'Skuld dabbles in politics, with questionable results.'


Chapter Fourteen: (Burning) Building Bridges

The Clock Tower was quiet at this time of the morning. In the cold morning light, it sapped away what little color there was, painting it monochrome. The council and their assistants wouldn't have arrived yet; Skuld was pretty sure that only Brain was here at all hours of the night. It meant the building was a ghostly sort of quiet, and it was almost disconcerting how much that soothed her anxiety.

Skuld stood near the top, peering out the window at the town far below. She'd wanted to be here early, anyways—before Frigga had the chance to arrive and pick where they'd talk. It felt a little silly, but Skuld had wanted some control over how this conversation would go. (Wanted to feel like she had some sort of control over anything, really. Her own fate felt like it was slipping through her fingers; she'd been grasping at it desperately ever since Daybreak Town had fallen, stumbling helplessly through the dark.)

She'd unlocked the door to Frigga's office and left a note for her there. In a bout of curious uncertainty, she'd tested the locked drawer on Frigga's desk—unlocked and empty, now, its contents moved.

Skuld breathed in slowly and tried to exhale her nerves. A part of her wished that she'd gone over what she'd say with Brain, if only to give her practice and make her feel more prepared. It'll be fine, she argued with herself. I know the important parts. I just can't play her game.

…It might be a while before Frigga actually got here, though.

Anxiety made her restless, and that restlessness fed into her legs, sending her spinning circles around her position. She muttered questions under her breath, tweaking them almost absently and trying to figure what, exactly, would be the best thing to say.

An ache yawned in her chest, cracking open a hollow in her ribs. It'd been difficult as a Union Leader, but in a different way. She'd been scared and uncertain, but she'd never doubted the other Union Leaders. This situation made her feel off-kilter, always a half-step behind everyone else—even Brain, though she was pretty sure he at least didn't mean it. A familiar, undirected anger burned across her bones and licked at the back of her throat, and she stuffed it down because that wasn't going to make a good impression

"I didn't expect you so early."

Skuld snapped around, nearly calling Starlight, and her anger latched onto a target. She'd wanted to have some sort of control over the situation, and she felt like she'd lost it because she couldn't just pay attention. "I couldn't sleep," she blurted, and that felt too revealing, and—and damn it, she'd never had to worry about this before.

"Master Brain struggles with similar problems." Frigga gave her half a smile, but there was something calculating in her eyes.

"I know. I live with him."

"Mm. We really do need to find you your own place, at some point."

"No." The word came too quick, spurred by a deep-seated terror and the memory of a collapsing city. She didn't think she was supposed to feel so shaky over the idea. It felt…silly. It felt like it was going to prove Frigga right about everything she'd thought about them. "It's okay. You have more important things to worry about."

Frigga studied her. After a heartbeat she turned toward the window; Skuld wondered if she was really looking, or if she was just using that as an excuse not to make eye contact. "I'm happy you agreed to talk to me."

"I almost didn't."

Frigga's lips curled into an ironic sort of smirk. "I'm sure Master Brain was pleased."

"He trusts me," Skuld said, just on the edge of accusing.

"I'm sure he does."

Skuld sucked in a breath, already feeling wrong-footed. Don't play her game. "If you want this to be a fresh start," she said, "then stop that."

"Stop…?"

"Trying to manipulate me. And Brain. If we're council members, then we're equals."

Frigga's head cocked, appraising her.

Skuld lifted her head, meeting her eyes.

Frigga breathed in deeply, shaking her head like she was trying to shake away her thoughts. "That is…a fair request."

Skuld studied her, waiting for some other comment—some other promise that would assure her that Frigga actually meant what she said. How would you know, anyways? What's there to guarantee that she isn't lying to you?

"And no spies."

She realized belatedly that she'd interrupted Frigga—or almost interrupted her, Frigga's mouth still open like she was going to say something. She tried to tell herself it didn't matter—tried so, so hard to ignore the fact that Frigga was staring at her like she was an impatient child—and continued, "If you want us to trust you, you have to trust us. We need to have some sort of proof that you mean what you say."

A considering pause. "And what proof would we have that you'd work with us?"

Skuld hesitated.

"You can't ask something from us and not give us anything in return. We'd need to know that you wouldn't undermine the council—and, to be frank, neither you nor Master Brain have proven that you're willing to take direction from us."

"We were Union Leaders," Skuld pointed out, and couldn't quite ignore the prickling frustration. "We don't know Scala, but we know how to lead." But that was just going to have them going in circles, so Skuld tried to stuff her frustration down for the moment. "What do you want?"

"An…agreement," Frigga said, and Skuld realized she'd probably prepared this far in advance and she hated it. Still a step behind. "When you aren't working with the Exploration Department, you would train with me. In return, Sigurd and Mimir would be relieved of their duties."

At least she wasn't trying to deny they were spies, Skuld supposed, but it still left a bitter taste in her mouth. "But Mimir keeps their position in the Exploration Department."

Frigga's eyes flashed with interest. "I thought you didn't want them spying on you?"

"I don't. But they aren't going to do that if you don't make them."

It felt a little like she was giving too much information away—but then, she didn't know what else she was supposed to do without getting Mimir unintentionally punished. It was more than a little bit of a relief when Frigga inclined her head in acknowledgment. "Very well."

It didn't feel like it was the best deal Skuld could've made—but it was something, at least. Speaking of… "You should give Master's Defender back to Brain."

Frigga stiffened.

It was about the reaction that Skuld had expected, but this, at least, she'd practiced. "It's going to take a lot more than not spying on him to convince him to trust you. He tried to trust you before, and you broke that. If you give him Master's Defender back, it'd go a long way toward repairing the damage." Even if Brain doesn't think he deserves it, some part of her whispered, and she wondered if maybe she was overstepping. But— "It's his."

Frigga didn't say anything; her expression had gone carefully blank, and she studied Skuld like she was trying to figure out what game she was playing. (It was fair, she supposed; they also needed Master's Defender, if they wanted to get into that locked room, and she wasn't quite sure she trusted Frigga enough to ask her to show them. But it felt disconcerting, to have her every action scrutinized, despite Frigga's assertion that Skuld was, apparently, her favorite Union Leader.)

"It would…not be wise," Frigga said finally.

"Why not?"

"Because our situation is…precarious right now. Master's Defender belongs to the ruler of Scala ad Caelum. Returning it to Master Brain could…muddy the waters."

Skuld wanted to snap that it shouldn't matter—that Frigga could change that rule if she wanted—but she forced herself to take a breath and really listen to what she was saying.

(Frigga didn't want people to think that Brain was the leader, and not her. She defaulted to manipulating people, rather than talking to them. She had mentioned that things were precarious with their family right now when she'd tried to justify spies.)

"You're afraid," Skuld said before she had the chance to think better of it. "You're afraid of us. Because of…" She trailed off, little bits of information falling into place. It didn't quite form a coherent picture, but it was enough to prompt, "What's going on with the bluebloods?"

Frigga looked, for once, like she'd been caught off-guard. Her expression smoothed quickly, but Skuld couldn't help the faint flash of vindication that maybe she'd rattled the Head of the Council, just a little.

Frigga turned away from her, eyes focused on Scala, far below them. Skuld got the distinct impression that she was buying time to think of an answer. "There was once a time," she said carefully, "when our family was the pride and joy of Scala ad Caelum."

Skuld couldn't quite identify how that made her feel; it was a strange, twisted sort of thing, bittersweet grief and a dim sort of anger and an aching pit of loss, and so she clenched her fists and her teeth and waited for Frigga to keep going.

"Master Ephemer rebuilt Scala ad Caelum out of the ruins of a dead world. He turned this place into a home again, and the people here loved him for it. His daughter took over leadership from him, and her child after that, and their child after that. For generations, our family sought to protect and preserve our stories, our culture, our world." Frigga's hands—folded in front of her—flexed, her eyes pinching a little around the corners. "We have not always been successful."

Frigga paused, a long silence stretching out between them. She seemed strangely lost in thought; for a moment, Skuld wondered if she'd forgotten she was there.

"My family," Frigga said, and Skuld started when her voice broke, "has tried for a very, very long time to st—to protect our home. We have given up our entire lives for that purpose. But there are things that are simply beyond our control."

"Like what?" Skuld asked, and tried not to feel like she'd fallen into a trap. It was why she was surprised when Frigga didn't answer—when her lips pressed flat, her eyes scrunched closed.

Frigga inhaled deeply, like she was steadying herself, and Skuld thought that maybe she'd answer her question, but instead she murmured, "Many citizens became…distrusting of us. Resentful. They've started to lose faith in our leadership.

"And then the two of you came along."

Skuld thought she caught something bitter in Frigga's voice, however much she tried to hide it.

"Two Union Leaders—figures from legends. The original leaders, from the time before the world fell. Any action you take, people will pay attention to. Any decision you make, people will follow. Anything that you say, people will take to heart." Frigga turned back to her, finally, eyes flinty. "You being here has put our family in a…precarious position."

"We didn't ask for any of that," Skuld pointed out, feeling faintly indignant at the implication. "It's not our fault that people treat us like we're legends."

"It's not, but it's still the way things are." Frigga seemed to take a moment to reorient herself, breathing in slowly, eyes closed. When she exhaled, some of the flinty anger had disappeared. "We have known Master Brain would return for…a long time. It was foretold in the Book of Prophecies. But you—you were a surprise."

"I wasn't mentioned," Skuld surmised, and she tasted something bitter.

But Frigga was shaking her head. "No. You were—just far into the future." Frigga's features had softened a little, the edges melting into something that seemed strangely child-like. "I was…admittedly wary of Master Brain's return. He certainly hasn't done much to dissuade that concern; he acts on his own impulses, with little concern for how it will impact our current situation. But when you appeared—it was different. It was…a change."

"And…that's a good thing?"

"In a way, I suppose."

Skuld took a moment to consider the information, turning it over carefully. It felt fragmented, like she'd only gotten a small part of the story. "Have you told Brain about any of this?"

"He hasn't stopped to listen."

"Have you tried?" Granted, she could see Brain thinking it was ridiculous—but she didn't think he'd want to intentionally cause problems, either.

Frigga stayed silent, and that was answer enough.

