A/N I honestly don't know what to make of this chapter. I feel as though I'm out of practice, like I'm writing in a totally different style. Do give me your opinions. Also, I reread the last chapter, and agree with the reviewers that Mia is out of character. I didn't realize it at first, shamefully, but now I do. I'll tell you if I ever rewrite it. This is rather late, because I was writing a 'Villains Bonus' as opposed to a 'Gramarye Bonus', but then I couldn't decide whether I should do Matt Engarde or Redd White for the last villain. So… which one should I do? (I've written the others, though.) This chapter is shorter than usual.

Valant Gramarye

Life seemed to enjoy making a fool of him, and whatever fair fortunes he had once believed achievable were no more than a passing dream. He hadn't been born with bad karma—he had had it thrust upon him. Valant was sure that he could have escaped the gloom and doom with a little disappearing act from magic itself, pursuing, perhaps, a different profession, away from Troupe Gramarye, but he never had. That would be like slashing a blade across the fabric of his very life in order to prevent the blood and tears that would stain the cloth like a poison spreading through a body, unstoppable, incurable. Leaving magic behind would do more harm than good, more hurt than uncountable jabs of bad luck could ever do. On the whole, staying with magic had more pros than the obvious cons of being overshadowed and general tough luck at life—so like it or not, Valant was stuck with his luck, in the world of magic, deception, illusions, and everything that he could ever have hoped for. But magic was a double-edged sword. There was always a question of luck, of flipping a coin and knowing which side it would turn up, of shuffling a deck and drawing the three of diamonds every time. Perhaps Valant used all his good luck up in magic, and only the bad remained to ruin his life.

Lost in talent, lost in love—lost in life.

Then a little demon grew inside of his heart, irrepressible even by the most magical of miracles. A monstrous, malicious malady he could never be rid of, for it was the very essence of his soul, the darkness that was borne from the many moments of death he had suffered through life. Oh, he was forever destined to play the part of the tragic clown!

Then he had had enough, and when the opportunity crept upon him, he snatched it like a magpie spying a glint of glorious gold, salvation from the manacles of slavery that bound him to the tragedies of life itself. The little demon grew a little bigger—Zak, Zak, Zak, Zak, Zak Zak Zak Zak stole your fortune stole your love stole your prize take it take it you can have it all just take his life and the secrets are yours for the picking for the taking take it pull the trigger you can do it finally you will have your precious magic

The barrage of words melted into an almost incoherent waterfall of every bitter, dark thought he had held within himself, consuming him with a vengeance.

But he couldn't do it.

It was as simple as that, and Valant wasn't one to go straight to the point.

He couldn't do it.

Something made him bow down, leaving like a dog with a tail between its legs, appalled at what he had planned, knowing he could never be more than a backup, a shadow, a sidekick.

But now he could make it, and make it big. The stage was waiting, calling, whispering his name like the wind in the willows… Valant… Valant... Gramarye. Another chance had arisen. Seven years.

Just like how yellow was his lucky color, seven was his favored number. And it had never failed him. Seven years had passed. No—seven years had passed. The magician could now ensnare the minds of the eager public with chains of illusions and wonderment that he would not easily relinquish, holding the glorious flames of magic in his open palms. It would be a sight to remember, a majestic display of magic with splendorous tricks sure to bemuse and befuddle all the world.

Just release me this once, O cruel fate, and I shall forever be in your debt, for I merely wish to reap the reward of so many years past, and so many things lost.

That was all he needed, all he desired after countless falls from heights that matched heaven itself. And Valant could only hope that he would fall no more and rise to his rightful place in the stars of magic.

He couldn't help but feel, however, an odd sense of foreboding. A strange irrepressible instinct that his luck had triggered an unforeseeable event from so many years ago, that accumulated like the momentum of a thousand boulders, tumbling down the sharp cliff that he was scaling, and fell him once more. Perhaps it was irrational—but Valant had a dose of fear hidden in his topit, and he could only hope it was never let out.

Let this performance be my first of many, releasing wondrous wizardry on those woefully lacking muggles. Let this performance free me from the chains that bind, from these memories and from this sorrow, this… regret…

If he had a card in the game of chance, a single card, he would know, at all times, where it stood, and keep an extra one (as all magicians do) up his sleeve. If he had a choice in the matter of fates, he would, at all times, keep a failsafe by his side—but he had no such say.

This performance, he thought firmly, brandishing his scepter with resolution, will not be stopped at any costs. He gripped his scepter as though it was chock-full of his fear—his fear of his life, now balancing precariously on the pyramid of cards he had stacked, falling to pieces. This performance would seal his deal. This performance was essential. This performance could not conceivably be thwarted.

"Well, this is a blast from the distant past," Valant said.

For standing in front of him was none other than Phoenix Wright.

Zak Gramarye

He hated it. He hated the kind of choice that left no one for the better, and everyone for the worst. He hated the thought of just thinking it through, facing the terrible truth, because then, the world would be so much worse.

Zak was a split-second decision kind of guy—you had to have your wits about you in the magic business. He was impulsive, but he could deliberate quite well, sorting out his thoughts, but in that kind of choice… he honestly wished everything were clear-cut.

