A/N: The song to know is, of course, "The Court of Mirror Hall" by Amberian Dawn. Also, bit of a warning for references to an incestuous relationship that was not explicitly canon but severely implied to be, as well as implications toward one that was canon.

...

As much as Percival King enjoyed the company of the Heathens, she also knew that she couldn't live a sustainable life in the same house as a band of criminals. She would always be torn as to whether or not to report their crimes for the public good. She could befriend the criminals, of course, and they could live in a separate house where they would be advised to keep their illegal activities hidden from her. And sometimes she could look the other way, if need be. However, she needed to get on her own feet and live in a home where her own moral code reigned. To do that, she needed independence in the form of something like a profession.

She set out for the Twilight Town police station, a crisply printed résumé in hand, one mid-morning sunset. Upon entering and seeing one of the officers of the TTPD at the front desk, she walked briskly up to him; "I'm going to make this brief and get right down to business. I would like to apply for a position as an officer of the law here in Twilight Town. Here are my credentials." She placed the résumé down on the desk. "If you would like me to demonstrate any skills, I shall gladly do so. If now is not an opportune time, then let me know when will be best to reconvene."

The cop gave her résumé a glance up and down. "Interesting," he muttered. "That 'Parapet' thing sure looks unique at any rate. And we are going through a crime spike. No references, though?"
"All of my professional references were either slaughtered by a radio demon or lost to the Darkness in an act of total world destruction," Percy replied.

"Tough break," said the cop. "But I think if you pass exams, we've got room for ya. Tell you the truth, between these mystery criminals, that Maleficent girl from the other city, and the Beastman tribes getting out of hand, we really can't afford to turn down the help. Though I bet you at least two of those entities are the same thing, if you know what I mean."

"I have been made aware that villains from multiple worlds have gathered to conduct nefarious schemes in communities such as this one," said Percy. "The identity of your 'mystery criminals' may very well lie scattered across the cosmos. I would be honored to help you track them down."

"Yeah, well, pretty sure you shouldn't go looking for dragons when there are Beastmen around," said the cop. "We all know they're the troublemakers here. Just gotta prove it. Pin 'em down."

Now, Percy was pretty sure that wasn't right. The Heathens had let her in on the WHAM ARMY presence here, and she wasn't quite at liberty to disclose it yet, not so long as she lived under the Heathen roof, but once she got on her own feet, she planned to open up discussions about how to treat these apparent friends of her friends. As far as she knew, they didn't go by "Beastmen" as an alias. "Tell me about these Beastmen," she said. "Why do you believe they're behind the recent crimes?"

"Because they always are," said the cop. "They're behind everything. You're an offworlder, aren't you? So you don't know. Ever since the beginning, when this town and the others were founded, we humans have been at war with the Beastmen that tried to claim this territory for themselves. They're rotten to the core, every one of them, from the fish-men down south to the lizards up north to those Heartless in hats that're calling themselves Black Mages here in town. Problem is that there's never enough evidence to blow the whole operation. When you catch one being bad, you have to treat it as that one being bad. But we know better around here. And maybe, with a sharp eye like you on our team, we can finally lock them all away in the zoo where they belong."

"So, to recapitulate the point," Percy said, "there are several indigenous populations around this area, distinct from one another, that are referred to as a collective by virtue of being different from the dominant race and have established communities near to the humans' own, arguably filled with large and diverse populations, in which local law enforcement has determined based on scant evidence that their entire races are universally evil and are prioritizing pinning evidence down on these people over trying to validate whether or not the criminals were even of this world?"
"…Yeah?" The cop clearly didn't like where this was going.

"I see." After a pause, Percy picked up her résumé. "It seems I have made an error. I apologize. This must be the wrong address. I'm certain this happens a lot with newcomers."

"Wha – " The cop shook his head. "You wanted to be an officer! This is the police station!"

"I have definitely arrived at the wrong building," Percy continued. "I will now cease to inconvenience you and proceed to find the location I had intended to make my way to from the start."

"But you're perfect for the job!"

"Once again, I apologize deeply for my navigational error." Percy turned around and started walking toward the door.

"Wait – Miss – is this about the Beastmen? 'Cause that's not – "

She was already out the door and of earshot.

So it was like that. She knew that many precincts were. She'd hoped this would be something better, but instead, it seemed worse than the system she'd come from. Her heart sank; she'd wanted to become part of the law in order to do good things for all. The fact that others didn't see it the same way was one of the greatest tragedies she knew. Or, perhaps, they did see it as a good thing to blame the innocent – and that was even more tragic.

What now? Percy thought over her skill set, wondering what other jobs she could apply for. Surely they had positions here that required her level of combat skill. Or perhaps she could go to work at a hospital, using her Parapets to heal and buff others.

Though that cop had mentioned the "other city." That was right – there was another world linked to this one, city to city, through some sort of supernatural garage door. She could walk right into this other kingdom within the hour. What if there were a police precinct there? What if it were a place she could actually work toward justice rather than baseless profiling?

She headed briskly but not too excitedly toward the door that connected Twilight Town to Radiant Garden. The change was immediate – less brownstone and more gray cobblestone. A sky of actual blue. A less suburban visage exchanged for something that looked like a modernization of the medieval, complete with a bizarrely shaped castle watching over it all.

Yes, it was definitely a different vibe entirely. That already spoke optimistically toward Percy's career prospects.

Now, if only she knew where to look. She cleared her throat as a rather short and furry man passed by her; "Pardon me, random civilian. I apologize for the intrusion, but as I am new in town, I was hoping you could direct me to the nearest police station so that I could apply for a position."

"Why?" Smartass Weasel retorted. "You a cop?"

"I am at present unemployed," said Percy. "I had hoped to rectify that in due time, but only if the system for which I work fits in with my moral code."

"We don't need no cops sniffin' around here," Smartass sneered. "Consider that your last warning." Then he shuffled off.

"Hmm." Percy made a note to remember that weasel and his zoot suit. They were both awfully suspicious.

She walked down a few more blocks, trying to find some sort of street sign or identifying marker, when there came a piercing scream from down an alley. Percy's instincts kicked into overdrive, and she broke into a run, fast as she could go.

Oerba Dia Vanille was bruised and scraped, pushed against a back-alley wall so that she'd fallen on the stone street. Cissnei loomed over her, rifling through her munny pouch. "Not a lot in here," she tutted.

Leblanc flitted down to take a rummage herself. "No dresspheres! You're telling me what you're wearing is HANDMADE?"

"It's from my – " No. Vanille wasn't going to tell these crooks the cultural value of her wardrobe. Then they might want it regardless.

"Hm." Cissnei weighed the pouch. "I mean, it's better than nothing, and it's been a pretty slow day…"

"Please," Vanille begged. "Take it. Just don't hurt me."

Cissnei cocked her head. "Guess we don't have to. Lucky you, you didn't get stuck with someone like Elena or Reno. Though maybe try to have a little more in your pockets next time, okay?"

There was the sharp, metallic sound of a sword unsheathing. Cissnei felt the telltale sensation of a blade's very tip poking against her back. "What the – "

"Return the stolen property at once," Percy demanded, keeping the sword in place. "If you do not, I will be forced to take nonlethal action to restrain you and bring you to justice."

"Please." Leblanc turned to flit around Percy, rolling her eyes. "There's no 'justice' here. Who are you going to report us to?"

"I…was hoping local law enforcement," Percy said.

"There isn't any!" Leblanc scoffed. "Every time a squad has tried to form, they've been broken down within a week!"

"The last attempt was about two weeks ago," Cissnei confirmed.

"I see," said Percy. "Then…I guess that as much as I find vigilantism to be morally dubious, I must resort to it in order to return the stolen property to whom it belongs. I can and will overpower you, though rest assured, I will not harm you."

Cissnei took a big step forward from Percy's blade, turning to face Percy while drawing her shuriken. "Sorry," she said, "but you just made a mistake." She launched the shuriken –

A Parapet erupted from the ground, emitting a shockwave that blasted the shuriken right back where it had come from. Cissnei screamed, but the weapon missed her entirely, only catching Vanille's munny pouch on its point before embedding another of its points harmlessly into the wall behind them both.

"I'm starting to think this isn't worth it," said Leblanc, doubt creeping into her voice.

Cissnei dismissed the shuriken, and it melted away into light, leaving the munny pouch on the ground. "Fine," she grumbled. "I'll just have to remember that you're bad for business."

Percy had half a mind to try and restrain Cissnei and Leblanc anyway, but that wasn't the main reason she was here. She allowed them to run away, hoping that perhaps they would have a change of heart and torment no others somewhere down the line in their journey. Percy herself stepped up toward Vanille, putting a hand down. "Are you all right?"

"I…" Vanille clasped Percy's hand, letting the swordswoman pull her to her feet. "I'm okay."

"I can provide you with escort to the nearest medical facility, if you so require," said Percy. "In the meantime, stand close to this construct."

The shockwave parapet came down, and a new one, a healing tower, rose in its place. Vanille was drawn to its warmth and sense of bliss, so she stepped closer to the miniature tower.

Percy collected the munny pouch, then handed it to Vanille. "It seems these are lawless streets," she observed.

"They are," Vanille said meekly. "Normally, people fight for themselves around here. I just…don't do that anymore."

There seemed to be a loaded story behind that statement, but Percy wasn't here to pry. "Am I to understand that those muggers were in fact correct, and that every attempt at law enforcement goes awry?"

"There are…people in the castle who help with what they can," said Vanille. "Heroes. But even they can't be everywhere."

"I had come here in hopes to join up with some type of force that would retain order and curb violence and larceny," Percy stated. "It seems that outside these heroes in the governing building, such a thing does not exist here. I wonder if that perhaps means an opportunity…or if it is too grand of an undertaking."

"I can't answer that for you," said Vanille. "I just want to thank you for helping me. If it means anything…I'll always be grateful for what you did here and now."

"Philosophically, that and your safety are all that matters," said Percy. "However, I would still prefer to form a vocation out of intervening in incidents like these."

"Why not go to the castle?" Vanille asked. "They'll shelter anyone."

"I could do such a thing," said Percy. "However, you only just stated that the forces there are spread thin. It seems I could do more good if I acted as part of a separate entity that could be where they could not."

"Every attempt has disbanded," said Vanille.

"Who was behind the last attempt?" Percy asked.

"I don't even remember," said Vanille. "I…try not to get involved in public. But there is one thing I know. Back before Radiant Garden…fell, there was a detective office on Main Street. I think it's still there, just…empty. Maybe you can find something there."

"A detective's office," Percy mused. "That does sound like a promising lead. Will you be all right if I continue on my way, or would you like me to escort you to any location?"

"I'll be fine," Vanille promised with a smile. "Don't worry about me. You should go and chase your dream."

"And if you have any similar dream," Percy told her, "then I bid you the ability to chase it as well."

Vanille's smile faded a little, but she just nodded. As Percy turned to leave, Vanille muttered, "It won't ever happen. Still…thank you."

The street signs actually did help Percy find her way to Main Street. It looked as though it had once been the pride and joy of the town, with its colorful buildings that were charmingly lined up in a row, but all the disasters had worn and torn them so that every board and rafter was just a little bit crooked. From there, Percy made a few wrong stops while seeking the detective agency. She ended up in a small museum whose exhibits seemed to be nothing but catalogs of various tragedies, a secondary branch of an ice cream parlor that had an elementary-school-aged duck working the counter, and the Dressphere Emporium. There was also a cinema that was closed, but advertised to be "Better than the outdated Olliewood location!" and branded under the same logo as the ice cream parlor.

Finally, Percy discovered the correct building. It was in shambles, with boarded-up windows, but was quite tall and wide, indicating that it had once been a thriving operation. The only indication as to its nature was a sign over the door that was etched with an emblem of a magnifying glass over a single eye.

Cautiously, Percy knocked on the door. When no one answered, she cracked it open and took a few steps inside. The lower floor was gorgeous; it had a roomy reception desk situated next to a window that let the light filter in, with cozy curtains waiting to be drawn if needed.

Loath as Percy normally was to snoop, apparently this was no one's property, so she took a quick peek inside the desk. Inside, she found all the trappings of one devoted not to subduing enemies but to learning their identities. Fingerprinting kits, old-fashioned magnifying glasses, binoculars and tape recorders that were ten years out of date.

"If I could fix this place up…" she murmured.

The old door creaked open a second time. Percy quickly stepped away from the desk; "I apologize. I can assure you that I did not disturb anything."

The blue-haired youth who'd entered pulled the door shut gently behind him. "I, uh…it's fine," he said nervously. "That's not what I'm…I'm here for something else."

"Ah!" said Percy. "Can I help you, young man? I am hoping to perhaps reinstate this detective agency. Aiding you with your troubles could be the first step in reopening for business."

"You want to run this place?" said the young man. "Actually…you'd probably be better at it than me."

"Ah, did you have plans for such an enterprise?" Percy asked. "If our goals align, then it may be advantageous to work together. My name is Percival King. Please tell me yours."

"Shuichi Saihara" was the response. "And I'm…not sure I do want to run this place. I just think I have to."

"I am afraid I am missing context that would put your answer into perspective," said Percy. "Why not sit down and discuss the matter?"

"Actually, if you can help me, that sounds like a great idea," Shuichi breathed in relief.

They pulled up two old-fashioned chairs, setting them across from each other. "Now," said Percy, "tell me all of the relevant information to this situation."

Shuichi sighed. "This is the part that's a little hard to believe. I guess…I wasn't always the person that I am. I don't even remember who I was before this. Someone kidnapped me and rewrote all my memories so I thought I was Shuichi Saihara, the Ultimate Detective. Since I don't remember anything else, that's who I might as well be. I honestly like being Shuichi…but I'm not sure about the 'Ultimate Detective' part. I was…forced somewhere that I had to watch my friends die. Mostly because they killed each other."

"That sounds horrible," Percy said with wide eyes.

"It was," Shuichi confirmed. "It's…also the only memory I have that's real. I lost one of my best friends in that place. We always had to figure out who did the killing. He and I did it together. I wasn't sure I could do it, but he believed in me, so when he was gone…I had to take over. And even before that…someone else I cared about a lot wanted me to be more confident in my abilities. I can't let her down. I figured out a lot of mysteries in that place. Thankfully, I got to leave it behind."

"Where is this operation?" Percy asked angrily. "It should be shut down immediately!"

"It was," Shuichi told her. "Don't worry about that part. It was all destroyed. I had to lose another friend for it to happen. And I'm not saying this to get you to feel sorry for me, it's just – there are a lot of people who counted on me being the Ultimate Detective when it mattered. I feel like if I step away from it, I'd be letting them all down, because they all died to put me on this path. I can't do that to them."

"If they're the sort of people I am suspecting they were," said Percy, "then they would not want you to hold yourself to such pressure."

