Marguerite and Claire discovered an unexpected friendship in their unusual circumstances. Both were strong, independent women, each navigating through the turbulent waters of their newfound truths.

Claire was harboring a twinge of remorse for the unintended injustice that had transpired between them. The fact that she had unknowingly occupied Marguerite's place, enjoyed the love of her family, etched a layer of guilt within her.

"If I could rewrite history and erase your pain, I would do it in a heartbeat," Claire confided, her eyes reflecting sincerity and a depth of empathy.

Marguerite, absorbing the authenticity of her words, offered a gentle smile, recognizing the genuine sentiment behind them.

Then, as they discussed Roxton, a lighter atmosphere sneaked its way through their conversation. They exchanged stories and giggles, revealing bits and pieces of their individual experiences with the man who unknowingly intertwined their destinies.

Claire looked down for a moment, then met Marguerite's eyes sincerely. "You know, when John and I were together, it was never the fairytale romance people thought it was."

Marguerite tilted her head, listening intently.

Claire continued, "There was always pressure from my parents, from my friends. Lord Roxton was, well, the catch of the season. Everyone said I'd be a fool not to marry him."

Marguerite nodded, understanding the societal pressures Claire had been under.

"But the truth is," Claire sighed, "We never had that spark that the two of you have. To me, he felt more like a brother or a dear cousin. There were never any romantic feelings between us. And I think he felt the same. That's probably why we managed to part on such good terms."

Marguerite smiled gently, "It must have been hard for both of you, being in a relationship that wasn't what either of you truly wanted."

Claire nodded, "It was. But seeing him with you, seeing how happy he is, I know everything turned out the way it was meant to."

Marguerite asked, "What about your current fiancé, what is he like?"

Claire's eyes lit up. "His name's Matthew. He's incredibly handsome and, dare I say, pretty? Blond hair, rare green eyes... He comes from a well-to-do family. They own a big factory, manufacturing all sorts of things. But that's not what caught my attention."

Marguerite nudged her playfully, urging her to continue.

"We met when I first visited America. It was supposed to be just a summer romance, something light and short-term. But, as the days turned into weeks, we found something deeper in each other. It became a true thing, something substantial and real," Claire paused, her gaze drifting into the distance as if seeing those moments again.

Claire continued with a dreamy look in her eyes, "And you know what truly sealed the deal for me? His voice. Matthew sings beautifully. The first time I heard him sing, I just fell for him all over again. There's something magical about a man who can express himself so passionately through a song."

The two women continued to chat, their conversation flowing naturally. As the evening settled, Claire cast a discerning glance over Marguerite, her eyes taking on a knowing look.

"You know," she began, "I might be stepping out of line here, but I have this strong hunch... We women have this sense, a sort of sixth sense, if you will. And when I see you now, I see a glow. That unique, special glow that only a certain delicate condition can bring."

Marguerite paused for a moment, then nodded in acknowledgment, "You're right, but not many know. Only Veronica and Abigail are aware. I haven't told John yet. I don't want to give him false hope, especially with everything that's happening. I want to wait until I know we are safe."

Claire chuckled softly, "It takes one to know one, I suppose." She placed a gentle hand on her own belly.

Marguerite's eyes widened, "You too?"

Claire chuckled, "I guess it is unconventional. I probably should have waited to get married first. Mother would have a fit if she knew. But it is the roaring twenties after all and these things happen."

Marguerite raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on her lips, "I'm not one to talk about conventions, but what on earth are the 'roaring twenties'?"

Claire's eyes twinkled with amusement, "Oh goodness, it completely slipped my mind that you've missed it all." She leaned in, excited to share, "Back home, there's been a tremendous change in societal norms, especially for women. We now have flappers – young women who wear their hair bobbed, listen to jazz, and flaunt their disdain for what's considered 'respectable' behavior. Our sister, Emily… She's quite the wild spirit of the era. Our parents are considering locking her in her room. She drives an automobile and dances until the morning light. The war changed everything, and now that it's the 1920s, everyone is just... trying to live a little, I suppose."

