'd arrived; the palace guards had been suspicious of the vagabond woman with choppy short hair and dirty clothes, begging to see the king. They had almost thrown her out on the spot—she'd had to say Kamui was Sumeragi's bastard son to get them to relent.
When she'd been brought before Sumeragi to speak in private, as she'd asked, she'd been prepared to throw herself at his feet and plead for shelter, plead for him to pretend another man's son was his. She'd even been prepared to offer herself up as a concubine. Women who bore royal bastards were sometimes accepted into palaces for that purpose, and she could think of no safer place for herself and Kamui than behind the well-defended walls of Hoshido's castle.
Sumeragi had dismissed his retainers and listened to the abbreviated version of her story—that her home had been destroyed and everyone she loved was dead, save her son—but as she'd begun prostrating herself to start the begging, he'd raised a hand. Her heart had stopped, and she'd been certain he was going to refuse to help without even hearing her out, but instead he'd just asked what he could do for her. And thus, she and her son were accepted into the royal household, her as a concubine and advisor, Kamui as Sumeragi's "bastard".
Even though she was technically safe, Mikoto was loathe to sit on her hands. She needed to prove herself valuable, gather allies just in case trouble came her way, and more than that, she just needed work to bury herself into so she wouldn't have to think about what befell her loved ones. The court was surprised, of course, that a mere "peasant woman" was so well-versed in politics, taxes, and other courtly matters—but she was so good at her job, and so careful to cultivate a polite, soft-spoken mask, they were content not to question her about it. Their trusting and open nature surprised her—the Vallite court would have been micro-examining her for every slight error and detail, and Nohr's, from what she'd heard, would have been actively plotting to ruin her. Perhaps it was a result of Hoshido's easy life that the country as a whole was so…naïve.
But now, the question of Nohr's recent actions.
Mikoto laced her fingers, choosing her words carefully. "For decades, Hoshido has exported food to Nohr. In fact, we have been their sole source of food. It's no surprise they would see raising the export taxes as taking advantage of them. While we certainly have our reasons for doing so, we can't put the safety of our nation at risk. Not conceding to Nohr means these attacks will only worsen, I'm certain. I think we should formally apologize and acquiesce to what they ask."
"With all due respect, Lady Mikoto," a soft voice interjected, coming from Sumeragi's right. Mikoto glanced over—it was Queen Ikona. Sumeragi's wife was both lance fighter and noblewoman, hailing from a prominent family. Her rose-red hair and eyes, gentle face, and slight frame made her seem far frailer than she actually was. "I disagree."
She paused, likely for dramatic effect. Posture impeccable as always, Ikona's eyes swept around the room, and her voice was clear. "Nohr is starving. I can sympathize with that. But these attacks have been unprovoked and their demands are unreasonable. The strain of constantly shipping off food has taken its toll on our economy, and we can't continue without further incentive. We simply can't afford to lower the taxes now, not just because of the negative effect on our economy, but because it endorses Nohr's behavior and makes us look weak."
"So you suggest we ignore their demands, even if it risks turning these skirmishes into a full-out war?" Saizo asked, red eyes narrowed. The green-haired man was fourth of his name, from a line that had long served the royal family as retainers—in fact, his twin sons, who were a little older than Prince Ryoma, had just started training as ninjas, if Mikoto recalled correctly. He was a valiant patriot, but tended to be rather dour and skeptical.
"Would you like to chance a rebellion among the merchants displeased with their pay for their decades of service in delivering food to Nohr?" Ikona countered politely.
"But can we risk a war?" Mikoto stressed, leaning forward. "Nohr has provided us with mercenaries and soldiers because our own military is so underdeveloped. If things escalate, we might win by cutting them off and slowly starving them to death, but wars of attrition take a long time. They would likely overwhelm us before then."
"Can they even understand the idea of peace?" That was Akio, a hot-headed and outspoken samurai who, like Saizo, hailed from a family long in service to the crown. "When faced with a decision they didn't like, instead of attempting to negotiate, they attacked! Those Nohrians are barbaric; they've long envied us for our good fortune. They will always envy us! Should we roll over and show them our bellies every time they threaten our land?"
These damned prejudices again, Mikoto thought, irate. Hoshido and Nohr had originally been on opposite sides of the First War, and while they were willing to trade now, their interactions were tense, wary, and perpetrated by old stereotypes. Not all thought as extremely as Akio did, but there was an unfortunate tendency among the Hoshidans to look down their noses at Nohr. The country's heavy emphasis on military caused most to see them as war mongers at best and savages at worst—and Nohr, from what she knew, thought of Hoshido as uncaring, self-centered, and whimsical.
