A/N: Thank you for all the readers who have kept reading this. Thank you for the previous reviewers. Aquatic Silver, sadly this fic doesn't end yet. Thank you for being around. DarkBlaziken, your reviews are fuel for my fire to keep writing. And inspire me. Leilora, storyline gold happens soon. Let's all hope it goes well. Patattack, thank you for your reviews. They are appreciated.

This chapter is sappy. There, I have said it. I did my best to balance it all out, though.

Warning: Suggestive themes, but nothing graphic and explicit.

Without further ado here's the latest chapter of Bern:

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Chapter 15

SURPRISES

"Is there anything I'm interrupting?"

Kumiko, startled by the voice, nearly fell over from the stool she was sitting on as she sorted through Queen Hellene's vanity. Zephiel gave a little chuckle, and stood behind her, putting a hand to her shoulder to steady her.

"Y-Your Majesty," Kumiko said, puzzled and flustered. "How did you... the doors are—"

"You are in the Queen's Chambers. There is a secret passage that connects this room to the King's Chambers. So that the king could visit his wife anytime he wished, if he so desired."

"I-I see..." Kumiko said, looking thoughtful. She still was not decided on staying in the Queen's Chambers—it was too big for her tastes it almost scared her when she was alone at night, and now there is this fact that Zephiel could walk in on her uninvited if he wished.

And then there was Queen Hellene's effects—far too many to remove completely. It gave the rooms life and personality of their own, and Kumiko had not yet had the heart to remove them. While she respected the late queen, she had no desire to live in rooms and be reminded of her, of the last queen of Bern.

She had died here, after all, hanging herself from her balcony.

Zephiel had looked down at what Kumiko had been sorting—a box of his mother's old powders and cosmetics. He smiled, and took one from Kumiko's hand. "My mother's rooms had been left untouched. It's one of the first things I fought for. When she had died, father wanted to..."

His words faded, and Kumiko imagined he did not like the things that were brought back to his mind. She knew what he was about to say, however. King Desmond had a mistress and wanted to remarry only a week after Queen Hellene had died. These rooms would then belong to another woman. But Zephiel had stood up, and fought for his mother's memory.

The first time that Zephiel grew a backbone and stood up to his father, Anko had told Kumiko.

"And you would allow me to live here?" Kumiko asked, almost sounding confused. He had fought for this, to preserve her mother's existence, even in her rooms. And when he had expressed his intent to marry her, he had expressed that—his consent to let another woman change this, change everything, to replace the memory.

"Naturally," Zephiel said, not even bothered or confused as she was. "You will be queen when we marry. And these are the Queen's rooms."

Kumiko's silence after that gave away that she did not like the notion. It was what confused Zephiel. "You don't like it here? What is it? What do you wish? Don't you like how it looks? We can have it remodeled. We'll have the furniture replaced—"

"No, it's not how it looks, Your Majesty. It is... its size. I am just one woman. I feel scared at night in such spacious quarters. I feel so... lost. Is there not a smaller room that I can move to? Something that's just right, and not so... grand."

"...When you've redecodated the rooms you will feel more confortable in them and then you will get used to it," he said. "You are new to this and all you see are my mother's belongings, so I understand you feel that way."

Kumiko's mood has not lifted, and he knew he had not convinced her. He sighed, and said, "Well, there is one more reason why I insist you stay in these rooms."

"What is it, Your Majesty?" she asked.

"It connects to my rooms. I can see you whenever I wished. That is my preference. If you moved to another room... would you really like everyone in Bern Keep to know when and how often we would sleep together?"

Kumiko blushed. Zephiel had a point, and she truly had no desire for the servants and courtiers to be gossiping of whether the king slept with her that night or not. "I... I have no desire such as that."

"Then I have made my point clear."

"Unless we..." Kumiko began, an idea forming in her head. Zephiel looked to her curiously. "I could move into your rooms. Then no one would have to gossip about us and I would not have to feel so alone in such big quarters. ... If it pleases you of course, Your Majesty."

Zephiel looked thoughtful for a short moment. While Kumiko's suggestion would sound normal to the ordinary man, to a royal of Bern it was not. Zephiel's parents had never shared a room, his grandparents and ancestors before them never had. The marriage of a royal was bleak—they only married for heirs, to preserve the noble blood. Closeness and intimacy was not part of the formula. Admittedly, Zephiel himself only married Kumiko of his whim and fancy. He had no desire to be too close to her, to build a deep relationship. He only wanted to keep her in his sights.

But for some reason, he had agreed. "If that is what you wish," he told Kumiko, who had been looking intently at him, waiting on his decision. "I'll have one of the smaller rooms emptied so you can have a private dressing room. But aside from that, I do not know what else I could offer. Everything else we would have to share, the bed included. If you are fine with that I'll order the servants to make room for you in the morning."

"Yes..." Kumiko said. "I am fine with that. I think I will be happy with that."

"Why did you ask to share my chambers, two years ago?" Zephiel asked.

"Mmm?" was all that Kumiko managed to answer, naked and dazed in their bed.

Zephiel chuckled, and then brushed away her sweat-damp hair from her face, so he could kiss her. "You poor thing," he then said to her, with a smile. "Did I exhaust you? My apologies."

Kumiko shook her head, with her own little smile on her lips. She was bathed in an afterglow, and Zephiel loved how it made her look, too beautiful it was almost ethereal.

