'Skuld and Brain have dealings with Frigga, with…questionable results.'

Chapter Seventeen: Insight

Skuld hated the fact that she was so on-edge.

She hadn't felt this tense coming to Scala; she didn't think she'd felt this tense ever, except during the Keyblade War, and that had been because everything had been so chaotic.

(She might've been like this in the data Daybreak Town, if she'd known that Darkness was there—but then, none of them had known that until too late.)

"You seem a little distracted, Master Skuld."

Skuld sucked in a breath, fingers tracing the edges of Brain's charm, and forced herself to look at Frigga. How much do you know? she wondered. Were you a part of it? If not, then she doubted that she had any reason to be worried right now; if someone tried to attack her in front of the Head of the Council, then she couldn't imagine it would end very well. But if she was…

She realized she'd taken too long to answer, Frigga's expression slowly changing from curiosity to the faint edge of something that looked like concern, and she responded, "I'm fine. Just…thinking." She shook her head, continuing before Frigga had the chance to say anything, "You were talking about—?" She broke off, trailing into a question, because she realized she didn't know what Frigga had been trying to tell her.

Frigga's lips pursed, her expression flicking to something vaguely disappointed, and Skuld wanted to argue that there was a reason she was distracted—but then, she couldn't really do that, could she? "I was discussing the world's balance."

Skuld tried not to grimace, because she got the feeling this was going to be about more blueblood nonsense—but she supposed that's what she needed, if she wanted to stay safe.

"Each world has its own order. For the Keyblade wielders of Scala ad Caelum, maintaining that order is a delicate prospect—it's important to protect growing worlds from the threat of the Heartless, but it's just as important to avoid disrupting the world's everyday functions. It's a balancing act, and one every wielder must learn someday.

"It's not so different with our own world. You need to balance the competing needs of different areas—"

"The bluebloods and the citizens of Scala," Skuld said, and she couldn't quite keep the bitterness out of her voice.

The ghost of a smile flickered across Frigga's face. "I suppose you aren't entirely wrong," she agreed. "Trying to appease both different branches of my family and attend to the needs of Scala ad Caelum as a whole can be a careful balancing act—but that's not what I was talking about. As a Union Leader, you had several competing responsibilities, didn't you?"

Skuld paused, surprised enough by the direction of the question that her wariness dropped momentarily. "We—did," she agreed. "It took us a while to figure things out, though. We had missions to make, and we had to figure out how to make sure everyone had food, and we had to help fix things around town…" It had felt like there was always something new cropping up to cause problems, back then. She'd been so frustrated with the Foretellers, bitter over the fact that they'd left them behind very little guidance; they'd destroyed the world, and then they'd left their tiny group to pick up the pieces.

"And you likely had to choose which was more important on a daily basis. Was there an influx of Heartless that needed to take precedence over gathering food? Were there serious infrastructure problems that would take the place of missions? Did people's physical health need to take precedence over their mental health, or vice versa?"

"The missions weren't quite like that," Skuld said, and it dawned on her that, for as much as Frigga didn't know about Daybreak Town, there were still things that were apparently familiar enough that she got it right. "But…I see your point. It's like that with Scala, too."

"It is—but on a much broader, more organized scale." Frigga hesitated, something almost like grief flickering across her face. "Before my time as the Head of the Council, Scala's leaders would have to take into account a population that stretched across countless islands. The leadership would have to decide which islands needed the most attention—"

"Which could be sacrificed."

Frigga went quiet.

Skuld hadn't meant to say the words aloud, really—but they were said, and she closed her mouth around her bitterness, breathing it out through her nose.

"…Yes," Frigga agreed quietly. "There are times when you have to make sacrifices to protect the greater whole. It's one of the consequences of being leader. If you must sacrifice one individual to save a thousand—as an individual, you might be able to find a way to protect that one, but as a leader, you have so many more that you're responsible for."

Skuld thought of the Keyblade War. She thought of her friend, dying on the battlefield, and her reckless decision to go back to save them with Ephemer.

…She thought that even if the Dandelions were at risk, she still would've tried to go after them.

