A/N: Chapter is supposed to be longer but I hit a writer's block and I decided to post it to get feedback that will hopefully inspire me enough to get over my block. xoxo kageshoujo
PART TWO
ONE MONTH LATER
BERN KEEP | The Altar to the Patron God
Ever since Zephiel became king, it has been reported that he had never bothered to visit the castle altar to pray or bother to appear to do it. His relations with the church of Elimine was neutral—he had treated the Church well but did not even make the effort of any pretense of his preferences. It was the Princess Guinevere who had kept the relationship of Bern and the Church at peace, and it was the princess who would be seen every morning at Mass, or kneeling in prayer before the small and out-of-the-way altar in Bern Keep. The Queen Kumiko would drop by once or twice, but more so out of fondness for Guinevere, but apart from that, like Zephiel, she did not put on any pretenses.
As most Bernese do. They were an incredibly practical people, and for them worship of the gods or following their decrees were hardly to be bothered with and only got in the way of life. Of all the kingdoms in Elibe—of Etruria, Lycia, and Bern—Bern was the one with the fewest shrines and temples and churches to the gods. The Master of Spies Anko has once put it in a simple, harsh truth—the gods names are only good for swearing. And for their festivals—an excuse for every Bernese to get drunk.
And that may have explained why even Bern Keep placed the Altar in such an out-of-the-way position as well—on an absolutely silent floor of the Keep, almost near the Master of Spies' office, where one had to climb and absurd amount of stairs to reach. While the place was as ornate and beautiful as any shrine built to a god, with engravings and decors from gold and old wood, it had been lacking upkeep and updating, showing just how little fondness the king and queen had for it.
Kumiko had come to visit that chilly morning. The room was cold, telling the truth of how no one came to visit or pray. When in fact, they should, Kumiko thought, as she looked up to the engravings along the walls and windows. The altar was dedicated to the god of warmaking, Bern's patron god. You would think that in war, the commanders and captains and generals would have asked for their god's blessing, but they did not, or Kumiko just did not see them, since she rarely went to the place herself.
There were relics and artifacts enshrined in the place as well—gemstones and crowns and weapons and jewelry. Stories have said that whenever a military leader of Bern had won a battle, he placed an offering here, to thank the god. Kumiko looked through the items, trying to figure if one or two of them had been given by her husband, or by people like General Murdock. Until she had stopped by one object—the royal sword of Bern, wielded only by the kings. It was gold and gilded with rubies and amethysts—such a beautiful weapon, with blades that glinted even in the faintest light, showing how sharp they were still. And Kumiko remembered Guinevere, clad in her red royal robes, walking with her through the items of the altar, telling her a story.
"...What is this?" Kumiko had asked the princess. The memory had been so long ago—she had not even been married to Zephiel yet that time, and had only been a tactician employed by the king. She had went to the altar room out of boredom and had found the princess there, who had gratefully walked her through the chamber and told her many stories. But the sword, in particular, had stood out to Kumiko. It looked like a far more greater thing than any of the other offerings laid to the god, and seemed to have a presence that had declared to people that it was a thing of importance.
Guinevere turned to look at what Kumiko meant, and then said, "That is the royal sword of Bern, a gift from the patron god to the first king, Hartmut. And so only a King of Bern may use the weapon, but it is such an important relic that it is hardly used and serves a mostly ceremonial purpose."
"It doesn't look ceremonial to me," Kumiko said, staring at the sword's edges that still seemed sharp enough to cut through flesh and bone, hardly what would be expected of a sword so old.
Guinevere had walked towards Kumiko, so she may stare at the sword as well. "Legend says it was blessed by the god of war, thus giving it magical properties. It has not rusted or dulled since Hartmut's time. And despite it's size, I have been told by my grandfather, father, and my brother that is it surprisingly lightweight."
"And so it is... a Legendary weapon?" Kumiko asked.
"Ah, Legendary weapons," Guinevere said. "A weapon blessed by the gods to be able to kill Dragons. Blessed by the gods who had sided on humans, that is. We Bernese do believe this is one."
They had both stared down at the sword, thoughts both distant. Guinevere, in the remainder of the story that she had grown familiar to for the last two years, and Kumiko, recalling the feel of a Legendary weapon in her hands. In her campaign with Lord Eliwood and Hector years back, she had helped acquire such weapons, and had seen them and held them. She remembered the sheer strength the weapon made her feel simply holding it, and how Dragons have fallen when Lord Eliwood and Hector had used them years back …
Blessed by the gods. That must be true indeed, Kumiko thought. I have held a Legendary weapon in my hand and if anything else, and I dare think it, it had made me feel like a god myself.
"…But the god of war was a most troubled being," Guinevere continued, smiling a little, for she knew what lay ahead of the tale. "His wife was a mortal—a mere mortal, yet always contesting him. A brilliant tactician, she was. Whenever he had blessed an army to win a war, if she were the tactician for the other side, she would always, always win."
Kumiko had remembered this story. She did not remember exactly who had told her, but she had remembered. "The goddess of war," she had told Guinevere. "She ended up being the goddess of war. The god of war despised her for matching his skill in warmaking, and cunningly traps her into being an immortal, and later, to being her wife, to get rid of her. I know the legend, my lady."
Guinevere nodded, and now that Kumiko thought back, she realized that Guinevere's smile was knowing, as if she were aware of something that Kumiko was not. "Yes, Kumiko. It is good to see you are well-versed in Bern's history and folklore. So when the war between Dragons and men broke out, the god of war had supported the Humans. His wife was well against it and thought that the war was nonsense and should be concluded without anyone taking sides."
"I know, princess Guinevere," Kumiko had said. "This argument becomes his undoing because she eventually kills him for it. That is how it ends, right? Though I honestly wonder how it is possible to kill an immortal, but if you were immortal too, I guess there must be ways."
Guinevere's knowing smile had shifted down into a slight frown now. "Yes," she said. "The legends do say that she had ended him. And this sword is supposedly the last weapon the god of war had blessed before he died," said Guinevere, as she and Kumiko turned back to the sword again, studying it more carefully now, eventually noticing the smallest, white inscriptions on its blade. "It supposedly says: 'To the one destined to wield this—great power shall be your blessing. But women shall be your curse."