"...This was what I wanted," Kumiko said, reaching out to hold her husband's hand. "I know that nobles only... that we only married for convenience. And yet at the same time, I also wanted... I wanted to try and see if this could be something more."

He held onto her hand tighter. "...And has it become something more?"

"Yes," she said, certainly. "Yes."

He smiled. "As it goes for me. Do you believe what I say, Kumiko?"

She moved closer to him and settled herself in his arms. "Yes," she said. "I believe you. I trust you, Zephiel."

And he smiled such a radiant smile Kumiko was always blinded by it, seeing how happy he would be whenever she reassured him of her trust. Her friends were right. It was all he ever wanted, and she was a fool to think he would want to harm her instead.

And then she asked him, as she pulled even closer to him, putting her arms around his waist, "…Did you mean what you said, as well?"

He was puzzled, for a moment, trying to recall what she meant. Maybe in the ecstasy of the entire evening he had said things he didn't mean... "What did I say?"

"That you... that you love me."

I love you, he had whispered to her ear, when she let him have her that evening, when he had collapsed on top of her, shaking with desire. I love you. You have no idea how happy you have made me, how much it means to me. I love you. I always have, always will.

He spoke the unspeakable. He tied himself to her not only with physical intimacy, but also with words that he can never take back.

He looked at her and found her eyes hopeful. Pleading for him to say it, say it again, to assure her that she had his love. Such hope was hard to crush. It would crush him himself to deny it, to tell her that he had no idea what she was talking about.

It would hurt her and it would hurt him to deny what he had long wanted to share with her. Even if it meant expressing that she was truly special in his life. Even if it meant giving her power over him, over his emotions, over his heart.

He pulled her up towards him and kissed her. And then he whispered to her: "I love you, Kumiko."

And that was all she wanted to know.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Now he slept before she did, and she considered it a miracle.

He would sleep, now, and Kumiko would always rest in his arms and talk to him in whispers, only to realize that a few moments later, he would be asleep. She would not be offended by this—she would only look at him, and silently feel in awe of this miracle that Zephiel—Zephiel who never seemed to sleep at all!—would be at her side, in deep sleep.

For all it was, Kumiko found it more of an intimacy than the actual act of bedding was. It would give her joy to find him beside her, trusting her with the vulnerability of his sleeping self. He would look so content and relaxed, different from the man he was during the day—always on edge and critical. But when he slept, he was someone else, he was simply her husband.

Then there was another thing—his laughter. He would laugh out of amusement now for little things, for big things. When his laughter used to be rare and sarcastic, it was now genuine, hearty. It was as if she had given him joy that was beyond compare. When she feared she would be clumsy and inexperienced in bed and make mistakes, he would smile and laugh in amusement and tell her how adorable she is, how she should not be worried, how he loved her for all she was.

And what did I give to cause him so much joy? My body?

...No, my trust.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o

BERN KEEP | Jaffar and Nino's Rooms

Trust was a fragile thing, that much Jaffar knew. It had to be earned, taken care of, and when broken, it can never be the same again. Like glass. A slight, careless move can cause glass to chip, never to be the same again. And if you kept handling it with more and more disregard, it breaks—shatters—beyond recognition.

But Nino was... Nino is beyond all that. Her trust wasn't fragile... It was almost... absolute. Maybe it was one of those things that marriage did—no matter what your partner had done, it had to be forgiven and stood by. But, no. Even married people leave each other.

But Nino had accepted him... even if he had been a heartless assassin killing for a mad sorcerer. Even when he had said harsh things to her, and nearly killed her when she had refused to carry out Black Fang orders. Even when bounty hunters searched him all over Bern, she had stayed with him. Even when he left her to keep her safe. In his defense, it was done for her—and their children's—safety. But leaving one's spouse was still an atrocious thing to do. While Nino had been hurt, had been upset, she still accepted him, and had not once brought up any of his past mistakes to him.

It was as if all things were new, much like how Nino made shallow cuts disappear with her Heal staff. It hurt and it stung and it bled, but when it was Healed, it was gone.

He knew he was a lucky man. And yet it confused him, why he kept having to toy with her trust, taking for granted that it was not breakable.

"I know if I look hard enough, or think well enough, I am going to solve this," Nino said, sitting before her desk in their chambers, dozens of books, parchments and scrolls surrounding her—on her table, open before her, sitting by her bare feet. She was in her nightgown and nightcap, and yet was wide awake, nibbling on a quill, a habit she had whenever she was puzzled to a point of annoyance. "I am going to find out why King Zephiel has started war."

That was another thing that was hard to shatter—Nino's determination. Ever since she had realized trailing Zephiel's thoughts—from his speeches, to the things he read and wrote—would reveal much of his intentions, Nino had taken good care to execute her plan. She read his books, listened with a sharp ear to all his speeches, took notes—lots of notes. Half their chambers now looked like it had been taken over by papers, papers everywhere. For a man who was once an assassin—a life so simple, you only either kill a man or let him live—Jaffar found the papers to be nuisance, and more than once he had the itch to take everything and put it to the fireplace. He said nothing to Nino though, and let her continue in her research.

He observed her, and then took a handkerchief to her cheek. "You have ink on your face," he said.

"Oh, oh!" said Nino, startled. She giggled and put away the quill she was nibbling, and let Jaffar wipe the ink off her cheeks. "Thank you, Jaffar."