Bells rang. Skuld started, the floor vibrating under her feet.

Frigga gave her a smile that Skuld thought was an attempt at being kind. "We can talk more later. Meili will be looking for you, I'm sure."

"Wait. Just—just one more thing." She hadn't had time to ask half of what she'd wanted to—but she needed to ask this, at least. If she had any chance at maybe finding her remaining friends, she had to take it. "You said you saw me in the Book. Did you see anything about Lauriam and Ven?"

Frigga studied her curiously. "They appear," she said, very carefully.

"Where?"

"They weren't stated to appear in this time."

"That isn't what I asked."

Frigga's eyes narrowed.

Skuld met them steadily.

"…It doesn't matter," Frigga said finally. "They aren't here. If they show up, then I imagine they'll appear similarly to you—in Scala ad Caelum. Where they should've been."

Should've. Skuld's mind caught on the word, and even if something felt like it was sinking in her chest, she couldn't quite let it go. Should've, should've, should've—

Why did Frigga say it like that?

The silence stretched, and Skuld couldn't figure out how to fill it. Out of time, she turned to leave, chewing on questions that hadn't entirely formed.

"Master Skuld."

She paused.

Frigga looked strangely serious. There was an intensity to her expression, something almost desperate underneath it. "Everything I've ever done, I've done for the benefit of my home and the people who live here. I won't pretend I haven't done questionable things—but I've always done them in the name of protecting this place. Scala ad Caelum will always be my first priority."

"Are you trying to convince me or yourself?" Skuld asked before she could think better of it.

Frigga fell silent.

Skuld turned and left, leaving her to the ringing bells and the dull, slowly-brightening morning.


-(It felt like anger had become a part of her, anymore. It had sunken into her bones, flickering underneath her skin like a fire.

Even after talking to Frigga, it didn't feel like they were any better off. A step behind, still wondering what Frigga was planning, worried about what she'd given away. I just want to feel like I have some control in this situation, for once. Just once.)

(She gave you some information, too, didn't she?)


-"Sounds like you had a hell of a time this morning. You want to run by me why you thought talking to Frigga one-on-one was a good idea?"

Skuld ran her hands over her face. "You're a council member; you have to talk to her sometimes."

"Yeah, but not alone. You understand that's asking for trouble, right?" Meili shook their head, folding their arms and leaning back in their chair. "Take someone with you next time."

"You worry too much," Kvasir said; despite the chiding, he looked strangely excited at being included. "My great aunt's not a Heartless, you know."

"Debatable."

Skuld and Mimir exchanged exasperated glances. "Are you sure you wanted to talk to them together?" Mimir signed.

Skuld sighed and signed back, "It's quicker." Aloud, she asked, "Do either of you know more about what she was talking about? You're both bluebloods. She didn't really expand on the 'precarious situation' much, but…"

Meili made a face. "Look, I was a bastard child. The rest of the family isn't going to tell me shit."

Kvasir hummed, cupping his chin. "I'm afraid I don't understand, either," he admitted, looking apologetic. "Our family is still pretty well-respected, as far as I'm aware."

Skuld's eyebrows furrowed; when she looked at Mimir, they had the same vaguely confused expression on their face. "That's not really…the impression I've gotten."

"Well, we don't have the same influence we used to—but we're still descendants of Master Ephemer. We're a part of this city, and it's a part of us, in a way."

Meili had an uncomfortable look on their face, head turned to the side like they were trying to hide it.

"But it is strange that Auntie Frigga would say something like that."

"Auntie?" Meili repeated incredulous, discomfort momentarily exchanged for incredulousness.

Kvasir didn't seem to notice, rubbing his chin. After a moment his eyes brightened. "I know! We could ask my uncle!"

Meili's wariness came back almost immediately. "Kvasir—"

"He knows a lot about the city—our family included. He'd know if there was a reason Master Frigga was talking like that." Kvasir's enthusiasm seemed to skyrocket at the idea, and he descended into excited muttering. "It would be a great chance for you to make connections with some of the more important family members, too—oh, and I could show you around some of the familial grounds—they've been passed down since Master Ephemer was still alive, you know—and maybe introduce you to—"

Meili interrupted, "Woah, woah, woah. Kvasir."

"Hmm?"

Meili's hands were lifted, making an easy, easy sort of motion. "Aren't you getting a little ahead of yourself? There are other people she can ask."

"Well, yes, I suppose I could also take her to one of my aunts—or maybe my cousin, she knows a lot of the city's history—"

"I meant normal people."

Kvasir's eyes furrowed. "Who better to learn about the family from than—well, the family?"

Meili sucked in a breath like they wanted to argue, but when they opened their mouth no words came out. They worked their jaw, expression pinched in frustration.

Skuld bit down on her instinctive protest and, for a moment, actually considered it. She hadn't…had the best track-record with bluebloods, but that was mostly Frigga. Meili and Kvasir were both okay; perhaps others would be, too. Make connections, she thought. It might be…a good idea to know more people. In case we need help dealing with Frigga.

"It makes the most sense," Skuld pointed out carefully. "The other bluebloods would know the most about the subject."

"But they'll probably be biased," Meili argued, seeming to finally find something they could latch onto. "You don't know if you'll get the full story with them, either."

"Then I'll ask people in addition to them." She glanced at Kvasir, who beamed. "But I think Kvasir's right. It'd still be good to ask someone who knows. And—he's right about making connections, too. It might help us, in the long-run."

Meili's expression darkened.

"Networking?" Kvasir asked.

Skuld gave him a tiny smile, "Networking." She glanced at Mimir, tilting her head.

They started, pointing towards themself; after a beat they shrugged and gave an awkward nod.

"You don't need to buy into this bullshit," Meili argued. "Social connections or whatever—they don't matter. Just focus on your job."

"They mattered with you," Kvasir pointed out, and Skuld didn't think he'd meant it to sting, but Meili winced and went silent anyways.

It made something squirm in Skuld's stomach. "Kvasir—"

"Come on, come on! My uncle's a busy man; we'll need to hurry to try and catch him before he gets too caught up in his work." Kvasir latched onto Mimir's arm—who looked more than a little alarmed—and dragged them out of the room.

Skuld sighed. She'd have to talk to him about it later, she guessed, and went to follow.

"Skuld."

Skuld paused, glancing back at Meili curiously.

There was a strangely intense expression on their face, their knuckles white against their desk. "Look, just—be careful. You don't know the bluebloods like I do. Frigga told you that you and Brain are a threat to them, right?"

"That—she implied it, yeah."

"Which means you need to keep an eye out. Look, Kvasir's probably not going to intentionally lead you into danger—but not every single member of the family is going to be as well-meaning as him, and even he has some blind spots." Meili paused, working their jaw, and after what seemed like several moments of debate they said, "When it first came out that I might share Master Ephemer's bloodline, people were livid. Countless bluebloods said I was lying, or that my mother was lying. Some people vouched for me, but only because the prospect of ignoring family seemed taboo to them. Others…didn't take so kindly." Meili gestured out the door, to where Kvasir was waiting, and Skuld was reminded viscerally that both Kvasir and her had been put in their positions as Meili's intended replacements. "And that's just because I was illegitimate and fighting for a place on the council. If they think you're a threat, I'm not sure what they'd be willing to do to you."

It was…more than a little ominous. "I'm also a Union Leader," she pointed out carefully.

"And Frigga's never had any qualms trying to manipulate you, has she?"

It made something squirm uncomfortably in her stomach.

"Skuld!" Kvasir shouted. "Are you coming?"

"If I were you," Meili said, "I wouldn't bother looking into it at all. Staying out of family politics is a hell of a lot safer." They apparently saw something in her expression, because they sighed and sank back into their chair. "But what the hell do I know? Maybe they've changed in the last couple of years since I've willingly talked to them." They worked their jaw, seeming to debate with themself a moment before saying, "But if something happens, come find me. I can at least give you advice on navigating their bullshit."

It drew a tiny smile from Skuld, and she gave them a tiny nod, then hurried to catch up to the others.


-(Darkness had taken away their home, and they'd had no way to stop it. Frigga and most of the rest of the council felt like they were talking over them constantly, manipulating them for their own purposes. Even their stories didn't feel like theirs.

Skuld wanted to take something back—take some sort of control over her fate, even if it was minor.

Even if a part of her felt like it was a mistake.)


-Skuld might have joked that she could probably hazard a guess at where to find Brain, but the reality was that she really didn't have a clue about where he could be. The best she got was directions from Kvasir to the lab, and that was empty, save a couple of scattered workers. "Sigurd went to look for him," one of them said, wringing their hands nervously as they stared at her.

It was…frustrating. She would've at least liked to fill Brain in on her meeting with Frigga, even if he ended up too busy with his own work to help her investigate. But he could be anywhere in Scala, and she didn't have any idea about where to look. (It irked her a little that Sigurd was probably the one who had the best idea; she wasn't sure if she was mostly just upset that she'd missed him, or if it bothered her that sometimes it felt like he knew her friend better than she did.)

"Cheer up, Master Skuld," Kvasir told her. "You can fill Master Brain in later."

Mimir rested a placating hand on her shoulder.

Skuld tried to reign in her frustration. Brain's charm glimmered in her hand, and she held it a little tighter, points digging into her palm. It felt a little like a reminder; they'd gone through a lot, and maybe that had changed some things, but they were still friends. (She wished it'd help her find him, but—well, this would have to be enough.) "Brain would…probably just argue with your uncle, anyways," she allowed.

"Ah, that's true. He is usually less inclined to peaceful conversation." When Skuld looked up, though, Kvasir had brightened just a little bit. "But this is exciting! Your first meeting with a blueblood outside of the council—well, excluding my cousin, but she doesn't have very many connections yet."

Skuld tried to smile, but it felt a little like a web was tangling around her, uncomfortable and tight.

"You didn't have nobility in Daybreak Town, I suppose, besides yourselves—but ah, I guess you weren't really nobility yet, either."

She didn't really think they were 'nobility' at all, but she shook her head, anyways. "I guess the Foretellers were the closest, but they probably aren't that similar to what you're used to."