And at that moment Kumiko had thought back on her history lessons, at the kings of Bern that have rose mightily and have fallen, one way or another, thanks to a woman. The god and goddess of war were the first. King Desmond was one—part of his demise was because he has had so many mistresses and refused to love his one wife. "And such is the heavy burden of every king of Bern," Guinevere had said. "...All the power in the world, but undone by one woman. ...I hope this is not true. I think Zephiel will be an exception. I think a woman will do him more good than harm."
Kumiko had stood there, gazing at the sword, remembering Guinevere's words. Remembering the legends, and making connections. Zephiel had trapped her, too. Married her so that he can get her out of the way. They had both been military geniuses in their own rights. He started an absurd war that she did not at all agree to. The pieces had fit. He was the god of war; she was the goddess.
...And does that mean I will have to knife him in the back to end this?
Kumiko shook her head to herself. "It's just a legend and folklore," she had said out loud, as if to affirm herself. That's just one version. You know how it goes with legends—they have many versions. You can never really figure out the truth. The god and goddess are probably out in the middle of nowhere playing chess and laughing at all the messed-up legends the people are talking about them, if I knew better.
...I agree with Guinevere. I think Zephiel will be an exception.
...I refuse to be his curse.
0o0o0o0o0o0o
LYCIA | Ostia's Castle Town
The days had dragged to crucial weeks, and slowly but surely, Ostia of Lycia was starting to stand up on its own two feet again. Much help from Etruria was evident in all of this—Etruria's soldiers were everywhere, aiding the reconstruction projects, sending supplies like lumber and stone and food to help. At first, General Cecilia of Etruria stayed behind to oversee everything and coordinate with Ostia, but soon she was called back to her home country, and Erk of Reglay was left in charge as the representative to Etruria.
Honestly, Erk thought, he was only left in charge because of Cecilia's trust for him as another student of Lord Pent. That aside—and that fact that he was the only one diplomat enough in the sea of soldiers Etruria sent to Ostia—he would not be considered. But he had wanted to stay, too. If he had returned to Etruria, his path to take would not be clear—he would return to Nabata, back to Lord Pent and Lady Louise, to give word about the war, and then what?
But, here, in Lycia, he could help. He could play and important role, negotiating between Etruria and Ostia. He handed out food and grain and drink to the citizens. He even started teaching magic to the children, or the mages who had less experience than he did. Pent had always told him that he could be a teacher himself, only Erk didn't really believe it. But seeing all these little children who had to learn a skill, even magic, to be able to defend themselves within this war...
I'm sure Lord Pent would approve of this that I'm doing. He'd do this, too, if it were him. I'll just send him a message to relay what I have learned. He might take action as well.
Every noon, before sunset, children from around Ostia gathered around him, underneath an oak tree, delighting in the food he shared with them and the lessons he had to offer on magic. He not only shared knowledge, but shared comforting stories as well, of how Pent had treated him as a student, about the comforts of communing with nature, about once fighting a war, fifteen years ago, and coming out victorious-so he knew there was hope. About fighting Dragons, wielding legendary tomes, meeting legends.
The children, of course, listened in awe, but treated it as a fairy tale, a myth, but it gave them hope nonetheless. Until a wide-eyed, green haired boy started sitting in his classes and listening to his stories intently, nodding as if in agreement to the details he gave about fighting, magic, and dragons. He listened and asked questions as if he had been there, as if he were aware of the story. The young boy's magic held great potential as well. There was raw power, but lack of control and precision. Everyday Erk worked with him a little more after the rest of the kids had left, giving him more and more pointers on Anima magic.
"No, no," Erk chastised, after the boy, named Lugh, performed another basic Fire spell. "Too much power. But lack of control and range. If you keep pouring sheer force into the spell, you risk it blowing in your face. More focus. Less force."
The green-haired boy pouted. "I'm as focused as focused can be," he insisted.
The boy certainly held wrong beliefs and foundations about magic, if he believed he was focused enough. Lugh believed he was focused, but Erk saw how he put force into every spell, as if insisting, and insisting, on getting it right. While his perseverance was astounding, he also had to learn that magic power came from the spirits, and the mage knows that they are truly the ones powerful, and not him. He cannot force brilliance-instead he had to commune with the spirits, be one with them.
And so Erk asked, "Who did you learn your magic from?" attempting to fix wrong learning patterns taught.
"Well, my mom," the boy said.
"She may have had some errors in her teaching. I was the same, in the beginning. I was so excited about magic and wanted to be great that I forced myself, reading and studying and practicing everyday, locking myself out from the world, that I had collapsed. I thought I was being focused and trying my best. But then my mentor taught me that that wasn't what magic was about. It was about being one with nature, so enveloped with them that you the magic feels natural, comes naturally to you. It was about listening, and learning how to be calm and focused at the same time."
The little boy pondered that for a while. And then he said, "I think that's how my mother did it, too, now that you mention it. Magic flows naturally around her. It makes her happy, it almost completes her. I never noticed. But then again I really didn't learn from her. She had kept her tomes from me and my brother, never letting us see them. The only time she used her magic was to start a fire for the fireplace."
Well, that was curious. "Why did she hide this from you? Why didn't she teach you instead? How did you learn, then?"
Lugh looked up into the air, as if thinking of things long past. "My dad didn't like it. He says that magic was dangerous, that fighting was dangerous. He's great with swords and stuff, but he doesn't want to pass it on to us. I snuck around and found where my mother hid her tomes. I read them and read them. But I barely understood them-I think I was just seven? My mom found out, but kept the tomes in the same place. And then when she'd use magic spells, she'd say the incantations out loud, so I could hear them. I think she wanted us to learn, but didn't want to argue with our father, so she did it that way. I think I practically learned by listening to her recite the incantations."
Erk was surprised. It took years and years to get the incantations right if you had studied it mostly by listening to it. The boy was aided by tomes, but reading a tome didn't make a mage, there were things to be learned, and the boy had learned it by watching his mother. It was genius. A talent like this is rare. Nino, someone Erk used to know a good fifteen years ago, had learned through the same method, though...
And then something seemed to fall into place as he looked down at the green-haired boy-green hair! Nino had green hair, had the same wide-eyed look whenever she learned something new, had the same cheerful disposition. Could they be related in some way? Is he Nino's son, even? But the boy said he was orphaned, didn't have any parents. If so, was Nino... dead?
"And then when I had my birthday four years ago, my mom gave me a book, she said it will help me learn magic," Lugh continued. He drew into the satchel at his side and came up with a dirty book with childish illustrations. "All it has inside is pictures of trees and fields. I didn't understand what my mom meant. But maybe I understand now. You said I had to be one with nature."