He kissed her gently on the top of her head, sniffing in her fragrant green hair. "Let's get some sleep. Won't you do that in the morning instead?"

"Of course," she said, smiling. "But I can't help but think that I am onto something big here, Jaffar. I think I am awfully close to something, it is just missing a few pieces..."

Like Dragons, and Dragon summons. Like the Dark Priestess. There were things Jaffar knew that he had kept secret, and had worked to keep secret, from Nino, and Kumiko. It's for their own good. They would see that sooner or later.

But that made Jaffar wonder what Nino would do once she founds out the secrets that he withheld from her. Then maybe her trust, too, was like glass, and he had been holding onto the final things that would cause it to shatter.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

BERN-SACAE BORDER | The Ostian Safehouse

She trusted him enough to let him do this.

Xarin was underneath him, gasping, moaning, his fingers sliding through her sweaty skin. He never thought he would do this, succumb to this. He knew he wanted it, but didn't expect her to want it as well.

How had they gotten to this? Matthew tried to recall the events. She had been bathing, in the streams, like she used to. He had ran into her again, and yet this time he did not have the decency to alert her of his presence.

He was needy, and she was there, soaping her skin in that damned seductive way that made Matthew curse and call on all the gods out of frustration.

And finally, he succumbed to it. He kissed her, her lips tasting sweet, and he thought, screw it all. I want this. I could figure out how to deal with all the stuff later.

He kissed her deep and hard, hand on her shoulder, rubbing and caressing. Her nightdress had a thin, tiny strap, and he let his fingers play with it, biting his lip as he thought of all the things he wanted to do to her. He wanted to make it slow, make it good for her as well.

He looked up to her and smiled rougishly. Her eyes were shut close, her lips parted slightly in hushed moans.

But then she spoke. And then his smile disappeared.

"Alex," she said, she sighed. "Alex..."

No, Matthew thought frantically. No. He wanted to shake her and make her open her eyes and tell her no, she was mistaken, it's him, it's Matthew. Xarin, don't do this to me. "NO!"

He was sitting up in the floor, sweat dripping down his forehead. The sun was out, bathing the room in daylight. Matthew took a breath and collected himself. He was on the floor, as is usual—he insisted on it, refusing to join Xarin on the sole bed in the cottage, because he wanted to avoid his desire to do those... things to her.

That dream again... What a nightmare.

But that nightmare described everything he felt. Matthew sighed, and rested his head onto the mattress of the bed above him. He loved her, desired her, wanted to make her happy... but was so scared she would only see someone else.

He wanted to hear his name being drawn out of those lips, and not someone else's.

"Matthew."

Matthew nearly jumped out of of his skin. He turned to where it came from—the bed—and saw Xarin lying there, looking at him, still in a nightdress, hair half-covering her face. "Are you okay?" she asked.

Matthew stared at her for a moment—to him, she just looked so stunning, lying like that in bed—but then he groaned, and then shook his head, as if to dismiss his thoughts. "Yeah," he said. "I'm okay. I'm okay."

"You were moaning and screaming," Xarin said.

Matthew suddenly felt nervous. What did she hear? "Yeah? What did I say?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

"...No." she said.

No. I'm not him. No.

"I'm okay," Matthew told her. "I'm okay. Just a bad dream."

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

"But, Matthew... there's something else."

Matthew looked up to her, surprised. Had he moaned out something more telling? Did he call out her name. Oh gods, no. I hope not. I hope it's not worse.

He had just stared at her, expression asking her what she meant. But then she just looked at him, her eyes then slowly travelling down to his trousers...

He looked down, and realized what she meant.

"Oh fu—" Matthew turned red, flustered. "This is—this is nothing! It was cold, okay? Or, or something! This isn't what it seems!"

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

OSTIA | The Castle Town of Ostia

"Everyone, listen for a moment. This is... This is Serra."

Erk stood awkwardly in front of the group of boys and girls, under their usual tree. Beside him was Serra, his total opposite—standing straight, looking at each and every person, absolutely confident. Erk was still wondering if this was a good idea. Younger people were... difficult. You needed a certain patience with them. Patience wasn't something he was sure Serra had, but she had asked this of him.

"Do you need any help?" Serra approached him after one of his classes, picking up books and parchment.

"Thanks Serra, but I got it," Erk said, not bothering to look up to her. "Don't you have issues with Ostian politics that must be dealt with?"

Serra just stood there, as Erk packed all the books into one bag. "...There's only so much advice I can give Lady Lilina. I am not a politician. Neither am I a warrior. The advice I give her is what my heart and my instints tell me."

Erk heard the pain and defensiveness in her tone. "...I didn't mean to suggest anything bad, with what I said."

Serra didn't say anything to that. Instead she sat down one one of the crates spread out around the tree, their makeshift chairs, and said, "Do you have room for one more student?"

"What?"

"I'd like to sit in your classes."

"S-Serra, that's—you're a—Why would you...?"

"To learn about magic," Serra said, as if Erk should know that that was obviously the answer.

Erk sighed to himself, taking a second to word his opinions correctly. "Serra, you are a good mage. You can command the staff very well and use Light magic just as well. Besides, I teach children—"

"I see some grown men and women in your group. I don't think I would be too much of an odd-one-out."