Shuichi sighed. "It's just not that easy. Anyway, the point is…I wasn't sure if I'd ever be a detective again once I left that place. I was never really a detective to start with. I just…got convinced I was one, and fumbled my way around to solve everything. A lot of times, I just got lucky. I'm just afraid that the only place I ever actually had any skills was back there, and that's because that's how it was…engineered. To help me buy into that identity. A lot of it was even scripted. I have no idea if I'm actually a detective out here in the real world. There's a part of me that wants to give it up forever, because I know I'm no good at it. But there's a part of me that…wishes I was the Ultimate Detective. That wants to try anyway."

"So you came to the abandoned agency to help make up your mind about whether to take up the mantle again," Percy said.

"No," Shuichi replied. "It's more complicated than that. I came here because…I already took a case. I could've just said no, but…I have a new friend in this town. She's counting on me."

"I feel as though more context would be welcomed," said Percy. "Particularly if I am to be involved in any way in resolving this matter."

Shuichi swallowed hard. "The friend I made, she has a…another half. Kind of like a sister. And that sister had a real sister who went missing ten years ago. The whole family came to ask me to help figure out what happened back then." He blushed slightly. "A couple of them weren't being subtle about the fact that they thought my friend and I should be…together."

"Do you wish to be together?" Percy asked.

"I might," said Shuichi. "It just feels too soon. And…the last two people I loved like that died in front of me. Because of me, and how I solved the cases that put them in harm's way." He fought the tears that were welling up. "I know it should be safer, now that I'm here and far away from that place. But I'm still…afraid. Scared that if I get too close to her, somehow, she'll die too."

Like Kaede, hanging from a bloody noose over a massive piano's keys, her corpse's feet plinking sour notes. Like Kaito, coughing out the last of his life inside a cramped shuttle, crash-landing back in the trial room to reveal his body that looked indistinguishable from a man merely sleeping and having a pleasant dream. He couldn't stand to see anyone else he loved suffer a fate like that.

"But that's not the point," Shuichi said quickly. "I can figure out where I stand with her later. The point is…she said I could say no, but I could tell they were all desperate. I thought that since I'd figured things out before, maybe I could just try. And now I don't even know where to start."

"I see," said Percy. "You accepted a cold case with no active evidence."

"Yeah. Kinda stupid now that I think about it."

"Maybe," said Percy. "Or maybe not. You know, I came here to this city looking to make a difference. I was trained as a police officer, where I come from. That world is…currently no longer present. Hopefully it's only temporarily gone. Theories have differed as to its final fate. Shortly before that, my precinct was victim to a gruesome act of violence on the part of a sadistic and supernatural entity. To put it shortly, things have not been easy for me either. I doubt my own abilities, given that all of these things managed to happen on what should have been my watch, but the past cannot be undone, unless you happen to have the Sundial Epithet, the way my archnemesis does."

"The…what?"
"I will explain later," said Percy. "The point is…I want to make that difference again. I tried to join the force in my hometown, but it seems to be little more than a cover for racially motivated violence. Perhaps I should have attempted to change the system from the inside, but it would have been an uphill battle, and I frankly would have been afraid that it would change me instead. Here, however, there seems to be no force. There are heroes in the castle who are helping as best they can, and there is this abandoned agency."

"That's where she's from," Shuichi said quickly, smiling softly. "The castle. All of them, actually."

"I have heard they will shelter anyone. Is there a reason you are not there now?"

"I guess I haven't thought about it that hard," said Shuichi. "They found us a place to stay after we came here, and…it felt right. I guess…if I were the Ultimate Detective, I'd like having a perspective that's outside the castle, since they have their own business covered."

"I feel much the same way," Percy affirmed. "I have heard that their forces are still spread fairly thin, and thus I would prefer to fill in any gaps. That seems best done from a neutral location."

"So…do you know what you're going to do?" Shuichi asked.

"Well, as I was hoping to say with the conclusion of my story," Percy replied, "it seems that you and I have had similar ideas, but it would be difficult for either of us to work alone. It may just be possible that I could have insights on your cold case. Would it bolster your confidence to be working with a second pair of eyes and hands?"

"It…might," Shuichi admitted. "Like I'd be your sidekick?"

"I would prefer to think of us as equal partners who each contribute what we can," Percy corrected. "I know right now you must be worrying that if you become friends with me, I will become a target like the others you have lost. Rest assured that this does not scare me and it never has. If I die in the line of fire, so long as I was doing what was good and right, then I will be satisfied."

Shuichi hadn't even expected her to have an answer to that, and she said it just so calmly. "I mean…I could kind of use all the help I can get," he sighed. "Let's do it, then. Work together."

Percy nodded. "Though I think our first order of business should be to clean up the lower floor as much as we can, as well as to see what is on the upper floors. Then we may open for business."

"And if we get another case on the way to figuring out what happened to Strelitzia – "

"Then perhaps solving something that is more easily figured out would bolster your confidence and allow you greater insight into yourself and the pieces of the puzzle you hold," said Percy.

"Maybe," Shuichi muttered. "It's worth a try."

Percy stood. "Now let's turn this into a proper office."

They took a moment to arrange the furniture, to dust and organize, to adjust the curtains and the lighting to their liking. Then they made a quick survey of the upstairs area – part of it was devoted to laboratories and spaces to process evidence, but the rest was a series of small apartments. Perhaps those who had originally owned this place preferred not to commute.

"What shall we call our operation?" Percy asked as she and Shuichi returned to the ground floor. "Saihara and King Detective Agency?"

"Your name can go first," Shuichi told her.

"'King and Saihara' does not have the same ring to it," Percy decided. "It would make more sense from a branding perspective to put the longer surname first. We do want to be easily recognized by the public so that they feel at ease coming to us with their troubles, after all."

Really, she wanted the Ultimate Detective's name out front and center, but she also knew that argument wouldn't fly as well as what she'd just said.

Then, to their surprise, the door creaked open, letting in still a third person. "Hello?" the pixie called Yuna called out. "I saw lights on upstairs. Is someone here?"

"Why, yes," said Percy. "Detective Saihara and I have just opened this agency for business. What brings you to Saihara and King Detective Agency?"

"I, um…" Yuna clasped her hands and swayed nervously. "This is going to sound weird, but I've been having these weird thoughts lately, and when I saw that someone was in the detective office, I wondered if…maybe it was someone who could help answer my question."

"We'll do everything we can," Shuichi promised her. "What do you need figured out?"

"Well, I…it's embarrassing, but…" Yuna fumbled for the words. "I think…maybe something happened to me a few years ago that changed who I was as a person. Not as in something that forced me to grow and evolve, but something that…took a part of me away. I've been noticing this emptiness more and more. It isn't my heart. That's still where it should be. But something else is gone, and I don't know if I'm me anymore, and…I miss that part of me, I think. But I'm not sure. What I'm saying is…I'd like you to help me, if you can, figure out what happened the day I changed, and if that part of me is somewhere out there that I can find."

...

Sergei Strelka liked to walk with Princess Alisha Diphda along the harbor of Ladylake. From there, one could watch night fall over the watery horizon, the sky turning all sorts of wonderful pastel colors before the stars came out to watch over the land below.

Daylight, twilight, moonlight. They all suited Alisha so well. She was rather smaller than Sergei – people often confused her for being a little younger than she was. Her soft face often held a subtle smile that reflected her love for the world around her. She kept her pale-blonde hair tied up in a ponytail to the side of her head, and her garb was, as ever, a modified Hyland knight's uniform with some extra feminine touches. She was knight and princess both. Sergei could see both in her at all times – in her delicate grace and her steely strength.

What he was trying not to look at was the boat out on the water. Ever since the idea had been hatched for him to marry Alisha, but only on the condition that his love for her was reciprocated, Team RWBY had been following him and Alisha around, acting like they weren't spying on the couple's every move. This time, they had Rose and Kazuichi with them. Thankfully, the others that tended to tag along with them were back at the inn.

"How are we doing?" Yang asked.

"They're just walking in silence." Blake had the binoculars.

"Is that a good thing?" Ruby worried. "Oh, no, it's a bad thing, isn't it?"

"Let me see that!" Weiss made a grab for the binoculars.

Blake hoisted them out of her way. "No way. We established a system. It's still my turn."

"Ughhhh," Rose sighed. "If those two don't start a conversation, I have half a mind to give them something to talk about. I'll tip the boat or something!"

"Don't tip the boat!" Kazuichi squeaked. He gripped his wooden seat tighter.

"Are you sure you don't want us to bring you back to land?" Weiss asked with concern. "You look like you're going to throw up over the side. No offense."

"If you're gonna do that," Yang told him, "it's gotta be on the other side of the boat from me."

"I can make it!" Kazuichi promised. "I gotta see if they finally propose today!"

"I am impressed that you're the last man standing," Rose pointed out. "I know Dezel was starting to get bored of spying, but I didn't expect all your other dates to agree with him."

"Booster didn't want to draw attention," said Ruby. "I don't want to say that he'd blow our cover, but we'd need to figure out a better way to disguise him if we didn't want to be recognized while we were spying. I am trying to figure that out, by the way, so he can come next time."

"Moana had other things she wanted to see in the city," said Blake. "And nothing was happening, so we agreed that I'd just tell her if something did."

"Harley just said we're not gonna get anywhere waiting on them to talk it out," Yang added. "She's gonna try to plant a bug in Alisha's ear when she gets her alone later."

"We're all going to be even harder to hide when Team JNPR shows up," Weiss pointed out.

"Not if we play it smart and stagger our posts," said Yang. "You know, half of us on one side of the city, half of us on the other…"

"They're talking," said Blake. The others gasped.

"Sergei?" Alisha asked. "There's something I had been meaning to ask of you. However, it's…no small favor."

"Tell me," said Sergei. "I can't imagine that you would ask the impossible of me."

"You know tensions are rising," Alisha said. "Whatever happened in Lastonbell stoked the fires of war again. It's the way Maltran wanted it. How far would you go to stop it all? What would you do to make our people stop fighting?"

"I would give anything and everything," said Sergei. "Except for one." He looked to Alisha. "If this world burns, then I wish for us to survive it together."

Alisha smiled. "I'm glad. Do you think you'll still want that after the years have passed?"

"I don't understand – "

"Never mind." Alisha shook her head. "What if I told you there was a way to ease the tensions…but it would require a sacrifice from you? Something I'm not sure I should ask of you. And it comes with…other strings."

"What did you have in mind?" Sergei asked.

"I…" Alisha's throat went dry. "Have you ever heard of the story of the reign of Percival Yil Mid Asgard?"

"Wasn't he an ancestor of yours?" Sergei asked. "From the age of Innominat?"

"Yes," said Alisha. "He fathered a woman who mothered a man and so on until I was born. I can trace my lineage to him and his wife. That was the most important thing to his royal court. He needed to produce an heir to continue the line. But he didn't love his wife, so the history books say."

"Oh." Sergei's face fell. "That sounds like a tragedy."

"It might have been," said Alisha. "But it might not. Because he…didn't love any woman, they say. A lot of the older history books call it 'unnatural.'"

"That's really what they thought back then?" Sergei was in awe.

"Everyone expected men and women to only love one another," Alisha reminded him. "No other way of loving was talked about. Percival Yil Mid Asgard supposedly caused a royal scandal by entering a marriage of convenience in order to produce an heir…but taking a male lover behind closed doors. A pirate called Benwick."

"I am glad he found one to love," said Sergei, "but I can't help but feel sorry for the woman forced to be bound to him by expectation."

"But I've read her journal," Alisha said. "She was part of the scandal because she just…knew. And she let it happen. From what I can tell, it was a marriage of convenience for her too. I don't know if she ever took a lover herself, but she wrote fondly of Percival and Benwick, and of their relationship. I've always admired that she was able to detach herself from the situation in order to see it for what it really was. She helped Percival to fulfill the unfair expectations that bound them together, but she knew where his heart really was, and she supported that." Alisha swallowed hard. "She's a role model to me. I want to be like her. If ever I have to enter a marriage of convenience, I want to be grateful that my spouse finds a lover who they prefer. Politics and love…don't mix, most of the time."

"What are you saying?" Sergei asked.

"I'm saying…that I've known the answer for a while, but I'm afraid," said Alisha. "Afraid that I'm not as strong or as generous as Percival's queen. That if I saw my spouse with someone else…even if I knew it was best, and if I had said it was all right…I would be devastated. What if I would just want him all to myself, even if that isn't best?"

"There's…someone you wish to marry to patch the rift between our nations," Sergei realized.

"You have to have realized that we're both in high stations," Alisha said quickly. "We're also known as lovers to the general public. If we were to marry, then it would signify a new union for Hyland and Rolance. It's just that…I don't know if we'll stand in the same place in ten years that we do now. If you must take a lover, I want to support you. I want to let you love them. But I'm afraid that I'll…be too selfish to let you go."

"Alisha," Sergei said, stunned. "Are you saying – "

"That we've gotten to know each other well," Alisha blurted, faster and faster. "And I know you're fond of me at the least, but I don't know how far that reaches. It seems that the answer is that we must marry, but I worry that it would be too much, too soon for you. I know I should be the one to make the sacrifice, to acknowledge the political advantages of our union, but…all I can think about is my emotions, not what's logical. And what I know is…the thought of marrying you didn't cross my mind as often before all this. But now that it has, the thought of it excites me. I'm realizing how much I want you to myself, and I can't figure out where the line is between what I want and what I know is best. The only thing is that none of that will matter in the face of what you say. Because while it excites me to think about…I know that for a lot of people, it would just be too much. It would be an enormous leap, and…" She trailed off. "I'm sorry. Maybe I should have waited another day or more."

"Alisha," Sergei said softly, stunned. "You…wish to marry me out of more than convenience?"

"I'm sorry," Alisha said again. "I just – "

"Don't apologize!" Sergei said with a wide smile. "Alisha, I…I do feel very strongly for you. In fact, it's me who's been afraid that if we took that leap for the sake of our nations…you would be unhappy. But I never considered that if you were not satisfied with me, you could take another."

"Would you want me to take someone else?" Alisha asked.

"…No," said Sergei. "Not in my heart of hearts. But it is as you said. Politics and love rarely mix. Except…I think in this case, they just may have."

"You thought about marrying me," Alisha realized. "But you didn't ask because – "

"I was afraid that it would be too much, too soon," Sergei told her. "As you did for me. Whatever the case, Alisha, I want you to be happy, whether with me or someone else, and it would hurt to see you with another, but I'm not what matters. What matters are Hyland, Rolance, and you."

"I want to see you happy too," Alisha said softly. "But this means…that you wanted to ask me."

"And you wanted to ask me!" Sergei laughed. "Granted, out of concern for diplomacy, but it seems we've both realized our feelings run deeper than that."

"Sergei, I…" Alisha stopped in her tracks.

"Alisha?" Sergei regarded her with confusion.