The book was filled with pictures through and through, illustrations of nature. But Erk knew that even if he didn't even open the thing. He'd given the book to Nino fifteen years ago.
"Your mother is Nino," Erk just muttered, out of the blue.
Lugh must have heard it, because the boy sharply turned to look up at the older man, a questioning look in his eyes. Those eyes looked like they would spill into tears pretty quickly. "Sir Erk? You said..."
"Nino," Erk repeated, more audibly now. He was sure of it, it was almost as if the spirits were telling him so. "Nino, your mother. Green hair, bright smile. A powerful mage. A wonderful girl."
Lugh smiled and nodded, but looked near to tears as well. "Yes," he squeaked. "Yes, that's her."
"She's a brilliant mage," Erk said, feeling himself being flooded by nostalgia, recalling memories with Nino. "She comes from a prominent family of mages of Lycia, I heard. She was sweet and kind. And beautiful. I admired her. How is she?"
And with that question, the little boy burst into tears, and with that Erk knew that something went wrong. Was Nino truly dead? Erk sat beside the boy and began to awkwardly pat him on the shoulder. He was never the best person at giving comfort, but this was Nino's son, and she had been a great friend. He wanted to try.
"...She's gone," Lugh eventually said, between sobs. "She left. ...We used to live moving from place to place, avoiding the bounty hunters. Dad was... he was a great guy, but he had this shady past. Bounty hunters kept running after him. And then one day, he just... just vanished. He left a note saying he went away to save us from danger, that he might never come back at all. Mom was devastated. She became depressed. But then she got up and started searching for him everyday. One day she took us to Grandpa Jan and said she'd be back for us. She never came back. Ray and I ran away to look for her, and from all our wandering we reached Lycia and the orphanage and... oh... What if they're both dead? My parents are both dead."
Erk took the crying boy in his arms, patting his back to comfort him. Erk closed his eyes and thought as well. Nino? Dead? No. She's younger than many of us were, she couldn't just die. With her level of magic, it would be difficult for any bounty hunter to kill her. Magic could fend off hundreds, or thousands, and by the end of their campaign fifteen years ago Nino had been powerful enough to fight Dragons. She's alive. She must be. She is.
"She's alive," Erk said, assuring the boy, as Erk closed his eyes and tried to focus. If Nino were alive and still practicing magic, he could still feel her, the Anima spirits could still feel her. Anima was the magic of life and nature-if she were alive, he could feel her. "...She's alive. I can still feel her. I can still feel her magic. It's still strong enough for me to sense. She's still out there, somewhere."
Lugh had pulled away from him now, wiping the tears off his face with his hands. "...Are you sure?" he asked Erk, sounding hopeful.
"Positive," Erk responded. "Don't worry. Your mom can handle herself. She is a master mage of Anima-the spirits will always protect her. When I am through with my work here in Lycia, we can find her together. I'll help you."
BERN | Bern Keep
0o0o0o0o0
When evening came Zephiel spent less time in his study, surprisingly, and stayed up late with Kumiko, chatting until she was tired and wanted to sleep. She always slept before him, even if he was the one who always woke earlier than her and should have been more tired. But sleep was one thing that did not always come easy to Zephiel. In the silence, when there was nothing to do, nothing to think of, no plans to make, nothing nothing nothing—the horrors of his past were able to catch up with him, filling his mind with frightening thoughts. And so he always read or wrote or did something until his mind was too tired to think and only wanted sleep. There was no time to think of nightmares past. If he was still, if he did nothing, his mind would only wander.
Sometimes, he would lay in bed with Kumiko and opt to chat with her there, and then she would snuggle into the warmth of his arm around her. And there they would talk, or he would read a book and they would discuss it. And maybe he would try to please himself a little, too, at times. He would kiss her and he would let the kiss be long and intense—Kumiko never stopped him. She was more pliable now, a little more willing. Even as his mouth would wander and he would start kissing her on her neck, or the bare of her shoulders, she would let him. And on certain nights Kumiko would only sigh and allow herself into his arms and fall asleep in his embrace—and those were the only times Zephiel did not allow himself to get up and do something, for fear of ruining her sleep. He would stay still and hold her sleeping form, allowing the dreaded silence to take over and make his thoughts wander.
But, oddly, he found that they didn't. When he would see Kumiko sleeping in his arms, smiling, as peaceful as a baby, he would feel peaceful too. And for once, he found that the silence offered a peace, not a haunt. And Zephiel found himself falling asleep easy.
BERN KEEP | The Sage's Study
The Sage's Study was an area in Bern Keep's grand library set aside for the Court Sages, the resident masters of Anima magic. And thus the area was surrounded by volumes and volumes of books on magic, nature, and life, and various contraptions and devices used in these studies. There were curtained alcoves lined along the walls if a court sage ever wanted a more private area to study. And in the middle of it all was a huge oval table, where the Court Sages from different regions of Bern sat and discussed among themselves whenever they officially met. Sometimes the king used the area as well to meet with foreign ministers and representatives.
But of current, there was but one court sage sitting on the grand table—and the youngest of them all—Nino. A far cry from the girl who used to not know how to read and write, she was now among Bern's best minds and mages. Though Nino knew in herself that her title was more of due to the king's favor on Kumiko, she refused to be brought down by the fact. She refused to let it take down her worth. And so she was seated on the oval table, with innumerable stacks of books before her, more than one of them open for her scrutiny as she took down notes.
It was the king's trail that she was looking out for. She constantly looks among the shelves and among the list of books in the library to see what the king reads, and looks for copies of them. Recently the copies of the books Kumiko had confirmed to be in Zephiel's study had been received by Nino as well—she had to ask a few copies from the Military Academy or from Etruria just to be able to read them herself. And then there was the task of bothering certain historians from different academies of Bern, trying to get copies of every speech the king ever said in the past two years.
Nino had thought, a few months ago, that this would do something, that this would show a side of the king that he hid to even his wife. Nino had thought that seeing similarities in what he read would expose certain patterns in his thinking. But so far, it was a challenging task. The king was such a broad reader, it was impossible to make connections for every book or essay. But as Nino worked throughout the months that passed, slowly, a pattern was emerging. And Nino knew that she was on to something.
Something... Something... but what exactly?
"Caught up in research, aren't we, Lady Nino?"