Nohr actually had attempted to negotiate over the export taxes, but people were willing to forget about that. It was easier to pretend the other party was too brutish for diplomacy than admit your own stubborn refusal to budge had a hand in the current situation. In any case, Akio's words sparked a storm, the various advisors, retainers and nobles all speaking at once, trying to talk over each other in their eagerness to get their voice heard.
Finally, Sumeragi slammed the end of Raijinto's hilt into the table, catching everyone's attention and silencing them. "Enough. There are good points on both sides, but we've been arguing for hours now without reaching a clear consensus. This session is over, we'll pick it up again tomorrow after lunch."
With the court dismissed and the day mostly over, Mikoto and Ikona departed to the nursery to see their children. Mikoto glanced at Ikona out of the corner of her eye as they walked in silence.
Her relationship to Queen Ikona was a strange one. When Mikoto had arrived in court, carrying "proof" of the king's infidelity, she'd been afraid it would earn her the enmity of the queen—but to her surprise, Ikona hadn't cared that Sumeragi had seemingly strayed. "We were married for politics, not love," she'd said the first time Mikoto had met her, hands folded neatly in her lap, kneeling with her spine ramrod straight. "I don't care who or what he does in his free time. Sumeragi can't divorce me without losing my family's support, and my son is older than yours; neither of you threaten our positions. Ergo I see no reason for us to fight and squabble like petty children over this matter."
"I am most relieved to hear that," Mikoto had breathed, bowing as deeply as she could. "Thank you for your generosity."
"Of course—but understand this;" And here Ikona's eyes had narrowed, a bit of steel working its way into her voice, "should you ever try to harm my children, I will find a way to evict you and your son. Sumeragi's favoritism won't protect you."
Mikoto had assured her she meant no harm to the queen's two children, and that was that. It was very fortunate they'd agreed to get along, since they saw each other often, both working to advise Sumeragi in courtly matters. They often had differing opinions—Ikona was Hoshidan through and through, proud of her country and reluctant to yield to Nohr, while Mikoto was trying to save their strength for Anankos—but there was an underlying respect for the other woman in their interactions. Sometimes they even had lunch or did ikebana together, and the atmosphere was generally pleasant. They were almost friends, Mikoto thought, or at the very least not enemies.
Ikona had also been very helpful in assisting Mikoto's adjustment to Hoshido. While some of the first Vallites had been Hoshidan refugees, both cultures had evolved much over time. Valla didn't eat with chopsticks or have rice paper screen doors or wear kimonos. Noblewomen were expected to learn music, not ikebana and calligraphy. Not knowing even the most basic things made life both difficult and dangerous. If the court thought she wasn't Hoshidan, they'd ask questions she couldn't answer. And that might make her position at court precarious.
So she quickly learned to pretend to be a bit airheaded, covering up her cultural mistakes with ditziness. When she fumbled her chopsticks, she pretended her mind had been elsewhere. When she put her kimono on wrong, she laughed it off. People soon came to accept these flubs as just a part of her eccentric nature.
Mikoto didn't know if she'd fooled Ikona or not—she doubted it, the queen was quite smart—and she definitely knew she wasn't fooling Sumeragi, who knew she was from elsewhere. But the constant time she had to spend in Ikona's company gave her opportunities to observe how the queen behaved and acted, and she was able to mold her own behavior off that. Ikona was even prone to occasionally advising her in subtle ways, offering mild criticisms of her flower arrangements or the way she walked, for instance.
Some months ago, Ikona had discovered she was pregnant again, with her third child, and her due date was fast approaching. She may not have loved Sumeragi, but she definitely loved her children, and there was a subtle glow about her as she went about her palace duties. Her happiness about her upcoming son or daughter made Mikoto a little wistful, remembering her own pregnancy and the blissful ignorance she'd had of things to come.
When they arrived at the nursery, the sight within made Mikoto smile. The three royal children were playing together, Ryoma giving Kamui a piggyback ride while Hinoka chased them. At seven and four, both of Sumeragi's blood children had outgrown the need for the nursery, but they still often went there once their lessons were over to play with Kamui. She was relieved they got along—they'd been wary of her when she first arrived, in the way all children are wary of strangers, but they'd been delighted to have another brother.
Her son's eyes lit up when he saw her, and he scrambled off Ryoma, running over as quickly as he could. "Mama!"
