GROWING UP I ALLOWED my heart to harden.

I got used to the idea that I wasn't allowed to love anyone, that I would never fall in love.

It was not my fate.

Perhaps for others, but not for me.

I knew I'd be married off. Sent off far away as soon as I was of age, married to some prince or another.

But instead, I got matched to a King.

Some would call that luck. I would be a Queen.

But, that didn't matter to me, what did was the fact that my heart had softened.

"HE FAILED."

"The Nobles don't think so."

"It doesn't matter what the Nobles think! How will he survive the forest?"

"He- argh! What does it matter!"

"The creatures of the forest are in agreement with us. We leave the forest alone, and we use it for our Königsspiel. They want to make sure the next King will obey these standards, that their forest is protected."

"And what will the fae do if he's given extra help?"

"You think they have no standards? No respect for the old ways? Most are from the beginning! From the first Königsspiel! They will not so easily forget."

There was a murmur among them, it was true, as much as they tried to bend Autor to their ways, no matter how they rigged the tests, the F would not be so forgiving.

"So then… what are we to do?"

"Two of the five he passed."

"He passed Strength."

"Only because the black smith's son let him."

"He became distracted! He was looking away! And that's what Autor was waiting for!"

"Was he truly waiting? Or did he throw a desperate strike when he saw an opening?"

"He is able to strategize! Of course he was waiting."

"Do you want to question Drosselmeyer's authority?"

"What? No! But I want what is best, and perhaps it isn't Autor."

"Then who! His brother? He hasn't been taught the things Autor has been taught. He will fail every test on every account."

"Maybe, it is time to run a true Konigsspiel."

"Have the Nobles run? See if they'll make it? You are a fool. These Nobles don't know what hardship is. They are soft and weak."

"Not all. The knights are strong."

"And even the strongest could not win against a peasant!"

"And it is obvious from the Bauersspiel that any peasant who tries will surely perish."

"Perhaps, we should reconsider Autor's results."

"He failed."

"Yes, and who will pass?"

"This generation is lost on all accounts, the modern technologies don't give way to the pure strength the First King was exposed to."

"Strength is only a part of it."

"Exactly! Only a part! Autor should be fine."

"But what about Morale?"

"The mediation went poorly as well."

"But where do we land on strength? He knocked out his opponent!"

"But did he?"

"For the sake of the argument. Let us say yes." There was a great clatter. "And later! We shall argue the no."

"Ideally, the King would pass all. Failing two, does not look good, not to us, not to the Nobles, or even the peasants."

"A stupid King cannot lead. A King with no plan is doomed to let his kingdom down. A King with no heart will become a tyrant. An angry King will be able to solve nothing. And a King with no strength cannot carry his kingdom."

"Thank you for the reminder. As if we did not know."

"He is smart. I made sure of that."

"But arrogant! You didn't fix that!"

"He's an arrogant, pigheaded fool, is what you meant to say."

"A weak King, if I've ever heard one."

"Only one weak link can break the chain, one broken leg will bring down the table. The people deserve a king-"

"What? With strong legs? He is not alone, he has us. One of Germany's largest councils. He will not stumble."

"He is a man that believes the world is against him. He will not fall on us if he stumbles."

"And if he falls, so will the rest of us."

"Well then, if two missed is marked as shear failure, then what is three?"

"Death."

"Drosselmeyer will not be happy with this outcome."

"He will ignore it."

"Drosselmeyer is the reason we have power! We are nothing without our Lord."

"So, to whom do we remain loyal? Our King or our Lord?"

"No matter what happens, we cannot let the Black Smith's son challenge him."

The room grew silent.

"And just who do you think the Black Smith's son is?"

The Bookman who spoke up was quiet, over fifty pairs of eyes on him, questioning his loyalty.

"Did I not kill him myself?"

"What was found? Blood and a heart? With the claim that an animal took him? And then the Black Smith has a son! A month old! That is not a coincidence!"

"The Black Smith's son will not run the Königsspiel. I will make sure of it."

"What will you do? Kill him? The death of an infant is easier to cover. The death of a man?"

"Intelligence, strategy, morale, mediation, strength. I have been watching him, as far as I can see, he has succeeded on all accounts."

"We shall not relay any of this to Drosselmeyer. Our decision is this: we will do whatever Drosselmeyer commands. If he wishes Autor to be King, then so it shall be."

AUTOR KEPT HIS EYES closed as a wet towel passed over his face.

He hissed. "Ow, that hurts!"

"Then hold still!" Rue patted it with a gentle hand, she knew no else, it was Autor who was the baby, but she would keep that thought to herself. "I still don't understand why I have to do this."

"It is a tradition that the queen tends to her husbands wounds."

"I am neither. Queen nor wife. Perhaps your mother should be doing this."

"It is not my- ow! Would you stop that!"

"I'm cleaning the blood off of you!" She threw the towel into the water basin, splashing both him and herself in water. "Maybe if you had actually-"

"Actually what? Choose your words wisely."

Rue huffed. "Maybe if you didn't just stand there the whole time! You let yourself get beat up."

"I am not a fighter."

"Evident. From that pitiful display."