Kvasir nodded sagely. "I figured as much. I should probably explain some of the protocols, then." He paused, considering. "Now, normally, you're supposed to call ahead—everyone's very busy, and it's just polite to let someone know when you're coming so they can prepare properly. But there are special allowances made for family. We can stop by at any time, technically—and my uncle's been telling me I should bring one of the Union Leaders to visit, anyways, since I'm on the council now. I don't think we should run into too much trouble."

That set off warning bells in Skuld's mind, and she wondered for a moment if maybe she should've listened to Meili. We're already going. The worst he can do is send us away.

Mimir cleared their throat; when they had their attention, they signed, "What about me?"

Kvasir looked thoughtful. "Well, you're part of the Exploration Department. It's not as high a rank as us, but high enough you shouldn't be turned away, especially if we vouch for you. Still, you probably won't want to speak unless spoken to—signing included."

Mimir didn't look surprised, but it did rub Skuld the wrong way. "Why shouldn't they get to say anything?"

"It's a rank thing," Kvasir explained. "You need to show respect to people of a higher rank than you. Family's allowed some leeway, of course—but even I'm technically supposed to show more respect to my uncle." His expression faltered briefly. "I'm not…always very good at that. But that's not something you'll have to worry about, Master Skuld; as a Union Leader, you outrank him."

That…didn't actually make her feel better, and she turned to Mimir, looking for some sort of clarification.

Mimir signed, "Some bluebloods are pretty particular about social class and how you talk to them. I heard they've gotten worse, but I don't know; I've always remembered them like this." They shrugged. "Mostly, it's better to ignore them."

Skuld signed back, "We never had to do that. Not even with the Foretellers."

Another shrug. "It's just the way things are."

Skuld wasn't entirely sure she was happy with that answer, but didn't figure she'd be able to do anything by arguing against it. "Didn't you say that you thought one of your missing friends was a blueblood?"

Mimir's expression broke. They schooled their features quickly, but it didn't quite hide the flash of grief. "He looked like he probably was. But I don't know—I don't remember him very well. What are you getting at?"

"I don't know, it just seems—" She broke off, not quite sure how she wanted to finish that. It doesn't fit in with what Kvasir's saying. But then again, maybe he was like Kvasir—he doesn't seem concerned about things, at all.

Mimir seemed to pick up on what she was trying to say, anyways, expression turning to something a little more complicated.

"I don't think I caught even half of that," Kvasir said, unerringly cheerful. "Is it something I should be worried about?"

Skuld glanced at Mimir, who still looked like they couldn't decide how they felt about the whole situation. "I don't think so," she said after a moment. "It was more of a personal discussion."

"If you—oh, here's the estate!"

The building itself was located near the island's coast. The buildings stopped abruptly some distance away from it, creating a sort of isolated space. A tall fence curled around the edges of manicured gardens. A large building sat close to the water, marble walls rising skyward. It felt…too ornate for the area. Skuld didn't think anything but the Clock Tower had been that big, back in Daybreak Town.

Kvasir unlocked the gate for them, leading them up the path and between the gardens. "Now," he continued, "we're going to have to rush through this a bit, I think, but this is an introductory meeting—so basically, we're presenting you to him. It's what's done with spouses and kids, normally, but it should still follow the same protocol. I'll introduce you, and then my uncle will introduce himself, and then you'll exchange pleasantries. Afterward, you're allowed to make requests, if you'd like—though they often have to be small. Yours is just a question, though, so I'm sure it'll be fine."

Skuld nodded, trying to absorb the information and ignore how overwhelmed she felt.

The inside of the estate wasn't any less grand than the outside; a large staircase took up the center, giant windows framing the back. A couple statues lined the walls, framed by armor and ornamental Keyblades. A long carpet stretched towards the staircase, soft underfoot.

Mimir gaped; Skuld understood the feeling.

"We perhaps…should have considered our dress," Kvasir murmured, fidgeting with his clothes. "Something more formal would—oh, but it doesn't matter, now. It'll be alright." Kvasir turned to them quickly. "Let me lead, okay? Well—I suppose I have no right to tell Master Skuld what to do, but it's important to make a good first impression, and—"

"Kvasir," Skuld said, and wasn't sure if she was exasperated or worried.

Kvasir jumped, and it took a moment for Skuld to realize that's because she had an echo—someone at the top of the steps, blinking at them. They covered their surprise quickly, hurrying down the steps. "Master Aegir didn't say you were coming."

"Ah, well—we didn't exactly call ahead." Kvasir rubbed the back of his neck, then straightened and cleared his throat. "But as a member of the family, I don't technically have to justify myself to you."

The other person—a maid, maybe?—looked less than pleased at that.

Skuld frowned slightly. "I wanted to talk to Kvasir's uncle," she explained. "Master…Aegir?"

"You don't have to explain yourself," Kvasir said, and Skuld shot him a sharp look that he seemed surprised by. "But, uh—it's an introductory meeting. My uncle's been asking for one."

The maid scrutinized them carefully, and Skuld stared back, trying not to feel like she'd made a mistake by coming here. After a beat the maid sighed. "I'll let him know," they agreed. "The three of you may wait in the study." They turned and gestured for them to follow.

The study was up the stairs, around the corner and down a long hallway. Two large double-doors stood in front of them; the maid opened them, then gestured for them to enter, leaving with little fanfare.

Kvasir's shoulders sank. "Well. That wasn't quite the greeting I was hoping for."

"You were a little rude," Skuld pointed out dryly.

"Well." He fidgeted, looking a little awkward. "It's just the way things are here, is all." Before Skuld could question him on that, he gestured towards the room. "Shall we?"

Mimir and Skuld exchanged glances. Mimir shrugged and entered, and after a beat Skuld followed—

—and felt something in her chest squeeze.

There were paintings on nearly every wall. They depicted different scenes, most of which she didn't recognize—but some she did. The Keyblade War. The fight against Darkness. Ven's sacrifice. Scenes from her own history, plastered against the walls like trophies. It took a conscious effort not to turn and run out of the room.

(This was a bad idea.)

"There are…a lot of pictures," Mimir commented.

"Well, of course. My uncle always liked them a lot—portraits of the family."

The family. That's right—she could see Ephemer in nearly every one. She stepped into the room, dragged by invisible puppet strings. She felt strangely haunted, like a ghost hovered just over her shoulder, the weight of something she didn't understand settling across her shoulders.

Quiet footsteps sounded behind her. When she was able to tear her gaze away, she saw Kvasir walking leisurely into the room, humming quietly under his breath. Mimir, on the other hand, had a glassy sort of look to their eyes; they were moving towards one painting—

Oh. The fight against Darkness.

(Something felt like it was creeping up her back, the shadows licking at her shoulders. They had no right to paint that, some part of her hissed, and she had to resist the urge to tear the painting down. None of them understand what really happened.)

"Interested in that one?" Kvasir asked, hurrying over.

No, Skuld wanted to snap, but stayed silent.

"It looks…familiar," Mimir said, eyebrows furrowed. They blinked, and that glassy look fell away. They signed, "What's it about?"

"The final fight—the one that—" Kvasir broke off, sending an awkward look towards Skuld. "Ah, well. The last battle with the darkness."

"There are…three people there." Mimir reached out a hand, fingers trailing lightly across the third figure, and something in Skuld's chest seized.

"That's right. The stories vary a little—but my uncle always liked this one the best." Kvasir lifted a hand, pointing at each figure in turn. "Look, that's Master Skuld, there—and there, Master Ephemer. And right there—that one you're touching—that's their other friend."

"Other friend?" Mimir asked, and they sounded vaguely offended.

Skuld stayed quiet. It looked a little like the world had gotten darker, shadows hemming the edges of her vision. Her ribs creaked when she breathed, and she let out a low, shaky breath.

"That's right," Kvasir said, voice too-loud. "The stories say that Master Ephemer and Master Skuld had a close friend that they traveled with. Their name was lost, but—"

"I don't want to talk about them."

Kvasir's words stuttered into silence.

Skuld's eyes stung. She blinked rapidly, staring at the portrait with a bitter sort of taste in her mouth. She clenched her fists so hard that her hands hurt.

"Skuld—" Mimir ventured hesitantly.

Their hand landed on her shoulder, and she twisted away from it, snapping, "Don't."

Mimir's eyes stretched wide, and she immediately felt guilty, because they were just trying to help, but—

(But the shadows felt like they were too close. There were echoes of laughter in the distance, familiar words on her tongue, and she was suddenly, acutely aware of the distance between her and these two people.)

Looking at Mimir suddenly felt like it would make her stomach turn. Kvasir, too, the familiar features sticking on the image of a friend that wasn't there anymore. She turned away, eyes focused on the floor so she didn't have to look at the portrait. Touching her friend's memory felt like sticking her hand into thorns, painful and jagged. "They were—"

(Dead. Rescued from the battlefield and then possessed and then gone, just like the rest of the Dandelions. It felt like—like such a useless sacrifice. What was the point of going back for them, if they were just going to—)

(The reason she still had nightmares. She thought she could see them, sometimes, grin terrifyingly bright in the darkness, Keyblade hovering over her and ready to strike. The scream choked her, and she was ashamed and angry because she shouldn't be scared of her own friend—)

(Important. They were kind and made jokes with her and had helped her search for Ephemer. They deserved so much more than to be forgotten, but the truth would be no better.)

"—quiet." She looked at the portrait again, finally, and something deeply, inexplicably angry burned so hot in her throat that she probably couldn't have swallowed the words if she tried: "Ephemer killed them."

She could feel the stunned space where her words fell. She couldn't quite decide how she felt about the silence—couldn't quite look at the faces of the others and see their shock or their judgment or their disbelief. "Kvasir, if your uncle can't meet us, then we need to find someone else," she said, because she couldn't stay here right now, surrounding by trophies bought by someone who didn't understand their significance.

"I can meet you," a voice interrupted, "though I would've preferred it if you had sent ahead." The study's door creaked open a little further; a middle-aged man stepped into the room, gray hair slicked back, old armor strapped to his shoulder. Skuld's eyes flicked to it, despite herself. "But I suppose Union Leaders aren't used to the ways Scala ad Caelum works."

Skuld stiffened.

"Uncle!" Kvasir whipped around, eyes bright. "It's good to see you! I know you've been asking after Master Skuld, so—"

"Kvasir."