But that was exactly what she was, standing there in front of everyone and beside Erk. Her unfaltering confidence aside, she was dressed too lavishly, a standout in red and white and a fur capelet. Erk certainly had to put in a word to her about that afterwards. It was him who was worried for how Serra would react if her robes got dirty.

But his worries were nothing. His discussion and lecture with the group ended up without Serra throwing any tantrums or doing something to earn attention, as he had imagined she would do. Erk shook his head to himself. When it came to Serra, he truly had learned to condition himself to think of the worst about her. But when the children had started bugging her endlessly asking about her pink hair, or her pretty dress, or how she puts up her hair in perfect ponytails, she had been friendly and genuine.

Even when Lugh had carelessly spilled a tiny jar of ink to her capelet—Erk gasped and feared for the worst—Serra only shrieked, and then, laughed, and started punishing Lugh by tickling him senseless, distracting everyone into giggles.

"Serra, will you—stop distracting everyone!" He said, but his words weren't a serious reprimand. He knew Serra was making no real effort to ruin his class by starting distractions. It was just what she is. Even sitting in his class, silent, he tended to glance at her more often, trying to see what she was up to.

She was just naturally distracting even without trying.

"Look!" Serra took off her fur capelet and held it up to him, as he had walked towards her and Lugh to examine the damage. "I don't suppose there's some grand magic that can take off this stain, is there?"

It was a white ermine fur capelet, something only the most privileged of nobles wore. Serra was a pampered lady of the house compared to Lady Lyndis, Erk guessed. "There is no magic for that, but there are some herbal remedies that I can recommend, although I'm not entirely sure where in Ostia they grow..."

"It's okay. I think I know what to do with it," Serra said, with a smile.

The next day, Serra came to Erk's class, bringing strands of ribbons for the girls to put in their hair.

The ribbons were strands of white fur.

"That was very expensive fur you gave away," Erk told her, when all the children were gone, and Serra had stayed behind to help him tidy the place. "Do you have more where that came from?"

"One more. A coat," Serra said.

"...You won't be able to buy a new one so soon," Erk pointed out. It was going to be a long while before Ostia and the whole of Lycia would be stable, most especially in its economy. With all the resources of the nation going into the rebuilding and the defenses of the country, there would be hardly any money for even Lady Lilina to spend on her indulgences.

Serra was silent for a while, and when she spoke to him, her eyes looked far-off, as if she were thinking of things long-past. "When I was... When I was a child... in the... the orphanage... There was a woman who came by one day. She was wearing the prettiest silken clothes and had shiny jewels... The monks later told me she was an Etrurian noblewoman. She came to Ostia looking for a child. To adopt. Maybe she never had children, maybe she was looking for a child she lost."

Erk just sat, and stared at her, remembering fifteen years ago, at how Serra cried when he had confronted her about her delusions of being an Etrurian princess. "I wanted her to choose me," Serra said. "I badly wanted to. But then she took another girl, and I... I cried so hard. The woman didn't know why I was crying, but to make me stop, she took off her earrings and gave them to me. She said I can sell them for a big sum."

And then Serra reached into the folds of her dress, into her pockets, and then held her hand out for Erk to see. She was holding onto a pair of earrings, with pearls and amethysts set in silver. They were just as expensive as her fur coat.

"...I never sold it. I could have made a fortune if I did, right? I was a hungry little orphan and I didn't have any money... but I held onto it, and the idea that maybe someday someone would want me. Sure, it made me hold onto somewhat delusional ideas, but... It also gave me the strength to survive."

Erk sat there, not knowing what to say. Serra had always been... complex, and he knew it. He understood it, even, but always had a hard time putting it to words. "And now you've done more than survive," Erk said. "You've become her. You've become that woman who inspired you."

Serra shook her head, disagreeing, and Erk looked puzzled. "I hope not, Erk. I want to do better. I don't want to make a choice. I'll keep all the children if I can. Lord Oswin and I always tried and waited to have our own child but... it never happened. Maybe this is why."

Erk nodded, and sat beside Serra, giving her a brief reassuring pat on her shoulder. She has changed, after all. What a surprise.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

BERN KEEP | Office of the Master of Spies

The Office of the Master of Spies had been in a lockdown. Anko had hid herself away, much like a prisoner of her own keeping, her office her own prison cell. She had taken to sleeping in the bedroom in her office apartments—no more going back to the Tactician Guild. She refused to go back, part of her own will, part due to practicality. There was nothing to go back there to, anymore. All that was there was the scent of Heath in the air and the furniture and the place, and to remember him would be heartbreaking. And besides, there were things that were keeping Anko from leaving her office. An issue to figure, to ponder, to draw conclusions of. Unless there was a conclusion to the issue, Anko was not leaving.

The sun was rising far above the horizon, and on ordinary days, Anko's private meeting with the king would have been over and done with. But today—and the days after—the meetings would come later. For a few days past Anko has appeared late to the morning meetings, and Zephiel was not a man who liked to wait when it came to business. Thankfully the king had simply decided to shift his schedule around so his day started later. If the rumors were true, he had wanted this change as well, preferring to stay in bed longer with his wife in the mornings.

Kumiko, you are a life-saver.

It was a heaven-sent gift. Anko couldn't afford to attend early morning meetings because the mornings had cast a horrible spell on her. She felt dizzy and sick every morning that she could not quickly get up on her feet like she used to. The headache was gripping, and on occasions accompanied by an urge to throw up. The problem didn't end there—dressing had become a chore, too. Her breasts had become sore and sensitive to the slightest of things that binding them for her bodices had caused much pain. They seemed to be growing out, needing to be bound twice more. And these were the issues that Anko was trying to solve, trying to figure.