Slowly, she sank down to one knee, a hand on her heart. "Sergei Strelka of the Platinum Knights of Rolance," she said. "I, Princess–Knight Alisha Diphda of Hyland, wish to ask your hand in marriage, not only for the sake of our kingdoms…but for the sake of love."

Those who were passing by on the street gasped – not out of sentiment, but out of horror. It was unheard of for the royal heir to bow to another in proposal. By all propriety, it should have been Sergei who kneeled for her.

He knew that. And he dropped to both his knees, reaching to take her hands in his. "Alisha," he said softly. "I would love nothing more than to be your husband from now until eternity. To be by your side, through the storm and the calm."

"To walk the roads of the world beside you," said Alisha. "Through your nation and mine, and even beyond. It will all feel like home with you at my side."

"I would defend you from any danger," Sergei vowed. "I would shield you with my own body from the end of the world."

"And I would venture to the farthest unknown lands to find you if ever you were lost," said Alisha.

"I will marry you, Alisha," Sergei vowed. "But I must know, truly…will you marry me?"

"Yes," Alisha breathed, breaking into an enormous smile. "Sergei, YES – "

They collapsed into each other's arms, laughing and shedding tears of joy before kissing. The comments and murmurs from the Hylanders who ogled them like a spectacle did not bother them. To them, their world was only as large as two.

That is, until they heard the sudden raucous cheer that went up from out on the water. Yang, Ruby, Rose, and Kazuichi had all stood up to give loud whoops of joy.

"Careful!" Blake gasped.

"DON'T STAND UP IN THE – " Weiss yelled.

The boat tipped. All six hit the water with a SPLASH.

Alisha and Sergei watched it happen. "Did you know your friends were watching?" Alisha asked.

"I swear I did not," said Sergei.

Alisha started to laugh, and Sergei did as well.

"Welp." Rose tread water. "Tipped the boat anyway. How do you like them apples?"

"Doesn't matter!" Kazuichi yelled. "They proposed! They fuckin' did it!"

"And we get to help plan the wedding!" Weiss said haughtily.

"Dezel, Moana, Harley, and Booster are gonna be so upset they missed this," said Blake.

"They're one thing," Ruby sighed. "But at least they chose not to come this time. If Alisha and Sergei had waited one more day, then Jaune, Ren, Nora, and Penny wouldn't have missed it!"

"But they'll be right on time to help us throw the wedding!" Kazuichi proclaimed. "And you know what? I'm bringin' a car! You heard me! I'm gonna put together a custom ride for them to drive off in with a 'Just Married' sign on the back to get to the honeymoon! First car ever on this planet! Talk about a wedding present!"

"There's going to be more to do than that to get this off the ground," said Weiss. "We need to host an event that will appeal to the citizens of two rival nations so much that they'll shake hands with each other. THIS calls for Schnee-style socializing."

"But we should ask our friends back at Radiant Garden too," said Ruby. "They're probably going to have important perspective."

"And the Heathens in Twilight Town," Yang added. "If we put all our forces together, we can make this the biggest wedding in the history of the worlds!"

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" Weiss scoffed. "I'm going back to the inn to start drawing up seating charts and comparing color palettes!" She then flipped around to start swimming gracefully toward shore. Her companions soon followed.

...

Nearly everyone on the Mystic Isles had been invited to Yzmatopia for the Grand Eclipse Ball. Attendance was mandatory, as was respecting the hosts and their property. It was not with joy for the festivities ahead but with dread that magical creature after magical creature – many of whom had been stripped to mundanity by Prisma's invasive crystals – gathered in the antechamber of Yzmatopia, and crowded out onto the front lawn.

All in all, it was an easy enough place for a few infiltrators to hide, if they stayed in the middle of the crowd.

"Okay." Rapunzel tied on her masquerade mask, adjusting her braid, which had gone purple and gray with nerves. "Anastasia will be showing up later with the surprise guests that even our hosts don't know are coming. Our goal is to learn what we can and try to find a way to bring this operation down from the inside. The problem is…I have no idea how to do that." She sighed, smoothing out the purple gown that she'd had to don for the occasion. "At least we got to dress up pretty."

"Oh, we're definitely gonna get found out and die." Stork tied his own mask on. He was dressed in an old-fashioned suit, the sort with a doublet, in green with red accents. "I'm actually kind of looking forward to it." He gave a slightly sinister smirk at the prospect.

"No one is dying," Rapunzel commanded. "Got it?"

"Got it," said Stork, who wanted her to know that he mostly was just engaging in his usual morbidity.

"I'M SO GLAD THERE'S AN ISLE OF SKELETONS!" Papyrus declared. He was clothed in a fuller suit of armor than normal, freshly polished and engraved with patterns of interlocking bones. "I FIT RIGHT IN!"

"Except for the part where you're the only one who talks like that," said Stork.

"TALKS LIKE WHAT?" Papyrus asked.

"Just…maybe try to use an inside voice," said Rapunzel. "But if you can't, that's okay! We have a lot of room to hide."

Ven was clothed in a shimmering silver suit. "It would probably make more sense to split up…but I think we should stick together. That way, we don't lose each other, and we can't miscommunicate on the operation."

"I think that's a good idea," said Sofia. She was outfitted in a pink gown with a very fluffy skirt. "We can protect each other and keep an eye on each other. I just wish I knew where Chrysta was so we could make sure she gets out okay."

Elena slipped through the crowd, reuniting with the others. She was dressed in resplendent raiments of purple and silver. "I don't think they have anyone posted out here," she stated. "Just stay in the middle of the crowd and we'll be fine."

"Hey!" Rapunzel smiled, gesturing to her braid and Elena's gown. "We match!"

"Oh, that's not on purpose," said Elena. "Turns out the crystal magic affected me so that literally any clothes I put on change colors to show what emotion I'm having. And now I'm nervous about the point at which I stop being nervous because if they notice the colors changing…"

"I'm just glad for the colors right now," Rapunzel sighed. "If they're looking for me, they're looking for golden hair. Everyone always is."

"Wait." Elena pointed at her. "You're wearing shoes, right?"

"Uh…" Rapunzel swallowed hard. "Yes?"

Elena pointed down to Rapunzel's gown hem twice.

Rapunzel sighed, lifting it to show her bare feet. "The skirt's long enough to cover it. How am I supposed to dance in shoes I can't even balance in? How are YOU going to dance in THOSE shoes?"

Elena shrugged. "Practice makes perfect. And I don't blame you; it's just that…the bare feet are kind of a Rapunzel thing. It's recognizable."

"I'm literally the only Merb here," Stork pointed out. "They'll figure me out before they figure her out. I wonder how long it'll take for my cover to blow…"

"But there are fin-folk on the Isles," Sofia pointed out. "And merfolk with legs, and kappas, and nökken, and vodniks, and I think I even saw some amphibian people like you."

"See?" Rapunzel said. "It's fine! It's gonna be fine. It's all gonna work out. Yep. Yeppers. Definitely. Nothing bad will happen. We can do this!"

"I'M GLAD YOU'RE CONFIDENT ENOUGH TO HAVE REPEATED THOSE SENTIMENTS SEVERAL TIMES OVER!" said Papyrus.

The crowd began to shift forward. The gates to the ballroom had opened. "Oh," Rapunzel realized. "It's happening. It's actually time. I'm not ready. I'm not ready! This is going to be a disaster – "

"It won't be a disaster!" Stork argued. "You're in charge, and I'm on the team. That means you'll cover for it when I mess up and I'll cover for it when you mess up."

"Uh, what about me?" Elena asked. "And Sofia, Ven, Papyrus…"

"Valued members of the team," said Stork, "but I think it's obvious who's in charge and who has the backup plans on backup plans for anything that can go wrong."

"You really have plans for that?" Rapunzel asked. "For ANYTHING?"

"I mean, most of the situations we could encounter are so dire that the only possible plan is 'have our affairs in order and try not to scream too loud,'" Stork told her, "but other than that? Pretty much."

He raised a hand awkwardly, putting it out toward Rapunzel. Then drew it back. Then attempted to put it forth again, though he didn't seem to know what to do with it.

Rapunzel finished the gesture for him, reaching up to link her elbow through his. "The only thing keeping me from letting loose a tidal wave of anxiety magic is that I'm not doing this alone," she said. "You know that applies to you too, right? You have us. All of us."

Stork's breath hitched in his throat as he looked to where their arms linked. Then he nodded. "Yeah. That's the best chance we have at coming out of this in one piece. Working as a team. That's the whole Storm Hawk philosophy, y'know."

"Yeah."

Their section of the crowd shifted. Rapunzel and Stork advanced, arm in arm.

"YOU KNOW, IT'S FUNNY," said Papyrus. "THEY ALMOST LOOK LIKE THEY'RE ON A DATE."

"I mean, didn't she say things were falling through with the fiancé?" Elena teased. "Eh?"

"Don't assume," Ven sighed. "They're not gonna appreciate those jokes."

Papyrus and Elena both nodded. However, once Ven and Sofia got moving, Elena and Papyrus began to whisper about what it might be like, hypothetically, if Stork and Rapunzel dated ("Frying pans would definitely be involved somehow." "YES. MANY FRYING PANS.").

Beyond the ballroom doors was a magical vista. The enormous room – which was always large enough for community Isles occasions, but now seemed to have been enchanted to be even larger, outside the bounds of where the walls should have been – was all in shades of blue and purple. Mirrors adorned every wall, floor to ceiling, in their ornate golden frames. In between them were massive full-body oil portraits of the core WHAM ARMY members – Mozenrath, Huntsman, Roman, Snatcher, Yzma, Wuya, Mim, Aghoul, and now Vexen. Crystals of all colors were placed everywhere one could conceive – hanging from the ceiling, embedded in the frames, a few loose gems even scattered on the floor where they could be kicked around as a show of excess. A multi-tiered water fountain was the central floor attraction; it appeared at first to be adorned with sculptures of Greek deities, but a closer look revealed WHAM ARMY faces on the stone bodies, with Yzma acting as the cupbearer Hebe and pouring the water from the topmost tier. Tables clothed in lavender were laden with feasts, but none of this food was for the Isles guests. Flowing curtains and cloth were draped here and there and everywhere to soften some of the hard edges of the room: again, blue and purple, in a variety of shades.

The bewildered denizens stepped into this cavern of luxury, trying to gauge how much to watch their step here. Whether this could at all be enjoyed or if it were only a trap.

The far end of the room was raised into a stage. Nine bejeweled thrones were lined up in front of a golden cauldron. Nine microphones were stationed before those thrones. On the central throne sat Mozenrath himself; the Huntsman, Roman, Snatcher, and Vexen were to his left, while Yzma, Wuya, Aghoul, and Mim were to his right. He observed his guests with amusement, his eyes searching them like a hawk's seeking mice and rats. He was clothed in long blue-and-black robes with sparkling gold accents: something fit for a sultan.

He was not the first one to stand for the occasion. That honor belonged to Yzma, who was clad in a sweeping purple gown that billowed only from the knees down, with shimmering gold embroidery and a massive feathered headdress. She approached the microphone, tapping it a couple of times; "Testing. One, two! One, two! Is this thing on?"
Some of the crystals were enchanted to act as speakers. They carried Yzma's voice through the whole room.

"Ah, perfect!" she declared. Then she cleared her throat loudly. The next words that came from her were not spoken, but rather sung:

"Welcome…please, do enter to my court! Look at all these paintings; all these crystals! Could you stay all your life?"

With that, the other eight rose. A heavy guitar line (provided by one Ember McLain) thrummed through the speaker-crystals as the nine hosts launched into a routine they had choreographed just for this occasion.

"Moving slowly through the golden door," Yzma sang out. "A peaceful voice you hear…"

"Welcome to our court, my friends!" Mim declared. She'd opted to show up in a dress that was even rattier than her usual attire, brown and patched up, because what better way to ruin a formal ball than to turn up a slob?

"Dancing shadow puppets!" Yzma declared, and shadows indeed did leap up onto the walls, exaggerated caricatures of the nine hosts. "Wedding bells!" A chorus of bells clanged overhead to make her point. "She heard that voice again…"

Snatcher was made up as Frou Frou, with a wig that fashioned faux red hair into a massive bun that leaned artistically to one side; his gown was a lighter purple than Yzma's, with sparkles embedded into its voluminous skirt: "Let us introduce ourselves!"

The nine hosts spun and twirled (the Huntsman had to catch Mozenrath before he fell off balance; everyone then acted as though nothing had happened). Then, in an eight-part harmony (plus one lip-syncing Roman), they declared, "The court is having a ball, for Mozenrath! We welcome you all! The mirrors on the wall show us who to adore; the crowning is on!"

The mirrors filled with magical images of others who were in attendance and had gotten early access to the room long before the public was allowed in: Tsumugi, Valentine, Rhona, Kamdor, Pinstripe, Mysterio.

"The court is having a ball in mirror hall!" the founders proclaimed again. "We welcome you all! The paintings on the wall show you who to adore!" Each pointed distinctly to his or her own oil portrait. "THE CROWNING IS ON!"

As they launched into another interlude dance, Rapunzel whispered to Stork, "What do they mean by 'the crowning'?"

"Nothing good," Stork replied.

Wuya, who wore a slinky black qipao with a slit skirt and embroidery shaped like various Shen Gong Wu in gold, took the next line of the song: "Look at him; he's been here long before!"

"Pardon me," Mozenrath sang tauntingly. "I'm the count of moan and grief!"

"To rule with him?" Aghoul was also dressed in a sultan's robe, black and adorned with accessories carved of bone. "He's a sad and lonely man!"

"We'll give you all you yearn," Mozenrath promised.

"I will prove our lust will burn!" Aghoul chimed in.

They synced up for another chorus: "The court is having a ball, for Mozenrath! We welcome you all! The mirrors on the wall show us who to adore; the crowning is on!" Roman, who was dressed as a gangster straight out of Earth's 1920s (fedora and all) but in bright orange, led Snatcher on a merry waltz (or as close as one could get with a song in 4/4 time) out front of the group. "The court is having a ball, in mirror hall! We welcome you all! The paintings on the wall show you who to adore; the crowning is on!"

The Huntsman, dressed in a military-esque suit of deep green with white fur trim as well as his usual dragon-skull helmet, approached for the next line: "Step into the light…of a thousand chandeliers."

Shafts of light hit the chandeliers that adorned the ceiling in between the bells. Prisma had given them an absolute rainbow of crystals for them, which reflected around the entire chamber. (There was also a disco ball in the center of it all that couldn't really be ignored.)

Then Vexen, who was clothed in a robe of white silk patterned with snowflakes: "Walk to the throne."

"Give your vows," Yzma promised, "and you'll be ruler now AND FOREVER!"

Even without context, that gave Stork enough reason to say "Oh, that's not good."

The dance resumed; "The court is having a ball for Mozenrath! We welcome you all!" Yzma and Wuya supplanted Roman and Snatcher as the frontmost pair this time. "The mirrors on the wall show us who to adore; the crowning is on!"