The man didn't like condemning anyone. Anyone who was his friend, that is. Zak could deal out revenge like a raging storm, but at the prospect of betraying his companions, he'd bite his lip and turn away.

But what if the choice was needed… now?

Then he'd make a choice. No question.

But what if someone else had to make it?

What if… he knew someone was lying? What if Zak thought the worst of their motives? And what if he just couldn't control the rising feeling of resentment?

Valant was on the stand, all smiles, accusing him of murder.

They were fellow magicians, of the same troupe, and protégés with the same mentor. There was no secrets, no deceptions, but Valant was there lying on the stand, and Zak knew Valant didn't actually believe what he was saying. Valant knew Zak was innocent, and he had framed Zak for murder.

And what a betrayal it was. Zak had to make measures to make sure that no matter what, he was not to be put in jail. And as the trial neared its end, he realized that he should've just given Phoenix Wright the damned diary page, and cursed his stupidity. It's a forgery… I have his will right here. If he had just given it to him, the case would have been resolved, or at least a day of investigation would be put into place! Zak cursed his own stupidity—he had been too engrossed in his escape, should Phoenix Wright fail (which seemed to be a definite probability), and had only been preparing for that moment. Ironically, his preparations were the very thing that brought the moment round.

The red-clad man hated this. He had made the wrong choice, something he would wonder about everyday, doubting his judgments, fearing their conclusions. Knowing he could have averted entire catastrophes.

And he'd made the wrong choice, and Zak knew that he'd have to leave Trucy. He knew he'd have to go into hiding. He knew he'd have to abandon everything he'd built, because he simply had to escape from prison, from a wrong verdict.

But worst of all, he knew he could have prevented it.

Worst of all, the catastrophe had not been averted.

Worst of all, Zak knew he himself had brought about the fulfillment of his ripe fear.

Thalassa Gramarye

Thalassa was a careful woman, one that never failed to consider everybody's opinions, emotions, and reactions. Those were easy to see, in any—or rather, her— case. That didn't mean she wasn't assertive, however. It only meant that she took her time making her choices—but once she had, there was no changing her mind.

She had faced some unusually hard choices in her lifetime. One was running away with Perry Formarr, a magician she had had the pleasure of meeting. She loved him, true, and she was sure he loved her (Thalassa had seen that much in the way he moved, the way he talked, that way he… well, everything, really), and so she was determined to make a life with him—but Troupe Gramarye… she loved it too. The two loves of her life—not many people were fortunate enough to get two, but then again, not many people had the misfortune to have to choose one over the other. Or was it good luck enough that she even had a choice?

The brown-haired woman faced another conundrum now: again, in the lists of love. It wasn't right for love to be so convoluted. Perry had died.

For a moment, her world tottered precariously on its axis.

Perry is dead, she thought, a little more firmly, and swallowed. He would want me to move on. And that was exactly why she had another hard choice to make.

Valant and Zak. Zak and Valant.

It was all too clear, their affections for her, and she needed to make a choice, simply to resolve all this conflict. Whenever their eyes locked, she could sense sparks in the air. When she chose, she would make it or break it. She had to weigh the options, carefully, so no one would get hurt, least of all the bonds between the members of Troupe Gramarye.

Though young, she was far from immature—she was past the naivety of young love (its demise had been seen to with Perry's passing), and she was past the selfishness of grabbing whatever caught her passing fancy with no thought. She had to choose the one who would bring the most happiness and freedom to everyone in Troupe Gramarye in the long term. This choice was not some frivolous thing of a young girl's first attempt at true love, caught in some ridiculously dramatic love triangle—this was a young woman's choice at her future, and, ultimately, the future of magic, for Troupe Gramarye was the leading figure in magic.

This was a choice, but there would always be choices in life, and there would be other choices with more at stake than the continuity of Troupe Gramarye and the happiness of those concerned. Thalassa knew this, but it didn't make the choice any lighter. Reactions she could see. But feelings were hard. Especially in the lists of love. One mistake could cause Troupe Gramarye to fall apart in a final fit of rage and disappointment, or a slow process of the seams in the fabric pulling apart.

Zak could be explosive, and he was full of feelings, wearing his heart easily on his sleeve. His fire-red of a costume showed his nature all too well, with his emotions varying in extremities. He was proud, loud, talented, strong, and… well, besotted with her. She could tell.

Valant was arrogant, sharing a friendly rivalry with Zak, and was, in some ways, meeker. He could hide his feelings (though not from Thalassa Gramarye), and put on a mask, and was always smiling, even when life generally frowned down on him—and life really had dealt him a bad hand. And he was besotted with her too.

She liked them both, Thalassa had to admit, and it was with both of them that she shared a crush—perhaps a little more on Zak's part. But… she was going to choose, not based on her preference, for she loved them both anyway. Who would react more strongly to rejection? Who would cause the Troupe to fall apart? Who would incur the most unhappiness in their little family?

Her father, Magnifi, was not a factor—though domineering, he loved his daughter, and would respect her choice. Zak and Valant were the main players in this. And Thalassa, of course.