Autor peeled his eyes open just to glare at her. "You know, I believed that I could be happy with you by my side. As my queen. I will not let you berate me."

Rue averted her eyes. Instead she picked up the towel and, as softly as she could, cleaned away the dried blood. "You'll bruise." She said. "There's nothing I can do about that."

"You'll be in pain for several days."

"Tomorrow we are to be married. Tomorrow I will feel no pain." He took her hand in his, and kissed her knuckles. "For you."

There was a knock at the door.

A maid scuttled in.

She gave a hasty bow and pulled at Rue's arm.

"I'm not finished."

"You may finish later. Drosselmeyer wishes to have a word with his grandson."

"Wait, maybe it's best if she stays." Autor stood, looking nervously at Rue, begging her to come back to him.

"Of course." Rue said to the maid instead. "Whatever his grace wishes."

Rue was led away, and Autor was left with his grandfather. For a word.

Drosselmeyer closed the door behind him, and it was perhaps the first time Autor had witnessed Drosselmeyer without his manic grin, his sadistic smile, any trace of humor had disappeared from his face.

"My dearest grandson, my direct heir, one I hold so highly. Oh, how you have failed me."

Autor knelt down before him, hanging his head. "I have done everything you taught me."

"And you did! Oh, how you succeeded!"

"What?" Autor raised his head. "You said that I-?"

His grin had returned, and he laughed. "You were perfect! Everything I instructed you, if only you had won the Strength."

Autor averted his eyes, he did not do just as Drosselmeyer instructed, but had gone above and beyond… he must have made Drosselmeyer proud.

Drosselmeyer tsked and shook his head. "Two of the softest blows I have ever seen! He fell back like a man falling to rest."

"What are you saying?"

"You are weak. You will not survive the forest."

Autor furrowed his eyebrows, he glared up at Drosselmeyer, "Have I not trained everyday for the Königsspiel? Have I not trained everyday for this? For the rest of my life? To be King?"

"Yes, you have. But, I have been to the forest-"

"You have? But, you said that no one's been into the forest except-"

"Kings. And do you not think of me as your King?"

Autor bowed his head.

"I have traveled into the forest, and for a time, it was my home, until..."

"Until?"

"A woman will drive a man to anger. She can drive a man mad." Drosselmeyer crossed the room until he reached the window, with flacid fingers he drew back the drapes and looked past the walls that surrounded the city, to the forest. "She will drive him to do unbelievable tasks!"

"They say that the First King won because of his-"

"That is what they want you to believe! But, that is just a love story, told to children so they find some semblance of hope - bah! How horrible! That woman, who you will call wife tomorrow, don't let her get to you, don't let her worm your way under your skin, into your heart."

"She is to be Queen, she'll have power, surely, it is better that we work together than-"

Drosselmeyer gasped loudly, and cupped his own face. "She has tricked you! With her wily ways!"

"No, I just… I don't want to be a King alone."

"And you won't. You will have me. You will have the Bookmen."

"And, the Königsspiel?"

"What of it?"

"You said not to worry about it."

"Oh, I don't want you to worry about it. I will take care of it. In the only way I know how."

"Grandfather, I don't want to die. I don't want to fail- I don't want to fail you. My people."

Autor felt the weathered hands of an old man rest on his naked shoulders.

Soft.

Delicate.

Not as strong as they once had been.

"Oh, and you won't. I promise you that much."

Autor swallowed hard. "Yes."

"Now, it is up to the Bookmen, if they think you've passed, or failed."

"I only failed strength, didn't I? And I can make up for that in the Königsspiel."

"Yes, you did well, but the Bookmen will always look for a King who has passed all five."

"Is there reason to worry?"

"None. None at all."

Drosselmeyer removed his hands, and with Autor's eyes still obediently on the ground, he took out a pocket book.

And a pen.

"HE WILL RUN THE Königsspiel." An older Bookman sighed, he wobbled to a chair and sat.

He was perhaps the most loyal to Drosselmeyer, for they shared a long history.

Like brothers, they were, and when Drosselmeyer's son became King, he made Drosselmeyer promise he would put him in a place of power as well.

These younger Bookmen, they knew not of Drosselmeyer's plans, or his intentions, only followed him blindly.

But, he knew.

He knew, and he would not let Drosselmeyer fall.

Because then he would fall with him.

"He will win. Seeing him win, a champion of the Königsspiel, is still a victor in the eyes of most."

"MEDIATION? WHAT DOES THAT mean?" Ahiru raised an eyebrow. "Fakir?"

"It means they don't think Autor passed."

Fakir turned to Ahiru and grabbed her shoulders. "Stay out of sight."

"Fakir, why? What's going on?"

"Do as I say. Stay out of sight, I'll explain later."

Ahiru shook her head. "I'm confused, why? Why are they going into mediation? Why do I have to stay out of sight?"

"I'm-" His gaze shifted over her face, taking her in, as if he was trying to commit her to memory. "I'm going to start something, the Bookmen, they know where you stand. They may not like you if you choose me over him."

She shook her head. "I still don't understand."

"You will. Just don't get involved in what's happening. Don't talk to any Bookman, don't talk to Autor, and don't even look Drosselmeyer in the eye."