She silently sipped on some wine, still in a nightshift that she never wore because she had always preferred to be dressed for the day, even in sleep, so that if an attack ever happened, she was good to go. But these days she was more likely to wake up in the middle of the night because she felt sick, and she had thus succumbed to sleepwear in favor of keeping her day clothes clean. Anko, thinking, began to tick off the possibilities with her fingers, one by one.

First, her stomach could be upset over something she ate. Whether it was some spoiled milk or some vile ingredient finding it's way to the Keep's resident cook's meals, she could not ascertain. It could also easily be dirty water. But she had lived in Bern Keep and ate and drank from Bern Keep, and the safest food and drink in Bern was here. There were cooks who made sure everything was clean and they would hang should it be found that they do not do their jobs properly. They fed the king and queen and the land's most important people. Anko doubted they would serve rotten meat.

It could be poison, though. Maybe someone wanted to poison someone and it ended up in my meal. Maybe someone wanted to poison me. I am sure people who want that to happen are in abundance. But who?

...Or this could be some new, foreign illness.

Her breasts easily could be feeling sore and sensitive since they were growing—they supposedly feel that way when they grow, or so Anko had been told, and maybe they were in pain because they had been previously too constricted by her clothes. But even now, when she had let them be, they still had a little ache to them. Well, this isn't an effect of poison or illness, that I'm sure of. I haven't heard of a poison causing this feeling.

Of course, there was the last possibility—but it was by far worse than having the plague. And when she had thought of it, Anko's hand idly dropped down to her belly, as if trying to ask her body if there was another life inside it.

And if there was, if there was...

Xarin might know someone who could...

Anko shook her head, not liking where her thoughts were leading to, her hand reaching back up to her wine. No one gets pregnant from an accident. Accidents were never meant to happen at all.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

BERN-SACAE BORDER | Ostian Safehouse

"Hey, hey, you okay?"

Heath blinked, and found Matthew waving in front of his face. Apparently he'd been dazed, and Matthew had caught him staring at mid-air.

"I'm okay," Heath said, shaking his head to himself. "I'm just... I suddenly felt as if..."

"As if what?" Matthew asked, looking puzzled. Behind them, Xarin was at the dinner table, looking equally puzzled.

Heath looked up to Matthew, and then said, urgently, "As if Anko's in trouble. As if I... I just suddenly have an intense urge to see her and talk and..."

Heath made as if to grab his lance and his travelling pack, so immediately Matthew stood by the door, blocking the way. "You have a bounty on your head! If you step anywhere near Anko—which I am a hundred percent sure is within the capital—you are as good as a dead man."

"She wouldn't sell me out," Heath said. "I'm sure."

Matthew gave a groan, and then Xarin said, "Even if she doesn't sell you out, you put her in danger by meeting with her. If anyone finds out she let you go and met you, she is a dead woman."

"Fine! Then let me go and I'll just get some air," Heath said.

"Sure, if you put away your weapon and your stuff!"

Heath threw down his pack and his lance onto the floor, grudgingly. Matthew dared to raise an eyebrow at him and give him a look, before moving away from the door to let him pass.

"I'll write to Jaffar to ask him if she's safe," Matthew assured Heath, before the latter went away.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Matthew groaned, and then said, "Well... that was unexpected."

Xarin emerged from an inner room, carrying parchment and ink to the table. She was already starting on the letter to Jaffar that Matthew had spoken about seconds ago. "Let him be alone for a while. ...Sometimes you feel a strong urge to be with the person you love and feel frustrated when you know you can't do it."

"Well, I know a thing or two about strong urges, and what I know is that if you keep following them, it's a death warrant. You have to learn how to use your head and think and not let desires overwhelm you," Matthew said.

Xarin was silent, and Matthew thought that that meant she had abandoned the converstation, as she usually did, but after a few moments she said, "Sometimes you have to follow them. Or else you'll live out all your life wondering what would have happened if you'd done things differently. If you'd confronted your desires dead-on instead of running from them, or putting them aside... things would have been different."

There'd be no waiting twenty years only to find out everything was a lie.

Matthew caught onto her train of thought and knew that she was thinking of him again. It was always him. When he had turned back to Xarin, she noticed that his eyes had turned darker, and that he was more visibly upset.

"I was just... I suddenly had this question," Matthew said.

"What is it?"

"...Did you ever fall in-love with someone else? Not just... not him. Was there anyone else?"

Xarin made a face, by now noticing how Matthew often only referred to Alexander as 'him'. Matthew disliked him, that much seemed clear. She understood why—he had only seen how he made her wait and suffer—but there was no reason to feel bad about mentioning a name.

While she was silent, Matthew looked hopeful. "So there was someone?" Matthew crossed his fingers behind his back. Is he tall with sandy brown hair and eyes? Are you like totally in-love with him but denying it? Is he me?

"Well," Xarin said, "there is one man. But I'm sure he doesn't count."

Who? Me? I don't count, why? "Who is it?" Matthew asked.

"Alecto."

Matthew was disappointed that Xarin had named the man that adopted her and Kumiko and their other friends, in their childhood. "He gave me everything I have now," Xarin said. "Skills. A job. A title. Things I need to live."