(But then—she'd also watched Ephemer kill them, to save her. To save the others. She wanted to believe that maybe there had been another way, but—she couldn't think of one. Not unless all of them stayed in the falling world—and even then, Darkness would've stayed with the Dandelions.)

"Maybe you already understand that," Frigga said, quiet. "You…were right about the fact that I only know you from stories. I suppose I don't know much about you as a person."

It was a surprisingly vulnerable sentiment from Frigga. Surprisingly honest. It might've been why she didn't pursue the topic, shying away from the bitter thought to ask, "Balancing act?"

Frigga smiled, and launched into an explanation—about how to try and balance the needs of the different council members, decisions about where to allocate the budget, how to prioritize projects and keep an eye on the minutia of daily life. Some of it was familiar; some of it was more complex than it had ever been in Daybreak Town. For as much as Skuld hadn't wanted to be here initially, she couldn't help but think about how much she would've liked something like this when she'd first become a Union Leader—how much she would've liked to have someone to guide them and make things just a little bit easier.

It baffled her a little that she was thinking about that for Frigga, of all people—especially when she knew this was probably just some sort of political ploy. It looks good if I work with her. If I'm training with the head of the council—then it doesn't undermine their authority quite as much. But—still.

Still.

Her skin prickled, and she forced herself to drag herself away from her emotions for a moment, mind flicking back to the previous day. Frigga claimed that Skuld was her 'favorite' Union Leader—her childhood hero. She'd offered to train her—was still training her. Would she really do that, if she was a part of—yesterday?

It could be a trap, some part of her argued.

All this, for a trap?

"You're distracted again."

Frigga sounded amused this time, not disappointed.

I guess…maybe there's a way to find out. "It's just—something that's been bothering me since yesterday," she hedged.

"Then ask."

Skuld paused, considering how she wanted to phrase things. "Your family—Ephemer's family. I heard that they didn't always…get along."

"We didn't," Frigga agreed. "Much of that was resolved before I ever began schooling, but there was a time when in-fighting was quite common. Even now, we have to make sure the different branches of the family feel like they're receiving the proper respect."

"Did they ever—what was the fighting like? And how did you resolve it?"

Frigga pursed her lips, expression thoughtful. "There were…many rumors. Underhanded political moves. Threats, on occasion. My father…taught me to navigate those pitfalls, even if he hoped I would never need those skills." She smiled mirthlessly. "In truth, Master Skuld, the fighting isn't entirely gone. There are still squabbles—people who will try to get their children put into the most advantageous positions, even if it doesn't matter which family member is in that position so long as someone is. People who disagree with decisions and so will spread rumors in the hopes that, perhaps, with enough discredit, things will change. It isn't as common—'unity' has been a much-enforced theme for years—but it's still there." There was something strangely vulnerable in Frigga's expression, but it was smoothed over in an instant; Skuld wondered if perhaps, for a moment, she'd forgotten that she was speaking to someone and not just to herself. "The way it's resolved is much the same as how running Scala ad Caelum works: a balancing act. Determining who needs something to appease them, and who's simply speaking for show. Soothing egos, or standing firm, depending on the risk. Deciding when and how to offer favors, and when to withhold them."

Skuld reached up a hand to finger Brain's charm. "That…sounds like a lot to keep track of."

Frigga hesitated, but only briefly. "It's something you can learn to navigate, with practice."

"…Teach me."

Frigga stared at her, looking genuinely surprised.

It dawned on Skuld that that might sound suspicious, so she hurried to add, "I told you—I don't want to fight you if I don't have to." Which, she supposed, was still true, but it left her with a bitter taste in her mouth, anyways. "Maybe this way…it'll make things easier."

Frigga's surprised expression melted into a smile. "I think I could perhaps arrange something."

-Frigga's training session with Skuld went…better than she'd expected it to, if she were being truly honest with herself. She'd known that Skuld hadn't particularly wanted this arrangement, and had more or less been strong-armed into it. (And there was something bitter about that—some childish part of her frustrated and hurt that she'd been rebuffed at every turn. But she'd brushed it away quickly; she wasn't a child anymore, and her idolization of the Union Leaders could be left behind with their stories.)

(With everything she thought she'd be, apparently.)