Then Mozenrath took the lead position, hoisting the most jewel-laden crown most in attendance had ever seen high above his head with levitation from his gauntlet. His voice was strongest among the chorus: "The court is having a ball in mirror hall. We welcome you all! The paintings on the wall show you who to adore – "

And Yzma and Snatcher hit their microphones for the highest note yet; "THE CROWNING IS ONNNNNN!"

Ember played them out, and everyone in attendance knew that they had better applaud.

Yzma took her microphone and cleared her throat once more; "Thank you. Thank you all. I – "

The applause went on, the Isles' civilians afraid for their lives if they didn't give enough praise.

"I – er – as I'm trying to – " Yzma went red. "WILL YOU ALL BE QUIET?"

A deathly silence overcame the previously enthusiastic crowd.

"Now then," said Yzma. "Back to business. I regret to inform you all that this ball is to do more than celebrate the solar eclipse and the grand snuffing out of the sun that is unfortunately so temporary. It also marks the snuffing out of my rule."

There were gasps. Whispers.

"I have designed to abdicate the throne," said Yzma. "None of my associates are fit to take my place; rather, I wish to choose a regent from the Mystic Isles. After all, who knows the Isles better than the Islanders?"

The whispers grew more frantic. Was this some kind of joke? What was the punchline?

"By the end of this night," Yzma went on, "one lucky denizen of the Isles will be chosen by the WHAM ARMY as my successor. Yzmatopia and all of its luxuries will pass to that successor, who is free to do with the Isles as they please."

"Okay, where's the catch?" Ven whispered.

"And as a show of good faith," Yzma went on, "in the cauldron that sits behind our thrones, there lies a potion of wish-granting. Whosoever is chosen to rule will have unfettered access to the potion in order to make as many changes to the Isles as they please…provided they're all in rhyme."

"That's too good to be true," said Elena. "That's the catch. It's the potion that's off. Maybe it's poison."

"Poisoning one Islander is kind of low-hanging fruit for them, isn't it?" Stork pointed out. "I mean, I don't doubt they'd find that hilarious, but this is way too much of a production for a single murder. No, we're talking MASS murder somehow. Not sure how, but that's the game."

"Unless it's the wishes," said Ven.

"That's right!" Sofia gasped. "You always have to be careful what you wish for, because what you say isn't always what you mean! That potion probably corrupts the wishes in some way!"

"Ooh, that'd be their style too," said Stork. "I can see it now, every grisly example of how this could go…a wish to have X-ray vision that leaves you permanently blinded and seeing through the very fabric of the universe…a wish for immortality, just before a long drop into a construction site where you break every bone in your body before the cement fills in on top of you…a wish for – "

"PLEASE!" Papyrus urged. "THIS IS UPSETTING ENOUGH WITHOUT MENTIONING…BROKEN BONES."

"Oh, right, that's all you are," Stork realized. "Sorry. My bad."

Rapunzel could feel her hair twitching. The anxiety and self-doubt wanted to break free of the ropes of the braid, wanted to manifest as magic. She seized her own hair and hugged it to keep that from happening. "So what we have to do is stop that potion from doing whatever it's supposed to do. Okay. Easy, I think. We just have to get rid of it. We're on a sky island. We can throw it off the edge – "

"Do we even KNOW what's directly below us?" Stork reminded her. "I see where you're coming from, but I hate to remind you that that poison is the last thing I want dumping into an ocean that will eventually be filtered into drinking water!"

"What about magic?" Elena asked. "Potion's magic. We have magic. Maybe there's a spell that will…I don't know, deactivate it?"

"I just wish there was a way to figure out what kind of potion it is," said Ven.

"MAYBE WE COULD GET A CLUE." Papyrus had his GummiPhone out. "I'M OPENING A CHAT WITH MERLIN."

"Loop me in," said Ven. "I'll add Yen Sid. If one of us can get close enough to that cauldron to photograph it – "

"Then we'll have two wizards trying to guess at what it is based on the color alone," said Stork. "Not an ideal plan, but better than nothing. I say we run it."

"It's going to be getting up there that's the hard part," said Rapunzel. "They probably have some kind of magic security so no one but their friends can get on that stage."

"We have some time to brainstorm," said Sofia. "They aren't choosing the regent until the end of the night."

"That shouldn't be incentive to take our time about it," said Elena.

"But it does mean we have a window," Rapunzel said. "Okay, everyone. Fan out, but stay in sight, and start dancing. Anyone with an idea, dance by and bounce it off the rest of us."

"With all the formalities out of the way," Yzma declared, "let the festivities…BEGIN!"

She turned back to her friends on the stage platform, clapping her hands. "I think we're off to a wondrous start!"

Indeed, the Islanders had begun to mix and mingle, and a few danced to the rock-orchestral music now being pumped through the speaker crystals. The other members of the WHAM ARMY who'd been invited, though, were livelier, already having a ball at the ball.

"Your Crystal Master has done well for herself," said the Huntsman; he cast his gaze around the room. "There is much magic here."

"Yes, well, a lot of it's just so unrefined," said Aghoul. "You can tell she just got the terracrystal a few days ago, but…" He shrugged. "The pyramids weren't built in a decade. Though I am curious about some of the more potent stones. I've noticed a few crystals scattered in amongst her work that don't seem to be the work of a beginner."

"That would be from my personal stash," said Mozenrath. "I paid a small visit to Agrabah for the occasion. I happen to have a hideout within the city walls for a tactical advantage. The problem is…it's within Agrabah's city walls. Meaning all the sights, sounds, and smells that come with living among the peasantry. I tend not to visit it when I don't need to, but over the years, it's served as a vault for some of the rarer crystals I've come across in the Seven Deserts. Crystals that eventually built me a portal to the world of the Thirdac, and exposed to me just how big existence is. I thought it only apropos to grab a few and leave my own signature on the event."

"How many more do you have?" Mim asked. "Out of curiosity."

"Enough," said Mozenrath. "I have enough."

"Fair," said Mim.

"All right!" Roman clapped his hands together. "I think we all know the most important thing to get out of the way here. What we want is a schmuck who's stupid, but not TOO stupid. Heroic enough to try to use the potion like a normal wish potion, but not so heroic that they'll pull any of the dirty tricks we're used to from those key kids. Someone a little subservient, but also, not a WHAM ARMY loyalist. And I'm sure there are a few people here who are plotting to use this dance as a cover to assassinate us, so we can rule them right out. Given the criteria, who are we thinking is gonna take the tiara and how much cash are we willing to put on it?"

"An interesting question," Mozenrath noted. He scanned the crowd. "You know…I haven't seen that girl around before, but she gives me those abhorrent plucky princess vibes."

He gestured to where Elena was eyeing up the buffet table, trying to figure out how to sneak something off it to split between herself and some of the hungrier-looking civilian guests.

"Odd," said Yzma. "I don't recognize her either. Oh, wait, that's not odd. I didn't bother to learn about any of my subjects and I have no idea what literally any of them look like. Carry on."

"Sugarplum Fairy's been giving us stink-eye all night," Wuya commented. "Add that determination to her celebrity status and I say we have a contender."

"With our luck, it will be one of the Rompkins who best fits the bill," Yzma sighed. She glanced over to where the Rompkins, a race of former giants rendered small by Prisma's crystal terror, had struck up a round of the Hokey Pokey. "Empty heads, all of them, but empty enough that we won't have to worry about any pesky assassination attempts, AND they'll take the potion at face value."

Deymos then clambered up onto the stage, forgoing the stairs in favor of vaulting up over the lip. "Hey, we're doing the bet?"

"Who said you could be up here?" Mozenrath asked disparagingly.

"He's with me," Vexen reminded him. "I believe I am allowed an escort."

Deymos saluted. "No, seriously, we're doing the bet, aren't we?"

"I mean, we would be if everyone wasn't too coward to name amounts," said Roman.

"Well, I'll throw an entire basket of crystals from my Agrabah base in the pot," Mozenrath said.

"A vehicle of the winner's choice," said Wuya. "No skin off my nose if I lose."

"Not how betting works," said Roman.

"Is how I'm doing it," Wuya retorted.

"All right, I'll put a solid gold jaguar statue on the Rompkins," said Yzma.

Roman held up his hand. "How big's the statue?"

"Why did you have to ask that?" Yzma groaned, rolling her eyes.

"Because you were about to pass off a figurine the size of my thumb," Roman told her, "and you know it."

"All right, it's life-sized," Yzma sighed.

"Chicken much?" Roman replied.

"Two hundred percent larger than life!" Yzma declared. "With emeralds for eyes!"

"There we go," said Roman.

"Who is the greater fool?" asked Snatcher. "The Rompkin who will declare she who wears the crown queen, or the queen who accepts such a jest of a crown? I happen to have done some research on the state of the nation before this soirée – "

"Because of course he has to actually show me up at being empress of my own empire," Yzma sighed.

"The Rompkins are celebrating the rise of a new ruler," Snatcher went on. "An elf who crossed the isles, took the crown by accident, and is now enjoying the spoils. She accepted a figurehead position once already. She can and will do it again. Five hundred pounds to it."

"Are you seriously going to let him get away with five hundred pounds?" Yzma groaned. "The statue I give you will WEIGH more than five hundred pounds!"

"Madame Frou Frou gets the lover's discount," Roman explained snidely. "You don't have that perk."

Vexen and Deymos were by this time whispering fervently to each other, pointing out different figures in the crowd.

"You know, I have a good feeling about that beautiful girl with the voluminous purple hair," said Aghoul. He gestured right to the disguised Rapunzel, who was trying to dance while clutching her hair so it wouldn't escape its bonds. "After all, she does have the figure of a ruler. I'll wager a silver skull with diamond teeth, to be forged upon the settlement of the bet."

"…Does she not look familiar to you somehow?" Snatcher observed. "I can't quite place her – "

"Yeah, that is weird," said Deymos, who broke the two-man conference only briefly. "I swear I've seen that chick before. But I think we'd all remember somebody with giant purple hair."

"Indeed," agreed Vexen. "Now, as we were saying – " The whispering resumed.

"I say we just give the throne to whoever will cause the most chaos," Mim declared. "And, since we're using the potion we are, that's going to be whoever will cause the most ORDER. The winner of the night shouldn't matter; let's just wake Chrysta up and make her think she's won! If it works, I put down a recovered treasure chest from a submerged wreck!"

"And loose a fae with a grudge upon us?" the Huntsman countered. "A dangerous prospect. I would avoid the magical altogether."

"Literally everyone and everything here is magical, George," Mozenrath sighed.

"There is an isle that seems to be dedicated to pirates who coexist with the fae," the Huntsman countered. "Hardly a magical creature to be certain. They seem to be a human tribe that was simply mixed up with the Isles in their infancy. If there is an honorable man among them, he is who we must crown. If I am wrong in this logic, then I will surrender the carcass of my next remarkable kill to the winner."

"And you, darling?" Snatcher asked. "Certainly you have a good inkling."

"I'm not sure why I'm…drawn to that skeleton out of all the skeletons." Roman gestured to Papyrus. "But I kinda feel like he has the himbo energy."

"Your past track record with skeletons is hardly reassuring," Mozenrath reminded him. "Who's to say that's not Parchment or whatever his name was?"

"The odds are low," said the Huntsman. "And if it were, there would hardly be a way to tell, given that the skeletons in attendance are all but identical."

"I think I'm really just going off the outfit," Roman said. "Anyway, mmm…thousand lien, plus a few hard-light Dust crystals I've been saving for a special occasion, PLUS a thousand gald looted off the Hellions of Glenwood, and, hell, mythril bow and arrows from Lohgrin."

"That's a weighty bet," Mozenrath noted.

"I'm feelin' lucky tonight," Roman said.

That was when Vexen and Deymos exited their conference to say as one, "Unicorn."

"What now?" Roman asked.

"There is a unicorn in attendance," Vexen said. "Or, should I say, a FORMER unicorn. One robbed by Prisma's reign."

"He's the one by the punch bowl who's waiting for the plucky princess to steal him a tea cake," Deymos pointed out. "Name's Sky. I heard it on the way up to the stage." He looked to Snatcher. "You think you got all the gossip? I think I can put you to shame there."

"Sky has a noble streak," said Vexen. "Or so I have heard through reputable sources."

"I'm reputable sources," said Deymos. "I know what I'm talking about."

"He will wish to dethrone us," Vexen continued, "but has not the courage to do so via mutiny or coup d'etat."

"Especially without his horn and wings," Deymos continued. "He'll want those back first thing so he can actually, y'know, be not useless. So he's got a selfish motive for wanting that potion too."

"He WILL bend the knee long enough to attempt to retrieve his powers," said Vexen.

"And he's sooooo the type to think that the way to undermine the system is to get in on board with the ground floor of it," Deymos agreed. "Also, he's a sucker. He bought what we said about the potion one hundred percent. Didn't even question it. How do I know this? Because when you made that announcement, a LOT of people flinched. They're expecting a catch."

"Yet from my vantage point onstage," said Vexen, "I happened to catch a glimpse of Sky the former unicorn, and his eyes alit with the delight of opportunity."

"We have the stats to back it," said Deymos. "Our case is airtight."

"What more could be expected from the reconnaissance experts of Organization XIII?" Vexen said smugly.

"In conclusion," Deymos said, "three thousand munny and one Orichalcum+."

"Is his bet," Vexen clarified. "I add atop it an extra two thousand munny…and fifteen Megaelixirs."

"FIFTEEN?" Yzma spat. "You're asking us to commit highway robbery against you!"

"And you realize now that you said it, you can't take it back," Wuya added.

"I am well aware," Vexen said with a smirk.

"We're not doing it by halves," Deymos added. "Recon guys go all the way."

"And with that settled." Vexen extended a hand to Deymos. "Shall we dance?"

"Why, I would be most honored," Deymos teased, giving a slight bow. He then grasped that hand and let Vexen pull him into a stiff, formal waltzing stance; the two were off, box-stepping in perfect sync off the stage and down onto the floor with the rest.

Mozenrath then sat back down, levitating a flat, smooth square of crystal up before himself and the others. It looked for all the world like a television screen, but more magical and with sparkle. "Now," he said. "Shall we entertain ourselves watching the rabble?"

Wuya, Yzma, Mim, Aghoul, the Huntsman, Snatcher, and Roman all sat down in their respective thrones. "Why bother with the rabble?" Snatcher asked. "Our allies should provide greater entertainment."

"You're so right," Mozenrath realized. "I've been meaning to size up EXACTLY who and what we all put in our ranks. Let's take a tour around the ballroom, shall we?"

The screen glimmered to life, depicting a close-up view and transmitted audio of one particular corner of the ballroom. It tracked Vexen and Deymos, at first, as they waltzed their way through the crowd.

"I want one thing out of the way before this continues," Vexen stated.

"Yeah?" Deymos asked.