Nino, startled, nearly toppled over one of the ink pots on the table. "O-Oh!" she said, as she looked up from her preoccupation and turned to the person who spoke—another famed Sage of Bern, the General Brenya. "Yes, Lady Brenya. Just a little research."
Brenya stood there—in that seductive way she almost always effortlessly did, Nino thought. She wondered if Brenya herself knew how attractive she was. Porcelain skinned, tall, curvy and flawless-that was how General Brenya was, and she showed it off. She was always dressed with a neckline too low or a skirt slit so high, even the most trained eyes were tempted to wander. Nino knew for a fact that when Jaffar conversed with the Brenya, she would closely pay attention to her husband's eyes, lest they wander in other directions. But Jaffar, as if aware of Nino's gaze, had always impressively kept his eyes on Brenya's face. ...But not everyone is as successful as him.
And yet for General Brenya's taste in clothes, she was an esteemed woman of Bern, and not a countryside whore. She was civil, educated, and she demanded respect from anyone. It was impossible to talk about her without hearing a comment about her fine skin and her finer breasts, but that aside, she was never disrespected in Bern, and showed no cause to be treated that way. Why the general dressed so scandalously was always a puzzle to Nino when the general never acted like her clothes imply... Nino had theories to answer this, but they were that-theories. There could be other explanations.
General Brenya walked around the grand table, looking through the spines of the books that Nino had set down, trying to find anything interesting.
"I see this is not related to magic at all," Brenya remarked, looking closely at the titles of Nino's selections. "Much of these are books on Bern's history and politics. I never knew you were taken by these topics, Lady Nino."
"I didn't know I'd develop a taste for it," Nino said, feeling something like a lump in her throat as she lied to the general. But she knew she had to be careful; she was never really sure if Brenya was an ally or a foe in this situation—she was too loyal to the king and too avoidant of the queen to be swayed in another direction.
"Are you sure this is a taste for politics? If it is, well, I am not a fan of politics myself," Brenya said, a revelation, with a little laugh. "I learn it because I must, as a General. But I am much more content discussing magic and science. Murdock is the most astute politician among us. But he has been in service longer—longer than Zephiel had sat on the throne, so that may..."
Her words faded, as she—and Nino—both realized that she had said something wrong. "His Majesty," she said, "His Majesty Zephiel, I mean. I listen too much to Murdock, who frequently only calls him by his first name. His habit must have rubbed off on me."
It was a lie, that much Nino knew. She had spent more time with Brenya that Kumiko or Jaffar did, and she had seen how the Sage's face would light up whenever the king gave her attention, how it would make her more sure of herself, how she mentioned the king more than usual. How he gave her hope. Nino had seen how Brenya avoided Kumiko's path, oftentimes asking Nino instead if she wanted something asked of the queen. The puzzling thing was that Kumiko, too, stayed away from Brenya, as if they had a silent understanding that they were the types that would not get along. In comparison, Kumiko talked to General Murdock or even General Narshen more. But with Brenya...
Maybe she saw it, too, Nino thought. Maybe Kumiko also saw the way the Sage's face lit up when the king greeted her, or praised her, and knew it was more than being flattered that the General felt. Brenya might be the most powerful woman in Bern, military-wise, but she was still a woman—unable to keep her emotions from showing, no matter how hard she tried.
"Oh, I do it, too, all the time," Nino said, trying to assure Brenya that she understood. "Her Majesty only ever refers to His Highness as 'Zephiel', and so sometimes I find myself calling him just that, too, when it is only Jaffar and I alone and no one around would hear anyway."
And in a surprising turn of events, Brenya asked Nino:
"...How is Her Majesty?"
She had never asked about Kumiko. This was the first time. When Nino recovered from her little shock, she responded. "Her Majesty is well. She is her usual self, if I may say so."
It was a trained, safe answer, the kind that courtiers gave when they did not want something to be talked about, and Brenya knew that. "I imagine she is not taking the war very well. I have not been in Bern Keep much because of duties elsewhere, but I've heard rumors..."
Nino felt herself give an inaudible gasp. Brenya had just spoken of the war, and the queen, and rumors. Three things that the king were not so keen on hearing about, so the topics were almost forbidden, taboo, most especially if they had anything to do with each other—such as the queen's thoughts of the war, or rumors about the queen, or rumors about the war, or rumors about what the queen thought of the war. It was surprising to hear General Brenya, of all people, opening this up. Nino felt too curious to let this pass, to not figure what this meant.
"Kumiko will never support the war," Nino found herself telling Brenya. "She will stay by the king's side but she will never openly support any war, and it is up to her and the king to make an understanding about their differences."
"And she and him are settling their differences?" Brenya asked. "I heard what the servants and the courtiers say and I see her and His Majesty acting like they have no troubles. And so, are their opinions settled? Did they reach some form of agreement?"
There was no agreement, Nino was sure, at least not yet. If Kumiko had reached a certain level of understanding with the king on this matter, Nino was sure Kumiko would not be able to help but tell her about it. Everything that was happening now was a courtship, the long prelude to the part where they actually talked about the things that matter most—like the war. It was only a battle of who could keep their head above the water, of who would trust the other, of who would submit to the other, and they were trying to win over the other with sweet words and promises and smiles. Nino was not blind to not see it. But at the same time, she also knew that this was the only good way for Kumiko to win, so she might as well try it.
"I'd like to imagine the king and queen are settling their differences," Nino said, "but I have no actual news that they are."
"Well," Brenya said, "I'd like for them to."
Nino sharply cocked her head to the side, strongly puzzled by this sudden revelation. If her speculations on what the female general felt were true, she wouldn't be wanting the king and queen to be in better terms. She would want them to fall apart. She would want them to argue, so that in the queen's absence, she can comfort the king, allure him.
"I thought you..." Nino began, realizing the only way to get the facts was to ask the other sage straight, to the point. "...I thought you fancied the king."
"Of course I do not," Brenya replied, too quickly. She may have spoke denial, but Nino had seen the way her porcelain cheeks turned blush red, and hear the nervousness in her voice. Certainly, Brenya was lying. Nino could feel it. She almost said something to the general, but then Brenya continued, with more control over her emotions now, "I admire the king as a ruler, and as one of his subjects I am in awe of him. I am glad that he has found Lady Kumiko. She gives him such joy, and everyone sees that."
There was almost a note of bitterness in the general's last statement, and it stung Nino to hear it. But Kumiko was her friend, and Nino would let no other women stand in the way of her friend's path. "Kumiko does give the king so much joy. With her he is a different man. Let us hope they stay happy together."