She hadn't been that surprised when Skuld had been distracted during the beginning of their session—but she had been when she'd actually shown interest. It made that tiny, childish part of her glow, and she shook her head at herself. Ridiculous, to still seek that sort of approval. She and her legend are very different. It was almost disappointing to think about, that her childhood hero wasn't quite what she expected—but she shoved that aside, too. It's promising. It means we may have less to worry about than we thought.

"Frigga."

…Well. She hadn't expected to see the other Union Leader today.

Brain stood in front of her door, a sharp smile on his face. Sigurd fidgeted beside him, which was…curious. "Master Brain," she said, keeping her surprise carefully smothered. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"What's this I hear about trying to trap Darkness?"

Ah. She supposed she shouldn't be too surprised that Sigurd had said something, though she was a little disappointed. She tilted her head towards her office, stepping past Brain wordlessly when he made no move to enter. It was a little exasperating; really, was he expecting a trap of some sort? In her own office? But it was a small thing, and she'd humor him if she could learn a little more about what he was here after.

She settled at her desk; there were chairs, if Brain wanted to take them, but he didn't, standing there and staring at her with a look she couldn't quite decipher. Sigurd stood close to the door, like he wasn't sure if he was invited to come inside.

"I heard that you and Sigurd had a…bit of an altercation yesterday," Frigga said, and it was to Brain's credit that he barely reacted.

(She'd caught whispers of the fight through rumors—quiet murmurs, drifting to her from the streets that morning. But Sigurd had been tight-lipped when she'd called him in.

"You're being relieved of your duties."

Sigurd had always kept his face carefully hidden, but she'd still seen the way he'd tensed—could almost imagine the emotions flickering across his face, disbelief and grief and frustration.

"You aren't in trouble," Frigga had clarified. "You've done your job admirably. But Brain has been here for long enough that he can likely get around fine on his own."

"…Are you giving up on him?"

It was a curious question, with a vague sort of anger behind it that Frigga didn't entirely understand. "No," she said, careful, "but I would like to make him feel a little less ill at-ease."

Sigurd had twitched a little, and she'd wondered if, perhaps, the reaction had something to do with the rumors she'd heard. But he'd bowed his head and left without another word, and Frigga had let him.)

"You didn't tell me Darkness was here."

The accusation came sharp, and Frigga didn't deny it. In truth, she would've preferred Brain never found out—for more reasons than one.

(Her father had told her, when she was very young, that Master Brain would return in the future to take over Scala ad Caelum's leadership. It had sounded like such a welcome promise, when she was small. But then she'd grown, and she'd fought and bled for her world, and she'd put so much effort into trying to prevent an inevitable future that the idea felt bitter; how could he possibly take over something he didn't understand? What right did someone have to step into her role when he'd been gone for centuries? To brush all of the work she'd done aside like it didn't mean anything?

Everything she'd researched had said that Darkness could be contained—that there were stories of it being trapped deep inside the heart of the world, legends of plans to trap it inside people. A bitter part of her had considered perhaps this would solve her Union Leader problem—that if he was supposed to save them, that if he was going to come back and step into a role that he hadn't earned like it was nothing, the least he could do was be the vessel through which the world was saved.

She hadn't been expecting a child. The stories had always described the Union Leaders as young, but never how young. It was—infuriating, almost, in so many different ways, and it was easier to turn away and pretend that she hadn't been considering him as a sacrifice.)

"I didn't," she agreed. "We have the situation under control."

"Sigurd informed me." Brain leaned forward, hands braced on the desk. "You want to trap Darkness—but not inside someone."

-(Listen close. This is where I come in.)

-("Do you really think you can defeat Darkness on your own? As if."

Frigga hadn't heard the man walk in; the door hadn't moved, she didn't think. Master's Defender had come almost without her calling it, humming in her hands. The Keyblade was ancient, and countless people's hearts had left impressions on it. She could feel them sometimes when she held it—could practically sense the ghosts that had come before her, from her father to her grandmother, all the way back to Master Ephemer himself. Now it felt like she was reaching back further, to a heart that the Keyblade barely had tethers to anymore, frayed with age—something that spoke of fear and anger and misplaced trust. It was something that said, Do not trust this man.