Kvasir fell silent.

The man shifted his attention from his nephew to Mimir. His eyes narrowed, and he made a small noise of disapproval. "I suppose I can't really refuse a request from a Union Leader, can I?" He straightened. "My name is Aegir—a Keyblade Master in my own right."

Skuld expected Kvasir to say something more—but he'd fallen, surprisingly, silent.

Aegir's frown deepened. "My nephew didn't explain the proper protocols for this sort of thing, I presume. Since he said this was his idea."

Kvasir fidgeted under the attention. "I explained on the way over here."

Aegir studied him, then said, carefully, "We'll speak later." He glanced towards the study's door. "Take your…companion and wait outside."

Kvasir looked like he wanted to argue, but bit down on his protests and nodded. "Come on, Mimir."

Mimir resisted for a moment, glancing uncertainly back towards Skuld.

She shook her head.

Mimir still didn't look particularly happy about the situation, but they let themself be dragged out of the room. The door shut with a heavy thud.

And then it was just the two of them.

"I suppose it's good to finally meet you, Master Skuld." Aegir inclined his head. "I had hoped you would've come to see me earlier. It would've been proper, after all. So kind of my nephew to encourage you to come along."

Already a misstep, then. Great. "I've been busy; there's a lot to learn."

Aegir hummed, and it sounded slightly disapproving. "You would do well to visit the rest of the family afterward. It wouldn't do to show favoritism—though I won't say I'm displeased I was first on your list."

That's mostly because of Kvasir, Skuld thought, but didn't say. "I'd like to—get to know more of Ephemer's family," she said, and tried to ignore the bitter taste in her mouth. "I'll make sure to talk to them later."

Aegir inclined his head, and Skuld realized she didn't entirely realize where she was supposed to go from here. "The paintings are nice," she tried.

"Family heirlooms, collected over the years."

A heavy, awkward silence

…Fuck it. She didn't really want to make small talk about the paintings. "I wanted to—check in. Master Frigga said that your family was in a precarious situation."

(Was that the right way to say things? Maybe she should've hedged around it—or maybe she should've been more direct.)

(She'd never had to worry about this before.)

Aegir tilted his head, expression giving away nothing. "She did, did she."

It didn't sound like a question, but Skuld nodded, anyways. "I wanted to find out if we could address the problem—but I need to know what the problem is first."

Aegir studied her, and Skuld forced herself to stay still. "You're offering your support."

"I'm not offering anything until I know what's going on."

The response felt too blunt, too sharp—but she hadn't stopped to think about it, the words striking too sharply. She tried not to curse herself for it; she couldn't take the words back now.

One eyebrow rose; she got the impression that wasn't a good thing.

Skuld sucked in a breath, and she forced the words out from between her teeth: "I…want to help, if I can. You're…Ephemer's family."

(It made her feel weirdly uneasy to say, but—but damn it, she needed something.)

"How did you get into this position?" Skuld asked finally. "What happened? Why does Kvasir talk about you like you're powerful, while the rest of the public treats you like you're—" washed out "—not?"

Aegir stared at her, and it felt disconcertingly like he was picking her words apart.

"You're Ephemer's family," she repeated, and tried to keep a note of accusation out of her voice. "People treat the Union Leaders like legends."

Finally, a reaction—a faint twitch of the eyebrow, Aegir's lips turning down just slightly. "They certainly do, don't they. Even though our family has spent ages protecting this world."

Skuld tried not to flinch.

"You haven't heard about what happened to the outer towns, have you?"

It felt a little like a non-sequitur, but Skuld shook her head. She thought maybe Brain had mentioned them at one point, but he hadn't known any more than she had.

"Hmm. Then let me enlighten you. Once, our world was thriving. We went from one, small town, to another, to another. Thousands of Keyblade wielders—greater even than your Daybreak Town, in its prime. But that was not enough for the common person. They could not be content with the wealth of hundreds of worlds; they wanted more. More than our family could ever provide. Their greed and constant discontent led to each island falling, one by one. But they could not shoulder their own blame; they decided we were at fault." Aegir gave her a cruel, twisted sort of smile. "But I'm sure Frigga told you some of that, already."

"She did," Skuld said carefully, "but it didn't feel like the whole story." And it still didn't, the story ringing as too bitter, the bits of what she knew not quite lining up with what she was being told.

"Well, then let me give you a warning, Master Skuld: you are only a legend for as long as you stay in the public's good graces. Give them reason to distrust you, and they'll turn your backs on you, as well."

"I'd be happier if they didn't treat me like a legend," she said before she could think about it.

Aegir's eyes lightened with interest, and Skuld cursed herself silently; she didn't think that was a good thing.

Silence, then. Skuld turned over the information she'd been given, poking at it mentally. She didn't think she'd get any more from Aegir, really, but maybe—

"You said you were interested in helping, if you could."

Skuld tried not to start.

Aegir studied her curiously.

Connections. Connections, in case Frigga tries something again.

(Do you really want this connection?)

"The public might not support you forever," Aegir said, "but they certainly support you now. Right now, some of our 'precarious situation,' as you put it, is due to…leadership concerns. If we presented a united front, that concern would disappear."

It felt disconcertingly like she was speaking to Frigga again, offering up something she wasn't sure she was ready to give. "What exactly does that mean?"

"That you would lend your support to our requests. Put in a good word for us where you can. Be seen in public with important members. And in turn, we can perhaps take some of the burden off your shoulders."

Simple enough, on the surface, but it made her squirm. It's like with Frigga. If we have to give something, then… "And what would you do to prove that the citizens can trust you?"

Aegir went quiet.

Skuld got the feeling she'd misstepped, but she couldn't back out now. "Whether their mistrust is misplaced or not, it's still there. You'd need to do something to prove that you're acting in their best interests."

And then she held her breath, waiting. If he was willing to work with her—if he was willing to do something, then maybe she could make this work. He was Kvasir's uncle, and Kvasir was nice enough, if oblivious—

"I will not grovel to an ungrateful public for something my family is not responsible for."

—but she should've known better than to judge someone based on who they were related to.

"Then I can't agree," Skuld said, and tried to ignore the bitter taste in her mouth. "If it means anything, I don't want to undermine you—but I'm not going to throw my weight behind people who won't do their part."

Aegir stared back at her with narrowed eyes. "My family," he said, "has done everything possible for this world. We have done more than our part, and I won't hear someone speak ill of us—least of all someone who should support us."

"You aren't Ephemer," Skuld snapped, and then reigned herself in. I should—go. Before this gets worse. "Thank you for your time," she said stiffly, and then left before she could say something else wrong.


-(There was a part of her—quiet, but growing louder—that hissed, Why did you leave this mess for us, Ephemer?

It wasn't a fair thought—Ephemer didn't have control over his descendants, after all. But it was there, all the same.)


-"I think that went well."

Mimir gave Kvasir a deadpan look.

Skuld clenched her fists and tried very, very hard not to snap at him. "I made him angry."

"Well. That's…probably true. But—"

"I did everything wrong, Kvasir. I was supposed to be making connections, and I just—" She released a frustrated breath. "I didn't even really learn what Frigga was talking about."

"It…could have gone better," Kvasir admitted finally. "But this is the first time you've done something like this. He'll understand, I'm sure. And if we talk to others—"

"No," Skuld interrupted, and tried not to feel guilty about it. "No more bluebloods. Not today."

Kvasir's expression fell, but he seemed to make a conscious effort to fix it. "Well, that's alright. I'm sure they won't mind if you're a bit late meeting them."

Mimir signed, "You sure think a lot of your family."

Skuld bit back a sigh; it wasn't that she didn't have thoughts on it, just that Kvasir was—well, Kvasir.

Kvasir's eyebrows furrowed as he stared at Mimir's hands, then brightened a little when he seemed to realize what they were saying. "Of course! We're the descendants of Master Ephemer himself. It's our job to take care of the city and the people in it—to preserve his legacy." His eyes turned to Skuld. "I'm sure Master Skuld feels the same."

Unease squirmed in Skuld's stomach, and she had to look away.

(She wasn't sure she wanted to be here, half the time. It felt like she was walking through a parody of a place she'd once known, so transformed by time that she couldn't recognize it anymore. It was home, but it wasn't, and sometimes it felt like she was clawing desperately for bits of things she found familiar.

But if she were being truthful…the idea of leaving the world to find her friends felt hollow, too. It wasn't that she didn't want to find them; it was that she wanted things to go back to the way they were before, and there was a part of her that could acknowledge that wouldn't ever be able to happen, entirely. And this was her home, however foreign it felt half the time.

She hated the idea of leaving; sometimes, she hated the idea of staying even more. Mostly, she hated that being here felt so complicated.)

"Family is everything," Kvasir continued. "If I didn't have them—well, who would I have?"

(It brought to mind images of quiet mornings in the Clock Tower, and warm arms around her shoulders, and laughter echoing in the streets.)

"I still wish Aegir would've told me something," Skuld said, trying to shake off her unease. (One thing. Just one thing.)

"Perhaps Master Frigga was simply overly stressed," Kvasir suggested. "It can make you a bit paranoid sometimes."

Maybe—but Skuld doubted it.

Mimir tapped her shoulder. When she glanced towards them, they signed, hesitantly, "If you really want to keep looking…then maybe we could talk to my mentor."


-(Please. Please, for once, I want to just—feel like I'm in charge of my own destiny.)


-Skuld had only been inside the school briefly, when she'd come to find Mimir. She hadn't really taken the time to examine her surroundings much, more focused on hunting down the right corridor. She shouldn't be so focused on it now, really, but she found herself looking, anyways.

Long hallways stretched in front of them, painted in warm gold and off-white. Large windows let light stream across the floor and highlighted patches on the walls. A couple of students were out walking around, but most were in classrooms; a quick look through one door's window revealed a small class of about seven students and a teacher near the front, the words too muffled for her to make out. They have it a lot easier than we did, she thought, and tried very, very hard to ignore the sense of longing.

"Is your mentor…Master Beyla?"

Mimir shook their head, but at least they looked mostly amused by the questions. That was good, Skuld supposed, because Kvasir hadn't stopped asking them the entire way here.