"Why do I have to choose?"

He opened his mouth to explain, but not even he could justify it.

"Why do I have to choose you or Autor?"

"I can't tell you here. Not now."

"Later then."

He shook his head. "I may not have time, but maybe you'll understand by yourself. Go. Go now." He pushed her away from him.

She paused in her steps, she looked back to him, confused about it all, when she was asked to come here, to marry a prince, she didn't think it'd be so complicated.

"I choose you." Ahiru picked up her skirt and ran off, down the corridor.

DROSSELMEYER PUT THE BOOK back into his pocket, he stepped around Autor, and walked away.

"Drosselmeyer. Look at you."

Drosselmeyer ground his teeth. "Ah, the woman."

"I do have a name, you never learned it."

"And I choose not to."

She smiled. "What a shame, although, the Oak Tree told me you would address me by name one day."

"The Oak Tree? She still speaks?"

"Not as clearly, but I can still hear her, and I still protect her." She smirked. "You're failing."

"Ha! Everything is going just as I plotted!"

"Is it? Did you intend for Autor to fail three of the tests? Was it your 'plot' that you would have to take over?"

"Take over what?"

"Him. Your Crown Prince. You have left him alone until this day. You have never touched his mind, or infected his heart, but now you do. Why? Are you afraid?"

"I fear nothing."

"You walked through the forest under the grace of the Oak Tree, and now she has taken that honor from you, tell me. When was the last time you waltzed through the forest? Before or after you took an axe to her neck?"

Drosselmeyer looked down his nose at her. "I choose where I walk."

"Then walk into the forest, see what they do to you. If they will love you as they once did, or if they will bleed you dry." She stepped closer to him.

"Don't tempt me, I still have the power of the Oak Tree, I have the power to control your steps, and you could walk into a fire."

"She would have told me if you were going to do so. But I'll ask her, just to check."

"You're bluffing. She is not alive."

The woman shrugged. "Then how would I know?"

"Know what?"

"Why it was Princess Odette chosen to marry Prince Siegfried." She strode away, the hallway was clear, she made sure it would be, but she had to be careful, the walls were hollow, and ears were always listening.

"A simple trade. It was logic, nothing else."

"No, it was fate."

"What do you mean?"

She smiled. She had him. "This is the start of your fall. Oh, how the treetops sway at the sight of the storm, but when the storm knocks the trees down, and the sun rises, who has won?"

Drosselmeyer hit the wall. "You speak in riddles!"

"The tree grows due to the sun's rays, but on hot days, the fire starts, and the wind howls, and soon the tree is no more.

And the moon will rise on a land free of beasts and salamanders."

"You will leave my sight, and I will never see you again, or you will meet your end."

"I'm dying to meet my maker."

She smiled again, she turned and walked away.

AHIRU DIDN'T KNOW WHERE to go, but soon a maid found her and brought her to small study located inside of the palace walls, meaning there was no light. No sun.

The door was shut behind her and she was alone, but not entirely.

"Ahiru." Rue inclined her head. "Do you know what's going on?"

Ahiru shook her head mutely.

"Oh. I was hoping you could shed some light on the situation." Rue moved to the Northern side of the room, where a large fireplace grew hot. "I grew cold. I hope you don't mind."

Ahiru shook her head, and looked around the room.

It appeared to be a small study, the three other walls were covered in short bookshelves, there must have been a hundred books, maybe more, but it was more than she had ever laid her eyes on.

She stepped forward and ran the tips of her fingers over the spines.

On the Southern wall, was a desk with a cushioned chair, it looked comfortable, but Ahiru felt wary about sitting on it. It wasn't hers, and perhaps that was where her agitation lied.

There was a few feet of space, but then there was a small sitting area with two couches and a wing-backed chair.

Rue sat in the wing-backed chair, she leaned over and tended the fire, the gentle glow making her face appear softer.

And perhaps it was the first time that Ahiru truly looked at her.

Ahiru plopped down on the sofa across from Rue, she sat her chin in her hands.

Rue had smooth skin, there wasn't a blemish, her lips were plump, a perfect pink, and her cheeks were a matching shade. Her eyebrows arched evenly over her eyes, and it was her eyes that Ahiru wanted to study the most, she had never seen eyes the color of Rue's.

"Excuse me, what are you doing?"

"Oh, sorry. I just realized, we've never sat face to face before." Ahiru smiled, as if that was a good enough reason to justify her staring.

Rue scoffed, she turned her face to the side and looked into the fire.

"We've never really talked before, either."

Rue was silent for a moment, before she said, "We don't have much to talk about, do we?"

"Well-" Ahiru searched, but came up blank, "I suppose not, no. But, we'll be sisters soon, we should at least learn to get along." Ahiru gave her neighbor a small smile.

"Sisters-in-law." Rue corrected. "Where are you from?"

Ahiru sat up straighter. "Arnis. It's this little sea town. But, we're apart of Schleswig-Holstein, so… um, it's the Northernmost state."

"Arnis." Rue furrowed her eyebrows. "I don't remember Arnis having a Princess."