Mikoto couldn't be more grateful that he took after her, albino coloring aside—explaining why the king's bastard resembled neither his mother nor his supposed father would have been almost impossible. Her son was a naturally sweet child, bright and curious and full of energy. Innately charismatic, he'd wrapped most of the court around his finger as soon as he'd started learning to talk and walk. He'd be a great leader someday.
But for now, he was just her little boy. She giggled and bent down to scoop him up, planting kisses on his cheeks. "Hello, my little dragon. How was your day?"
"Lotta fun! 'ochi an' 'yoma an' 'noka an' me played knights-an'-dwagons, an' then 'ochi did some weally cool magic twicks, an' then she told my fow-tune, an' she said it was weal good!"
"Oh?" Mikoto turned with a smile to the young babysitter. Orochi was a noblewoman's daughter, about ten years of age. Her family followed the practice of fortune-telling and predicting the future, a practice most dismissed, but Mikoto had taken an interest in it. The abilities Anankos had granted her were, in truth, almost useless—she almost never got full visions, just flashes and senses of impending danger that were hard to decipher. So she was eager to learn anything she could that might help. She hadn't learned much, but she'd earned the patronage and loyalty of an old family for taking them seriously, which was almost as good. Orochi had already vowed to become her retainer once she was old enough, but for now, she settled for babysitting Kamui and the other royal children.
The purple-haired girl gave Mikoto her unique, cat-with-the-cream smile. "Indeed. I told him that his future holds a treat of sweets from a woman he loves very, very much."
Kamui's red eyes begged up at her. Mikoto laughed and shook her head, reaching into her sleeve for the Hoshidan candies she and her son loved. "Oh, very well. Here you go."
The two-year-old took them eagerly, barely unwrapping one before shoving it in his mouth.
"I also said perhaps it would benefit him to share his sweets," Orochi added mischievously.
"Oh!" Kamui turned and rushed over to his siblings, who had gone straight to Ikona once she entered. "Hewe you go, 'yoma, 'noka!"
Orochi pouted—she'd probably intended for some of those sweets to go to her. Laughing, Mikoto handed her one, and the girl brightened up. Ikona chuckled at something her children were telling her, drawing Kamui's attention over, and he instantly launched into a babble of toddler chatter. The queen smiled at him, politely, patiently—that was something else Mikoto was grateful for, that Ikona didn't treat Kamui badly.
Watching their carefreeness made Mikoto's mind drift, inevitably, to the problem of Valla. She still hadn't found a way to warn people about Anankos. To be honest, she was a little scared to try. If she died, what would happen to Kamui? If the Hoshidans didn't believe her, her son would have no one knowing about Valla to protect him. And she'd already sworn to Anankos to not tell him about it. So she kept silent, instead trying to find ways to prepare Hoshido for the inevitable invasion. Advising towards increases in military personnel, channeling money into programs specializing in defensive magic, trying to make peace so that Hoshido and Nohr didn't fight themselves into exhaustion before Anankos arrived—those were all things she'd done, with various amounts of success.
Mikoto closed her eyes and breathed a silent prayer to the gods, to guide their decisions in the coming days, so their children wouldn't pay for their mistakes.
Weeks slipped by. In the end, Sumeragi listened to Ikona, and started deploying Hoshido's troops along the border towns, a blatant warning to Nohr. The raids trickled to a halt as King Garon contemplated what to do in response to this. Ikona birthed her third child, a son named Takumi, and a few weeks later the year ended.
As Ikona was required by Hoshidan law to spend a month in rest after her childbirth, she was unable to go to the new year's festival—one of the biggest celebrations in Hoshido. For three days, no one was to do any work. Lights and lanterns were strung up in the city, and fireworks would go off every night. Food stalls brought out special dishes like otoso and ozoni. Many citizens made a pilgrimage to Shirasagi to partake in the festivities or visit the major shrines; those unable to do so went to the closest large town they could.
One particular custom was buying a small wooden boat, writing a wish onto a piece of paper, tying it to the boat, and releasing it into a nearby body of water. In Shirasagi, that body of water was the royal lake, and this was the one time of the year commoners were allowed onto the castle grounds, though not in the castle itself. The process symbolized both your hopes for the new year and letting go of the pain of the past year. It was a nice custom, Mikoto thought.
The first year she had, embarrassingly, ended up crying in public over it. She'd initially planned to put just two boats in for Arete and Azura, but then she remembered Anankos, who she was afraid was dead too, and Damaris and Keiji, who'd died so she could escape, and her parents, and her entire country, and suddenly she'd had innumerable boats, a fleet of boats, too many boats to put in the water. So instead she put in just one little boat, one boat representing all of Valla and all her dead people and all the dead ones she loved. And the sight of it had broken her, and she'd wept as people stared and Sumeragi patted her shoulder and Ikona's eyes softened.