"Hmm. Is it…Master Tyr?"

Another shake of the head.

"Admittedly, I'm running out of guesses."

Mimir grinned slightly and signed, "You aren't going to guess it."

Kvasir stared at the signs, muttering under his breath. "You—oh! Got it." He grinned. "That sounds like a challenge."

Skuld snorted with laughter, despite herself. "You could just tell him."

Mimir glanced back at her. "That'd ruin the surprise."

Skuld tilted her head, eyebrows furrowed.

Mimir didn't stop at any of the lower classrooms; they traveled up one set of stairs, then another, heading towards the top.

Kvasir was looking steadily more confused. "Are they a teacher for the upperclassmen? It'd make sense, I suppose, if—wait. Wait." Kvasir's eyes popped wide, his head swiveling back and forth. (Skuld wasn't quite sure what he was looking for; aside from ascending higher, the area didn't look much different from any other one they'd been in.) "Mimir. Is your mentor one of the Keepers?"

Mimir smiled sheepishly.

Kvasir ran a hand through his hair, looking vaguely awed. "Lights, that's—I take back what I said before. You might outrank my uncle, too."

Mimir made a face and signed, "I'm not actually training to be a Keeper. She's just the one who took me on."

"Keeper?" Skuld repeated curiously.

"Keyblade wielders in charge of a world," Kvasir answered. "Not every place has them—Scala does, and I think we have a few outposts that do, too. One's called the Mysterious Tower, I think?" He shook his head. "Anyway, the point is that they're in charge of keeping the world safe."

"It's not like the council," Mimir clarified, giving Kvasir an exasperated look. "They don't actually run anything. Their job is to keep the world stable. They focus on outside threats—like Heartless. Things that could destroy the world." Mimir hesitated. "It…tends to be a very isolated position. You aren't really allowed to leave the world—and you can't always interact much with others, either. They interact with students, and they'll work with the council and let them know if something seems concerning. The council's who usually does something about the problem, unless it's really bad. That's when the Keepers step in." After a pause, Mimir continued, "It's…why I thought my mentor might know something. They watch for anything unusual, even if they can't interfere with everyday problems themselves. If something's wrong, she'll probably know what."

Skuld nodded, trying to absorb the information. "That…makes sense. But why'd you want to train with a Keeper if you didn't want to be one?"

Mimir's expression flickered, and they glanced away, looking awkward. "They see a lot of things," they signed, and it hit her, then: Oh. She might know something about their friends.

"I can't believe you didn't tell us." Kvasir grabbed Mimir's shoulders and shook them lightly. "Mimir, that's incredible."

Mimir signed, "It's really not that big a deal."

"I suppose that explains some things. Of course you'd be secretive about stuff if you're training with a Keeper."

Mimir made a face. "I'm not trying to be secretive."

Kvasir, apparently, wasn't all that concerned about their protest, peppering Mimir with questions they couldn't quite keep up with. It made for an awkward, if amusing, half-conversation, and Skuld carefully smothered her smile.

Kvasir's questions finally died when they reached a hallway at the top. Mimir led them purposefully to the room at the back, past large, open windows that looked out over Scala ad Caelum. They knocked on the door, head cocked as if they were waiting for an answer. When none came they frowned and knocked again.

"Maybe she's busy," Skuld suggested quietly, and tried to ignore the sting of frustration.

Mimir's frown deepened, and they pushed the door open.

Kvasir started. "Oh! I didn't realize—that makes it easier, I guess."

The room was…empty. Well—empty of people, anyways. It was filled with notebooks and knickknacks and sketches, hanging on the walls and dropping to the floor. Almost every section of the room was cluttered with something, save for one part near the wall. An unusual Keyblade hung in the cleared space, some sort of animal head and bat wings forming the hilt, blade all jagged edges. A bright blue eye stood out of the monochrome. Skuld stared back at it and tried to ignore the impression that it could actually see her.

(It felt, weirdly, like she was staring at one of the Foretellers' Keyblades.)

Kvasir stepped into the room and made a quiet humming sound. "Well. That's…disappointing, I suppose."

Mimir looked strangely perturbed.

Skuld asked, "What's wrong?"

"She's usually here. Something must be happening, for her to be gone."

"Maybe she's speaking to a class," Kvasir suggested after a moment. He squinted at the Keyblade. "Is that what she uses to watch the city?"

Mimir gave him a deadpan look. "That's an urban legend," they signed. "The eye's just a symbol."

"Does she use it?" Skuld asked quietly. "Why is it just…up there?"

"It's passed down to the head Keeper." Mimir fidgeted. "I don't know who had it originally. It's supposed to be more ceremonial, I think."

A beat of silence. "Well," Kvasir said, "I guess that ends our investigations, then."

Skuld frowned. "Kvasir—"

"It's probably nothing to worry about. We can go back, and—"

"Intruders!"

They whipped around at the sound of the voice—and were met with a kid maybe a year or two younger than Skuld, brown hair stuffed under a hat, eyepatch over one eye, and a training Keyblade lifted to point at them. He didn't look nearly as confident as he'd tried to sound.

"…Keeper's apprentice?" Kvasir asked with an awkward half-grin.

Mimir sighed, then said quietly, "Odin."

"What are all of you doing in Master Freya's office?" Odin's Keyblade turned towards Mimir. "You should know better than to bring strangers up here."

"We just wanted to talk to her about something," Skuld said. "That's all."

"She's not here."

"Ah, yes, well, we can see that," Kvasir pointed out. "And do you know where she is…?"

Odin's expression flickered and fell a little.

Mimir signed, "You just saw the open door and wanted to know what was going on, didn't you?"

Odin's face turned red. "No! I was just—heading to Master Freyr's office to drop off some papers."

"Another Keeper," Mimir explained at Skuld's confused look. "Freya's twin."

"Is he still here?" Skuld asked, latching onto the information.

"W-well—no. He and Master Freya went out to discuss something about—" Odin's mouth clamped shut. "About something important!"

"But you're a Keeper's apprentice."

Odin faltered, Keyblade falling a little, expression turning confused. "Yes…?"

"So—so maybe you can help us." Skuld lifted her hands peaceably. "We're really not trying to cause problems. We—I just heard something about the bluebloods."

"You hear a lot about the bluebloods," Odin muttered.

Skuld elected to ignore that. "Someone told me earlier that the bluebloods were in a precarious situation, and that there was…something about them struggling to protect the city. Do you know what that means?"

To her relief, Odin seemed to relax, actually considering the question. "Well, I—I know a little bit. But…" He bit his lip, then looked skeptically at Skuld. "You promise that you're not here to cause trouble?"

"I promise," she agreed.

Odin nodded to himself. "Okay. Then—I think I know someone who can tell you better."


-(She was so tired.)


-There was something strangely disconcerting, about seeing such an old wielder with such heavy scarring. They wrapped around his arms and peaked out from the collar of his shirt, trailing down to gnarled hands that didn't look like they could hold much of anything anymore. Burn scars covered the left side of his face, eye milky white. The image twisted strangely in Skuld's chest, leaving her with feelings she wasn't quite sure what she was supposed to do with.

The four of them—Odin, Mimir, Kvasir, and herself—stood cramped in a small apartment. The old wielder sat in a chair towards the back, an unopened book in his lap.

Odin cleared his throat. "Grandfather? There's someone who wants to talk to you."

The old man's head turned just slightly—barely enough for Skuld to guess it was intentional.

"Are we…sure he's the best source?" Kvasir whispered.

Mimir hit the back of his head.

"Ow!"

Skuld cleared her throat. "Hello, Mister…?"

The man didn't respond.

Skuld half-expected Odin to fill in the gap for her, but he'd pulled away, seeming to shrink into the shadows. After a span of awkward silence, Skuld said, "My name's Skuld, and—"

"The Union Leader."

Skuld broke off.

A rusty laugh rumbled from the man's throat. "Another one of those damn bluebloods. Come looking for my service again, eh? Left me for dead last time."

Skuld tried not to bristle. "I'm not a blueblood."

"You're a Union Leader."

"That's not the same thing."

"Might as well be. People given positions because of their families. No skill, no care for the rest of us—just about the politics." The man's eyebrows scrunched; his hands had started shaking in a way that reminded her of Brain. "Used to be a guard. I know them."

Skuld exchanged glances with Kvasir and Mimir.

Kvasir shrugged; Mimir gave her a helpless look, but mimed for her to keep going.

"That's actually what I want to ask about. Kind of."

"What's there to ask about? Stuck-up nobles that won't come out of their homes to help. Always so concerned about position and politics—never about the rest of us." Something distant entered the man's expression. "Always fighting, that lot. Petty disputes. Stupid fights over who had what position and who should marry who. They'll get people killed, one day." He paused, and his expression deepened into something angry and grieved. "They did that already."

"My family's not like that," Kvasir said, loud enough to draw attention.

"Kvasir—" Skuld started, suddenly aware of the fact that maybe she should've suggested he wait outside.

Mimir lunged for Kvasir as he moved, but their hand grasped empty air. "My family's not like that," Kvasir repeated, stepping in front of the old man. "Family is everything to us. We don't fight each other."

The old man squinted at him. "Van?"

"That was—that was my grandfather. If you knew him, then you must've been a guard for the main family. So why are you—"

The man laughed, rough and tired. "Out causing trouble again, are you? Did your parents get you that council position, like they promised?"

Kvasir fell silent, something conflicted crossing his expression. "My uncle—helped, but—"

"Kvasir," Skuld repeated more firmly, grabbing his arm. "He's not talking about you." And I don't think he's lying.

"Uncle…? Heard you didn't get along with your uncle. Thought he was too close to the branch families." The old man blinked slowly. "Stupid, stupid infighting. Have to hear about it at every pointless dinner. Why don't you do something useful for once and help the people down at the docks?"

Kvasir bristled. "Because that's—"

"What do you mean?" Skuld asked, giving Kvasir a pointed look.

"There are people down at the docks. Refugees, from one of the outer towns. Something happened there. I should be helping them, but instead I have to stay here and guard you." The old man squinted. "Guess you'd be dead if I wasn't. They aren't very happy with you."

Kvasir had gone strangely still.

"Why?" Skuld asked carefully.