Matthew sighed—so all this time she thought nothing of me after all—and then he nodded, choosing to continued the conversation with Xarin instead down the path it was taking. He did not know much about Alecto, the man who took in Xarin and her friends, but all he heard from Kumiko was praises and admiration. "He gave you freedom," Matthew added. "He honed your skills. He gave you chance to become someone else instead of being bound to serve men in a bathhouse."

"No..." Xarin said. "I... I could have always had freedom. It was a bathhouse for soldiers, and I was a whore, but I was a Bernese, and a Bernese is never a slave in her own country. We are employed servants who could leave if we wished, unless we were bound by debt. I didn't have debts. Alex left me some money. I just didn't... didn't know what to do with my life."

Matthew looked puzzled. He had thought that Xarin was forced to stay in her job, that it was all she could do, that somehow she was bound to it—be it by debt or slavery, like most whores he had come across. But she wasn't. She had had some skills. She'd worked in a tavern before, surely she could have made a more decent living serving ale or cooking up pot roast. But then when she chose, she chose to be a spy.

"And Alecto offered you spywork, and you wanted that? I mean, it sounds better than working in a bathhouse, but in this field, we risk our lives, we make enemies. An error means death." Matthew said, remembering Leila—remembering all his spies that died in all manners of ways. Tortured, beheaded, drowned, stabbed in the back, poisoned, killed by magics—there was so much more in the list, all of them he never wanted to see happen to Xarin. "Why didn't you want to make a simple living instead and get married and have children or something?" Matthew asked.

"...Because I can't," she answered.

"That's silly. What do you mean you ca—"

"I can't have children."

Matthew fell silent, and then eventually realized what Xarin meant.

She's barren.

It could have been something she had from birth, a problem that some women had and were devastated to have—surely he knew Serra had a hard time conceiving, although he could imagine she and Oswin just didn't try hard enough. Or it could have been something that she developed later on in life, a complication that arose from her previous... profession. Matthew couldn't tell.

But she told him anyway. "I had too many... In the bathhouse... My body had been damaged from all the pregnancies that I had... terminated."

"I... see."

And in a flash he had dark images of Xarin, ghastly pale, bleeding between her legs, trying her best to get up and move even after an abortion. He imagined it was partly of her choice, partly something she was forced to do. Being pregnant meant she couldn't do her work, so it was in her interest to not be pregnant. At the same time, perhaps she had no desire to keep any of them. They would all be from strangers, she probably wouldn't be able to tell who was the father.

Maybe that's why I have such a hard time trying to imagine her with children in her arms. Xarin has never been warm to them, even to children in Castle Ostia.

But after a few more seconds Matthew realized something else, something graver.

"...That's why Uther sent you to those kind of missions," Matthew whispered. "Because there'd be no risk of you..."

Things began to click into place—the assignment with Laus, all the other undercover assignments dealing with men... Matthew always wondered why Xarin got them regularly. He'd accepted that it was part of the life of a female spy—beauty was a weapon, and all of them used it, even Leila, although he'd made Leila swear that she will only give her body to another man if her life depended on it—but he'd never thought that...

When he sent Ostia's female spies into the field, he never assumed anything sexual would happen to them. It was almost as if he'd conditioned his mind that nothing of that sort happened to them. All spies that were trained in Castle Ostia were every means capable of defending themselves, so if they were ever sexually assaulted, Matthew knew they could defend themselves. Even when a mission called for subtlety and disguise, Matthew knew that there were so many other ways of getting what one needed before taking it to bed, but... When spies send in a report, they never say how they got in touch with the information anyway—that was mostly up to him or her. He'd never want to think that Leila or Xarin ever...

I'd never put them in that kind of situation.

"Uther knew this," Matthew said—no longer a guess, but a firm conclusion drawn. Uther was a good man, far better than many worse that Matthew has seen, but he was also a politician through and through, capable of dirty schemes and tactics. But Hector... "Lord Hector?" Matthew asked, sounding every bit urgent, "Did Lord Hector know?"

"...Yes," Xarin told him.

"Then why in the hell don't I know?!" Matthew yelled, slamming his fists onto the table as he got up and started pacing. Xarin looked absoultely puzzled, wondering why Matthew was acting this way. "I've been told you didn't... that nothing happened between you and Laus, that you managed to gather evidence for his plans of assault in Pherae without ever letting him touch you. Just seduction. You had a knife to his neck before he could..."

Xarin looked away, and with that Matthew knew he had been lied to, by Hector, by his superiors. Why? Why would Hector—Hector!—lie to me about this? "So... So you and Erik Laus—the worst man in all of Lycia, that stinking, terrible son of a..." Matthew's words faded and he stook his head to himself. It's not fair.

"...I've had worse," Xarin whispered, to herself.

"And Lord Hector, he... he put you with Laus knowing that you're..."—barren!—"that you're... they used your..."

"Barrenness," Xarin said, looking straight at him, face not showing any emotion. "My barrenness shielded me from complications that could arise after going through such sensitive missions. Uther used it. Lord Hector used it. Sir Alecto told me to as well."

"And screw that because they're all dead," Matthew sharply said. "But I am alive and I'm the only man you answer to now, and I'd never tell you to do such a thing."