BERN KEEP | The Royal Gallery
Kumiko sat still, holding a smile, hands folded in her lap, as she tried to converse with the man before the easel and between the smile she was holding onto so precariously. "I swear, Lord James, enough with the flattery, you are making me laugh too much and I cannot do that because I fear it will ruin the painting."
"Nonsense, Your Highness," the man standing before the easel and canvas—Lord James of Wiechenhof—said with his sunny smile. "I was painting an abstract version of you to begin with, so it will hardly matter."
With that Kumiko looked surprised—"You did not!"—and then got up from her seat to check the marquis' painting. And there she saw herself, seated on a stool, the sights of the Royal Gallery in her background. It was Bern Keep's central room for art, with its walls lined up with paintings of all the monarchs and royalty of Bern dating back to Hartmut the Hero. Apart from that, tables and couches filled the room, as the Gallery was also a place where Guinevere loved to host tournaments on games like chess or checkers or a contest on poetry.
"Looks fairly good," Kumiko remarked, as she studied the painting on the marquis' easel. "Though you do make me look a little younger than my age, don't you think?"
The red-haired lord only smiled. "You look a few years younger these days, majesty. The king's courtship is doing wonders to your skin, if I may say so."
The queen only gave him a playful little shove, and got back to her stool, and then James bent toward his work and resumed painting.
Months before this, Lord James would not even be at the Keep. During the war, he was strictly at his region, to the southernmost part of Bern which was rigged by mountains, overseeing the mining. Wiechenhof was largely a mining region and when the war occurred, so high was the demand for weaponry and armor among Bern's soldiers that Lord James was kept busy seeing to it that everything was well, lest he risk the king's displeasure. And while he did do well at ruling his land, Lord James was really a courtier, a man of Bern Keep. Before the war had happened he had stayed in the castle and attended the king, and was the source of life for all the evening entertainment. There was something about him that demanded attention—or it was just his wit, or his dashing looks and red hair, or the fact that his young wife has long died, so women tended to gather around him and try to attract him.
But he did not see them. He flirted with them like an expert courtier, but what everyone only saw was his relationship with the queen. Of all the courtiers, all the nobles, he was the only one that was in her circle, the one she didn't mind sharing her thoughts with. Kumiko found it hard not to. While he was an expert courtier in many ways, there was still a streak of brutal frankness that James had that Kumiko found better than the lies and flattery that she was surrounded by in the Keep. This friendship was the cause of many a speculation in Bern Keep years ago, but Kumiko shrugged it all off.
Zephiel, however, didn't. "I can see your husband still holds something against me," James said, as he gave a little glance to the back of the room—lined with Kumiko's attendants, some of Zephiel's own groomsmen, and even a few Royal Guards. "He does not trust me enough to leave alone in a room with you. A crowd like this is too much to simply watch over the process of painting the queen's royal portrait."
"It makes me feel good that he is still jealous sometimes," Kumiko said.
"Sometimes?" James asked in disbelief. "No, my lady, he is jealous more than sometimes. Any man who dares approach you is met by his immediate discouraging glare. I am the only one foolish enough to brave it."
Kumiko looked thoughtful, and then nodded a little. "...Zephiel holds on to the things he wants. When he wants something, he never lets go of it."
"And so you are aware of how much he actually wants you," the red-haired lord said. "I've heard all the stories when I was at home, and now I am surprised that you actually still have your throne."
Kumiko couldn't help but laugh. Of all the things she did, of all the ways she had defied Zephiel this season, she hadn't expected to still be queen at all.
"But now he is still treating you like a prized gem that he cannot let go of," James looked thoughtful, knotting his brows at his painting. "When is the little baby due, Majesty?"
Kumiko looked puzzled out of her mind. "Excuse me?"
"The boy. ...Or girl, if that is what the gods will," James said, but he still earned the same befuddled look from the queen. And so he said, "My lady, more than half the keep is saying you are with child."
"W-What?"
"You're pregnant," James simply said.
The word very nearly made Kumiko stumble out of her stool. "Pregnant?" she repeated, shocked. Much to her embarrassment, that came out a little loud—a few people with keen ears looked over to her, but thankfully most of them were engrossed in their own chatters. Kumiko flushed and struggled to regain her composure, but the damage was done—the word had made her rattled. "Of course I'm not pregnant," she muttered. "Where did that absurd rumor come from?"
"People speculate, your majesty. And they see the king's kindness towards you, how he romances you. They make guesses," James said. "Men don't just treat women the way he does to you if you have not rewarded him something to be joyful about. An heir is an easy guess of what a king wants. Some may have thought that you have given him this gift."
Kumiko sadly shook her head. She had tried to picture herself with child and starting a family with Zephiel—but then the image would not come to her mind. She could not see it. "No, it is not true," Kumiko told James, almost with melancholy.
James looked up to the queen who had now turned to staring at her lap with a frown, and back to the woman in his painting, who was all smiles and radiant. He had hit a vulnerable spot with what he had discussed with her. But he felt it must be talked about. "...And so everything is the same with you and him. And if that is how things are, why is he being especially kind to you? I am curious. Do you have any idea why, majesty?"
"...No," Kumiko said. "Apart from what he said that he wants me to learn to trust him."
"And so there is an expectation," James pointed out. "He is kind to you—and he expects it to get him somewhere. Men are kind to women when a woman has rewarded him with joy—or when they expect something in return. Mayhap the king is expecting something in return."
0o0o0o0o0o0
Kumiko had been quiet when Jaffar had walked beside her from the Royal Gallery, Jaffar noted. She had been happy and cheerful when she had met with the lord of Wiechenhof, and now emerges from it with sadness. Lord James was not known for leaving people feeling sad, though. It could be any other reason. With women, Jaffar knew, it could be any reason.
"...Jaffar?" Kumiko called, her voice echoing throughout the almost-empty hallways as they walked.
Jaffar stopped for a moment to turn his head towards the queen. "Kumiko."
"...What does it mean when you are kind to Nino?" she asked.
Jaffar blinked at the question, for a few seconds finding it absurd and irrelevant. "Kumiko, I am always kind to Nino. She is my wife."
"Not just normal ordinary kind," Kumiko said. "What does it mean when you treat her special? Do special things that you know she loves? What does it mean when you go the extra mile?"
