'Frigga tries to make allies. Brain and Skuld make arrangements for an off-world trip. Kvasir and Mimir make questionable life choices.'

Chapter Thirty-One: Planning

Greetings, Frigga,

While I was happy to receive your letter, I wish it were under better circumstances. It pains me to hear of the recent happenings between yourself and Aegir. Both of you are talented Keyblade wielders in your own right, and have brought great prestige to our family's name. Unfortunately, it will always seem to come to pass that notable members may not agree on how certain matters should be handled—leading to conflicts such as this.

Aegir's actions, while understandable, were misguided. I understand and agree with your concerns over the potential damage such a rift in the family could cause. As you stated, our family is already on uncertain ground, and a rift could cause us to break apart. Now is the time for unity, not division.

It pleases me to hear that you've formed an alliance with the Union Leaders. The aid of such powerful allies should help solidify our position and put the rest of our family's minds at ease. I presume you have already sent similar letters to other members of the family, but I would be more than happy to continue to spread the word and attempt to reduce the risk of conflict. Together, we can hopefully head off any problems before they start.

Yours,

Ivar

Frigga set the letter down, breathing out a slow, near-silent sigh. The letters had finally started trickling in over the last few days. Some had similar messaging to Ivar's—a willingness to offer support, even if Frigga suspected it was mostly because she'd managed to convince the Union Leaders to stand beside her, if only for now. Some were a little more lukewarm, like they were searching for more assurance that she could smooth things over. Those she'd need to be careful about how she responded, if she didn't want to alienate potentially useful allies.

Some she hadn't heard back from at all. Those were more worrisome.

She leaned back in her chair, massaging her forehead. When she wasn't trying to compile evidence for Aegir's trial or overseeing Scala, that's most of what she'd been doing—writing letters, calling in favors, and trying to find the most useful allies. She hoped that if she garnered enough support, it would put pressure on the rest of the family to join them. It helped that she could actually promise the Union Leaders' support, to an extent; it made for a much stronger bargaining chip. But perhaps it's too late, in some people's eyes. She laughed, quiet and exhausted, and tried not to feel too bitter.

"What's so funny?"

She'd almost forgotten Meili was here. Another tug of bitterness—but she couldn't really turn away any allies she could find, and out of all of them, Meili had the most experience with this. "I haven't had to worry about this since I was vying for the role of Head of the Council. I've served for decades. It's…ironic, I suppose, that I'm back in this position."

"Wow. I think that was actually an honest answer."

"Don't get sarcastic, Meili. We're in the same position."

"Tough." They sorted through some letters, frowning and tapping their notebook absently. "Send some letters out to these guys." They passed her their notebook.

Frigga scanned the names, eyebrows rising slowly in surprise. "These are all lower-ranking individuals. Members of the branch families, or very young."

"Or the illegitimate kids, given land or titles or something to appease them." Meili gave her a pointed look.

"We cannot afford to make mistakes simply because you feel a kinship with them."

"For someone so used to politics, you're really not great at seeing beyond your prejudices, huh? These people are looking for opportunities to prove themselves or move up in status. If they think they can get that with us, they'll join. Maybe they don't have as much direct influence as the rest of your lot, but they're manpower. Get enough of them, and they could intimidate the rest of the family into shutting up." They paused, and then continued, quieter, "Besides, if you treat them right, they'll probably be more loyal than the others, who'd be happier to stab you in the back as soon as everything's over. That's more valuable in the long-run."

Frigga narrowed her eyes, thinking it over. "There are many members of our family that wouldn't be happy about it. We can't afford to alienate important allies."

"I have news for you: if they're so sensitive about other people getting a little extra land or something, they're probably not going to be worth having as allies, anyways. They'll jump as soon as they find a better offer."

"That's why you make sure they can't."

Meili laughed, but it was quiet and incredulous. "Let me guess: you have a ton of blackmail on everyone."

"The important members," Frigga agreed with a tight smile. "I learned to gather it, over the years."

"Stars." Meili shook their head, turning a page—a longer letter, Frigga guessed; she'd have to look it over herself, once Meili had finished writing down the important points. "Were you always like this?"

"Cautious?"

"Paranoid and manipulative."

("A storykeeper?"

Frigga smiled, tentative. She'd just finished a performance—still putting away her props, her voice a little hoarse from the telling, but something alive in her chest—and she hadn't expected any of her family to be watching. "I enjoy them," she said. "It…makes me think about what the future could be like."