The second year, it didn't hurt as much to put that boat in the water. She still missed Anankos and Arete and Azura greatly, but the pain had subsided a little. This year, it hurt even less. It was Mikoto's third time attending, and the first where it was just her and Sumeragi. Knowing how painful this festival could be for her, he'd set his mind on keeping her happy, cracking jokes to make her laugh and telling her stories from his youth.
Sumeragi had been a good friend to her over the years. He included her in his decision making and made sure everyone at the castle treated her with respect. He would take her with him on his tours around the country, showing her the sights and helping her adjust to life in Hoshido. He always made time to talk to her, and he'd never pried into her past too deeply or forced her to do the other duty of a concubine.
Mikoto had once asked him why; perhaps she was cynical from losing Valla, but she'd honestly expected to be called on to sleep with him at some point. He'd thought about his response for a moment, before declaring, "It's not because I don't desire you. I do; truth be told, I loved you the moment I saw you at the lake. But I don't want to force you into anything you don't want."
Then, with a grin, he'd added, "And don't you feel obligated to return my feelings just because I told you about them, either!"
She'd been rendered speechless, to say the least.
And he wasn't just kind to her, but to her son as well; he treated Kamui as though he really were his own, playing with him as easily as he did Ryoma and Hinoka, letting him eat with at the main table with the royal family, and spoiling him rotten. He didn't even mind her son's fascination with his beard and frequent tugging on it just to see if he could pull it off Sumeragi's face. It was bittersweet for Mikoto to watch—it broke her heart that her son would likely never meet Anankos, and that Anankos would likely never get to experience being a father, but she was so happy Sumeragi was willing to fill that void in Kamui's life.
So that year they wandered the festival, his retainers trailing behind him, laughing and having a good time. Mikoto mused on these things, about how at ease she felt with Sumeragi. She knew what falling in love felt like, and this wasn't it. But the possibility was there. And that possibility was occupying her mind.
She looked up and started—they'd reached the stall selling the little wooden boats, set close to the pathway leading to the castle grounds. Sumeragi stepped back, knowing without words what she wanted. She purchased her boat and the paper, and, bending over the stall, started writing down her wishes.
That Hoshido makes peace with Nohr. That my son grows up strong and healthy. That my family's souls find peace in the afterlife. That we be prepared for the end, when it comes.
Mikoto bit her lip, hesitated, then, coming to a decision, wrote one last thing.
That I can find happiness with Sumeragi.
She still loved Anankos, of course, but he was…he was dead, or never coming back. She knew it somehow, deep in her bones. And it hurt. But it hurt less than before, and even less when she was with Sumeragi. She could never marry him of course, not while Ikona was alive. But she was honestly okay with that. If there was one thing the loss of her entire home had taught her, it was to take what she could get.
When they reached the lake, Mikoto slipped the boat into the water. She bowed her head and closed her eyes, hoping that her quiet prayer would reach Anankos, wherever he was.
I'm so sorry, my love. You said that year was the happiest of your life, and I wish I'd told you then the same was true for me. But I can't wait for you anymore. I think…I really think I've found someone I can be happy with. And I know you would have wanted that.
I will never, ever forget you, or our brief time together.
Opening her eyes, she took one of Sumeragi's hands; his head turned towards her questioningly.
"Do you remember what you said, about not making me do anything I didn't want?" she asked.
"Of course."
Mikoto swallowed. She was reminded, fleetingly, of her clumsy seduction of Anankos those years ago. She wasn't being as blatant now, but the buzzing nerves were still the same. "You've been a wonderful friends these past years. But now, I think I'd like to try being more than friends."
Sumeragi stared, wide-eyed. Then slowly, a grin spread on his face. "Really? You aren't just saying that?" When she shook her head he laughed, loud and joyful. "Haha! You have no idea how happy that makes me! I won't give you cause to regret the chance you're giving me, Mikoto, I promise!"
She yelped as he grabbed her and spun her in a circle. "Whoa! I just said I'd like to try, I'm not committed to anything yet!" But despite herself, she was smiling.
Sumeragi put her down apologetically, but he was still beaming broadly in a manner unbefitting of a king. She shook her head fondly. Yes, he's very much not like a royal. But he's charming, in his own rough way.
Mikoto smiled and turned her gaze back out to the lake. Watching the boats on the water, drifting slowly further away, it seemed to her like all the pain in her chest was drifting away with them.