And everything clicked for Jaffar, and he understood what Kumiko meant by asking the question. "...There are many explanations, Kumiko. For instance, when I've made a little offense to Nino, I try to make up for it. When she has done something special for me, too, I return the favor. When there is a special occasion I plan for something nice, as well. Or sometimes I am kind to her simply because I love her."
He had missed a point that she was worried about. "...What if you want something from her? When you want favors, you treat her kindly too, right?"
"Kumiko, that is a general rule which doesn't just apply to your spouse. When you want favors from anyone, one method is to flatter them and butter them up. Another method is to threaten them."
There was silence, and for a moment Jaffar and Kumiko walked on. But then Kumiko paused again, and asked:
"...So what do you think does Zephiel want from me?"
Jaffar had been right; these questions were all along asked for because of the king. But there were too many things to say, too many sides to discuss—and in the middle of a barely secure hall where anyone could have been listening in the shadows. There could be many interpretations to Zephiel's kindness, more with the fact that Jaffar knew that Bern had not released Ilia and Sacae and had held onto them, still sending their soldiers to them. This could be a distraction, so Kumiko will focus less on the war that is happening outside the Keep. This could be a preventive measure, so when Zephiel attacks Lycia again, Kumiko will be less abrasive. Or this could be an attempt to put Kumiko under the king's control, to sway him to his side, so she will no longer go against the rest of his war plans. Everything could be purely political.
...But then again everything could also be purely heart, and the king just a man who wanted his wife to trust him.
"I cannot tell what he wants," Jaffar said. "All I see is that it is wise that you be kind to him in return." If you play along long enough, his motives will eventually show.
"And I am kind. Unfailingly," Kumiko said. "But his kindness is on a scale unparalleled. And so I... I wonder if he has certain expectations from me. Lord James said something about this being some sort of investment of his."
And investment just waiting for a return. That was a good way of putting it. Even kindness expected return, and Jaffar knew that. Rarely is a person kind without expecting the other person to be kind back—rarely is there a selfless person in this world. Unless it was Nino, who had a trait of being kind just because, without expecting anything in return. Jaffar doubted the king of Bern was like that.
"...Everything we do is an investment of sorts," Jaffar said. "We plant something; we expect to reap some benefits. It's natural that there are expectations for everything that we do. The least that the king expects, in my opinion, is that you return his kindness and treat him with respect."
A silence followed after that, and Kumiko began to fidget, and Jaffar was sure he saw her flush. She looked as if she were embarrassed to be in her presence that very moment, and for a moment Jaffar thought back on his words to figure if he had said something wrong.
And then she just asked him: "...Do you suppose he expects me to let him have me, then? To... you know?"
Jaffar was caught in such disbelief that he left his mouth open for a second. I cannot believe I am having this conversation with Kumiko. "I cannot read minds," Jaffar said. "I cannot tell."
Kumiko was still as red as a tomato, looking so embarrassed it seemed she might faint any second. "I ask you because you're good at predicting things. And, above that, you're a man. You would know."
"Doesn't he tell you?" Jaffar asked, still caught in some disbelief. You should be talking to a woman about this. Not me. "Doesn't he ask? Doesn't he touch you?"
"No," Kumiko said. But then she added, "Oh, yes, he kisses me so intensely, I always think that he might just be about to do it. But then he just stops at that and... and I'm so confused, and I cannot just ask him what he wants. It's so... embarrassing."
And so you ask me. Somehow, I find this even more embarrassing. "Just... don't... don't think too much on it," Jaffar said. "If he desires you that much, he'll tell. He'll show that he does. You'll know it."
There was an awkward silence, both Kumiko and Jaffar trying to forget that the conversation ever began, for all the embarrassment it both made them feel.
Eventually, Jaffar suggested, "...Why don't you talk to Nino instead about this?"
"I can't. I find it awkward," Kumiko told Jaffar, and that made him give her a puzzled look. "Out of everyone in this world, I find that Nino is the very definition of the word 'innocent'. She's such a sweet woman, and sometimes, I look at her like a little sister that I have to protect or take care of. I cannot possibly imagine talking to her about such... issues or imagining her in the same... situation."
Jaffar blinked, but then agreed. "Yes. You're right. On second thought, you shouldn't be speaking to Nino." It would drive me mad to wonder if my wife ever said anything about me in regards to those issues. "You should talk with Anko instead. It's very obvious she's more... experienced than Nino or you."
0o0o0o0o0
BERN KEEP | The King's Chambers
Kumiko stood before her vanity in the king's rooms, looking over at her form in her white nightshift. She stared at herself, at her body, wondering if it were any good enough. She was not royalty—she was not as porcelain fair as Guinevere or Brenya. She had been baked from the sun from fighting, from travelling, from dirt and mud and blood. She was neither as gorgeous as them, as stunning as them. She was just herself.
Two years, and I still wonder what Zephiel sees here, with me, that he wanted that badly that it made him hold on and put up with me.
But then Kumiko remembered everything that Zephiel had said to her in anger—that there was never anything there that he wanted, that all he had truly wanted was to control her and get her out of the way. He had taken it back with his actions, though, how he tried to soothe her now and tried so hard to gain her trust. It was unfair to judge the man because of the things he had said in his anger. But they were hard to forget, and she would never know if he were telling the truth or not. He could be saying one thing or meaning another.
Why would I give myself when I'm not even sure what is true...?
"Is there anything you need to tell me?" A voice interrupted Kumiko's thoughts, and she stirred and found Zephiel in the mirror, standing behind her. His tone had been irate and confrontational, and his facial expression showed it.
She turned around to face him. "Zephiel, I... No, I don't. Is anything wrong?"
"You will tell me that that disastrous rumor is not true!"
...Rumor? Kumiko went to her husband's side, trying to calm him. "Zephiel, I don't have the slightest idea what you're talking about..."
"It is not true, is it?" he pulled away from her, his anger not decreasing. "Or is it and will I be the last to know?"
"What? What in the world are you talking about?" Kumiko asked, raising her own voice now, because he had started it.
"That you're pregnant!"
...Oh.
...Oh.
That.
And after the silence all Kumiko could do was laugh.
"You honestly believe that rumor, Zephiel? How in the world would I get pregnant if I don't even allow you to..."
Kumiko had lost her words when she looked up and found Zephiel, looking at her with sadness, as if she had just ridiculed him with her words. I don't even allow you to make love to me. It was an insult to him. It was slapping what he failed to get from her, to his face. Kumiko imagined how her laughter must have stung him, and she stood there, looking ashamed.