"Bluebloods were supposed to protect us—but all they care about is their position. They left the world to rot. There are a lot of Keyblade wielders who aren't happy about it, either. But some of us are stuck. Too many bluebloods in the higher ranks." The man pursed his lips. "I should be helping. Can't lose my job—but it isn't fair."

"Kvasir," Skuld whispered, "do you know what happened to the outer towns?"

Kvasir looked pensive. "Not really," he admitted. "But—but my family has historical records. We should be able to look it up—"

Mimir made a pained noise. When Skuld whipped towards them, they had a hand on their head, expression twisted. "What's wrong?"

"They…blamed the citizens for the fall. The bluebloods did." Mimir blinked, eyes still distant and confused. "How do I…?"

(Behind Mimir, Skuld thought she could see the shadows shifting.)

"It was their fault. Didn't do anything right—didn't even lend their land so people could stay there. There are still people down at the docks. I think they're trying to sell stuff down there to get out." The old man's shoulders hunched. "There's a stalemate. The people leave the bluebloods be, the bluebloods forgive them for their transgressions. Like it was anyone's fault but theirs."

"What happened?" Skuld asked, trying to ignore the sudden sense of urgency.

"They called something. I don't know what—they called something. People were starting to fight back, and they didn't like it."

"My family's not like that," Kvasir murmured, but the words sounded a little shaken, this time.

"Kvasir," Skuld whispered, "do you know if—when did your family become so focused on sticking together?"

"It's been that way for forever." Kvasir's voice had started to level out, turning from something vaguely shocked to something angry. "This is—this is ridiculous. My family has been protecting Scala ad Caelum for generations. We're related to your friend." Kvasir whipped towards Skuld, eyes pleading, but it wasn't enough to stomp down on the sudden surge of anger at the reminder. "Do you really think we'd want to hurt the city he built?"

"You aren't Ephemer," Skuld said, voice too sharp.

Kvasir winced. "That's not—I didn't mean it like that."

"What did you think you were appealing to, Kvasir?"

Kvasir's fingers flexed, like they were looking for something to do. In the end, he threw them in the air, expression twisting in pained exasperation. "This is—ridiculous! I'm just going to go ask. They wouldn't lie to me."

Meili was right, Skuld thought. You really don't know anything about the situation.

Mimir hissed quietly.

Both Skuld and Kvasir whipped towards them.

"Something's…happening."

Skuld's eyebrows furrowed.

(Was she imagining it, or had the shadows gotten longer?)

Mimir blinked, and then the pained expression flickered away. They turned towards her, and they looked…lost.

Skuld noticed it a half a second before it happened—a faint prickling at the back of her neck, a quiet stirring of the air. She whipped around on instinct more than anything, Starlight already humming bright in her hands. Something clanged off the metal, disappearing into the shadows.

The old man's chair hit the floor with a crash. He'd risen, towering over the rest of them, gnarled hands calling for a Keyblade that no longer quite fit in his grasp. But he was shaking, eyes wide, and—oh, Skuld understood that. "Kvasir," she said, because she didn't know if Mimir would be much help right now and Odin was still in the back of the room, looking lost, "help him."

Kvasir stared at her, wide-eyed, and she had to bite back her frustration because—

The air grew heavier—a spell of some sort. A Keyblade wielder, then, or at least someone who could use magic. But what are they doing? Did they come here for Odin's grandpa? And then, Meili's words ringing in her head, she wondered, Did they come here for me?

Starlight flashed, a hasty barrier going up around their small group. "Stay near me!" she shouted, old training kicking in, eyes scanning the room.

Something crashed into the barrier, weight—a gravity spell, probably. Skuld hissed quietly, lifting her Keyblade and forcing her spell to hold steady. She wasn't nearly as good at barriers as some of her other friends were, but it would have to hold for now.

I can't see anyone, she realized. That's—Brain uses a spell like that to turn himself invisible. She had no idea how long it'd last, or if there were tells. Brain would probably know, but he wasn't here at the moment. We just have to work with what we have.

Someone stepped up beside her, Keyblade lifted. Mimir. They had a steely, determined expression on their face, eyes focused on the room around them. They gave her a tight nod, glancing towards her only briefly.

It was more reassuring than she'd like to admit, having someone to fight beside her. She nodded back, then lifted her Keyblade, waiting. Okay. I can't see them, so… "When the barrier goes down," she murmured, "stick close."

Mimir gave her another nod.

Skuld sucked in a breath, then with a swish of her Keyblade sent the barrier exploding outwards. Another spell followed its trail, ice creating a spiky ring around them, spearing into the walls and clattering against the furniture.

Nothing moved. The ice creaked a little, frozen snapping sounds the only noise in the room. Skuld tensed, Mimir at her back.

Kvasir made a startled noise. "Up!"

Skuld moved on instinct. A weapon crashed into the ground where she'd been standing a second ago, splinters scattering across her face, and she winced away from them. In the split second before her eyes snapped closed, she had time to see Kvasir aiming some sort of spell towards the ceiling—a half-second too late—and Mimir stumbling out of the way, kicking towards a half-visible figure, not quite fast enough.

Another barrier went up—shaky, but strong enough to deflect the next attack. She fumbled backwards, blind, until her back hit her own ice. Her eyes still burned, but she cracked them open a little, ducking and sweeping her Keyblade towards where she hoped their attacker's legs would be, ducking into a roll to hopefully have time to avoid the next attack. It brought her a little too close to the others—a little too close to danger. Three Keyblade wielders in training, and one who wasn't quite up to fighting anymore.

I need to get out of here. The thought struck her with sudden clarity. They're focusing on me; I need to draw them away.

I'm probably going to be fighting them alone.

It wasn't the same as it was in Daybreak Town. Kvasir and Mimir were trained, but they'd never had to face real threats. They wouldn't know how to react; they would panic, maybe, when faced with someone who was injured or struggling. It's a good thing they haven't had to deal with this before, she told herself, but it didn't feel like a good thing when she was used to people who knew.

But there was no time to wish for something different; she moved, Keyblade swinging in a light Aero spell to clear her path and send her hurtling over her own self-made barrier and towards the window with enough force to shatter it. And then she was falling, down, down, down, the ground hurtling towards her too quickly. Another Aero spell to soften her fall, and then she was running, feet pounding against the cobblestones, ignoring the shouts behind her and hoping desperately that their attacker followed her instead of staying with the others.

(She had a moment to panic and wonder if she'd made a mistake; to question whether she should've stayed and made sure that the others were safe. She didn't let herself dwell on it for long; second-guessing herself wouldn't help now that she'd already made her choice.)

Scala wasn't dark yet, but it was starting to head in that direction, the fading sunlight casting long shadows across the streets. They prickled against Skuld's skin, her own breathing too loud in her ears.

She slowed briefly; the apartment was still in sight, the silhouettes of her friends looking out, and her tension eased when she could at least confirm that they were okay.

But she didn't actually know where their attacker had gone—if they'd stayed in the apartment, if they'd followed her, of if they'd just…left.

The shadows suddenly felt very, very dangerous. Starlight shook a little in her grip, and she forced herself to steady. She sucked in a breath, and then another, and then forced herself to turn around, walking purposefully through the streets.

(There was something in the back of her mind—an image, not quite present, of the lifeboat chamber, shadows waiting at the edges, someone who had once been a friend waiting to strike.)

A flash. Skuld threw up a barrier, then dropped it after a heartbeat, a burst of fire exploding from the tip of her Keyblade. It crashed against the side of a building, just barely illuminating the silhouette of someone before they disappeared.

Her back prickled like someone was pressed against it. All she could hear was the sound of her own breathing and the occasional, quiet tap of footsteps, the refrain an ache in her ears.

Faint prickling along her skin. The scent of ozone. Skuld kicked forward, shaky with adrenaline, and dodged away from a burst of lightning. She had no idea where that attack had come from, and didn't dare make a move, in case whoever was tailing her tried to attack first; she lifted Starlight to block, but the attack never came, and she was left tense and wary.

The shadows were—too close. It was getting too dark. She couldn't see.

(She couldn't see them, anyways, but that didn't matter much, when she still felt haunted by a different fight.)

A spell flickered at Starlight's tip; light flashed, sweeping out in an arc, and for the moment, the shadows washed away.

Something slammed into her shoulder. Skuld's breath hissed out of her teeth, and she spun around, trying to catch her attacker on Starlight's teeth. She caught a quiet grunt of pain, and with it came a strange mix of grim satisfaction and nauseous guilt that she couldn't quite shake.

The world was suddenly too quiet again, and she found herself straining to catch the sound of footsteps. It was harder than she expected; her breathing was coming too hard for the amount of fighting she'd done, and it made her frustration spike. She shook her head, twisting carefully.

(The shadows felt like they were crawling up her back. Oh, Little Dandelion. You were helpless last time, too, weren't you?)

"Your left!"

Skuld snapped around, a name on her lips that a part of her knew didn't match the voice of the caller.

The figure came to an abrupt halt—and for a moment, it looked so much like them that she froze, uncertain whether she wanted to cross the distance and ask how they were alive or lift her Keyblade to protect herself.

"I-I've got it!"

Kvasir. He crashed into the ground nearby, Keyblade flashing. Something flicked past Skuld's cheek, just grazing the edge.

It felt like she'd been thrown, very suddenly, from one world into another; the streets felt grounded, but in a strange way that felt too real, her head spinning and off-kilter.

Mimir stood in front of her, a strangely conflicted expression on their face.

…Right. She'd called them by the wrong name. They'd seen this happen, before.

(She didn't know if she was relieved or disappointed, that they were there and her friend—)

"You—you can sense hearts."

A conversation, half-remembered, floated to the forefront; it felt like the only thing she could really grasp at the moment.

Mimir started, but nodded, expression shifting into something a little more focused.

"That's how—help me find them."

"Us!" Kvasir corrected, and while he sounded half-frantic, he seemed no less determined.

Mimir looked like they were about to answer, but then they lifted their Keyblade.

Skuld jumped backward, shoving Kvasir behind her almost without thinking, her own Keyblade raising to block a strike—but Mimir wasn't aiming at her. They were aiming at something behind her, a spell flying towards an empty space in the air. She thought she heard a quiet gasp of surprise, and nothing else.

