With Agusty finally captured, the disturbance in Agustria was finally done, at least for the time being.

"How're you holding up?" The prince called out, wiping sweat from his brow.

The myrmidon was knelt on the ground, intently cleaning her blade.

"That bad?" he asked.

Ayra frowned at him, sheathing her sword. "Of all people, you should understand," she said simply. "It's just like with Verdane."

"Right." Jamka couldn't keep bitterness from tingeing his voice. "Is it really peacekeeping when meted out at swordpoint?"

The Isaachian princess shook her head quietly. "I don't know."

Silence gripped the two warriors as they organized their thoughts.

Ayra was the one to finally break their quiet. "Even if there isn't a right in this war," she said, carefully measuring her words, "Sigurd is searching for it."

It was hard to swallow, but she wasn't wrong. Jamka had set out to avenge his father, but none of the people they'd been fighting were of the Loptyrian cult. Instead, Sigurd's army kept finding itself at odds with normal people—people being manipulated, just like his own father had been. Of course he'd had second thoughts about his own involvement. Like she'd said, it was the exact same as Verdane.

"So what?" the archer thought aloud. "Should we just leave? The way this war has been spreading, I don't think any part of Jugdral will be left untouched for long."

The Isaachian princess turned her gaze to his, and it was like steel. "Jamka," she said softly, "I can't do that. Not after all Sigurd has done for me and Prince Shanan."

He chuckled bitterly, not knowing how else to respond. "Is it even worth it? I can't tell anymore."

Ayra took several steps closer to the prince. She granted him one of her rare smiles. "You know, he's not the only one."

Jamka glanced sidelong at her. "Come again?"

Her nose wrinkled in amusement. "Without Verdane, Shanan and I wouldn't have made it this far."

But at what cost, the prince thought grimly. He turned from her, casting his vacant gaze to the rolling Agustrian hills.

The princess' expression softened as she saw the pain on his face. "Jamka," she said, placing a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..."

He forced a brittle smile. "No, you're right. No use lamenting the past, is there? All that's left is now."

There was another moment of silence before she finally found the words to say. "Jamka," she began, "thank you."

The prince closed his eyes, feeling his patience wane. "For what?"

"Ehehe..." he could hear the mirth in her voice. "Shanan and I... you've been our first friend since we left Isaach."

Jamka managed to pry open his eyes, and looked to his companion. There was a smile on her lips, and her cheeks were dyed a faint red.

The archer closed his eyes again and took a deep breath. Counting back from ten, he quelled the fluttering of his stomach. "It's nothing. I did what any decent person would do, is all."

Ayra let go of his arm. "Jamka—" she began.

"Really," he insisted, hoping at least one of them would believe.

An exasperated sigh passed her lips. "Well, then."

Jamka took a few seconds to regather himself, and finally opened his eyes. She stood there expectantly, hand on her hip.

"I know, I know," he said with a crooked grin. "I'm really glad that we met, too."

The Isaachian princess' face brightened with another smile, and Jamka thought for an instant or two that he wasn't imagining things.

"Come on," he continued. "Let's go help everyone clean up. I'll bet Shanan is looking for you, too."

Sigurd took an administrative role in Agusty, hoping to cede Agustrian lands before a year might pass. His anxious warriors managed to keep busy with Agusty's reconstruction, and time passed quickly. In that span, Sigurd and his wife Deirdre had themselves a son. They weren't the only burgeoning romance, either. Midir and Edain had been wed, and Lex seemed to have taken to courting the Isaachian princess.

Barely six months had passed when Agustria's King Chagall ordered his remaining forces to march on Agusty. Sigurd shared the grim news with his companions that evening, and told them to be ready to sortie the next morning.

Jamka retired to his room in silence. Shutting the door behind him, he took a seat at his desk. Father, what would you do? How did you manage to keep peace as long as you did?

The prince was ousted from his introspective moment by a rapping on his door. Heaving a weary sigh, he took to his feet and went to answer it.

To his surprise, it was Ayra. She was wearing agustrian garb: an ornate blouse and skirt, and her black hair was tied back in an elegant ponytail. The myrmidon's eyes were creased in a faint smile. "Got a minute?"

The archer bit his tongue, desperate not to say anything stupid. "Of course. Is something the matter?"

"Ehehe," she tittered softly. "You don't mind if I come in, do you?"

Jamka shook his head. "No, of course not." He gestured to one of the chairs in his quarters. She gratefully accepted, and the prince closed the door behind them. He went back to the chair at his desk, turning to face her in it. "So, what's the problem?"

