It was an uncalculated, selfish move on his part. He wanted no one contesting him on the battlefield, and that was why he turned her into an immortal—but he did not know that that would cause him more distress. Immortality detached from her from us mortals who she loved, but immortality gave her the power to contest the god's selfish acts. Damn him being the god of War and her the goddess; damn him being her husband. She would always find a way to fight for what she believed in, such is my goddess of War.

CHAPTER ONE | BERN KEEP

SHE STOOD BEFORE HIM, her sapphire eyes glaring at him as if he had done some grave wrong that would make her detest him for a lifetime. It was as if he did something so stupid; an act lacking any corrigible reason.

He looked down at her—he was seated quite comfortably on his throne, watching as she mouthed innumerable reasons as to why he is insane and why his actions must be stopped. She dragged on and on, and with every word he felt his interest to listen drained from him. That was when his eyes travelled the room—it was the lesser throne room, where he took most of his private audiences. The floor was of splendid marble tiles, and it accentuated a red carpet that led to his throne. His hands felt around the armrest of his throne—it was carved from dark wood, and smooth and comforting to the senses.

As he was doing this, the woman went on and on, putting up quite a show of words and reasons for him. And he stared at her, watching her without hearing her. She is his relief; she is his amusement; and sometimes, his annoyance—like she was now.

Bored, his eyes started studying her critically, in her dress of purple velvet that left her shoulders bare. He would say the color made her look royal; and she would say that it made her look like a walking eggplant.

He sighed, for she has not stopped speaking, and then he proceeded to stare at her. They way the light from the huge glass windows hit her skin was brilliant, as he noticed. It was almost sundown, and the softened light would hit her tanned skin, making it look smooth and creamy, giving it a luster that he longed to touch and feel against his skin...

And then he smiled—a smile men tend to have when their thoughts are anything but decent. She noticed this, and paused.

"Your Highness," she called him, and her voice snapped him from his daze. "You were listening to me, I hope?"

He straightened, and looked at her in the eye. "Pardon me. I sort of lost the conversation when I noticed how superbly the sun hits your skin. Have you noticed it yourself, Kumiko?"

She gave a glance to her bare shoulders and arms, and realized his point, but then said, "Was that thought associated with that smile?"

"What smile?" he asked, unaware of the face he made.

"That smile brimming with intent of debauchery."

He chuckled. "Ah, that. Are you sure you want to hear what I was thinking then?"

She arched up an eyebrow. "Zephiel."

Zephiel. He knew for a fact that when she was annoyed, she made it a point to stop addressing him with titles such as "Your Highness" and the like. She would call him by his name, as if to instill into him that she was an equal, that she had a right to be heard.

"Kumiko, I was listening, I was," he told her. "You were telling me that starting this war is utter rubbish, and that it should be done with. You told me that this war does not promote the better of the country. You told me that just because I am the king of Bern, the country with the best military on the continent, doesn't mean that I have the right to flaunt my military power. Did I miss anything else, woman?"

"So you were listening."

"Yes, but I will tell you,"—and he looked down at her with an expression in his face that was trying to say that he would mean whatever he was about to say—"anything you say will not make a difference. And I believe I've told you before to stop screaming around in my castle—you make it evident to everyone that you are the commoner you once were."

Her head shot up to stare him and his eyes of golden brown. She hated it every time he stepped on her for being a commoner. She hated it, abhorred it, despised it...

He smirked when he saw the woman's obviously irritated expression. He loved it when she put on this face. He loved it, he adored it, he was amused by it...

And seeing that he was amused, she crossed her arms over her chest, briefly raised an eyebrow, and then turned her heels to walk out of the throne room, the purple velvet of her floor-length dress whipping behind her.

Such were the King and Queen of Bern.

"Kumiko, I was listening..." he called out to her with a feigned sugar to his deep voice. She paused, yet did not turn to face him.

"Zephiel, don't try to act sweet," she told him off. "You know full well that that has no effect to me whatsoever."

She would have walked away, but then she heard his feet descending from his throne and walk towards her.

"Kumiko, don't be mad at me..." he whispered when he was right in front of her, as he laced an arm around her waist.