Mimir's expression shifted into something distinctly more satisfied.

Skuld couldn't quite convince herself to lower her arm, but she managed a tremulous smile back. And then they were moving, her and Kvasir and Mimir, and it wasn't quite the same as it had been in Daybreak Town but it was close enough that she found herself falling into old patterns. Sometimes it cost her a grazed leg or a cut arm—Kvasir and Mimir weren't her old friends, after all—but sometimes it barely felt different at all.

"Above!"

A frantic parry.

"Left!"

A burst of magic.

"Left again!"

Dodge, then strike, her Keyblade cutting against something. The air flickered, and Skuld realized with a jolt, The spell can't last forever. If it falls—we just have to distract them. Keep them from casting it again. She moved into a combo, Keyblade swinging wildly as she tried to force them back, back, back. Her first strike didn't hit, but her second did, solid enough that she thought she heard something crack.

(The shadows crawled across the ground, cold against her feet.)

"Above!"

She moved mostly on instinct; she whipped around, Starlight catching the edge of a weapon with a clang! She groped blinding, fingers wrapping into cloth. Another hand brushed against hers—but she didn't give her opponent time to latch on. With a shout she tossed them, Mimir and Kvasir scattering aside. Their opponent flickered into visibility briefly with the first hit; at the second, the spell seemed to fail them entirely, peeling away to reveal a hooded figure that reminded her, in some ways, of Sigurd, and it made her back go stiff and straight.

The figure didn't stay on the ground for long; they swept to their feet at the final impact, Keyblade dragged along, lifting as if they'd cast a spell.

Skuld lifted her weapon to block—but Mimir, apparently, reacted faster. Their hand slammed into their opponent's back, and the assailant let out a startled gasp, trying to spin around.

Starlight whipped around; a chain flew from the tip, wrapping around the assailant's arm and holding it tight.

"Bind!" Kvasir's voice rang through the empty streets, and their assailant went stiff and still; the spell might not hold them for long, but it could hold them for long enough.

Mimir's face contorted with effort, eyes pinching in concentration. A blue glow leaked around their assailant's sides, pulsing like a heartbeat and slowly, slowly seeping through to their chest. Their head jerked a little; Mimir had a stronger reaction, breath hissing from between their teeth, head ducking so low she couldn't see them anymore.

Kvasir moved closer to Skuld, Keyblade still lifted warily, eyes still wide.

The Bind spell faded; the assailant gasped, staggering a little, Skuld's chain going slack. Their breath hissed quietly, and it took a moment for Skuld to recognize it as a word: "Stop."

Skuld took a couple of steps backward, tightening her grip on her Keyblade.

One of Mimir's hands reached around the assailant, grasping at them like they were trying to hold them still—but their opponent was stronger than them, hands clawing at the one on their chest, dragging themselves away with a franticness Skuld didn't entirely understand. "Stop, stop, stop stop stop get out of my head—!"

That was too close. Skuld reacted before she could think better of it, chain disappearing and Keyblade flashing in a sharp, solid strike. It cut across the stranger's shoulder and chest; they didn't quite scream, the sound choked, but it seemed to break them out of whatever trance they'd been in; they reeled backwards, the motion finally, finally enough to force Mimir away, and then in a heartbeat had flickered out of existence, Keyblade leaving behind an arc of light.

Skuld didn't move. She kept Starlight lifted, breathing heavily, every sense alert. Kvasir stood shaky beside her, head swiveling like he hoped he could catch sight of the assailant if they reappeared.

Mimir stood stiff across from them, expression pinched and dim.

"Mimir?" she asked, tense.

Mimir staggered a little, then groaned; they fell to one knee, hand against their head.

"Mimir!" All pretense of wariness fled; in a heartbeat she'd crossed the distance between them, lifting a hand to check them.

Mimir shook their head, but the movement was sluggish. "Just…drained. Not injured."

Skuld frowned skeptically, then cast a Cure spell, anyways.

They gave her a weak smile, but there was something distant in their eyes, like they were somewhere far away.

Kvasir laughed, but the noise sounded half-frantic. "That was quite the trick. What did you do?"

Mimir blinked, giving Kvasir a hazy look. "Heart magic."

Realization hit. "You were trying to see their memories. Who sent them."

Mimir gave her another hazy blink. "Yeah. You're—still quick."

Skuld's eyebrows furrowed.

They turned back to Kvasir. "It was—hazy, Ephemer."

Skuld stiffened.

Kvasir's smile turned awkward. "Mimir? I think, perhaps, that magic was too hard on you."

Mimir's eyebrows furrowed. "Ephemer? Ephemer…" Some of the haze cleared out of their expression, and they snapped towards Skuld. "Paintings."

The study.

Mimir pushed themself to their feet, wobbling a little; Kvasir and Skuld moved to steady them. "Paintings," they repeated. "There were—paintings. Of Ephemer." They turned towards Skuld, eyes wide.

(If they think you're a threat, I'm not sure what they'd be willing to do to you.)

Kvasir made a contemplative noise. "That's not very helpful, I'll admit," he said, rubbing his chin. "That could be just about anywhere."

Skuld didn't say anything; the words got caught in her throat. All she could do was stare.

Kvasir's expression fell slowly as he looked at hers. Then, slowly, it hardened, set stubbornly. "No," he said. "No. My uncle would never attack a Union Leader."

"Frigga said your family was in a precarious situation," Skuld said, and the words came out numb and detached. "I didn't agree to his proposal."

"Master Frigga—Master Frigga must've misunderstood. My uncle wouldn't—my family isn't like that."

Beneath the numbness, Skuld thought she could feel the stirrings of anger. "Kvasir—"

"I'll talk to my uncle. I'll talk to Auntie Frigga. I'll—I'll figure this out. No one would—we'll make sure this doesn't happen again."

"You can't promise that." Skuld's voice rose, and she couldn't quite bring herself to bring it down. "Kvasir, how much do you really know about your family?"

Kvasir's expression flickered through several emotions, like he couldn't quite figure out what one to settle on. After a moment it shuttered, set almost stubbornly.

Mimir shifted out of her grip, stepping between them and lifting their hands peaceably. "We should…head back."

Right. Assassin—even if they were gone for now. Skuld met Kvasir's eyes—stubborn, frustrated, not quite willing to give an inch—and exhaled her frustration. "Yeah," she agreed. "Let's keep moving."

(Kvasir was still the one to look away first.)


-(What else am I supposed to do?)


-The walk back was quiet. Skuld wasn't sure what she was supposed to say; she wasn't sure what to feel, her emotions a jumbled, confusing mess. She couldn't focus on Kvasir, who trailed behind them, almost sulky; she couldn't focus on Mimir, who had hunched in on themself, almost guilty. She could barely focus on herself.

Lights, she just wanted to go home.

Mimir made a quiet noise.

Skuld didn't want to acknowledge it; all she wanted to do was go back to their (empty) apartment and bury her head in a pillow and pretend today hadn't happened. But she lifted her head, anyways, some part of her wary that the assassin could come back, what if they try to attack you when you aren't looking—

They were near the wharf, she realized; she'd barely paid attention to where they'd been going, leading them aimlessly through the empty streets. A crowd had gathered near the water's edge, murmuring anxiously. It made unease prickle across her shoulders.

"Wonder what's happening there?" Kvasir asked dully.

Skuld's eyes flicked across the crowd. She couldn't see through it; it was too thick, people hemmed close together. It made that warning noise ring a little louder.

She'd started towards the crowd before she had a chance to think about it.

Kvasir made a quiet noise of protest.

The closer she got to the crowd, the clearer the murmurs became:

"…doing out there?"

"Can't be good, if they're that beat up."

"Do you think—"

"He's a Union Leader. He has to know what he's doing."

Skuld's mind skittered across the sentence, breath catching against her ribcage. Brain?

(No. No, no, no, something couldn't have happened to him, too, he had to be alright, she didn't think she could lose anyone else—)

Skuld shoved her way through the crowd, ignoring distant protests, her heart in her throat and her hands shaking.

Brain was—Brain was injured. Brain was injured, his left arm held awkwardly, a large cut over his eye, dappled bruises across the side of his face. His shoulders were weighted down, something almost lost in his expression.

A Cure spell had flashed from her hands before she'd even had the chance to think about it. Her hands and legs were shaky, everything still running on adrenaline, something screaming at her to grab him and run, summon Starlight and fight, keep anything from hurting your friends again keep them safe—

Brain stirred, turning her way sluggishly. It wasn't until he caught sight of her that the dead, exhausted expression cleared, turning into something fractured.

Skuld didn't think she could look at that right now, so she didn't, turning instead to the person who'd come with him.

Sigurd looked just as injured as Brain, if not more so. His clothes were torn, blotched and bloody and burned, and reasonably, some distant part of Skuld thought, she should heal him, too. But—

(But he was working with Frigga. He was working with Frigga, and she'd just had to deal with one assassination attempt from a blueblood, why wouldn't they try to take them both out at once—)

She didn't remember summoning Starlight; all she knew was that suddenly she was standing between Brain and Sigurd, shaking Keyblade pointed at his chest. "What," she said, "did you do?"

"Master Skuld—" Sigurd started, and it sounded exhausted, like his alarm couldn't quite break through it.

"Did Frigga send you?" she snapped, sparks flickering at Starlight's tip. "Did she tell you to—"

"I started the fight, Skuld."

Brain's voice was so quiet she almost missed it—calm, but deceptively so, dragged down by a bone-weary sort of exhaustion. It was still enough to send her world off-kilter, Starlight dropping nearly far enough to hit the cobblestones, her fury guttering.

(She was aware, now, of the nervous muttering, and the careful space that had developed between the crowd and them. Even Mimir and Kvasir were staying back.)

Skuld couldn't quite bring herself to turn her back to Sigurd—couldn't turn her back on the crowd, either, too wary of what may come out of it, and so she settled for a half-turn, back to the water, and tried to ignore how exposed it made her feel.

That exhausted look was back—something grieved and tired and so spent that it seemed like he'd given up processing anything else.