"Um-"

"It has been a great deal of my education to memorise the faces of Royalty. But, the Princess Odette Ahiru of Schleswig-Holstein." Rue shook her head. "That is a name I have never heard. I know that the King and Queen of Arnis have four sons, the eldest being twenty-seven and married for six years, the second eldest being twenty-six, married for five, the third child twenty-three and married for two, and the youngest-"

"They wanted to keep me a secret."

"Why?"

"They knew that I would be married off, that I would have to go live with my husband. They didn't want just anyone coming. The Prince of Bavaria, and the promise of great trade was good enough for my mother and my father."

Ahiru swallowed hard, she fisted her hands into the fabric, she hated lying, but she didn't know who Rue was, if she was a gossip, if she would tell anyone her secrets. It was best to keep it locked down for now, but not forever.

Ahiru was bound to burst, to tell someone, it was just a matter of who and when.

She remembered the words the Queen shared with her.

They were falling into poverty.

This deal was not offered to every Kingdom in Germany, but they were the only kingdom without a princess.

The Queen couldn't let this pass, she couldn't let her people go hungry.

And, it would mean a job for her father… people like her father.

"Hmm, were they ashamed of you?"

"No. I don't think they were. They just knew-" Edel had told her the best way to lie was stay as close to the truth as possible. "They knew I'd be a valuable piece."

"Ah." Rue smiled, for the majority of their conversation, she stared into the fire, as if the fire was the one she was speaking with, but now she turned to Ahiru. "So did my father."

"Really?"

"Do you know what the name 'Rue' means?"

Ahiru opened her mouth to respond, but shut it tight and shook her head.

"Regret. Or at least, it is one of the meanings. In French it means street. But, I figured my father meant the former."

"Why would you say that?"

"My sister's name is Kritanta. Meaning death."

"Oh."

"Being born female in a kingdom that has been at war for decades, it's not what a King hopes for. He wants a male heir, that he can mold and bend into the perfect tyrant. But, instead we are to marry into other families."

"Oh."

"In Rothenburg, it is said that whatever name you are given at birth, and whatever it's meaning is, is what your family, your parents, wish for your life. Kritanta was born and my father wished for her death. And as for my name… whether he regrets me, or wishes for my life to be full of-" Rue rested her chin on one hand and took to gazing into the fire again. "My marriage to Autor will combine our borders. We're neighbors, after all. And we've been at war for as long as I've been alive. As far as my father's concerned, he's won the war."

Ahiru didn't understand.

Rue spoke clearly, resigned to her fate, but her eyes spoke endlessly of sorrow and regret.

"You don't want to marry him."

"Why would anyone want to marry him!" Rue whipped her head back to Ahiru, and there was a spark in them. As if being so close to the fire finally lit the tinder. "Did you see him during the tests? His anger is unmatched! How could one person be so cruel?" She was on her feet in a moment, pacing back and forth in front of the couches.

Ahiru pushed herself back into the sofa, the Princess was so refined and elegant, and now she was…

Now she was just a girl.

Complaining about her lot in life.

"My sister- argh! Let me tell you about my sister! She was supposed to marry Autor, it had been planned since her birth! But she had to go and fall in love with this commoner!" Rue tugged at her hair. "And since she's my father's favorite, he just lets her do whatever she wants and makes me marry this arrogant, know-it-all, ass of a prince when I-" Rue stopped herself short, she covered her lips with her fingers. "I'm sorry."

"No!" Ahiru was on her feet in a second. "Don't be, I can't imagine what it must be like, being stuck in a place where you have no one to talk about these feelings with."

She at least had Edel, and Fakir was becoming a quick friend as well.

Rue's eyes softened, from the raging fire to the gentle lick of a candle flame, and she glowed. "Oh, but I have someone."

"Who?"

Rue flashed a glance to Ahiru and simply shook her head. "I don't want you to hate me. Let me keep complaining about my sister. Yes, that is a good idea."

Ahiru pouted. "Rue? Are you alright?"

Rue sighed. "Perhaps I am, perhaps I am not. But, since the day I was born I was taught that life is unfair, and no matter what happens, you have to tough it out."

It sounded very unlike her, the words she used were not her own. Ahiru tilted her head. "I fell in love with someone I wasn't supposed to, and it's only because of that that I'm here."

Rue turned to her. "What? I thought you said your parents used you for trade?"

"The King and Queen did, my mother has been dead for some time… and my father is a fisherman."

Rue's eyes went wide. "Ahiru, what are you saying?"

Ahiru licked her lips. She smiled. "I'm telling you the truth. It's been quite hard for me, too, lying to everyone about who I am."

"Who are you?"

"My name is Ahiru Adler. I'm nobody."

Rue placed her hand on the sofa arm. "You trust me with that? One word to anyone and you'd be-"

"I know." Ahiru gave her a brighter smile. "We're going to be sisters, remember? I want to be honest with you."

"Can I be honest with you then?"

There was a desperation on her face, something that wasn't there before, and a hint of fear.

Ahiru had taken a risk, but it was worth it, now to have trust between her and Rue.

She thought Rue was the ideal, the Princess she should strive to impersonate, but now she could only think of how much of a charade it all was.

She was trying to be perfect with every step, but so was Rue.

"You can tell me anything."