Marguerite listened intently, picturing the vibrant life Claire was painting with her words. The idea of a new, liberated era fascinated her. Also the thought of having a younger sister, Emily, who was a free spirit, elicited a soft smile from Marguerite. Anticipation gently cradled her heart at the prospect of embracing a lively, changed world, and the newfound joy of sisterly connection.

Later that night, Roxton, feeling amused and somewhat bewildered by the unexpected friendship blossoming between Claire and Marguerite, curiously approached her about it.

Marguerite, with a sly, playful grin, joked, "Well, there's nothing quite like when two women share the same man."

Roxton, dismissing the insinuation with a gentle shake of his head, explained, "Marguerite... we never even consummated our marriage."

Marguerite's eyes sparkled with a mixture of mischief and genuine warmth as she responded, "Oh, I know, John. I just enjoy teasing you a bit." Her expression then softened, and with a gentle touch on his arm, she continued, "Besides, your past is your past. I know where your heart is now, and that's all that matters to me."

Marguerite then leaned back, her gaze distant, reflecting on the evening. "But truth be told, Claire is really something," she mused. "She's taken a brave stance by joining our side despite everything. And she's incredibly sweet. It's rare for me to take an instant liking to someone, but with her... it just happened."

Roxton nodded, appreciating Marguerite's candid acknowledgment. "She always had a unique charm about her. Even back in England, people were naturally drawn to Claire. I'm glad you two are becoming friends," he said, his voice tinged with a hint of nostalgia.

In the crisp light of the following morning, Claire elaborated more on Mordren's strategies and anticipated attacks, giving the team invaluable information. She pointed out specific locations on the map, highlighting areas of potential attacks and secret passages that he might utilize. The team listened intently, scribbling down notes and occasionally asking for clarifications.

She also shared Mordren's alliances with some other dark factions, emphasizing the importance of being aware of their surroundings at all times. It became clear that this battle was more intricate than they had initially anticipated, involving various players and unforeseen dangers.

After an exhaustive debriefing, Claire began to pack her belongings, sensing the urgency to get back to her own life and responsibilities.

"I hate to have to leave you so early," she admitted, her voice filled with genuine regret. "But I have wedding preparations to attend to, and some personal matters that require my attention."

Abigail approached Claire, her expression serious yet softened by gratitude. "You have brought invaluable information, Claire," she began, clasping Claire's hands in her own. "Your courage and integrity will not be forgotten here. May your journey be safe, and may your new life be filled with all the happiness you deserve."

Roxton stepped forward, his tall frame casting a shadow over Claire. For a moment, they exchanged a look filled with understanding and shared history. He offered a half-smile, the kind that doesn't quite reach the eyes but conveys a world of emotion.

"Claire," he began, his voice low and sincere, "you've faced so much, and through it all, you've remained true to yourself and to us. Thank you for your trust, and for letting us in on this." He reached out and pulled her into a brief but firm embrace. "Take care of yourself, and if ever you need us, know that you have friends here."

Veronica spoke next, "I want to express my deepest gratitude as well. Thank you, for everything."

Claire took a deep breath, her gaze moving between the faces that had now become familiar and dear to her in such a short time. "Thank you all," she started, her voice quivering slightly with emotion. "I genuinely wish I could stay longer, be a part of this battle by your side. But I have my own battles to face back home. However, remember this: once all of this is over, I'll be waiting for each and every one of you on the other side. We will celebrate, not as strangers who met under dire circumstances, but as friends, as family. Please, take care and good luck in the war that lies ahead. May we meet again under happier skies." With those final words, she gave a warm, reassuring smile, her optimism shining through the underlying sadness of the farewell.

Marguerite walked with Claire to the clearing where she would use the Ouroborus, their steps in sync and their hearts heavy.

Claire broke the silence, her voice tinged with both happiness and melancholy. "Marguerite, our paths crossed under the most unusual circumstances. Yet, in this short span of time, I feel we've forged a bond that would've taken years under ordinary circumstances. When the dust settles, and we both find our places in the world again, I hope our children can share in the bond we've created. I'd like for them to grow up knowing each other."

Marguerite's face lit up at the thought. "I'd love that very much."

The two shared a heartfelt embrace, sealing their promise. Claire then readied herself to use the Ouroborus, casting one last glance at Marguerite before venturing off to her next destination, with the memories of their time together warming her heart.