"The minute you give me a rational explanation for this senseless war is the minute you get your wife back. For now," she pushed him away, "forget you ever had a wife and a queen."

And she walked away.

He was left there, shocked, but equally amused.

He ended up chuckling to himself, saying, "My, my... Who does she think she is?"

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Fifteen years, this continent has not known war. Fifteen years... is such a long time ago.

Kumiko stormed out of the king's chambers, taking luggage upon luggage into her arms and passing them to her attendants. She was infuriated of how the king treated her—not once has he not considered something that she has said. He had always been rational, and had always been willing to listen to her concerns. Yet now she barely knows the king that she spoke to, as if he had become a foreigner to her.

"Kumiko," her lady-in-waiting, Nino, spoke to her in a concerned tone as Kumiko stacked another book on top of the pile in the arms of Nino's husband. "I think that was just a moment where your emotions got the better half of you. You know the king will always consider what you say, so long as you ask him kindly."

"Look at this, Nino. Look at this!" Kumiko walked towards the glass window in the hallway that gave them a wide view of the surroundings of the main castle. One could easily see the castle town bustling in action, with soldiers busy training and doing things of similar likeness. In the distant orange skies, one could spy Bern's wyvern knights patrolling the castle perimeters. It would have been ordinary—the profession of the soldiers and knights required them to fight and train and protect their country, after all. But this time, it was different. They were preparing for war.

"Everywhere I look, Bern reeks of the smell of lust for war. And I have no idea how Zephiel has kept this a secret from me for so long!" Kumiko said, as she stomped the heel of her shoe in the carpeted floor out of annoyance. "How could I not have known that Ilia and Sacae are now colonies of Bern? How could he keep it secret from me?"

Nino and her attendants were silent, unable to provide her with an answer. "And you say I'm being emotional!" the queen continued. "If he has kept a secret such as this hidden from me, he might as well be hiding something as horrible such as a mistress behind my back!"

The attendants and Nino found nothing to say. They only followed Kumiko's determined footsteps to her own chamber, since she ached to be separated from the king. They have always shared their apartments, contrary to what most monarchs did, partly because Kumiko, once being a commoner, had distaste for being alone in such huge quarters, and also partly because the king was possessive of his wife. During instances of squabbles, though, the queen would take some of her essential items and move to her own chambers.

"His Highness is stubborn to an extremity I wouldn't be able to describe," the queen said as the doors of her chambers were opened before her, "and to make him snap to his senses requires actions as extreme!"

The attendants put her items neatly into drawers, closets, and desks, and the queen helped as well, taking her books from the arms of Nino's husband, Jaffar, and putting them into bookcases.

"Just thinking that I sleep beside the king who's trying to dominate the continent in so violent a manner disgusts me." Kumiko then rolled her eyes, as she took another book from the stack in Jaffar's arms and slid it between two others in the bookcase.

"Kumi," Nino began softly, calling Kumiko by her nickname, "maybe a little talking out will be helpful. The way you talked with him earlier—practically demanding for a talk and screaming at him—of course he would not be able to help being annoyed at such an approach."

"...Are you saying, Nino, that I compose myself and use the charms to get him to listen?"

"Yes," Nino nodded with a smile. "We know the king always listens to you so long as you present your thoughts calmly. If you can't make him listen, no one can."

"That is true," the brief statement came from Jaffar, who was long finished with the books and was currently seeing to it that every bit of the queen's possessions were present and orderly.

Kumiko herself gazed around her room—her chamber was nothing big nor elaborate unlike that of Zephiel's. She had a curtained bed, a set of couches and a low table, a desk, a few bookcases lined against the wall, a dresser, and that was it. She had her bathroom and her changing room, but she did not have an audience room, a receiving room, and a guardroom like he did. Her room was, after all, not officially the Queen's Bedchambers. It was a random guestroom that she chose among a dozen more guestrooms. The official Queen's Bedchamber was so huge that she disapproved of it—she is not used to such a luxurious lifestyle, after all.

"Okay, everyone, out, out, out," Kumiko said with a wave of the hand, dismissing her attendants. She did not like her attendants as well—she thought that if she needed something, she could get it herself. She relied on Nino and Jaffar if she needed something.