"I'm in love with Mytho."

Ahiru's smile fell. "Oh."

"I don't want to steal him from you. I didn't mean to fall in love. I never allowed myself to love anything, and when I came here I told myself that this wasn't love, and it never would be, it would be an agreement between us. But," Rue smiled, it was so gentle and sweet, and Ahiru recognized the look of love, it was once the look that rested on her face. "He talked to me, he talked to me like I was me, not the Princess Kreahe, not his brother's wife, but me, and I couldn't stay away from him."

"I don't blame you." Ahiru smiled. "He's so nice."

"Isn't he?" Rue laughed lightly, "Oh, I'm so sorry, how horrible it will be, your sister-in-law in love with your husband. I'm so sorry."

"Doesn't he love you?"

Rue paused. "What do you mean?"

Ahiru tilted her head. "The way he looks at you. In hindsight, I can see it." His eyes moved to find her whenever he stepped into a room, he looked happier, lighter, and he floated. "No, I'm sorry, I'm keeping you apart."

A look of worry consumed Rue's features. "And tomorrow I will be bound forever to Autor."

"Does he know?"

"Who?"

"Mytho. Does he know that you love him back? Maybe he can object."

Rue shook her head. "It doesn't work like that. This is a legal marriage, it's not just an agreement between Autor and I, but my Father, his kingdom, with the Queen Helmia, and Bavaria. It's not just something as easy as an objection."

"But, can't it be?"

"What would happen to you? And Autor? There would be no Queen crowned with him after the Königsspiel."

Ahiru swallowed, she had already signed her life away when she agreed to come here, she gave up love, her family. What was a little more? "I'll marry Autor."

"What? No, you can't. I won't let you."

"And I won't let you live your life in an unloving marriage when the man you love is ten feet away from you. I want you to be happy."

"We just met." Rue crossed her arms and turned away. "You can't want anything for me."

"But, I do. It sounds like you've lived a hard life. You deserve a happy ending."

"And so do you."

Ahiru smiled. "I wasn't born into a position where I can marry who I love."

Rue sighed, "It seems that no one is allowed to marry who they choose. No matter their path in life."

"I'll tell Mytho. And then the decision will be up to him."

"Wait, no." Rue sighed. "I'll tell him."

Ahiru smiled. "I'm glad."

"Ahiru, I want you to promise me something."

"Anything."

"You must tell this to no one. And if tomorrow, if Mytho decides not to do anything, don't tell anyone. Not even Mytho." Rue had her back turned, her eyes trained on the southern wall, her hand curled into the fabric of the sofa's arm.

"I promise. So long as you don't tell anyone I'm not really a Princess."

Rue turned back, she had a small grin. "Of course." She walked towards Ahiru and wrapped her into a hug.

Ahiru grinned from ear and ear and squeezed the life out of Rue.

"Oh! You're a hugger!"

Ahiru giggled. "Oh, Fakir might threaten you, if you do marry Mytho."

"The Black Knight?" Rue pulled away with a quirked eyebrow. "The one who beat the shit out of Autor today?"

"Rue!" Ahiru scolded her. "Yes, him."

"You spend a lot of time with him, now that I think about it." Rue tapped a finger to her chin.

"He's a good friend."

"Ah, I'm sure." But there was a small smile on her features. "I'll keep your warning in mind."

"Do you think everything will be okay?"

Rue shrugged. "Who knows. I don't even know what's going on right now."

"What happened to your sister?"

Rue hummed in consideration, she took long strides to the couch and floated down onto the soft cushion, she took to gazing in the fire again. "She was a pretty little thing. Nobles pitted us against each other since we were children. Who would be more beautiful? The youngest or the oldest?"

"That's awful!" Ahiru followed Rue's lead, falling into the feathered cushion, bouncing slightly at the action. "Why would they do that?"

"Clearly, you haven't been to Rothenburg. But, she was my father's favorite, a little more ruthless, a little less forgiving. I was soft in my father's eyes."

Ahiru leaned forward on her hands, "That just means you're a good person."

Rue smiled slightly, "Yes, some would say. Just not my father. Although, perhaps I should be grateful my sister was the one to stay."

"What? Why?"

"One of the Nobles tried for my hand. The Duke Raven, he was twenty when I was born. He's a widower."

Ahiru scrunched up her nose. "Ew!"

"My thoughts exactly. If my sister hadn't fallen in love, she would be the one with you now, betrothed to Autor and I would be preparing for my wedding to Raven. But, how did you end up here? You're not even a noble, why would the Queen choose you?"

Ahiru sat up, "Um- I. It's a long story. But, I've known her all my life. She was like a second mother to me."

"Did your father work for her?"

Ahiru nodded. "He did, although that's not how they knew each other."

"Then how?"

"It was through my mother." Ahiru's voice softened, it's not as if she had to the chance to know her mother, but she still loved her, still wished she had gotten to see her face at least once. "The Queen used to be just a noble, barely above a commoner, but she married into royalty. She was friends with my mother, and even after her death, she took care of us. But, it wasn't really her who asked me to go."

"Who?"

"It was… it was…"

There was a knock at the door.