"Rumors don't start from nowhere, Kumiko," he told her, looking upset. "So why are people whispering about it? Is there something going on that I am unaware of?"
Did I just hear that correctly? Is he insisting I slept with another man? "Zephiel!" she raised her voice, yelling at him a little, so he would stop and steady himself and look at her. And he did. "I'm not pregnant," Kumiko said. "That is the most absurd thing I have ever heard."
He looked at her, at how seriously she told him the words, and at how well she brought it to his attention—yelling at him like he was a dog who would quickly snap at his master's orders. "Then why is half my court abuzz with this gossip?" Zephiel asked, demanding. "Rumors have to come from somewhere, right? Is there another man? Tell me if there is another man!"
Another man! How absurd! This was again one of Zephiel's jealous rages. She had never been at the receiving end of it. Usually she saw how he gave bad looks to men who flattered her too much or showered her with attention, and she had even seen him send them away on errands, like he had done with James or Heath. But he had never confronted her about his accusations. Not until now.
"Your Majesty, I am not with another man," she had told him, calm but firm. She approached him and took his hands in hers. "You know I am incapable of such a betrayal. I am your wife. No one can take me from you."
There are a million people out there who could take you from me, Kumiko. You call them your friends, you call them innocents. If I wage war, you would prefer to be with them rather than with me. They can take you from me. I know they can. And if they could, any other man could.
"And, if I may say so, you have started this rumor, my lord," she spoke with a sweet tone of humor in his voice. "You have been all kindness to me recently, people wonder if it is because I am with child. If it displeases you so, I will personally make a statement that I am not pregnant and it is all a rumor."
She was trying to sweep away his anger with sweetness and kindness, and he saw it. Zephiel only looked at her, a questioning look. "...And so you are not pregnant? None of what everyone is saying is true?"
Kumiko nodded, a little awkwardly. "I haven't even... I mean, Zephiel, if I am, you would know, because you'd be the father and you will be the first person I would tell of the good news."
He still looked ill-tempered for a reason, and Kumiko began to wonder if there was something more to the rumor that he wasn't telling her—usually he would not tell him a part of a rumor if it were too offensive. Zephiel tended to do that. Zephiel tended to keep things from her if he thought it was better.
Or maybe... Or maybe this was something else. It was his desire; it was his sadness at the fact that she had not submitted to him. Maybe he had wanted the rumors to be true, in an a way. "Do you... do you want to have children?" she asked him.
And so caught up was he in his jealousy and irritation for another rumor gone out of hand that he forgot to keep his words in check. "Of course not," he answered, quickly.
When Kumiko fell silent, that was only when he figured that he had given the wrong answer. He stilled, and turned towards her, beginning to look awkward himself, as if he wanted to take back his words. Not wanting children was not normal. To tell your wife you didn't want children from her bordered on offensive. And that was exactly the sort of face Kumiko was making at him now.
"N-No, you don't understand, that's not what I meant—"
"Kings always want children," Kumiko pointed out. "They always want heirs to take their place. Why don't you?"
Because, soon, I will no longer be king myself and I will not have a need for an heir. Because I'm not sure that I can afford one more distraction in my life. One more person to love and one more person to hurt me. "I'm sorry, Kumiko, that came out wrong," he said, immediately trying to appeal to her. "Of course I'd be delighted to have children with you. Of course I'd be delighted to raise up a boy or girl with you, maybe, the same brown-blonde hair and blue eyes like their mother. They'd be the most beautiful children in all of Bern."
But Kumiko did not buy his words—she was feeling a little too critical, and in that mood his words did not pass off to her as real. She knew this was the lie that covered up a truth that he must think she is better off not knowing. He always treats me like I can't handle the truth. "Your Majesty, I can tell you're lying."
"I am not," he quickly said. "I do think you and I can have the most beautiful children in all of Bern—or in all of the continent."
"But that doesn't mean you actually want it," she said.
He sighed. There was no getting around Kumiko when she believed one thing to be a lie. He pulled her into his arms, and then asked her, "...Do you want children?"
She didn't. At least not yet. All I had seen and known of motherhood was from what my mother showed me—and while she tried her best to love me, I also saw all her pain and regret. I do not like regrets, Zephiel. And I am not sure I am not going to regret having your children just yet. What if you leave me? What if everything I think I have right now is an illusion? I will regret it forever. I will regret I ever trusted you.
He was staring at her, and she knew by that that she was silent for too long. "...I'm not sure," Kumiko finally told him. "I'm not sure I am ready for that just yet."
"And neither am I," he said. "I'm not thrilled to be a father just yet."
And then, she understood him. He had not seen much of good fatherhood himself and may not think himself ready for it as well.
What a pair we make, Kumiko thought.
But then Zephiel laughed a little and reached out to embrace her. "But if you change your mind and want to have children, you must tell me. If you think you are ready, you must tell me." And then he whispered to her. "And when that time comes, we can get to work filling this place with princes or princesses. I think I want a dozen of them."
One day later
BERN KEEP | Office of the Master of Spies
Anko looked out the windows of her rooms and suddenly felt ill in the sight beyond, instead of relieved. That was a first. Usually, the sight of the towns and greenery and the mountain ranges of Bern would be a good sight, but in that moment all of it felt nauseating. Anko felt as if she suddenly developed a fear of heights, looking out the window—the sight of it made her knees feel weak and made her almost want to throw up.
Well, I never noticed I was so high up. Bern Keep being on top of a mountain isn't enough—I just have to have my office at the topmost floor.
...It just hit me that the higher you are on the chain, the greater your fall.
The spy turned back to her office, leaning against the windowsills, steadying herself. For a while she stared at her office's space, until she spoke up and said, "Who is it? I can tell you're out there!"
True enough, the door opened and, much to Anko's surprise, it was the queen. Kumiko peeked inside. "Doing anything in particular?" Kumiko asked. "Do you mind a visit?"
"Come in," Anko said, and Kumiko did, settling herself in one of the couches Anko had set before a little table. Anko's office was unchanged, Kumiko thought. Still filled with stacks of letters and petitions and letters of correspondence. Information about the war?
"Is anything the matter?" Anko asked, snapping Kumiko from her thoughts.
Kumiko shook her head immediately, almost nervously. "N-No. Nothing, really. I just wanted to... talk."