"You are well aware that you are NOT to repeat Ravess' actions toward me."

"No duh. That's the whole point."

"If you require any physical release," Vexen said, "settle the arrangements thereof with me now. Any deviation will be seen as treason to this…merger."

"Okay, I kinda love it when you pull out the thesaurus for stuff like this," said Deymos. "Anyway, I did have an idea, but…it might be iffy, so feel free to shoot it down."

"Tell me."

"Well, we do have a succubus on payroll," said Deymos. "And before you say anything, no, I don't actually want to sleep with her. I'm saying she has the power to write siren songs that can alter horny levels. So I'm thinking, if I commish a personalized mixtape off her, all-new compositions, with her magic voice, then I can just throw on the audio when it's me, myself, and I in the room and anything I do will be just as good as if there's another person involved," said Deymos. "That does involve her voice, though. Recorded, but still her voice. If that's not cool, I'll come up with something else."

"Hmm." Vexen thought it over. "I suppose it would be no bigger sin than pleasuring oneself to the already vast catalog of recorded music. Furthermore, I have observed quite well that your feelings toward Miss Mayday could only ever be that of a simpering fanboy, with no other sort of attraction involved. It would go against your very sexuality, for one. But for another, your demeanor toward her is clear."

"And I am proud to simper," Deymos affirmed.

"I see no harm in using any of her recorded work as an…aid in that regard," said Vexen.

"Cool!" said Deymos. "I think that should tie up the last loose end. But seriously, you don't have to worry so much. You're not the first ace guy I've had a thing for. I've thought this through. Of course, despite me being one of Moe's biggest groupies, it took me about a year to get an autograph out of the guy, let alone anything that would give me reason to actually think my fantasies of kissing him would go anywhere."

"Who is Moe," Vexen asked, "and should I worry about him?"

"Nah, just another celeb," said Deymos. "Most of what I did before Xemnas was touring around multi-world music acts. It's Moe Doodle."

Vexen's expression betrayed his confusion."

"Of…the Doodlebops?" Deymos said. "No? Okay, I AM going to have to give you a more thorough music education. THAT, you can't weasel out of. I am sitting you down and making you listen to classics."

"Well, your last recommendation was…strangely enjoyable," said Vexen. "And you needn't worry about the O Boyz. Trust me, I'll never forget a word of their hits thanks to Drakken."

"He showed you 4 2 Sing, right?" Deymos asked. "Love Sentence? Sev'ral Timez?"

"…Are these the names of multiple bands or one?" Vexen asked.

"GET OUT," said Deymos. "Okay, I'm making a list starting now. But you at LEAST have to know that one Sex Bob-omb song that went viral, right?"

"Just add them to the list," Vexen sighed.

Their course took them past where Vincent Edgeworth, Victor Blake, and Albert Krueger were having a chat about events both past and present – dressed in long-coated tuxedos of black, red, and pink, respectively.

"Do you remember when I garnered all that attention at the first university dance I attended," Albert teased, "and much like a stickleback in heat, you could not resist attempting to outdo me on the floor?"

"I do recall," Vincent said, "though what I remember was no mere 'attempt.' Victor and I outdid you at the art of dance. Plain and simple."

"I would say merely that I am more than grateful to have the two best dancers of our graduating class at my side," Victor stated. "Though if the two of you would like to echo the stickleback and attempt a courtship display for my attention, I wouldn't say no."

"Perhaps," said Vincent. "However, in the spirit of the occasion, I think it far more appropriate to figure out a way to share a dance between three. Not a simple task, of course, as most formal dances were constructed for pairs."

"How do you figure it isn't simple?" Victor replied. "The way I see it, first, I take your hand – "

He swept Vincent suddenly into a dancer's hold, giving him a couple spins across the floor. Vincent flushed from the sudden contact, smiling subtly.

"And then I trade partners – " Victor spun Vincent out and away from himself, taking Albert's hand next, bringing him into a short gallivant across the floor before dipping him low. "But then the two of you must complete the triad, you know."

He lightly pushed Albert toward Vincent, and the two fit together into a seamless waltz,

stepping haughtily in sync while maintaining eye contact. Then Vincent nodded, and Albert knew what he meant, and the two of them kept hands clasped while also removing the other hand from each other's body and reaching back out to Victor to pull him in. From there, they improvised a dance, not a box step but still a step in ¾ time, round and round in a circle of three.

"Yo!" Deymos said as he and Vexen waltzed by. "Glad you three are still getting along. I was afraid you would've gone all stickleback mating ritual by now."

"That isn't out of the cards yet," Vincent informed him.

All five broke apart from dancing formation to be able to converse with one another. "It does make me so proud to see the three of you working in such synchrony," Vexen said. "Every time I observe you, it reminds me that I made utterly the most correct choice in reanimating you as replicas, and that it was my genius that led to your transformation into an elite unit."

"But you are, of course, the most humble of us all." Victor winked.

Then Albert spotted a familiar face – a rather unmissable one, in fact, given the desiccation and the rings of nightmares around the neck below it – and waved. "Carrion! Good to see you here!"

Christopher Carrion, outfitted in a long, flowing night-black fur robe onto which the heads, tails, and paws of the creatures that had given their fur were still attached and arranged artistically, had been making his way to a less crowded part of the room. The more he witnessed the others dancing, both allies and subjects, the more bitter his heart became. He had contemplated leaving the room entirely, but upon being flagged down by Albert, he supposed it would be most undiplomatic for the Lord of Midnight to leave him ignored. Though his title hardly mattered, given the Abaratian power shift, but at the same time, a fellow fearmonger was the only one who could have gotten his attention. Carrion slowed his pace, turning toward Albert and his companions and giving a nod. "Krueger."

"I presume you have remained well since our encounter aboard the train to Hell?" Albert asked.

"I was not well then," Carrion replied, "and hardly am well at present. However, I would not say my situation has worsened. What of yourself?"

"I would say I am downright jubilant," Albert said sincerely. "I was hoping you might join us to discuss the matter of nightmares yet again. A pity we could not be joined by our chauffeur Enmu."

"A blessing, if you ask me," Vexen scoffed.

"I had thought your familiar would be here," Carrion remarked. "The small Dream Eater."

"HIS familiar?" Deymos sputtered. "Oh, that's rich. I'm gonna spring that one on Mozenrath when he LEAST expects it."

"I highly doubt Mozenrath will care," Vexen pointed out. "He is hardly all that attentive to his own familiar to begin with."

Deymos then gave a whistle. From across the room, Xerxes sped over – but tried to backpedal once Vincent set his glowing eyes upon him. "NO! VINCENT BAD! VINCENT BAD!" Xerxes yelled.

"YOU were the one who failed us both," Vincent reminded him. "I will not lay a hand on you tonight…as it would enrage our host, more than likely. However, it would do you well to watch your back."

Xerxes gulped, and also literally said "Gulp."

"Ah, don't listen to him." Deymos reached up to pat Xerxes on the back. "He's all talk. Also the pink one wouldn't let him lay a hand on you."

"You are one of my finer hybrids," Albert affirmed, "given that it was hardly a struggle to convert you."

"Do I wish to know how the Dream Eater earned your ire?" Carrion sighed.

"He abandoned me to a nightmare beyond horror," Vincent stated. "His one and only job was to draw the vision from my sleeping mind."

Carrion's lips twitched into a smile. "A nightmare, you say? Tell me…what is it that left you so petrified?"

"It's rather personal," Victor said quickly.

"No, Victor," Vincent said with a smirk. "I do believe it will be better to not keep secrets from our esteemed company. In this particular nightmare, I relived a trauma from my past. Something very personal to me, and yet built on primal fear that would petrify most. Do you wish to know more?"

"I always wish to know more of nightmares," Carrion said, his lips peeled back to add black-marked teeth to his smile.

"In this vision," Vincent continued, "I was trapped in a lightless room, abandoned by a tormentor who would return intermittently and without warning to cause me terrible pain."

"Vincent," said Albert, "not that I question you, but…I have to question you. Why, exactly, are you telling this to an acquaintance?"

"Because it occurs to me that he may be able to expose the only silver lining of it," Vincent said. "He and you together."

"I'm…admittedly very confused," said Albert.

"As a Vincent Edgeworth," said Vincent, "I still am motivated by the desire for Monsieur Myers to suffer for his myriad crimes. As the particular Vincent Edgeworth that I am, I do not know that he is worth pursuing until more is known. As it stands, however, whether it be him or another victim…if a master of nightmares such as one of the two of you could take the vision I saw and bring it into reality, it could prove a useful weapon. Something to incapacitate our tougher foes. After all – "

"All you want is for Monsieur M to suffer the exact fate he gave you," Victor realized. "Clever."

"Or whoever earns the honor first," said Vincent.

"He was the tormentor?" Carrion asked.

"And none other," Vincent said, "though he certainly had allies aplenty. I will reiterate, though, that until I have truly ascertained my place in these worlds, he cannot be my first target. There must be others upon whom it can be tested."

"I would propose my own grandmother and usurper, Mater Motley," Carrion volunteered, "were I not certain that she would thrive in the very environment you described, and waste no time in finding a way to torment the tormentor."

"But could you take the raw fear," Vincent urged, "the pure emotion I felt of reliving that darkened room, and give that to her?"

"It would be no easy task," said Carrion. "She is desensitized, a hardy soul, and not easily approachable. The number of times I had thought to overtake her using the greatest nightmares I could imagine, and failed…"

"Yes, you attempted the greatest nightmares YOU could imagine," Vincent said with a smirk. "You have not attempted the greatest nightmares I can imagine."

Carrion laughed. "You are bold."

"The way you speak of your Mater Motley is all too telling," said Vincent.

"…Mater M," Victor realized. "Have they held a conference to decide that their names must synchronize to match their wicked deeds?"

"You have the desire to avenge yourself against her," Vincent said, "the same way I had felt about Monsieur M, before realizing my true nature."

"Oooh, your son picked up the recon genes!" Deymos teased, and Vexen smiled.

"It is my greatest wish," Carrion seethed. "In exchange for that alone, I would bring the entire Abarat to heel beneath the WHAM ARMY's rule."

"Love to hear it," said Deymos.

"Heel good!" Xerxes chuckled.

"I hardly care for your territory," Vincent said. "I am now invested purely because I have realized we are kindred minds…and because I require a new direction for my revenge."

"I have little better to do to pass the time," Victor laughed. "Let us fell Mater M together. In the name of justice for OUR type."

"Well, Carrion?" Albert asked. "Will you join me in speculating upon how to craft the ultimate nightmare, a fear that is torn from he who has so much fear to spare? Because that is the difference between the two of you, isn't it? You may have a gruesome mind, but you are dulled to FEELING true fear. Heartbreak, sadness, and rage, maybe, but not fear. Vincent, on the other hand, is rendered pathetically helpless by the dark."

Vincent scowled at Albert, though he knew it was all a game at this point.

"In a way that is so adorable, of course." Albert winked. "What you need, perhaps, is his sheer terror plus our cruel imaginations."

"It would help more if I could somehow live the memory he described," Carrion said. "If you could but magically transfer the subject of that dream from your mind into mine – "

"You request a memory?" Vexen flicked a blue-backed card with a jagged upper edge out of his pocket. "Say little more."

"Oh, this is getting JUICY!" Deymos yelled.

"Juicy," Xerxes agreed in a low growl.

Deymos flinched. "Don't…say that word in that voice again. It's just weird."

"There will, of course, be a moment required to extract the memory," Vexen said. "In the meantime, might I suggest seeking out other members of our alliance who are more…susceptible to fear?"

"I would ask the woman with the purple hair who's standing behind us," Albert said. "Her fear is palpable. I can sense it anytime I get remotely close to her. It's like she's afraid of existing. I could give her such DREADFUL nightmares if she weren't an ally."

Carrion took a peek. Mera Salamin, dressed all in shimmering lavender with her hair piled up, was leaning against the back wall. Next to her, Prisma had changed into an extra glittery gown for the occasion, with a plethora of blue, purple, and mint-green crystals lining a voluminous skirt that seemed to be downright parodic of the princesses Sofia had met over the years. She was looking to Mera with concern.

"…Interesting." Carrion made his way toward the two women without further prompting.

"Are you all right?" Prisma asked Mera.

"Yeah, I'm…no," Mera panted. "Damn it, why did it have to be tonight? I had hoped my bones wouldn't hurt just this ONE night. It was supposed to be special."

"Well…is it just standing up that's the problem?" Prisma asked.

"Maybe?" said Mera. "Probably? Would love to sit down, actually…"

"I have an idea," said Prisma. She flicked her terracrystal; "CRYSTALLO!"

Before Mera, a glorious, shimmering contraption appeared. A crystal wheelchair, one that caught the light of the room and reflected it in rainbow. Fit for an empress, if you ignored the fact that it was a wheelchair – and Mera was having a very hard time with that part.

"Aw, fuck," she hissed. "Am I seriously that far gone? I don't – I shouldn't need one of those!"

"Oh." Prisma deflated. "I just thought it would help."

"No, it's…it's great," said Mera. "I just don't want to be a…wheelchair person."

"But you don't have to be," said Prisma. "You can just sit down for a night, and it can help you get where you want to go, and then tomorrow, you can just forget all about it."

"I know where that's going," Mera panted. "One day turns into two days. Two days turn into three. Then I never leave it."

"I mean, if you keep up that attitude, probably," Prisma scoffed. "But if you think of it as all or nothing, then you're letting it win either way, aren't you?"

"I'm…not even sure that made sense," said Mera, "but also, it's right. I am stronger than the chair. If I sit down, then I can get up whenever I want to! I'll show that chair who's boss!"

"That's my Mera!" Prisma swung her fist.

Mera plopped down into the crystal chair. The first thing she noticed was that she didn't even have to reach for the wheels in order to move it; it tilted whatever direction she faced, and when she thought about rolling forward, it happened automatically. "This thing is magic, isn't it?"

"That's the enchantment!" Prisma said. "It will take you exactly where you want to go!"

"…Okay, that alone might be worth it," Mera said. "That's classy."

"Oh!" Prisma gave a start. "One of our allies approaches!"

Carrion closed in on the two of them, giving another light bow. "Salamin and the Crystal Master, if I am correct."

"Don't tell me," said Mera. "I know the name. Someone told me it earlier. It's…Chris. Chris P. Bacon. Christopher Pierre. Christopher Robin. Chris…cross…applesauce."

"Carrion," Carrion said before Mera could butcher it further. "Christopher Carrion. Pardon my bluntness, but…" He grinned. "I have come for your fears."

"I'm – HUH?" Mera blurted.

"I don't understand," said Prisma.

"As the Lord of Midnight, I am a purveyor of nightmares," said Carrion. "I seek now to extract the most potent fears among our new alliance and use them to feed my pets." He stroked the glowing rings at his neck. "A weapon to be turned against those who have wronged us. Krueger tells me that after Mr. Edgeworth, you have some of the strongest fear among us."