"Come in." Rue shouted. She stood and brushed at her skirt, and she forced herself into the mold of Princess Kraehe.

A maid opened the door and curtsied to each. "The mediation is over. Master Femio would like you to report to him as soon as possible to finish the last touches on your wedding gown."

Rue gave her a curt nod, before turning to Ahiru. "Thank you for keeping me company."

"You're welcome."

Rue and the maid left and Ahiru was abandoned in the small study.

She would have to tell Miss. Edel that Rue knew now.

FAKIR COULD FEEL HIS heart pounding in his chest. This was his chance.

"Raetsel!" He shouted as he came near the black smith shop. "Raetsel! Charon!"

The front door open and Raetsel was there. "Fakir slow down, what happened?"

Fakir panted, he caught his breath and gestured back to the castle. "Autor failed the five tests. It's time."

Raetsel's look of confusion became one of understanding. "So soon?"

Fakir nodded.

"I'll tell Charon, you go to Lysander."

"Right." Fakir turned on his heel and headed to Lysander, an artisan who would get the knowledge spread.

He pushed past several people he knew and recognized, he would pause and say. "It's time. Tonight. At Rossville's."

They grew serious, and they would nod, their Oak Tree brooches glinting in the sunlight, telling whoever they were walking with that it was nothing to be concerned about.

But it was everything to be concerned about.

Fakir knocked on Lysander's door. No, he didn't knock, that was too civil a word, Fakir practiaclly rammed himself against the wooden door, yelling out Lysander's name.

"Who's there?"

"The Black Knight."

There was a moment of silence, and then the sounds of mechanisms unlocking.

The servant tipped his head to Fakir. "Your Majesty."

"Not here." Fakir said. "Tell Lysander it's time. Rossville's."

The servant nodded. "Anyone in particular?"

"No, tell as many as you can."

Fakir tried to calm his racing heart, and when he thought he at least looked calm, he started walking back to the palace.

Anyone he passed, he would tell.

Rossville's. Tonight.

After the moonrise, but he didn't have to specify, that's when all the meetings were.

When he approached the palace steps, he took a sharp left, heading not for the entrance, but for the kitchen.

He knocked thrice and the door opened immediately.

"Fakir! About time!" Pique grabbed his arm and pulled him inside before slamming the door shut.

"Pique, is it him?"

"Yes, Ebine!" Pique shouted.

"Tell him he's late!"

"What do you think I'm doing?"

"Where's Ahiru?"

Pique blinked up at him. "That princess? Autor's time out room."

"She's safe?"

"What does that matter?"

Fakir grasped both of her arms. "Is she safe?"

"Yes! Yes, she's safe. Geeze, what was that for?"

Fakir ran a hand through his hair in agitation. "Is it done?"

"Spion isn't back, so no. Not yet."

Fakir growled. "I don't have time for this!"

"Calm down, you big baby, I'm sure they'll be done soon."

"They're finished!" Another girl ran into the kitchen, bumping into Pique as she did. "They finished! Spion is on his way!"

Pique smiled at Lillie, then back at Fakir. "See? What did I tell ya?"

"Not to be a big baby."

"Nice day out for a nip of bread!"

"Oh, god, he's going to tell us everything in code again." Pique moaned. "Come in, Spion!"

Spion stepped inside the kitchen and removed his hood. "Afternoon, all."

Fakir remained quiet, it would be best that he wasn't heard if someone was listening.

"So?"

They crowded around him, even Ebine stepped away from the stove.

Spion cleared his throat. "Of the five, he technically failed three."

Pique and Lillie gasped.

"But?" Ebine pushed.

"But, he will still run the Königsspiel."

Sighs of relief surrounded him, but he didn't feel at all relieved.

Autor would fail.

Was that the point? His death?

His death wouldn't make Drosselmeyer King, it would place Mytho on the throne and that was just another obstacle for him to overcome.

Fakir's hand throbbed.

He had his suspicions about Drosselmeyer, how he was able to get the Bookmen to do whatever he asked of them, how he had so much authority, why-

Why the Queen wasn't human anymore.

He had the ability, too.

Fakir looked down at his hand.

Drosselmeyer will have the advantage, but he would just have to plan around that.

"It doesn't matter." He said. "What matters is that he will still run the Königsspiel. Thank you, Spion."

Spion was the youngest of the Bookmen by far, he was only thirty-seven, and unlike the others, he wasn't as adamant about obeying Drosselmeyer's every wish and command.

"One more thing." Spion held up one finger, his eyes traveling to each pair that was in the room until he landed on Fakir's. "The Bookmen have decided that you shall not challenge Autor to the crown in the Königsspiel. And they will stop you at any means necessary."

Fakir nodded. He didn't see the Bookmen as a threat, but he knew that they were not a group to cross.

Drosselmeyer was his real enemy.

"Thank you for the bread, Ebine!" Spion shouted loudly. "It really is some of your best!"

"Get out." Fakir hissed.

Spion bowed his head and left, but not before snatching up a small loaf of bread. Perhaps to keep up the charade. But more than likely, not.

"Okay, so what's the plan Fakir?" Pique asked, turning towards him.

"Not here. Later, at Rossvilles."

HIS FIRST MISSION WAS to make sure Mytho was alright.