"It's happening again," she said quietly, glancing to the floor of his room. It was the same person he'd met those months ago in Verdane, the sensitive girl who'd been swept up in the wake of so much pain and tragedy.

The sight pulled his heartstrings, but Jamka forced himself to stay cool. "Yeah. If only stupid Chagall would have just waited," he said sourly.

Ayra nodded, light glinting from her pearlescent earrings. "Yeah," she agreed somberly. "It's stupid."

The prince didn't know what to make of the current matter, so he changed the subject. "How's Shanan been doing?"

She looked back up at him, her lips creasing into a faint smile. "He's been well. Azelle has been tutoring him in the evenings, and Holyn's been teaching him swordplay."

"That's good," Jamka replied. "But hopefully he won't need to fight any time soon."

"Yes," the princess agreed quietly. "Hopefully."

"Has Lex been good, too? You've been spending a lot of time with him, right?"

Ayra's face blanched, and her eyes began glinting with excess moisture. She took a moment to compose herself before she could speak. "You and I, we're so very alike." Her voice was quiet, barely more than a whisper.

The Verdanian prince furrowed his brow, unsure what she was getting at.

Her face shifted between amusement and concern, eventually settling into a slight moue.

Jamka waited expectantly for her to say something. "Yes?"

"Oh, hush," she said, narrowing her dark brown eyes on him. "I'm being serious here."

The prince couldn't help but grin. "Well, come on. Out with it," he teased.

She gave an exasperated sigh. "It's just," she said, glancing balefully at him, "sometimes you know exactly what I'm thinking. How do you do it?"

The archer chuckled to himself. "You're just imagining things."

Another sigh passed her lips, and Ayra turned serious. "Lex has been seeking my attention lately, you're right," she explained. "In fact, maybe a week back he wanted to give me something."

"Oh," was all Jamka could manage.

"It was a brave blade," she said, meeting his gaze.

"So?" he forced himself to feign polite interest. "How is it?"

"I didn't accept it," the myrmidon said bluntly.

Jamka quirked his head, looking sidelong at her.

The princess' cheeks began turning red. "I couldn't," she barely managed. "I-I couldn't accept it."

"Ayra, it's getting late," the archer urged, feeling his stomach roil with panic.

"I couldn't accept his feelings," she explained, sounding meek. "Not as long as my heart belongs to someone else."

"We sortie tomorrow," Jamka insisted. "We both need our rest."

"I'm sorry, Jamka," Ayra managed, her eyes welling with tears. "I-I'm sorry that I can't be Edain."

"Ayra, don't—" he began.

But there was no abating her tears. Her breath turned ragged, and soon Ayra was outright bawling.

Jamka stood and quickly went to the upset girl. Gently taking her hand, he pulled Ayra to her feet and gripped her in a tight hug. She leaned against him, crying onto his shoulder. The prince pressed his head against her raven hair, not knowing what to tell her.

They stayed like that until she'd calmed down. "I'm sorry," she finally eked.

"No," the prince told her. "Don't be sorry. Edain meant something to me, but I never loved her."

Ayra continued pressing close, but remained quiet.

"I'll stop pretending, Ayra." He could hardly find his voice. "I hate what Munnir and Cimbaeth did—to you, to Grannvale, and to Verdane. I wish I could take it all back, that I could do better for you. I wish I could be even a little bit more the man that you deserve."

The myrmidon sniffled softly, clinging tighter to him. "I don't care who you think I deserve, dummy. But I don't want anyone else. I want you, Jamka."

It was all he could do to let out a long, cathartic sigh. "Ayra..."

He parted from her just enough to take her hand in his. She lifted her tear-streaked gaze, smiling as best she could. Jamka felt his heart ache for the pretty girl, and this time he didn't try to stop it. "You remember our promise?" she asked him.

"Of course," he agreed. "What about it?"

Although she couldn't manage a laugh, Ayra's nose wrinkled in amusement. "I'm not going back to Isaach. Once this is all over, I want to go back to Verdane with you."

Jamka laughed out loud, completely taken by surprise. He squeezed her hand fondly. "We'll rebuild it together, then. The Verdane that father strove so hard to build," he told her, beaming. "No, even better than that."

The princess' face brightened, and Jamka knew he could bask in her radiance for the rest of his life. And then her face softened, and she slowly closed her eyes. The archer pulled her close, embracing her with adoring kiss.

As he finally quit her lips, Ayra opened her teary eyes. She gave him one more smile, and he knew he was finally done pretending.

"Ayra," he told her, "I love you."