Mera rolled her eyes. "First the chair, and now this wacko can smell my fear. It is so not my night."

"We're not interested," said Prisma.

"Are you certain?" Carrion asked. "Is there no one upon whom you wish to wreak ultimate revenge?"

"There was," said Prisma. "She's already dead."

"Yeah, can't think of anyone right now," said Mera. "My anger is more…generalized against the world. Why? You got someone?"

"A relative," Carrion said softly. "One of my kin, who took EVERYTHING from me. I did not wish to say so in front of Edgeworth, but what his body has suffered at the hands of his tormentor, my heart has suffered at the hands of mine. I have devoted myself to taking back everything that was stolen. My throne, my power, my self-respect…myself. Whether through her slaughter alone or combined with other routes."

"Wow," said Mera. "You're, like, really determined to take this jerk down, aren't you? Lemme ask you something. If you thought you had a lead on how to destroy them, and the only way to get to it was to spend a month in the desert and literally eat sand, would you do it?"

"Without consideration," Carrion answered.

Mera sighed. "Damn it. Now I gotta help you out of some weird villain empathy thing. I ate sand once."

Prisma nodded as though she followed, though there was certainly a lot of context missing.

"Okay, look," Mera sighed. "I'm Fragile. Literally. My Epithet – that's like a superpower or magic, I guess, I dunno where you're from or what makes the most sense to you – it's the word Fragile. So I can control glass, and I can break things, but the problem is, it works ON ME too. Everywhere I go, I could get damaged by the slightest impact, and I'm pretty much in constant pain. I didn't have much of a childhood since I mostly just had to stay indoors, heal whatever bones I broke that week, and try not to sprain anything else. That's the fear you're picking up. Or that Krueger guy is picking up. A general sense of paranoia that I could get broken by literally anything and everything in the world. …s. There's multiple now. I keep forgetting that."

"A fear that knows no boundaries…" Carrion was delighted by the concept. "Virtually nowhere safe. That is a fear I could stand to extract and turn against our foes. Tell me, however…if it causes you so much grief, why not just have the power removed?"

"NO," Mera insisted. "I've invested too much time into it. If I get rid of it…then all that was for NOTHING. I'm not having that."

"Sometimes it is better to write off a loss and simply live in the regret of your wasted time," Carrion said.

"In WHAT UNIVERSE?" Mera asked. "Don't answer that. I don't mean literally. I mean – you're kicking yourself over something you dropped like it was hot, aren't you? Unless it was duck-related, I'm pretty sure you're going about it all wrong. Whatever you invested into, you have to let it back in."

Carrion was silent a moment. "There is some of me that wishes your words had merit. A temptation to give in again to…the feelings long lost. The feelings that brought me to ruin."

"Was it a sibling rivalry?" Prisma asked.

Carrion nearly doubled over. "…No. My siblings were ripped from me when I was young, and prevented from reaching Paradise until…only recently."

"It was a bad breakup, wasn't it?" Mera guessed, rather smugly.

"I loved one once," Carrion said. "As truly as I could, but nothing about her was true to me. She was nothing but lie after lie, and I was nothing but a bridge from her to power. She spurned my affections. Worst of all, it was not even my hand by which she was exterminated. It was by the one upon whom I wish revenge."

"Oof," said Mera. "Tough break. Unless you want to pay the necromancer to bring her back – "

"She is already alive once more," said Carrion. "A second chance for me…but a secondary priority. I do not wish to give her any more thought than she deserves."

"But that's the whole thing you're trying to leave behind, isn't it?" Mera realized. "You invested all this time into loving her – or maybe stalking her; I'm not quite sure from context clues – but she said no and either deceived you or activated your Nice Guy complex. Or both. So you're trying to purge all memory of her. Well, let me tell you something. You deserve better. Yeah, I already know that much. You're one of us. But you don't get to just throw out something you put so much time into. So why not take that rage and that pain and use it to DO something?"

"I have," Carrion growled softly. "I became the enemy of love."

"No, that's running from it," said Mera. "You gotta find this girl, you gotta kick her ass specifically, and then you gotta go find somebody else who ACTUALLY jives with you! Just don't stalk her or act like you deserve her. Or do, I guess. I'm not the romance police, and it won't be me you're stalking, so it's not my business." She furrowed her brow. "You DO know it won't be me, right? I'm taken by this lovely lady who made me an entire wheelchair despite my massive ego just so I'd be comfy and have a good time at this dance."

Prisma blushed, clasping her hands and kicking out a foot behind her in a gesture of joy.

"Of course not," said Carrion. "However, you may make a very valuable…friend."

"Yeah, same," said Mera. "So if you wanna sit down and chat about why everything's scary or whatever, I can probably give you a lot of material."

Carrion stared her down, fire in his eyes. "Don't think I didn't notice."

"What?"

"You mentioned ducks," Carrion reminded her. "You singled them out."

Mera met his gaze's intensity. "They're the most frightening thing of all. If you have to ask, you WON'T get it."

That caught Carrion off guard, and he chuckled a little bit. He then looked to Prisma; "What fear do you have to contribute?"

"Hmm…not many," said Prisma. "I'm more of a histrionics and misery type of person than a fear type. If you want me to tell you about the times I felt inferior, I can do that, but it probably won't help. Those are Nightmares, right? That's really not my favorite form to use a Dream Eater in, but I can still respect the art!"

"…It only makes sense that you would prefer the more colorful Dream Eaters and Nightmares," Carrion realized.

"I'm not sure if you're insulting me," said Prisma, "but I'm just going to take it as a compliment anyway!"

"Tell him," Mera encouraged.

Vexen breezed by, pressing a blank card into Carrion's hand. "Vincent is processing," he muttered. "Take what you want from Mera and I can begin work on it."

Carrion held up the card. "If I may take your fear, Miss Salamin."

Mera nodded. "If you think you can handle it, yeah."

There was a sudden guitar squeal. The enchanted music that had been softly piping through the crystals was overridden by Ember laying down a solo that traveled, up, down, and all around at a rapid pace. She was dressed in a gown designed to resemble a T-shirt (with her own logo) on top and a tulle skirt the color of her flames on the bottom, with silver skull accessories anywhere she could fit them. Her arms and legs were both done up in fishnets, though it didn't seem to hamper her guitar-playing any.

Melanie and Miltia (dressed in rather revealing rave minidresses that laced up the front, each in her signature color but with the accents of the other sister's) were striking up a dance, kicking their way onto the floor. As soon as she noticed the scene, Whisp, dressed in a very stylized violet-and-black abaya with a swirling pattern, rushed over to join in.

"Hey, I know this dance!" Roman said as the crystal screen gave the founders a close-up. "To this day, I still don't know HOW I know this dance. It's supposed to go with that one song, you know, 'Baby, it's time to make up your mind…' Betcha Dishwater could identify it."

Rhona (dressed in a slim black gown with a high lace collar) had been admiring the craftsmanship on Tsumugi (in a teal strapless dress with a wide skirt and a sheer olive shawl), trying not to let her jealousy show; "I could DEFINITELY have built your prototype, but still, it's awe-inspiring."

Tsumugi saw the dance starting and gasped. "Rhona! Let's go join in the dance!"

"You think I would debase myself to such a scene?" Rhona scoffed. "Need I remind you – WHOA!"

Tsumugi just seized her hand and pulled her over. There, Tsumugi joined the dance, and Rhona found herself standing awkwardly at the end of a chorus line.

The crowd egged them on, clapping and cheering and whistling. Rhona, wanting to take some credit for the attention, attempted to join in at last, but not very well – she wasn't synced to this dance, her heart not in it, and so she ended up with a second's delay from the other four, a pale imitation. Still and all, since she had chosen to be part of the scene at all, she assumed at least some of the applause was for her, and it wasn't wrong.

It wasn't long before Skulker and the Mukhtar were at the front row of the crowd cheering them on. Skulker had stuffed his armor into a tuxedo with a bow tie and a ruffled shirt, which looked like it was straining to not burst a seam; the Mukhtar was draped in a simple cream-colored robe with a fur shawl and a tall hat that matched.

Whisp switched positions, settling herself between Melanie and Rhona, seizing each of their hands and twirling them around. Rhona almost felt as though she snapped into place; finally, she was in sync with the dance, and she gave Whisp a twirl right back.

Ember finally concluded the solo with a big finish, and the observers went absolutely wild. Whisp raised up Melanie and Rhona's hands before taking them down into a curtain-call bow, and Tsumugi immediately copied the gesture, using Miltia's hand to force her to do the same. Skulker and the Mukhtar approached the small squadron.

"You've been playing that instrument all night," Skulker reminded Ember. "Though I do love to hear the sound, have you gotten a chance to dance at all?"

"You know, I haven't," Ember said with a smirk. "Will you make sure I get one before the end of the night?"

"Nothing could stop me," said Skulker. He extended his hand –

"Not yet," said Ember. "I've just made all these new fans – I mean friends! I HAVE to know more about them."

"Melanie Malachite," said Melanie. "And that's my sister Miltia."

"We crossed paths on the train to Hell," Tsumugi reminded Ember, "but that was a while ago and only for a little bit. Almost like a cameo. If you don't remember, I'm Tsumugi Shirogane, the Ultimate Cosplayer."

"Rhona Burchill." Rhona nodded. "THE smartest person you'll ever meet, no matter what that Vexen character tries to tell you."

"Ember McLain." Ember smiled broadly. "And the boyfriend, Skulker. I'm the brains, he's the brawn."

"That's putting it a bit simply," Skulker told her, "but as far as the broad strokes go, it may as well be accurate. Just know that I have a tactical mind that is invaluable on the hunt. Though I must say my new friend here has given me a bit of a run for my money with his victory stories."

The Mukhtar nodded. "It is you who has impressed me. Your technology is impressive. Ghosts and spirits are slippery things to capture. I could learn a trick or two from you that would increase my ability to take them into custody."

"It's actually your old-fashioned artifacts that interest me," said Skulker. "I had thought my gear was top-of-the-line, but yours can bring down a GENIE. Where I come from, that's far easier said than done."

"And believe me," Ember sighed. "If we could just stuff our homeworld's resident genie in a cage and be done with it, things would be so much less annoying."

"Perhaps it would behoove us both to trade notes," said Skulker.

"I agree," said the Mukhtar. "Though I am more concerned at present with the notes Tsumugi is making."

"Hm?" Tsumugi looked up from a notepad she'd been scribbling on. "Sorry. Just doodling – "

Melanie swiped the pad. "Melanie Malachite, ultimate club girl. Miltia Malachite, ultimate bartender. Mukhtar, ultimate genie hunter. Skulker, ultimate GHOST hunter." She smacked the pad with her hand. "Why are our names numbered one to eight and then there are eight more blank spots?"

"…For a completely hypothetical…you know…killing game," Tsumugi muttered. She raised her voice to defend herself; "I'm not actually going to make us do one! I'm just so used to eyeing up big personalities to vet them for those games, and it's always SO fun to just imagine what it would be like if I locked everyone in a big building and told them the only way out was mass murder! And if I got it on tape, it would be a SMASH HIT among the WHAM ARMY! You all know it!"

"Wow," Melanie deadpanned. "You're a piece of work."

"I know," Tsumugi sighed. "I'm dreadful to be around. My plainness certainly didn't enhance your dance, but I couldn't help but join in."

"You're absolutely just fishing for compliments right now," said Whisp, "but…I'll throw you a bone. The dress is nice, your dance was better than Rhona, and if you dare try and lock me in one of your murder games, I WILL unleash all the shadow forces upon you, but you can do what you want with the other poor saps."

"This killing game concept," said Rhona. "Tell me more about it."

"Well," said Tsumugi, "it comes from this vintage video game series that it turns out is actually very canon to real life. I mean it's real. But the premise is that sixteen people, usually high school students, who each specialize in a different talent are locked inside a school. The only way out is to be the last one standing. One of them is usually the mastermind, though, unless there's a plot twist that hides a seventeenth person somewhere on campus. Every time someone dies, you give the rest a chance to figure it out, and if they do, then only the killer dies, but if they fail, then everyone BUT the killer dies. To tell you the truth, it's more fun if it drags out and we can use all the planned executions, so I usually try to nudge the trials in the right direction to get the Blackened caught!"

"You know, I actually did something similar to that!" Rhona gasped. "Fewer bells and whistles, and it was only about five people, not sixteen, but ooh, that Tony Stark made me SO mad by upstaging me at every turn and claiming to be smarter than me – I just had to do what I had to do! I sealed him and his little friends in the school building after hours and released a gauntlet of deadly traps that would kill them off one by one if they didn't answer trivia questions that PROVED they were smarter than me – which they weren't! But they cheated and broke their way out on the last one. I lost my favorite robot to them!"

Tsumugi gasped, eyes sparkling. "YOU HAVE TO TELL ME ALL YOUR IDEAS! With your help designing traps and puzzles, we could make DanganRonpa V4 a massive smash hit the likes of which has never been seen! And what kind of robot did you lose? I bet I could convince Drakken to recreate him for you! I am his golden girl, after all!"

Rhona dragged a heel across the dancefloor. "Andy was…one-of-a-kind. I've already said my piece and moved on from him. I've grieved him. He's gone. Making him again would be…a disrespect."

"Well, what was he like?" Tsumugi asked. "Maybe you can build a better Andy?"

"He was designed to be my brother," Rhona said. Then, a playful smirk: "Though with a few…non-familial benefits, if you get it. What can I say? The taboo has always been a turn-on for me. He would do everything I said, everything I asked for, and he was my best friend and partner in crime. He was the perfect accomplice to taking out the trash."

"Wait," said Tsumugi. "A brother who worshipped his sister, would kill for her, had an incestuous desire for her, and was a partner in crime?" She gasped. "Rhona. Now isn't the time, but after this dance, you and I HAVE to talk about a character I invented. A character that Vexen still HAS THE DATA FOR. I think you'd love him even more than I do!"

Rhona smirked. "Color me interested."

"Ooh, don't talk about getting together with your weird incest robot in front of Whisp," said Melanie. "She's clearly thirsty for brunettes."

"Wha – " Whisp gasped. "You're reading too much into it. I wanted to dance with you two because we're friends and allies now."

"You sure we're not a replacement goldfish for whatshername on the enemy team?" Melanie smirked. "The little empress girl?"

"WHO TOLD YOU?" Whisp yelled.

"Classified," said Melanie.

But Miltia, at the same time, said "Mim and Roman."

"Ugh, Miltia!" Melanie scoffed. "Don't you know how to keep a secret?"

"Oh?" Rhona was interested. "You were attracted to someone who looked like me? I'm assuming somewhere on the attractiveness scale between me – " She put her hand up at a high level. "And Melanie." She lowered the hand considerably.

"Your scale's upside-down," Melanie said without missing a beat.