"Matthew, I think you're overreacting, you always knew that—"

"I didn't know!" Matthew said. "Uther knew and Hector knew but I didn't! They knew about this, they knew about that Alex guy, and I didn't. Am I so insignificant that you'd think I don't deserve to know?"

"—you always knew that our profession is filthy and requires doing filthy, filthy things," Xarin continued talking despite Matthew's own words. "What I've done for Ostia, the methods used to gain what we needed—none of that need be questioned. It's a recognized trick in the book and we all know it. Leila might as well have also—"

"Leila never did such a thing," Matthew said, his words almost sounding like a threat. But when he paused and took a breath, the firmness in his statement was lost. "...She told me," Matthew said, sounding weak. "...I made her swear she wouldn't do that unless her life depended on it."

"And I'm not Leila," Xarin said. "I didn't swear such a thing to you. There's no need for you to overreact. I don't even understand why you're upset!"

"Because I'm jealous!" Matthew said, shouting, kicking his chair over. When Xarin just stared at him, he continued. "There! I said it! I'm jealous that I have to always be the last to know because I wished I mattered enough to you to be confided with all this!"

"...But I just confided in you, didn't I?" Xarin said, after a small silence.

"Confided of things Uther already knew, Lord Hector already knew? I'm always just some leftover, I was just the last resort, some sort of..."

Substitute.

Unable to say anything else, he went for the door, and left her.

0o0o0o0o0o0

BERN KEEP | Jaffar and Nino's Rooms

Jaffar entered his bedchambers that evening and was not surprised to see Nino huddled on her desk before firelight, books all open before her. But tonight, she was not writing down notes furiously like a sage obsessed in a study, unlike she did the past few days. Jaffar thought she was asleep, and he approached her and bent towards her to kiss her cheek.

But she did not let him. She was not asleep at all. Instead, she looked at him with an expression on her face that was half fear, half excitement. Jaffar knew that look. The look of someone who has come across something great and life-changing, but dangerous. He had seen it before. Maybe it was the same look she had on her face when she found out that Sonia was not her real mother.

"Jaffar," she whispered to him. "I've solved the riddle. I know why King Zephiel has started war."

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

He blinked at her and backed away, and knew that this was indeed a pivotal moment, something life-changing. And all he could tell her was a soft, uncertain, "Nino...?"

"I've solved it!" Nino said, as she grasped onto Jaffar's shoulders and shook him a little. She turned back to her books and resumed to looking like a frantic researcher on the verge of a new discovery. "It all makes sense now, I understand everything! From his childhood trauma to his grasp for power and how he got here, to his mother's suicide, to the literature he reads. To his unhealthy fascination with legends and folklore and the Scouring and—"

Nino was talking so quickly, and sifting through her notes and pointing them out for him to see and laughing a little, she almost seemed crazed. "Nino, calm down," Jaffar told her, putting a steadying arm to her shoulders. "I understand what you're saying. You've been trying to get into His Majesty's head for months now. You've followed everything. I know. But what is the conclusion?"

Nino fell silent, and then excitement on her face shifted into fear. And then she told Jaffar:

"He wants to burn the entire continent. He is going to destroy Elibe."

For a second, it sounded ridiculous to Jaffar, but then he realized that Zephiel had already harnessed dragons to begin with, so this was possible. He took a step back from Nino and sat on their bed, and then looked at her expectantly, waiting for the rest of her explanation.

"At first I was confused by everything," Nino began. "I couldn't make any progress at all. But then the books from Etruria and the Academy came and I started forming theories. And then the copy of the speech Zephiel made to his soldiers came and then he said something about this world being reborn from the ashes and—"

"Figure of speech," Jaffar suggested. "Doesn't he mean it figuratively?"

"I have no idea," Nino said, "but I have a hunch that it is more than that. Zephiel made a speech about a rebuilding the world, changing it completely. And using fire as a way to express that is unlikely. Most warring lords who do it for the land would say to conquer or to spread our influence or some other euphemism for greed of land. But Zephiel wants to change what was normal for the whole of Elibe. He is talking about rebuilding, rebirth, but fire and destruction beforehand."

"...Then he is not doing this for the mere sake of war or expanding his land or having greater power over everyone," Jaffar said thoughtfully.

"And I figured this is connected to his fascination for the Scouring, for the legends. That time was also a time of war and bloodshed and fire, and in the end it resulted in a drastic shift in the balance of powers—dragons were expelled from the land and all the power in the land fell into the humans. Zephiel wants to do the same. A drastic shift in the continent. He will build something new."

"A new empire?" Jaffar asked. "Doesn't it just sound the same as a man who wars for power? If Zephiel will turn Elibe into a new empire, under his total control, it sounds no different if he actually has ideas behind them. In the end, it will just be the same. It will still be conquering."

"No, Jaffar, it is different!" Nino said. "The motives behind an action make something different. Zephiel's motives are not money or greed for power. Whatever it is, it is certainly more dangerous and deranged than that."

What was more dangerous than greed or powerlust? Anger? But despite Zephiel's anger towards his father, that was not that strong a reason to pursue a war. "...His Majesty certainly doesn't look as deranged and dangerous as you suggest. What reason is there greater than greed or lust for power?"

And Nino said just one word. "Perfection."