He wasn't sure why, but it felt like this was the end, and he needed Mytho on his side.

Fakir just didn't count on Mytho being so hard to find.

He placed his hand on the shoulder of a passing maid and asked, "Where is Prince Siegfried?"

The maid blushed, "The second garden."

Ah, he should have figured.

The second garden was built as a wedding gift for the Queen and Mytho's father, it was smaller than the official, royal garden, and even the King's Garden, but it was still where Mytho went when he needed to clear his head.

It was an awkward installment, almost tacked on, a small wooden door carved out of the already established wall, and it gave the palace grounds an odd, lopsided look.

"Mytho?" Fakir called when he pushed the door open.

It was a lush garden, well taken care of, several bushes, a large maple tree overlooking a pond, a short stone path wound it's way around. Fakir had spent many days of his childhood in this place, and he knew every nook and cranny, the best places to hide, the best places to look up at the sky.

The sky had lost its beauty.

Since the start of the Prüfung, the sky had been overcast, the clouds blocking out the sun.

He closed his eyes, trying to imagine what it would feel like on his skin, but his mind conjured up a picture of her instead.

"Fakir?"

He opened his eyes, Mytho sat on the bench at the edge of the pond, looking into its waters. "Did you hear?" Fakir shut the door behind him and walked to the bench, he didn't sit down next to Mytho, but knelt beside him instead.

Mytho nodded. "He'll still run."

"Yes. And I need to run."

Mytho sighed, "Fakir, how can you be so sure?"

"Would Charon lie?"

"No."

"And if he did, would he let me take it so far?"

Mytho clenched his jaw. "No."

"You know it's true." Fakir placed his hand on Mytho's wrist. "Look at me."

Mytho shut his eyes.

"You can't do that anymore, we're not children."

"Fakir, as much as I want to believe it, I can't. It goes against everything I was raised to believe."

Fakir took a deep breath. He had tried to convince Mytho for years.

When they were children, Fakir had a penchant for telling stories, of knights and dragons, dueling princes, and monstrous creatures, Mytho always took part in the tale, playing the valiant knight. Fakir always told him when he was starting a story, to distinguish pretend from reality.

Mytho had always believed it was one of their games.

"Look at her, look at Autor, and look at me."

Mytho let his eyes fall open, but he kept his eyes on his lap.

"Tell me, who looks more like-" He cut himself off. No, not here. Who knew who was listening. "Tonight. At Rossville's."

"After moonrise." Mytho nodded.

Fakir stood, and there was a second knock at the door.

"Mytho?"

Mytho stood instantly, "Rue."

Fakir looked between them, an eyebrow quirked.

Rue walked into the garden, but she kept her eyes on Fakir. "Excuse me, sir, I would like a moment to speak to Mytho alone."

"Of course, Your Highness." Fakir bowed his head, it was as much as she would get, he turned to leave, but stopped. "Mytho?"

"Yes?"

"Leave your betrothed out of this. Whatever your decision is." Fakir didn't look back as he walked away, he still had planning to do.

MYTHO ARRIVED AT ROSSVILLE just as the moon peeked over the city walls, and he could see he wasn't alone. He pulled his hood closer to his face, there were many he recognized, who knew how many could recognize him.

The single tavern Nordlingen had was crowded, mostly commoners, Mytho recognized farmers that had come to the palace, but there were many, like him, hiding behind a cloak. Those, he was sure, were Nobles, like him, hiding their identities from all.

Mytho scanned the crowded room, looking for Fakir, Raetsel or Charon, someone who he could tell his plan to.

It was archaic, he knew it, but tomorrow Rue wasn't going to marry Autor, and tomorrow no one would be running the Königsspiel.

He pushed his way past. "Excuse me."

But that was the wrong move.

"Prince Siegfried." someone muttered, recognizing him just by his voice.

Someone grabbed his arm. "Mytho?"

Mytho's heart leapt, but when he looked down it was one of the castle maids, Pique was her name.

"Come with me."

Pique lead him through an invisible path, cutting through the crowd with ease.

She lead him to the bar, and they were let by and into a back room. "Fakir, he came."

Fakir stood, surrounded by his allies, he came to greet Mytho.

Mytho let his hood fall from his head. "Fakir, I've come to tell you, tomorrow I'm going to object to Rue and Autor's wedding."

"What?"

All eyes were on him. He was changing their plans.

"I have fallen in love with Rue, and her with me."

Fakir was quiet, evident that he was thinking hard about what Mytho was saying. "So, what will happen?"

"We looked at the agreement. The laws of Bavaria have always been that I can challenge him to a duel for her hand. The duel will postpone the Königsspiel."

"But they'll still want a bride for Autor."

Mytho nodded. "I feel ashamed for putting this on her, but-"

"No."

"Rue said she offered."

Fakir closed his eyes, he fisted his hands, and Mytho watched him grind his jaw.

"It's just marriage, she's not sacrificing herself."

"Fakir, who is he talking about?" Raetsel stood, her eyes jumping between Fakir and Mytho.

"The Princess Odette Ahiru. Betrothed to Prince Siegfried Mytho." Fakir turned and stalked back to the table. "Damnit."