"Oh, except you, Miranda," she called on a certain attendant, who stepped towards her as the others went away. Miranda was the youngest of the attendants, but the one with the highest rank—the heiress of the marquess of the southeast region of Bern.

"Yes, my lady?"

"Does Princess Guinevere know about this war?" Kumiko asked the attendant.

"I believe Princess Guinevere has gone down the border, attended by Ellen. The Master of Spies says that the princess does indeed know of the king's plans. The princess might be plotting something as well to halt her brother's plans."

Kumiko groaned as she smacked the palm of her hand to her forehead. "Why does my best friend have to be the Master of Spies? Why is Anko more loyal to Zephiel, considering we've been friends since birth?"

Nino giggled. "Oh, don't worry, Kumiko. You've got us."

The sage's innocent smile seemed to ease the queen, who broke into her own innocent smile as well. "Well... yes. You're right."

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

"My lady, His Majesty summons you to his chambers," the voice of Miranda, and her soft knock on the door of Kumiko's bedroom, interrupted the silence of the queen.

Kumiko, lying in her canopied bed, made a face of disgust and kept quiet, pretending to be asleep.

But Miranda called again. "My lady, are you there? His Majesty summons you."

Irritated, Kumiko finally called out, "Tell him I'm in no mood to see him."

"My lady—"

Kumiko called out, louder this time, "Tell him I'd rather die than face him!"

However obviously angry her statement was, much to Kumiko's surprise, Miranda still opened her door and entered her bedroom. Kumiko gathered herself and turned to the doorway, and was greeted by the sight of not Miranda, but Zephiel himself, in his sleeping robes, looking straight at her.

"My lady," he said, ironically mimicking Miranda's tone, "His Majesty the King of Bern calls for you and you refuse? What impertinence is this? Stop this at once and come back to our chambers."

She angrily pulled down on the curtains of her canopied bed, a thin translucent sheet of cloth falling over and shielding her from his view, albeit a bit. "As much good as that offer sounds, I am inclined to refuse, Zephiel."

"I know you are scared of sleeping alone, Kumi, and in such a large room," he said, actually sounding concerned. "Do you hate me that much?"

"Much better than sleeping beside a monster. Yes, Zephiel, I hate you that much."

The sharp retort caused him to flinch, but refusing to be threatened, he walked towards her, and pulled her bed's curtains aside and sat on her bed. Instinctively she backed away, rising from her bed and taking a few quick steps across the room, away from him.

He chuckled. She always acted like distance between him and her was a necessity—it is not just because of their earlier argument.

"Ah, my wife, don't play these games with me, don't make it so hard," he said, with a bit of a smirk. And he rose as well and chased after her—before she could spiral away, she was in his arms, he has much taller and bigger and faster for her to escape.

She looked up to him defiantly, and he stared down at her, examining her. Her expression would never be a threat to him—she was too adorable to take seriously, and even when she was angry there was a pout in lips that was more cutesy than threatening. This defiant little woman, the commoner tactician, and the princess of Regrada... Her brown-blonde hair, up to her back, was a proof of her noble lineage. Her blue eyes mirrored the eyes of the man that was her father, the Marquis of Regrada. But that was offset, always, by her rash, almost graceless demeanor at times, her browned skin—from staying too long under the heat of the battlefield. She was none too beautiful—she would pale in comparison to Princess Guinevere, his younger sister. But Kumiko was… interesting. He smiled, and placed a finger to her lip, and idly traced the contours and lines, his arms wrapping around her waist, pulling her closer.

"Zephiel," she suddenly said, and now her succeeded in sounding serious. The tone she gave to foolish soldiers or fighters that refused to follow her orders, perhaps.

"Yes?" he asked, as he held her chin under his hand, as to direct her gaze to him, still smirking, knowing full well that she was annoyed by it.

"Get your hands off me."

He chuckled lightly, shook his head, and said, "No. You are going with me tonight."

"You'd force yourself on me? You dare?"

"Woman," and now his tone was serious as well, "I hope you remember that I have a right as a husband, a right that you do not give me. I have a right to have you in my bed when I wish it, and a right as king to banish you if you refuse. But not once have I used that power over you. May I ask, is there something in me that is so dislikable that you would not want me?"