And when Jaffar heard it, everything clicked into place, there was something—something he understood but couldn't put into words yet. "Ever since Zephiel was young, he had strived for perfection. He tried to fit into a mold of what is perfect and good to please his father," Nino said. "Whatever he did, he tried to be perfect. Until every man and woman of Bern said it to him. But still—still—his father never loved him. His mother left him alone and committed suicide. Even Guinevere left him now, as we know. But instead of this shattering his desire to be perfect, it did the opposite. He makes himself believe that it is because people are not good enough, and that is why they leave him. He started blaming it on others instead, just so he would stop blaming himself, stop feeling hurt. It was easier for him to think like that when he was perfect, and with every man and woman in Bern tells him so.

"Have you never thought of that, Jaffar? That is why it never appears like anything is wrong with King Zephiel. He will try to stick to the image of perfection. He is not a man who thinks he is perfect and then acts stuck-up and conceited. He is a man who tries to be perfect and thus, tries to be kind and flawless. He will try to get everything right. But since the people who he loved the most have denied him their own love or left him, he must think that the world is not good enough for him and will try to purge it. But for him, he is doing the right thing."

Jaffar felt that Nino's conclusions were so absurd, yet at the same time, there was something about it that he understood and he believed. "But how will he destroy this world? No matter how mighty the military of Bern might be, we are not capable of that. And Zephiel will not be the kind to fight a losing war. He must have an ace to win, but what?"

And with that, Jaffar alertly looked up to Nino, wondering if she already knew about the dragons and was forcing him to talk about it. But he found that she looked genuinely puzzled still. She did not know yet. And then she lit up and said, "I have to tell this to Kumiko!"

"No!" Jaffar immediately got up and took Nino by the wrist, stopping her. She looked back at him, surprised. "What do you think will Kumiko do once she hears what you have to say?" Jaffar said. "She will get angry at Zephiel. She might leave him. And if your theory about how Zephiel thinks is true, leaving is the last thing we want her to do."

Nino looked thoughtful, and she understood Jaffar's point, but then she said, "But what if he doesn't even really care about her? What if she is just part of the image of perfection that he is trying to uphold?"

"And yet what if she is the only thing keeping him from being past salvation?" Jaffar countersuggested. "If I had been through all his pain but had one woman who stayed by my side despite everything I turned into, I would have every reason to turn back and change my life." And then he told her, "If you had stopped loving me—if you have given up on me even when I left you—I would not know where I would be now. If your friend walks out on this man, the most powerful man in Bern, who knows what would happen next?"

"...But she's my friend," Nino said, her voice so weak, pleading. "Jaffar, Kumiko is my friend. You don't keep secrets from friends. You don't put forward friends and let them stay in danger when you know there is danger she is not aware of. His Majesty could be using her, tricking her. I can't just let her be unaware of this. I will no longer let anyone I love be tricked or used by someone else. Like I let happen to Lloyd and Linus. It is not happening to me again."

Jaffar gripped tighter into Nino's arm, tight enough to stop her, but careful enough not to bruise her. "Nino. Sometimes you have to sacrifice friends for something better. Sometimes you have to keep things from them if it's for the better."

"I don't use my friends, Jaffar," said Nino, stubbornly. "Sonia had used me, Nergal had used me. It felt awful once I realized I had just been an object. Why would I ever let Kumiko go through the same thing?"

End of Chapter.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Author's notes:

This is a short, filler chapter before what is called storyline gold where all the peace is disrupted. I admit the next chapter is more filled out than this already. I had little to no plans of what to include in this chapter and what scenes to include in the theme. It's basically a chapter dedicated to revelations of 's a filler sap-fest before we go back to serious business. I wish I filled it out a bit more, but I haven't posted in so long and I've hit such a block in this chapter so I just decided to be mediocre and post it. *isshot* I figured it's better than just letting the fic stale and losing my muse for it.

Well, the title of this chapter should really be about childbirth or something because they're all just discussing families and having children and such, la~ So please forgive me.

I don't really ship Serra and Erk together. In fact I really don't ship Serra or Erk with anyone in the game. Sure, I have a soft spot for Serra and Oswin, but that's because of the fanfic / story value I see in it, as I interpret here. There's a big and likely chance that Serra will marry Oswin, but only for the financial security and social status.

As with Erk and Serra, I tend to see their supports together in FE7 as a strong indicator of a deep friendship and understanding that they do share, despite how they grate on each other's nerves. I didn't see the supports are really romantic in nature, but it's a good place to start from if ever they'll have a romance. What did you guys think of my Serra backstory?

What do you guys foresee of Heath-Anko and Matt-Xarin? Matt-Xarin is my guilty pleasure. Almost just as much as Kumi and Zephiel. They should be fading out soon though.

My vision of Matthew is how Darkblaziken/Aofei put it: he tends to "toe the line". Between professional and slack. And between moral and dark. I wrote an essay years ago of how I got that idea from one of Matthew's supports. He says, "At least Lord Hector is incapable of treachery, unlike Uther."Matthew has accepted these things are normal, but a tiny part of him really dislikes them.

Legault and Sain are making their appearances real soon. Perhaps next chapter or the chapter after that~ I'm still open for suggestions of how you want to see them in this fic, or any other character.

I should be rereading / replaying my FE6 though, it's gotten rusty and I've forgotten who should be in your party by now. Just a moment ago my brother was playing and then Theme of Bern came up and I started fangirling.

Uhmm, please review? Pwetty please? Been a while since I updated and I want to know if people are still on board.

All my love! - kageshoujo