The room was quiet, Mytho looked to Raetsel, but she shook her head, she didn't understand it either.

"How much time would that give us?"

Mytho shook his head, "I don't know. Maybe a week, maybe a month. But, it gives you more time."

"No matter how much time we have, we can't give the secret away."

"Wait. What secret?" Mytho looked around the room, hoping someone would tell him what he didn't know.

"Fakir, you mean you've never told Mytho?" Charon asked. He tsked.

"It's too much to explain right now." Fakir said. "It will have to wait."

"What will?"

"It's time." Lysander said, he poked his head into the room. "Are you ready?"

Fakir took a deep breath, but he nodded. "Did you make sure no Bookmen got in?"

"Yes, not even Spion."

"Good." Fakir turned back to the table he picked up a book and a pen and left the small room, and those left behind were quick to follow.

The tavern was noisy, but when Fakir entered the room, a hush fell over the crowd.

"Thank you for coming." He started. "Some of you may be here in support of me, others may have just come to see if the rumors are true. And they are."

Mytho came to stand beside Fakir, but his hood had returned to its place atop his head, and he was careful to let no one see his face.

Charon stepped forward. "Twenty one years ago, I was the royal Black Smith. I was a personal friend to Queen Helmia. As I walked the palace grounds, I watched as Drosselmeyer opened the window, and with a blank gaze, the Queen took her son and threw him out the window into the snow, to die. They didn't see me, but I saved him, and I raised him to the best of my ability, I trained him and taught him how to be a good King. And, when he runs the Königsspiel you will all see the truth behind the tale.

"The man who lives in the palace, pretends to be the Queen's son, but he was robbed from his crib, and placed in her arms. You've seen his greed and mistreatment at the Prüfung, you've seen his weakness."

There came shouts of agreement.

"In the end, who do you wish to see in the throne? The rightful heir, born to take his role? Or a slob, sloppily pushed into a role that wasn't made for him!"

More shouts flooded Mytho's ears, and he looked to Fakir.

He had his mother's nose.

Mytho shook his head. No, no it couldn't be true. It couldn't be.

Fakir stepped forward. "For how many of you have I shown aide? How many arguments have I settled? And when faced with slight bickering, he loses his temper.

I promise you this, I am the son thrown from the window, I was born to rule over you, not as a King, but as a man who has seen starvation, who has worked everyday of his life, who fights for his neighbor, who will protect you from the horrors of war while He sits in the palace."

"That's right!"

"He doesn't know his people, he doesn't know the pain of loss, and he is under Drosselmeyer's control, and like a puppet, whatever string Drosselmeyer pulls, he will obey."

Mytho felt nervous, it was Autor he was talking about… Autor he was chastising.

Fakir was right.

He would have to choose.

Between blood and love.

"When the time comes for the Königsspiel, I will challenge His Royal Highness, and I will come out victorious, but the Bookmen will do anything to stop me."

The crowd booed, apparently it wasn't just Mytho that hated the Bookmen, but everyone.

"I need all of you to stand behind me. By ancient laws, I can challenge him, whether he accepts or not, but I can be silenced, I can be killed. So long as we outnumber the Bookmen and Drosselmeyer, we stand a chance. Drosselmeyer has been in power for too long. He controls the Queen, he controls the Bookmen, and he controls the Crown Prince, he listens to no one but his own selfish desires. As your King, I will never place my own needs before yours. So, who's with me?"

The crowd didn't even hesitate, roars filled the small tavern, and Mytho realized that this wasn't just a small rumor, but a truth that would fuel a revolution.

He had his mother's eyes.

Fakir looked to Mytho, and in his eyes he begged his friend to join him.

Mytho swallowed hard, Fakir created a lot of stories.

IT WAS NEARLY DAWN by the time his rally was complete, and he knew that the palace was alive with the preparations for the wedding that would happen in just a few hours.

He couldn't stop his feet from walking towards the palace, nor could he stop when he came to her window, where she stood, gazing out over the kingdom.

But he knew she wasn't looking anywhere, he knew she couldn't see anything.

Not anymore.

He stopped a few yards away, he knew Drosselmeyer wouldn't be far off, no, he never left her alone. Not for long.

She sat at her window, she didn't wear her crown, and her long, dark hair flowed in the wind of the open window.

One day, she would wake up, and when she did she would recognize him. Recognize him as her son.

For a long time, he was angry with her, angry that she didn't fight Drosselmeyer, that she was unable to stop herself from trying to murder her only child.

He didn't understand.

He didn't understand that she had no control over herself. That she had lost her free will years before.

Now he did.

He clenched his right hand, he remembered what it was like the first time he took control of something else.

It was just a duck, a stupid, useless duck, but he had forced her to command to his will, and it was a horrible sensation.

He couldn't imagine controlling a person. Much less for years.

The Queen Helmia didn't even shiver as a strong wind blew into her room.

Fakir looked out to the horizon, a storm was coming in, he knew.

"I swear to you," he said softly, so lowly he himself wasn't sure he was truly speaking. "I will sit on the throne."

The sky lightened, and it was dawn, Fakir turned away but the image of his mother sitting at the window haunted him.