She couldn't see the man's face. Couldn't see much of anything, really, his entire body shrouded in a black cloak. He turned his head like he was glancing about the room in casual disinterest, and it made something feel like it was crawling down her spine.

"Trust me—plenty of people have tried. You've read the Book of Prophecies—it's not going to work."

"Who are you?" Frigga asked, her Keyblade still screaming that warning of, Danger, Danger, Danger.

"Call me an…interested third party." He looked at her finally, and she felt like she'd been pinned in place. "I'm always fascinated by people who want to change fate."

She got the strange impression of resigned grief, cloying and physical enough it felt like it was wrapping around her chest and squeezing it. For a brief moment, she thought she could see ghosts scattered about the room—flashes of things she didn't entirely understand, patterned against the background.

"Interested," she said, and she couldn't quite bring herself to be ashamed for how shaky her words came out, "how?"

"Mostly in a distant sense. Just want to see how things play out, you know? Got to have some entertainment, after all these years." He paused, and then, quiet, "But I guess I could point you in the right direction. As a favor to an old friend." He gestured towards her Keyblade.

Frigga's eyes narrowed. She had the distinct sense that she was making a deal that she wouldn't like—her hand practically burned, and it was only for that reason that she didn't jump on the offer immediately.

"But, hey—it's up to you whether you want to take the offer or not. I'd get it, if you didn't want to make the sacrifice."

"I've made sacrifices before," Frigga said, and tried to ignore how much it felt like she'd fallen into a trap. "What do you mean?"

She got the impression of a smile, stretched too wide. "Have you ever heard legends of a black box?"

-(Let me tell you a story: it shouldn't have gone this way. Maybe in another world, it didn't. Stories are tricky things; maybe it's just the story I wanted to exist. Maybe in another world, sentiment doesn't get in the way, and nobody ever gives Frigga a hint. Maybe she figures it out on her own; maybe she doesn't; maybe she chooses to sacrifice herself. Maybe she tells Brain, and things go wrong—or maybe she doesn't tell him at all.

But here's how it goes in this world.)

-"There are ways to do so," Frigga said carefully. "It's not so different to what the legends say; you simply need the right bait."

Brain's eyes narrowed; she could almost feel his unease, and she supposed she couldn't blame him for that.

"Trying to draw Darkness in has been…difficult. The moment we feel close, it seems to slip away. It's tricky, and we can never seem to pin it down. But a hooded stranger suggested a potential method to bait it in—stories about a black box."

Brain had gone stiff and still suddenly, his eyes wide. When Frigga had first spoken to the stranger, she'd thought the feelings she'd gotten from Master's Defender had come from echoes of Master Ephemer; now, she wondered if perhaps they'd come from its original wielder, still connected despite the years that had passed.

She decided not to mention that the man had come just a little after Brain's arrival; she wondered what the connection was, but decided that perhaps it was better not to pursue it just yet. "I don't suppose you'd know its location?"

Brain didn't answer, his expression slowly turning itself into something more collected, his breath coming out in one slow, careful breath.

"I didn't figure as much. And without that knowledge, there's very little you can do."

"Let me help look."

Frigga started, caught off-guard momentarily.

Brain was staring at her with an intense sort of expression—something that almost made her believe the stories about the Union Leaders. "Let me help look," he repeated. "I know what it looks like—I've seen it before. And you could use all the help you can get against Darkness."

Frigga narrowed her eyes. On the one hand—she still didn't want Brain involved. The idea of him receiving credit for something he'd only had a part in towards the end was…frustrating. But on the other hand…

Well. It wasn't like any of them had had much luck exploring the ruins before. Are you really willing to do whatever you need to in order to save your home?

So she leaned forward and said, "I do have a suspicion of where it might be…"

So for no reason in particular, how's everybody's Luxu hunt going?

Little bit of a shorter chapter, but this felt like a good cutting point. Lots of insight into Frigga and her thought process this chapter—mostly because we very rarely actually delve into things from her point of view, and it felt like it'd be a good idea to give a little bit of extra insight. Especially considering, you know…certain events.