Now it was her turn to study him. He had hair of a shade just like hers—somewhat brown and somewhat blonde as well, and his eyes were golden brown. His skin was as tan as hers—and they both acquired it in the same way, from staying too long in the battlefield. But that is where the similarity ends. He was tall, his presence is rarely missed—and while she was not so tiny, she was small enough so that she could slip away unseen in a crowd easily. His body was muscular—and if not, she was sure it was strong. Zephiel was always strong in everything he did. Firm in everything he said, carrying his authority naturally. He was not a man who people feared and followed just because he had a crown on his head. He earned it, and demands nothing but respect from everyone.

Only she dare disobey him.

"Is there something dislikable?" he asked again, pressing her to answer.

She thought hard. Zephiel? Undesirable? For all this time, if not for the war, he would have been. He had the power of a king and was firm and final in his decisions, but he was also considerate and valued good counsel. He was even somewhat kind and refused to overstep anyone. The truth was he has been a good man to her, a good husband. So she thought twice against saying something hurtful.

He let the question hang in the air, knowing what her silence meant. And he just said, "I refuse to sleep unless I know you would be in my room. Stop being so stubborn, Kumiko. This rebellion of yours would only cause you more harm than me."

But she shook her head, and gathered the strength to push him away, and so she stepped away from his grasp. "I refuse to come with you unless you listen to me and stop this nonsense war."

"It is not like I'm forcing you to fight in it," he reasoned.

"And you expect me to sit here idly, when I know countless families are suffering on your whim?"

"Kumiko," his tone was serious, "this isn't all based on a whim."

"This is all a whim and if it is not, then give me a better word."

He thought for about a three seconds, and then he offered, "This is a righteous dream."

She rolled her eyes and sat back on her bed. "There is nothing righteous about a war and violence."

"You were once a tactician-how can you say that?" he argued. "Isn't violence and war righteous when it fights to seek correction for a previous mistake? Or when the ideals behind it are good?"

"That may be so, but it is wrong if there are other less severe methods available which also hold the same ideals, but you choose to overlook them."

"What if war is the only way?"

"That doesn't happen. And what are you hiding from me?"

He only grinned, as he sat beside her on her bed, pulled her closer and stroked her hair. "I'm not telling."

She lightly pushed him away, as he expected her to, and she slid into her covers. "Fine. You never trusted me anyway."

"You," he snapped, "never loved me anyway."

"You never loved me, either," she said.

"...Are you sure?"

She found herself speechless against those words, and he just lightly kissed her on the forehead, and then he walked away, surrendering, closing the door carefully behind him.

End of Chapter.

A/N: The style has changed greatly from my earlier work and I've fleshed out most of the scenes. For my old readers, I hope they delight in the revision, for new readers, please feel free to comment! Most people ask, "Why the Tactician?" Well, firstly, I am a Zephiel fangirl. I believe he is a good person underneath everything that he started in FE6. Just look at the Zephiel in FE7. I wanted to make the contrast between that Zephiel and this. After playing FE6 I decided to write an FE6-centric fic which wouldn't lose FE7 players who've never touched FE6. And so... I had a dream about the Tactician and Zephiel. Le gasp! An idea was born. Back then I was already writing The Journey, so it may be shocking to some to read of her future as well.

As opposed to The Journey, expect more politics and stuff here, and romance and angst thrown at every corner (which some say I'm good at?). I've gotten so immersed in the culture of Elibe and wanted to write a lot more and make everything sound real. (Despite that, this current chapter is over a year old, so if it's a bit unpolished, apologies.) I hope I succeeded, even to a little degree. Queen of Bern (which I now just called "Bern", because it's about Zephiel as much as it is about Kumiko) is one of my oldest fics and I wanted to see it get better as I did, too.

The Prologue was written in Anko's POV. Readers of the Journey know her as one of Kumiko's close friends.

The second prologue was written in Matthew's POV. He is discussing with Xarin, another OC, a friend of Kumiko and a spy of Ostia, and is much known to my The Journey readers.

Review, please, if you feel like it.