"Like—what happened with Mimir," Skuld tried, because it seemed strange that Brain would start a physical fight, but if he'd been dealing with the same sort of thing she had, and Sigurd caught him by surprise—

"No." Brain's reply came with that same quiet, dead exhaustion. "It was intentional. I—wanted to hurt him."

And that—Skuld didn't know what to do with that. Because—because that wasn't like him. His words were sharp when he was irritated, sometimes, or when he was trying to push people away, but he'd never attacked anyone before. "What happened?" she managed finally, because she didn't know what else to ask.

She wasn't sure why Brain's expression broke at that—why he looked, very suddenly, like he wanted to run and hide and be anywhere else. He'd smoothed over it in a moment, eyes cast uncertainly towards the crowd, and Skuld swallowed back a sudden surge of frustration. When Brain turned back to her, his head was so low his eyes were hidden by his hat, voice quiet enough she didn't think it carried to anyone but her: "Darkness is still here."

The words didn't register at first. When they did, her mind latched onto different, ridiculous possibilities—that he was just talking about—about shadows or the night or something. That he was speaking nonsense.

…It still felt like he was speaking nonsense.

"They aren't," Skuld said, voice quiet and furious and factual. "Ephemer killed—they're sealed away. They can't get to us anymore."

"They were trapped in the Data-Daybreak Town. Scala ad Caelum was built on the ruins." A pause. "They were there, Skuld. On one of the abandoned islands"

No. No, no, no no no no no— "What were you doing over there?" she asked, and some part of her knew she was focusing on the wrong thing, but she couldn't couldn't couldn't— (Darkness had destroyed their home last time, it had taken away her friend, it could've taken away another one, it couldn't be back, that meant everything was for nothing—) "Why did you—?"

Brain was quiet for a very long time—long enough Skuld almost screamed at him to answer. "Frigga and Sigurd—were talking about something happening to Scala ad Caelum. I wanted to—find answers. I didn't want you to—" He broke off, breath leaving in a rush, shoulders sagging deeply. "I'm sorry."

No. This was—no. No, no, that couldn't be—

(The bluebloods called something. What else could it be?)

She didn't remember turning; she didn't remember starting to run, pushing her way back through the crowd. It felt like she couldn't breathe, suddenly, everyone too close, the shadows growing longer across the streets.

(Dangerous. This was supposed to be home, and it was dangerous, because she didn't know what she was doing and Darkness was still here and the bluebloods wanted them gone and—)

(She kept seeing Brain's face, resigned and tired, and Kvasir's, disbelieving and angry, and Mimir's, lost and pained.)

(She just wanted to go home.)

Her foot caught on a loose bit of stone. She tripped, knees and palms skidding painfully across the ground. She didn't get up right away; she just let herself stay there, panting, shaking, thoughts a frantic, jumbled mess.

When she looked up, she realized she'd found herself back at the fountain. Ephemer's statue.

It made her…angry. Angry at Brain, at Ephemer, at Scala. Angry that the bluebloods couldn't put their pride aside. Angry that she had to work with Frigga, of all people, and that she felt like she was trying to play a game she didn't know the rules to. Angry at their stupid, empty apartment, like they couldn't even try to make this place a home. Angry that it might not matter, because it didn't feel like it was safe here, anymore, and maybe it never really had.

"Why did you create this place?"

The quiet words landed between them, barely legible over the sound of the water. The statue said nothing.

Skuld picked herself up, words rising in volume and shaking her bones: "Why did you make this place if it was just going to fall? You had the Book of Prophecies; you had to see what was going to happen. I can't lose another home, Ephemer." She took a breath, and it rubbed jagged against her throat. "Why did you stay?"

It was the thing she'd wanted to ask, ever since she'd gotten here. Had his lifeboat simply failed? Or had he chosen to stay in order to create this place—and left them behind in the process?

It was stupid, probably, to be angry that he'd chosen to stay over coming with them; if he had chosen to stay, it'd probably been to help the Dandelions, or to make sure they had a place to come back to. He was their leader; all of them knew the sort of responsibility that entailed.

(But all of them had run, leaving the others behind.)

A hand landed on her shoulder. Skuld almost ripped away from it, Starlight already snapping at her fingertips, when a familiar voice murmured, "You're going to wake the whole town."

Skuld's nerves left in a jittery rush. "I'm still mad at you."

"Kind of figured." Brain released her, taking a couple of steps back. There was something wary in his expression, like he wasn't sure if he was welcome.

Skuld wasn't sure, herself—but they needed to talk about things, if Darkness was still around, and so she sat on the fountain's edge, giving Brain a pointed look.

After a couple of hesitant heartbeats he joined her, slumping forward.

"…You knew."

Brain tensed, just a little.

"You knew, and you didn't tell me." Skuld tried not to look at Brain; she wasn't sure if it was to hold onto a feeling of justified anger or to keep herself from snapping.

Brain didn't say anything for several moments. When he did, it was just a quiet, resigned admission: "Yeah."

"Why?"

Another lengthy pause, and for as much as it made Skuld want to tear her hair out, she forced her anger down to a simmer and waited. "Because I didn't want to scare you over what might've been nothing. I knew it would be…hard." Then, quieter, he admitted, "And…I was scared."

"Of telling me? Or of the idea of…?"

Brain laughed, but the sound was quiet and bitter. "Both."

Skuld twisted her hands in her skirt, and the action helped to ground her, if only a little. "I should've known about this. I should've—we could've done things together."

"…Yeah," Brain admitted, and it looked like he was fighting with himself over something. "It's—" He breathed out a long, shaky breath.

Skuld waited, hoping he'd fill the silence.

Brain worked his jaw, fingers tapping together like they were looking for something to do. "I can't—I didn't want to be—" The words left in a frustrated huff of air. "I didn't—want to hurt you."

There was something else there—some explanation that had gotten stuck inside him, too stubborn to come out, even when he tried. It didn't stop her from being angry, but it leant a little better understanding. "Do you think you coming back injured didn't?"

Brain fell silent.

"Earlier today—someone tried to kill me. Us, since there were others I was with."

"What?"

She could feel Brain looking at her, some frantic question ready to go, but she spoke over him, determined to get out what she needed to: "And I thought that—that's what happened to you."

"Are you—"

"No. I'm not okay, and I'm scared, but this is what's happening, so we just have to deal with it. And it's easier if we work together." Her eyes burned, and she turned to look at him, finally.

Guilt flickered across his face, and he started to turn his head like he'd look away, but paused, holding her eyes.

"If you ever hurt me, I'll just tell you, okay? And you don't—you don't have to tell me everything, but when it's going to affect me, too—"

She broke off, finally out of words, and Brain sat beside her in silence for a few moments. "Might…need you to talk me through things, sometimes," he admitted. "Some things are—"

"…Hard?"

He huffed a bitter laugh. "Yeah."

Some of Skuld's anger was fading, replaced with a dull, tired worry. She leaned against his shoulder, and he relaxed, just a little. "Are you doing okay?" she managed, quiet.

"Not exactly the one I'm the most concerned about right now. An assassination attempt?"

"Darkness." She poked his side. "You first."

Brain huffed, but there was a note of amusement in it, and it made things feel a little more normal. His expression fell slowly, shadows falling across his eyes. "Darkness is…good at figuring out what's going to sting the most." He shrugged, jostling Skuld a little. "Not exactly a great reminder."

Skuld wrapped her hand around his and squeezed.

"So…?"

Skuld snorted. "It's an assassination attempt." She fell quiet for a moment. "We—Mimir and I—think it was orchestrated by Kvasir's uncle." That brought up the memory of what exactly she'd spent most of the day doing, and she sighed. "I…have a lot to tell you about, I think."

"Guess that makes two of us."

Brain was shaking, she realized. And so was she, entire body quivering under the weight of the day. "Brain?"

"Hmm?"

"I don't want to go back to the apartment." It felt like a silly admission, but…it didn't feel safe, not after today. It didn't feel like home, with everything empty. It didn't feel like…much of anything, really.

Brain didn't say anything for a while. "The Clock Tower?" he suggested. "Might not be the best, but…"

"You can stay with me."

Skuld started.

Kvasir and Mimir both stood at the edge of plaza. Kvasir looked hesitant, drawn in on himself a little, but he straightened when he saw her looking, taking purposeful steps towards the fountain. "You need somewhere safe until we figure this nonsense out, right? Staying with my family's probably better than the Clock Tower."

Staying with bluebloods didn't feel particularly safe right now, and Skuld wasn't sure she trusted Kvasir to have an accurate read on his family. But it was a kind gesture, and it made Skuld's throat tighten.

"The dorms are open, too," Mimir signed. "If you want options."

Brain shifted beside her, tugging his hat lower. "Well."

Skuld blinked rapidly, looking at the ground instead of them. If she looked at either of them, she thought she might cry. "They know about you guys, too," she pointed out, but she could hear her voice crack.

("But if something happens, come find me. I can at least give you advice on navigating their bullshit.")

"But I think I know somewhere we can go." She glanced at Brain, then added, "But you're going to have to hear me out."


-With Kvasir's help, they found themselves standing at Meili's door one short argument later. Kvasir gave them a shaky grin and gave a sweeping gesture towards their small, bedraggled group. "Could we ask a favor?"

Meili looked very, very tired, and it drew a tiny smile out of Skuld, despite everything. "Alright. Guess you'd better come in so I can say 'I told you so.'"


So you can probably see why I said this chapter and the last one were having a 'conversation' now, aha. This one was went to fill in some of the blanks from the last one, since while that answered WHAT happened to the islands (and what WILL happen to Scala, if things go wrong), it only partially explained why. This is basically the why: the bluebloods' greed/callousness/etc. created enough dissent that it called Darkness. After editing, I'm still not…really sure how to feel about how this one turned out. That said, I also don't really want to look at it anymore, so we're going to call this good enough.

Some notes on the Keepers: A lot of the stuff surrounding the Keepers was based around Luxu. They probably got started from stories based on him; they weren't really around when Ephemer first started things, but kind of became a necessity later, after the world started growing. No Name goes to whoever the lead Keeper is, generally (which makes Xehanort's and Eraqus's roles rather ironic, considering Eraqus basically becomes the 'Keeper' of the Land of Departure, and Xehanort just…leaves with the Keyblade he was given).