"I'm seriously trying to just forget about her," Whisp snapped. "She didn't even like me. It was all some big setup. There's no reason I should still be thinking about this. It's just that I didn't get closure or anything."

"Question," said Ember. "You're a genie. Can't you, I dunno, give yourself whatever you want? Make a new girlfriend?"

"It's not that simple," said Whisp. "First of all, creating actual True Love is against Genie physics. We can come up with pale imitations, but the real stuff is magic of its own, so I could make someone obsessed with me, but I couldn't make myself an actual meaningful relationship unless it happens on its own. And I don't want a worshipper. Well, I mean, I do, I want legions of worshippers, but I don't want just one of them to be my DATE. I want someone on my level. Not one of the rabble."

"And the girl," said the Mukhtar. "The young Master. Could you not utilize your magic to get in close before taking her captive?"

Whisp pointed from the Mukhtar to Miltia. "Is that – is that how you two met?"

"No," said Miltia. Then, in a barely imperceptible voice, "I wish."

"She has weird fantasies," Melanie scoffed. "But apparently not as weird as Rhona's. Or Tsumugi's."

"Guilty!" Tsumugi laughed.

"I'm not going to take Cyclonis hostage," said Whisp. "That's asking for trouble. She's powerful. She'd break away. She could fight me. She could fight ALL of us. If I brought her into the walls of our base, she could probably do away with a lot of us. And apparently it used to be HER SHIP we're living in, so she probably knows the self-destruct code. She'd cut her way through us like we were paper…and it would actually be…pretty beautiful." She shook her head. "But the point is, just taking her is even worse than making her or anyone else be obsessed with me with magic! She couldn't even PRETEND to like me then!"

"So, what," said Melanie, "you want us to wing-woman you a new date?"

"Not to brag," said Ember, "but I did manage to bag the best catch on the market."

"No, do brag on," Skulker encouraged. "You're not wrong."

"I know a thing or two about making matches," Ember continued.

"And I'm a Shipper on Deck!" Tsumugi chimed in. "So I'm asking right now, why not have Rhona's new robot – or maybe replica – just be her friend with benefits, and the two of YOU have an actual meaningful relationship?"

Rhona recoiled. "You? No offense, but no way."

"The feeling's mutual," Whisp replied. "All that nerd talk and throwing around how much better you are than everyone else? Please. I'm not here for it."

"And I need somebody…classier than you," Rhona scoffed.

"I'll find a girl eventually, I guess," said Whisp. "It's just hard when it turned out to be so easy for HIM."

She sighed, looking over to where Valentine and Letheo were dancing, making up for the fact that they hadn't gotten to do so properly at Homecoming. The former was decked out in a prince's garb that could have come from a certain kingdom in Wonderland for the amount of red hearts it boasted; the latter a crisp black jacket and pants with gold edging, but no shirt.

"Don't get me wrong," Whisp grumbled. "I'm happy for him. It's just so not fair that he gets his wish and I don't."

"Whisp and Melanie?" Tsumugi suggested.

"Ew, no," said Melanie. "I only date people I'm secretly envious of and who make me feel like I have to measure up to their level. Duh."

"Yeah, no, she's not it," Whisp said. "But maybe just a dance with the girls as friends would take my mind off things."

"You can dance with the girls." Ember hooked her arm through Skulker's armor's elbow joint. "I'm going to dance with my man."

The Mukhtar gave a sweeping bow before Miltia. "If I may have this dance."

"Totally." Miltia took his hand. He swept her into the dance, as Skulker did Ember.

"Well, that still leaves us four girls!" said Tsumugi. "And we don't even have to squabble over who's prettier, since I'm the designated ugly friend to all of you!"

"You're ACTUALLY PRETTY," Whisp argued again. "Will you stop?"

"I don't want to stop," said Tsumugi. "I like hearing you say it. Even if it's not true."

Whisp rolled her eyes. "Let's just get down."

Melanie, Rhona, and Tsumugi were all too happy to dance with her as friends, the four of them facing each other and showing off their best moves.

Letheo was realizing he was mildly out of his depth. After all, Valentine was leading, and he knew how to dance so gracefully, like a perfect prince. Letheo, however, had grown up on the streets and been a lizard half the time. To say he had two left feet was generous. Mostly, he was good if he let Valentine lead, but routinely he either stepped on Valentine's foot or had his own foot stepped on.

"Sorry," Letheo muttered after it happened for the thirtieth time, approximately.

Valentine couldn't suppress a chuckle. "There's no need to apologize, Theo. If I'm being honest, it's adorable."

"I'm just not used to dancing," Letheo reiterated. "Knife fighting I can do. This is different."

"Is it?" Valentine mulled this over. "I've thought sometimes that a dance and a duel aren't so different. You and your partner moving in sync and reacting to each other. In fact, I wanna try something."

He let go of Letheo, backing off a couple paces. "Show me how you would fight," he said.

Letheo immediately drew a dagger.

"Without the knife," Valentine clarified. "And to the beat of the song."

Letheo was confused as he sheathed the blade. "You want me to fight no one, using nothing?"

"Just humor me."

"Um…" Letheo figured that he may as well. He started with a lunge forward, thrusting his left arm out –

Valentine mirrored the gesture, moving toward him so their arms extended past one another. Then they both stepped back. "Like that," Valentine said. "It's a dance."

"I think I get it." Letheo raised an arm high to make a downward slash, and once again, Valentine mirrored the gesture.

They continued like this for several steps until Letheo got a little too confident and overzealous. He and Valentine pranced around each other, dodging light touches rather than weapons, and Letheo, in battle mode, was looking for an opening, one where he could take Valentine off guard and put him back in their dance hold for the more traditional steps. He charged, he missed, he overshot, and he slammed directly into another party guest entirely.

Letheo was immediately on his feet, eyes wide as he looked at who he'd knocked down. He wasn't sure how much to be afraid of this one – a slender young man clothed in a plum-colored dress with a straight-cut skirt, and a similarly-colored jacket with glittering gold epaulets thrown over top.

He got his answer when Albel Nox also sprang to his feet, drew his blade from a sheath held in place by a purple sash, and screamed "WORM!"

Letheo, seeing the blade out, immediately reached for the dagger. He was able to parry Albel's blow just in time.

"Whoa, WHOA! BOYS!" Valentine quickly inserted himself between the two, pushing back the shoulder of each to keep them apart. "This is a pleasant occasion where we're all meant to get along and forget our troubles for a night. Let's not ruin it with friendly fire."

"His slight cannot go unpunished," Albel stated coldly.

"It was an accident," said Letheo. "But it doesn't matter to me. I'll beat you anyway."

"NO fighting," Valentine insisted. "After all, I'd rather be able to take my date home at the end of the night without a hole run through his chest."

Albel thought it over, then sheathed his blade. Letheo did the same, only once the danger had passed. "What a foolish event this is," he seethed. "I never concerned myself with dance back in Airyglyph. All my time was spent on the battlefield."

Valentine saw right through him. "You don't even know how to dance, do you?" he said smugly.

"Why should I bother knowing such a useless skill?" Albel scoffed. "Will it save me in the heat of war?"

"You'd be surprised," said Valentine. "I hear tell that one of our founders, the esteemed Mr. Snatcher – or Madame Frou Frou, as circumstances dictate – has escaped many a scrape with that talent."

"It isn't as though I can learn it on a moment's notice in order to prove a point," Albel stated coldly. "Nor would I ever wish to."

"You're embarrassed," said Valentine. "I can tell." He brought his shades back out, slipping them on. "Yes…low levels of romance and attraction, at least for now. I'm guessing you're seeking but haven't found and aren't in any rush. But your heart rate is still going faster than one might expect of a military general observing a royal ball. If it isn't flustering, it's embarrassment."

"I just learned that if you can fight, you can dance," said Letheo. "All it takes is the same moves you would use in a duel, but…in a way that matches the song and anyone you might be dancing with."

"The same moves, is it?" Albel immediately brought his sword back out again.

"WITHOUT THE SWORD," Valentine sighed, wondering why he had to keep explaining that part.

Albel glowered as he sheathed it. That sword obviously was his ideal dance partner.

"Just pretend you're fightin' us," said Valentine. "Don't use the sword, but do what you'd do if you were gonna cut us down."

Albel was quick to leap toward them, making a violent swing. Valentine and Letheo sidestepped, one to the left and one to the right, letting Albel charge between them. Albel stopped on a dime, made a pirouette, lunged again –

Valentine caught him, giving him a quick, playful spin. "See how easy it is?"

He let go of Albel, pushing him toward Letheo. Letheo struck a defensive stance, pantomiming the dagger. Albel was beginning to get the hang of what to do; he charged. He stopped short of where the blades would clash, letting Letheo pull off an imaginary parry. Letheo kicked back and away from the clash, sidestepping to find a better opening before charging. Albel twisted, extending his arm to cross Letheo's, the clash site now ending up lower to the floor so that they ended up in a quite dynamic pose that was almost reminiscent of ballet.

"You got the hang of it," Valentine said smugly. "Now, surrender my boyfriend back to me and go have a ball."

"To be clear," Albel said, "you taught me NOTHING I didn't already know. No one young as you could have anything new to show me."

"I might be younger than you," Valentine said, "but I've been younger than you for longer than you ever were this age."

Albel's eyebrow quirked. "An immortal?"

"A vampire," said Valentine. "So unless you have a grand revelation of your own…"

"Hmph." Albel snorted. "I've no idea when my data was programmed. Only the level of knowledge and skill it was given, and that makes up my age. I likely never WAS your age truly, despite having knowledge and memory of a childhood." He shook his head. "Questioning one's reality is a neverending cycle."

"I understand, I think," said Letheo. "I've always known what my world is and what I am, but where I belong is a different question."

"And are you also a vampire of legend?" Albel sneered.

"No," Letheo said. "I'm a monster. You're looking at how I'm supposed to be."

"Theo." Valentine ruffled Letheo's curly hair. "You know the scaly you and the you with skin are both nothing short of gorgeous. As they say online, 'Get you a man who can do both.' And I did."

"What sort of monster?" Albel asked.

"A reptile," Letheo replied.

Albel smiled for the first time, though it still looked extremely smug. "I have much experience with dragons from my service to Airyglyph. I have now become apprentice to one who would see them all slain. Whatever the case, love or hate, dragons are my destiny. I SUPPOSE you've earned back what little respect you lost when you pushed me to the ground."

"It was an accident!" Letheo whined.

"Shall we continue the dance?" Valentine asked, extending his hand to Letheo. He nodded to Albel; "You know what to do now. And if you try to lie, I'll see how fast your heart beats."

"A dishonorable enchantment!" Albel complained.

Valentine and Letheo returned to their hybrid of Valentine's ballroom finesse and Letheo's pantomime duel. Albel continued to formulate new dance moves based on how he would indeed handle his sword, were he allowed to use it. (He was of the very strong opinion that dancing would be even more enjoyable if he could hold the sword and truly wreak some devastation. Cutting down others by accident was probably not something the Huntsman would respect, however. At least before the regent was crowned.)

"Now THAT'S how it should be!" Simon Laurent approached all three with a wide grin. He was outfitted in a king's robes, crimson with golden embroidery in the shapes of lions and wyverns; a long cape billowed down his back and a thin gold circlet perched upon his loose blond hair. "Two destined soul mates, dancing together because it happened naturally! NOT because a train insisted you have to copy a cotillion dance in order to prove your worth!"

"I'm sure what you just said makes sense in context of your own life," said Valentine, "but you can search me for how."

"Haven't seen you guys since the train ride to Hell," Simon reminded them.

"Is that a euphemism," Albel asked, "or did you ACTUALLY journey to the Inferno?"

"Literally went there," Valentine said with a wink.

"I envy the battles you must have engaged in and won," Albel said sincerely.

"I was the only one here who did a battle!" Simon snarled. "Those two just went to a nightclub to party!"

"And saw a rockin' concert," Valentine countered.

"Tell me of the battle!" Albel urged. "I must know every detail!"

"It was a demon named Nightmare," said Simon, "and the biggest detail you need to know is that fighting demons is way more ANNOYING than you'd think. Still, if Grace had seen me, she might have regretted more than a few of the ways she treated me."

Out of curiosity, Valentine turned his sunglasses on Simon, examining his heart. Sure, it beat faster for Grace, but whatever filled him didn't seem to be love. Valentine couldn't quite identify it, actually. "Seems to me you don't actually want her back."

"Of COURSE I don't want her back!" Simon spat. "But I'll NEVER forget the way she hurt me!"

"Nor should you," said Valentine. "A good grudge is the best motivator. But you realize you don't love her, right?"

"I'll always love her," Simon argued. "That's why she hurt me. I wanted to give her EVERYTHING. But now I can't forgive her."

"If that's what you want to believe," said Valentine. "All I know was that lying to myself about who or what I wanted was a mistake that haunted me for a thousand years."

"Yeah, well, I'm not like you," said Simon. "I mean – I KNOW I'm straight. There's nothing wrong with not being straight, but I know that's what I am! Grace isn't a cover for me not knowing who I am!"

"But she is a cover for not knowing who you want," said Valentine.

"If I may," said Letheo. "I knew a girl once. I was asked to manipulate her, but I fell for her. There was a time when I thought about what it would have been like for us to spend the rest of our lives together. But it was never going to happen, so I moved on."

"How'd she hurt you?" Simon asked.

"She didn't," Letheo clarified. "I hurt her. And I'm not sorry. That's what makes it so easy to move on. If it turns out your Grace wasn't at fault for what happened to you, then you can take control of where you go next."

"It WAS her fault," Simon growled. "I was the victim!"

"If this leads to you complaining that you're too 'misunderstood' to count among our ranks," Albel said, "I would be honored to ESCORT YOU OUT." He drummed his fingers on his sword's hilt.

Simon flinched and swallowed hard.

"We don't need to go that far," Valentine assured. "Let's all just calm down. All I'm sayin' is that this is a safe space, Simon. Here in the WHAM ARMY, we break hearts for sport and wear it as a badge of honor. Could be a way to heal all that pain inside you."

"The pain keeps me motivated," Simon stated coldly.

"And not the fun of the game?" Valentine countered. "The rush you get from…well, whatever your equivalent of ripping out hearts and preserving them behind glass was?"

"Smashing things on the train and wrecking everything I could get my hands on," Simon said immediately. "That stuff was just always so much better with Grace and the rest of Apex. She turned them on me, you know!"

"Worms, all of them," Albel scoffed. "Likely grew too much of a conscience to fight the worthy battles. You now stand among kindred spirits who would gladly join you in your reign of wreckage and slaughter."