Anko took a seat across Kumiko, and stared at her, as if studying her. Everyone who came to visit her had a purpose, and she knew that. No one would like to subject themselves to the torture of climbing the impossibly long flight of stairs to her office for no reason. "It's a good time for talking these days," Anko remarked. "There's nothing much happening. Though I do have to congratulate you for the great improvement in the king's mood. I heard you caused it."
"I doubt it," Kumiko said. "He just got tired of being grumpy. Everyone gets tired of being angry in a while."
No, Kumiko. Not everyone gets tired of being angry. There are people who hold grudges for lifetimes. "Deny it however you want, but that's what everyone is saying. That you somehow managed to appeal to him and get him to lighten up. What did you do? Lift up your skirt for him? And so you are pregnant as the rumors say?"
"No I did not do that, and so I am not pregnant," Kumiko immediately denied, blushing, as she always did when anyone suggested anything inappropriate. "Only you would resort to such measures to get what you want, Anko."
The spy backed away in the slightest, a bit offended. But she quickly recovered and shook her head in mock denial. "What are you talking about? I would never. I'm as chaste as a priestess. I'm a virgin by anyone's standards."
And Kumiko, never a person to see through an act easily, said, "Y-You are?"
"Of course not," Anko admitted. "I lost it years and years and years ago. I think you're the only one in our age group who hasn't."
Anko meant it as a joke of some sort, some statement that she was sure Kumiko was used to, especially coming from her, but the spy didn't exactly expect to see her look... troubled. "Am I truly the only one?" Kumiko asked. "I just can't... I can't think of doing it just yet. When I try to imagine it I get so scared and... Is there something wrong with me?"
Kumiko began to look so troubled that Anko began to feel bad for her. "There's nothing wrong with you," Anko said, soothingly, getting up from her seat and sitting beside Kumiko, draping an arm around her. Well, of course there is nothing wrong with you except for the fact that you have an absurd fear of letting a man touch you. "What part are you scared of, exactly? That it will be painful? Kumiko, it is only painful at first, and then it gets better. You might even grow to like it."
"I... I know," Kumiko said, with a blush. "But that's not what I'm worried about. You know that's not it. I'm worried he'll-"
Anko was the one who finished Kumiko's statement. "He'll turn out just like your father. That he will be a man who takes you and then leaves you alone. Hasn't Zephiel done enough to prove that he'll stay? He stayed with you this long. If you give him this, it will hardly drive him away. It will make him keep you longer."
"That's not it," Kumiko said. "That's no longer it."
Anko was surprised. If that was no longer the issue, what was this new one? Kumiko said, "I... I know Zephiel will stay. I know Zephiel will treat me kindly. But I'm not sure I... I'm not sure I want to stay. If I have children with Zephiel I am tied to him stronger, tied to him forever. I cannot escape him. And with this war, I'm not sure I want to stay. If I let him have me and bear his children, and if he takes that as an opportunity to continue the war, I would hate it. I would feel like I have fallen into a trap, never to escape him. I don't know if I can take it."
So it's the war, Anko said to herself. It's the war, which was more or less the cause of every problem in the married life of the king and queen these days. Bern's military silence had done much to repair the relationship—but Kumiko was right. What if the war started again—maybe next month, maybe next year, maybe as soon as Zephiel was sure his wife would not be swayed to the other side? If Kumiko were to give herself to the king and were to get pregnant, it was an effective way of keeping her in control, stopping her from switching sides, like Guinevere did. What did Zephiel want?
Anko gave herself a sigh, as she chose to believe in the Zephiel that was the friend she had known from childhood, rather than the one who had become a master manipulator after he had killed his father. Zephiel is still kind. Zephiel still has feelings. This is Kumiko, and he had always treated her dearly. Anko reached out across her table to take Kumiko's hand and hold it. "Kumiko," she said, "Zephiel is your husband. Whether or not you have children with him it will not change the fact that you are married. You are tied to him, with or without heirs. You know what they say in church. No person or circumstance can bring apart two people that have been brought together before the gods. Only death can."
"I know that," Kumiko said, pulling her hand away from Anko's. "I know that. I know I am tied to him, but if I did this, it is like tying more knots into the rope, strengthening it. It may be tying the rope right around my neck."
Anko shook her head. "Again, you have a very bleak view on marriage. Zephiel could very well be doing this to keep you in check and put you under his control. But on the other hand, he could very well be desiring what every man wants from his wife. Sexual desire is tied into a man's self esteem. I'll bet deep down inside he feels terrible for your unwillingness to share your body with him. He only refuses to insist in fear that you will feel disrespected."
Kumiko said nothing, and both she and Anko fell into an awkward silence.
Anko kept staring at Kumiko, still trying to put together puzzle pieces of why Kumiko acted this way in regards to this issue. "…Don't you desire him at all?" Anko asked, softly. "When he kisses you or touches you don't you feel your heart race in anticipation, in want? Doesn't he trigger that emotion in you at all?"
…I think my heart races, but in both fear and want. "I just don't… I am not sure what I feel," Kumiko said. "What are we getting out of this, anyway? Why do men desire this so much? What is their reason, apart from physical satisfaction?"
Anko thought long and hard at that question, a little rattled by it. Because, after all, what was there to care about, apart from the physical? Sex had no meaning to her, frankly—she was a spy, and it was only a tool to get a man to talk or get his guard down. A tool to induce someone to let go of his or her defenses.
And in that train of thought, Anko said, "…Because when the clothes go off, it's almost as if… it's your defenses that go off." She remembered how scared she felt, that evening not too long ago, when she kissed Heath in pretext of being drunk. She had always been a woman confident in herself, but that moment, she was terrified, knowing that in one second, he could turn her down and leave. Even if she had the pretense of being drunk, it would still be a rejection, it would still hurt. "…Suddenly you're barenaked with a man and you have nothing to hide and you're not sure if he'll like you for it or reject you for it. Because he can see your imperfections and you can't hide them anymore and—"—and gods know how many scars and botches I have on my skin, unlike you, Kumi—you!—next to flawless!—"And you… you get scared. You're vulnerable. But you trust a man enough to reveal yourself in your most fragile to him. It's an exchange of trust, in a way."
Kumiko pondered on the words, and said, in a almost a whisper, "So… there is more to it than physical, after all."
"Yes," Anko answered. "Yes, it is something more. …It's baring your soul."
End of Part Two.
Hope everyone enjoyed everything. Reviews fuel me to keep writing and help me bust writer's blocks!