Zak… he was so full of emotion, and so used to triumphing over Valant that it would not be wise to ignore him. But Valant had been the second fiddle for too long, never totally at the forefront despite his glamour and winning smile, and she could tell he resented it, though he never acted out, for the sake of Troupe Gramarye. It would be good for him to get a little of the limelight, to be top dog, to beat Zak in this game of love. Because Valant had lost for too long—he might just break, not being able to take the final blow.

Thalassa feared… making a choice. Just making a decision, because once she had, she wouldn't change her mind. She didn't know if this stubbornness was folly, but she was scared nonetheless. She loved people, she loved the feeling of belonging, she loved, above all, the feeling of happiness. She loved the feeling of those unbreakable close bonds, of friendship, of love, of family, blood or no blood.

Not making a decision in this matter would be not be fatal, but a serious wound, nonetheless, to the friendship of the Troupe, and tensions would escalate with their wooing. Making a decision could be fatal both ways, in neither, or in one of them, and Thalassa had no intention of choosing wrong. If she didn't choose, she reasoned, she couldn't choose wrong. But that wasn't an option.

There were no options left but to choose, and it so happened that that decision was the very thing she feared.

Magnifi Gramarye

Magnifi Gramarye was old and his time was running out. If there was one thing he hated, it was loose ends. True, his own life would by tied up neatly by the end of it (though people would spread rumors and dig up secrets posthumously, but that would be of no concern of his for obvious reasons), but he liked the thought of simply ending it with the thought that he had compiled everything into neat little piles. That he'd maintained so much control till the end that his own end would go exactly as he planned. He would not be taken unawares by Death himself, but by his own doing. Under his own control.

So he set up a little plan, to tie up the last remnants of his life. To whom should he bequeath his art? Valant was nothing short of capable, deserving of something at the very least, but Magnifi would look not upon whatever losses Valant sustained, but whether it was truly fit for him. Perhaps. Nevertheless, it was Zak whom the old man favored. The man with more than a simple dollop of talent. The man his daughter, Thalassa, truly loved.

That was Magnifi's view of them both, disregarding the shooting incident (for it was well because his daughter survived), but he knew that he ought to give both a fair chance. The scales of his judgment tilted towards Zak, and he would take this into consideration—but ultimately, the choice was with his two disciples. A neat little test he set up.

But he wondered—would it truly be possible to maintain control right until the end? So many people affected one's life, subtly or not, so was it truly possible to adapt to it all? Magnifi wondered about this a lot, and he had in fact received a half-answer. No, it was not, but perfect control could be maintained by controlling those other lives as well.

And that was what he did.

Still, the reins got loose sometimes, much to his chagrin. Humans, after all, were not simply puppets. It was a sort of art to maneuver them round, play with their emotions. The most failsafe way was with some kind of leverage. Blackmail, in other words. Mere respect would not do the trick, though it would help a fair bit.

One could see Magnifi as insecure, but the man preferred to think it more like… being a king. He had a right. He was their master, after all, their mentor, while they were his protégés. He barely forcefully controlled anyone else, for his domineering presence alone would make them meek and obedient.

Fear was an odd little thing.

It was odd, because though he wanted to end everything very, very neatly, he couldn't help but wonder—five, ten years from now… would they remember him? Would they remember the magic? Would they remember the wonder? Would they remember that golden age of magic, led by Magnifi Gramarye?

He supposed one thought of those things as death came closer and closer.

People fade.

Influence fades.

…Memories fade.

You can't control the world.

Oh, he had. Once upon a time, he had enthralled the world with his marvelous tricks and illusions, but that had faded as well.

And now, he was about to fade.

—And perhaps, so would the Gramarye name.

A/N Firstly, I hate Zak Gramarye. He is a jerk. Valant is my favorite character out of the lot, then Thalassa. Thalassa's and Zak's are quite similar, having to do with choices—but while Thalassa is afraid of making a choice, Zak fears the feeling of regret. Make of that what you will. I wonder… does Thalassa's fear sound a little childish? I tried to justify that. The end part of Valant was supposed to show how his fears were about to come true—after all, Phoenix had received the letter from Zak, which left Trucy the secrets of magic. Magnifi's a jerk too, but I prefer him to Zak any day. But still—I mean, he dumps his daughter randomly into Borginia to preserve Troupe Gramarye's reputation, and so Zak and Valant don't find out she's alive. And she has amnesia—how the heck is she supposed to fend for herself? Heh, I guess in the end Magnifi didn't tie up the loose ends by himself, but Valant went and framed Zak. To me, the old man is controlling, overdomineering, but loves Thalassa like nothing else. Which is weird, considering he ships her to Borginia. In my opinion, Thalassa's was the worst.

As I said before, I have no idea what to make of this chapter, so… sorry if it's not up to scratch. And tell me what you think. The characters that I did well (in all chapters so far) were the ones that I knew the best. The games I've most recently played are AJ and T&T, by the way… and the game I'm least familiar with is JFA. But if I know the character, regardless of which game they're in, I can write them.