Simon was still scrapping for a fight – he was Simon; he was always scrapping for a fight – but something about the words he was hearing finally started to get through to him. The idea that in fact, he didn't have to let Grace make him angry anymore. He could be happy about doing bad things, now. No more justification. No more bending over backward to say who was and wasn't human. He could finally do what he wanted, when he wanted to, without reason. Or the need to explain to anyone else why she needed to keep on the same path he was. He'd started Apex, taught everyone who joined it his ways. But now, he'd joined an organization that had formed long before he had entered, and they already held his philosophy. He needn't convince anyone. He had his allies already set, probably for life.

"…She was still the one who hurt me," said Simon. "But…it's nice to finally stand up and say I'm proud of the things I did. Including what I did to her."

"We're gettin' there!" Valentine said victoriously.

"But now you can delay the subject no longer," Albel broke in. "Tell me of the duel with Nightmare. NOW."

Simon smirked. "I was basically the MVP of that fight. See, I was the one who was keeping my cool when everyone else was already down for the count, and I pulled off the epic last-minute win. It started when…"

Arius (dressed in a white tuxedo that bore sequin embroidery, causing him to glitter) and skekSil (in a more ornate red robe than usual, with gold jewelry) stood just near enough to overhear Simon beginning to tell that tale his way. "He thinks to take the credit from me!" Arius barked.

"From US," skekSil corrected. "And yet look at the expressions upon faces of audience. Hmm…they are not believing his exaggerated role in proceedings."

Indeed, Valentine, Letheo, and Albel all looked quite amused, as though being told a comedy tale instead of a story of daring feats of danger.

"Well?" Discord and Peepers had staked out their place beside the Skeksis and the sorcerer. Discord had given himself a bright orange zoot suit while Peepers had opted for a red military-style coat adorned with almost too many medals for him to actually walk upright with (all of which had been fashioned by Discord and commemorated such impressive milestones as "for the slaying of the dish pile in the sink" and "for the most canapés assembled in ten minutes"), as well as his usual lightning-bolt helmet. "Some of us haven't heard how that story REALLY went, right from the pony's mouth."

"Please," Peepers scoffed. "You think these two are gonna give us an accurate account?"

"Do YOU think anyone involved is?" Discord countered.

"Good point," said Peepers. "Still, hearing the Arius and skekSil version would be a nice diversion, especially since it technically was part of the story where WE swooped in with the last-minute save."

Arius grinned. "I will recount it all for you."

"Wait, not yet!" Discord said. "We're not the only last-minute additions, remember? Why not go tell Emet-Selch and Ludwig what they missed out on?"

"Insightful," Arius replied. "But first, I wish to give my thralls a night to enjoy."

He raised the Arcana Bastone, calling out not only Marx but the Helpsie. The two seemingly adorable little creatures stood on the floor before him. "Go," Arius commanded. "Live your wildest dreams."

"This is gonna be fun!" Marx said, taking off to run into the crowd and start dancing.

"Hey," the Helpsie reminded him. "I can't – I can't walk in this form – can you get back here and – "

Arius just let the two of them work it out, leading skekSil over to where Emet-Selch and Ludwig leaned against the nearest wall, deep in conversation.

"I still do not believe it in my best interests to be involved in this…comedic venture," Ludwig told Emet-Selch. He had changed into a suit, though it also was yellow-and-black striped, like his jacket, and actually looked worse than the jacket. Especially thanks to the fedora he'd thought was a good idea. "Simians and other short-lived vermin alike, attempting to meddle with forces you and I have observed for centuries as unchanging and absolute?"
"That is precisely what makes it such a worthy venture, is it not?" Emet-Selch said. He wore a new flowing fur-trimmed coat with a wide skirt, this one a deep purple; beneath its open golden buttons, princely garments in the same black and white hues as his hair. "The sheer audacity. For these, the most truly ridiculous of underdogs, to believe they have a fighting chance, but the punchline arriving to prove that perhaps, just perhaps, they actually do. I'd seen naught like it during my own years, and I'm to guess you've not either."

"Because it is foolishness," Ludwig said. "Anyone would know that."

"And is that not precisely why no one would expect it?" Emet-Selch countered.

Ludwig chuckled. "That, I cannot dispute."

"And surely you cannot hold the same low opinion of all who we employ," said Emet-Selch. "After all, look who approaches now, flanked by three of the short-lived. Discord, an immortal much like ourselves, purveyor of the incomprehensible and the cosmic forces that lie between worlds."

Discord arrived with his friends in tow, and he held out a tray of food; "Deviled eggs?". The eggs in question looked like regular deviled eggs at very first glance, but after giving observers enough time to realize that, they morphed into the shape of Nightmare, in white and yellow, and started to slime their way around the tray, giving off miniature fireworks that emulated the demon's attacks. "I thought it would be apropos given our topic of conversation," Discord said with a wink.

Ludwig looked from the eggy Nightmare to Emet-Selch, who shrugged, and then to Discord. "THIS is what you choose to use your cosmic knowledge and near-limitless powers on," he scoffed.

"Yes, because it's fun," Discord argued. "Why is that so hard to understand?"

"Ah, I may have forgotten to mention that Ludwig has a debilitating allergy to fun," Emet-Selch said. "It is nearly of the same severity as Mr. Snatcher's."

"While the joke is at my expense," Ludwig said, "I approve of its sentiment. I still have reservations about officially joining this alliance in any great capacity."

"Which is why I was just about to propose an alternative course of action," said Emet-Selch. "So long as you believe us beneath you, you may remain among us as purely an observer. One who watches our deeds and takes from it as much entertainment as you please. There would be no fault assigned to you, should you watch us enter the fray and refuse to accompany or even lift a finger. I would make certain of it as part of your diplomatic arrangements."

"Leaving the WHAM ARMY to be players in a troupe and little else," Ludwig mused. "The idea has merit. It may be worth such an immersive performance."

"Of course, should you ever deem it worthwhile to step in, certainly no one would stop you," said Emet-Selch. "Otherwise, you would remain…a satellite to our operation. Among us, but above us, at your own terms."

"It could be worth an attempt at least," said Ludwig. "Perhaps you'll be able to prove to me that you're at the very least…too unique to bother with stamping out, should the time of rebuilding our world arrive."

"Oh, I think we'll meet THAT criteria," said Discord, who was now riding a unicycle, dressed as a clown in full makeup, and juggling dead fish. Peepers eyepalmed at the sight.

"Rebuilding your world?" Arius asked. "Do you refer to the Age of Fairy Tales?"

"What is the mortal fascination with that era?" Ludwig sighed. "It was hardly as interesting to live through as legend makes it out to be. I speak of the Kivouac, which existed before the Age of Fairy Tales, two multiverses ago. A grand empire brought low by the ravages of time and nature. A series of worlds that your modern notions of time, space, and logic could not understand. Its only flaw that its denizens were far hardier than the rest of it."

"Couldn't understand?" Discord scoffed. "Try me."

Arius, however, was focused on something else. He seized as high up Ludwig's arms as he could reach, attempting to shake the ancient being. "You lived through the Age of Fairy Tales! You KNOW the mysteries of the Keyblade War! These are questions asked for centuries! You must speak to me of the answers!" His voice became progressively more shrill the longer he went on. "TELL MEEEEEE!"

Ludwig slapped him aside like one might kick away a persistent squirrel. "I have just told you which of the two bygone eras was superior," he sighed, "and that is the one you wish to question of me?"

"Well, to be fair, you said his concepts of logic, time, and space couldn't comprehend your era," Peepers said, matter-of-fact. "I'm not sure why a mortal would bother asking about something you couldn't even describe."

"Hmm, Commander speaks with sound logic, yes," skekSil added.

Ludwig sighed. "Very well. What is it you wish to know about…the simians' war over oversized keys?"

"How was it begun?" Arius screeched happily. "To what end was it fought? Is it true that there is a chest left behind by some grand ancient figure, holding a secret beyond measure? Was that world the grandest of them all?"

"Yes, please do answer," said skekSil. "Is older story than even UrSkeks can tell. And UrSkeks know nearly all."

Ludwig fought back about five gestures of flippant, sarcastic dismissal. He sighed; "It was a world, structured much like your standard Earth-type territory, where many of the stories we have seen play out upon parallel worlds in this era occurred in what is assumed to be their original form. It was a merger of realms of literature, storytelling, dreams, and gods, but one in which most simians lived their day-to-day lives much like those we are used to. The Keyblade War was started, as most wars are, over simians arguing about a particular resource, in this case, the branch of Light magic. Why Light and not a more practical primal elemental magic such as fire, ice, or wind, I cannot fathom, save for perhaps the arbitrary religious and spiritual connotations given to Light and Dark. However, most might not have been so enthusiastic if the pot had not been stirred by a man calling himself the Master of Masters, a man whose true name I do not know because I truly believe it does not matter by any stretch. What is important to know about this Master is that he was devious and ambitious, and he managed to force all others of his world to play to his tune. Why he wanted it all destroyed, I do not yet know, and I hardly care, as it is such an imbecilic pursuit, but I am certain that in a couple of centuries, the answer will reveal itself in some surprising fashion. Thousands of simians brandishing magical keys lined up on a battlefield and proceeded to slaughter each other until the Heart of All Worlds was brought down from above, attracted by all the commotion, and reacted to the sheer magical and metaphysical overload by ending the world, which truly should be the expected outcome when that much magic is mixed so violently. I myself was quite inconvenienced during the void period between that world and the reformation. Your homeworld of Radiant Garden was first to form, a very ancient territory indeed, followed not long after by…I believe it was the Ever After, though that may have been the third or even fifth. After that, too many worlds to count arrived in quick succession, most of them wastelands filled with insignificant garbage. As for the chest, I saw no such item, but if it exists, it likely belonged to the Master and was meant to survive to this era to carry out whatever it was he wanted from ending his own world, meaning that whatever he desired was far, far too complex to be worth pursuing and can only be anticlimactic in nature. Everything I could say from then on regards the Kivouachians' attempts to settle first on Radiant Garden and in the void, then on the vast wasteland of landfill planets and dimensions that appeared afterward. I had hoped, at the very least, for some sort of improvement upon the Age of Fairy Tales, a return to form of the Kivouac, but no, instead it only degraded further."

"You know, I can't recall if you'd told me that it was, at its base, an Earth," Emet-Selch stated. "That must indeed be why Earth is the most common world template. The worlds attempt to echo the continents and oceans of what they once were in completion."

"Indeed," Ludwig sighed. "Fascinating, if one cares about that sort of stuff."

"I do see one advantage to the current era, of course," said Emet-Selch. "As far as you're concerned, at any rate. We in these worlds have had much time and opportunity to perfect the art of the baked good."

"Hm." Ludwig gave a slight smile. "That is something to say at least."

Peepers tapped on Discord's knee. "Did you know about all this?"

"I mean, I'd heard some of it from other draconequui who belonged to previous generations," said Discord, "but that story's even older than I am, so a lot of the details came through like a game of telephone. It seems to have been a lot less interesting than I was led to believe."

"I think our narrator has something to do with that," Peepers reminded him.

There was a sudden outburst on the dancefloor, in the form of screams of terror. The Helpsie had gone into his true form and was stuffing Islanders into his gaping maw, while Marx had also gone monstrous, shooting here and there on his rainbow wings in order to cause random destruction and fill the ballroom with errant weather patterns.

This gave Arius, skekSil, Peepers, Discord, Emet-Selch, and Ludwig a good laugh. Of course, the last of these was the most significant. "You are correct in at least one other aspect," Ludwig stated. "This truly is a parade of audacity." He was now genuinely enjoying himself.

"As you will come to see in due time," Emet-Selch promised.

The monster outbreak had spurred Ven, Papyrus, Elena, Sofia, Rapunzel, and Stork to reconvene. "This is bad!" Sofia gasped. "We have to stop them!"

"Without blowing our cover," said Ven. "There has to be some kind of way to trick them into backing down."

"Okay, but how do we do that?" Rapunzel worried. "We take out a Keyblade, and they know who we are. We bring out Papyrus' bone attacks, and they know who we are. Enchantlet? They'll know who we are…"

Two tendrils of her hair snaked free, whipping out into the crowd. Subtly, lightly, they wound through the dancers, just brushing against Marx and the Helpsie. Rapunzel's anxiety was conducted through the hairs into the two monsters, who suddenly found themselves very small again and crashing down on the floor in their first forms.

"Whaaaaa?" the Helpsie said in confusion.

"Causing a ruckus was getting boring anyway," said Marx. "Let's go back to dancing."

"I still don't have legs," said the Helpsie.

Marx started dancing in front of him anyway.

Rapunzel's eyes widened as her hair came back to settle in front of her. "I did NOT ask it to do that," she said.

"We really need to be careful with these emotion powers," said Elena. "I was trying to get some stuff off the buffet for us and the other people who weren't allowed to touch the villain food, and I maybe…kinda…accidentally touched the ice sculpture."

"What happened to the ice sculpture?" Stork asked.

Elena laughed nervously. "Well…?"

Mozenrath had noticed an oddity in the crowd. "I don't remember approving a life-size animate ice replica of myself."

The ice statue was now completely moving and walking like Mozenrath would, stalking around to use its cold, dead eyes to look down upon other guests. It couldn't actually do any magic, but it could wave its right hand around as if it were trying to cast something.

"Probably Vexen's idea of a joke," Yzma said.

"Vexen doesn't joke," Mozenrath reminded her.

"But he is dating one," Wuya told him. "Probably has a bad humor influence hanging around him like a cloud of gnats now."

"Fair," said Mozenrath. "Anyway, it's a good likeness, so I'm not going to be against it. Actually, it looks even better than the ice sculpture I ordered for the buffet table." He glanced in that direction. "Which is…missing. All right, which one of you broke it?"

"It WASN'T me," said Roman, since everyone seemed to have turned to look at him the minute Mozenrath finished the question. "What? I'm being serious this time!"

"But I did get tea cakes," said Elena. "I gave out most of them to people who looked hungry, but I did save one for us!" She withdrew from a handkerchief a single tiny tea cake. "We can split it six ways!"

"That's not a lot," said Ven.

"But it's more than nothing!" Sofia reminded everyone.

Elena broke the tea cake apart, handing precisely one bite to everyone present. "Anyone found out anything useful?" she asked.

"Not yet," said Rapunzel.

"No dice," said Stork.

"It's hard to figure out things about the potion without blowing my cover," said Ven.

"I'VE MADE SEVERAL NEW FRIENDS FROM THE ISLE OF SKELETONS," said Papyrus, "BUT THEY'RE JUST AS CONFUSED AS WE ARE."

"Did anyone get close to the cauldron?" Sofia asked.

"No," Rapunzel sighed. "If I could figure out how to actually control my powers, I could probably do something about that, but I don't trust them right now. We could end up with a situation worse than an ice Mozenrath."

"Well, the night's not over," said Elena. "We'll just have to keep trying."

The others nodded, and then they split up once more. By the time they'd gone their separate ways, that was when Mozenrath's crystal screen panned over to the area where they had been conferring, and there was no evidence left that they ever had been, so Mozenrath kept scanning to watch more gossip among his allies.