A future where she did something like that, too; where she helped save her home, like so many of her heroes had done.

"It's…certainly an interesting choice of career." But there was something in their voice that said they were disapproving, and Frigga's smile faltered, just a little. "I suppose you have given up your interest in becoming Head of the Council?"

"No. No, I'm still vying for the position."

"Well, you seemed to enjoy yourself here. It wouldn't be a bad place for someone who couldn't quite cut it."

The words stung, and she tried not to flinch away, glancing at the mask in her hand with new, uncertain eyes.

"The position will only go to those who are most dedicated," they said, and they softened their voice like they were trying to be kind. "It's alright if you aren't."

"I am," she protested, because she was. "This is just an—an in-between position."

"Hmm. We'll see.")

"You learn to be," Frigga answered, stiffer than she intended. "People are ruthless. You either learn how to play their games, or you drown."

Meili huffed another quiet, exhausted laugh. "'People,' huh? Mostly feels like an 'us' problem."

"I thought you didn't consider us family?"

"I don't really—but I'm still stuck dealing with your bullshit, right? I made sure of that." They had a bitter sort of smile on their face, their hands tightening enough that they crinkled the letter they held.

Frigga tilted her head, studying them curiously. "You truly regret revealing your heritage?"

"I think I might've been happier if I hadn't." There was an expression on their face that Frigga couldn't quite place. "I wanted a family, you know. I wanted respect that I didn't think I got. I lost part of the family I had in the process."

"You're a member of the council."

"Yeah, but I know damn well what you think of me." They gave Frigga a pointed look, but then they sighed, shaking their head and running a hand over their face. "Look—it's complicated. Some good's come out of it. I've managed to carve out some semblance of a life with what I've been given. But it's exhausting, dealing with all your scheming." They narrowed their eyes. "Don't you get tired of it?"

"I—"

(She stood in her family home's meeting room, surrounded by family members. Some she knew personally; others she didn't, but she'd taken great pains to memorize their names, because if she forgot them, she knew it'd be a mark against her, and she couldn't afford that, when people were so quick to remind her that, "Aegir is promising—a real forward thinker," or, "I heard one of the branch members has been moving up—surprisingly good with a Keyblade, that one," or, "So many of our family have had such bright futures as Keyblade wielders. They've gone out and made names for themselves, saving worlds. …Ah. You're a storykeeper. Well, I suppose it's important for someone to remember the important parts."

She didn't just want to tell others' stories. She wanted to be a part of them; to be the hero of her own tale. So she set her face into a smile, and went to talk to one of the older members of her family who she knew had a lot of influence with the council, even if all she wanted to do was go back home and sleep. She could be clever; she could figure out the right connections, and make the right promises, and, if necessary, find the right blackmail. If they wanted her to be ruthless and cunning, she could be that—whatever it took to get there.)

"It's—part of the job."

Meili's expression fell into a frown. "Sure. I guess I shouldn't have expected anything else." Before Frigga could respond, they asked, "Why'd you even want the position, anyways? Just another power trip?"

("…the beast gave a great roar, and with a final slash of her Keyblade, Skuld cut through it, sending it crashing into the ground—"

"And she won!" She had been much younger, then, a child of only five, hopping to her feet and wobbling on her bed while her father reached out to steady her.

"Yes, yes," he said with a chuckle. "A brave warrior—a lot like you."

Frigga smiled so hard her cheeks hurt. She let herself flop back onto her bed, legs kicking upward, and leaned closer to look at the pictures in the book—pictures of a stylized warrior, facing down some sort of shadowy beast. Her fingers ran over the image. "I want to be just like her.")

"…I knew I could do something worthwhile for this world," Frigga said, but the words tasted bitter.

"Yeah? And how's that working out for you?"

(She remembered seeing Skuld—the real Skuld—staring at her, expression hard, and feeling something…crumble. This was not the figure of legend she'd grown up with; this was a child, young and scared and who didn't seem to really understand the intricacies of running a world, even if she had been a leader in her time, and it contrasted so greatly with the image she'd built up that it almost made her angry. You were supposed to be different.

And then, the quiet, childlike part of her—the part that had always reveled in the stories of the Union Leaders—whispered, I needed you to approve of me.)

"I'll need to follow up on those I haven't heard back from yet," she said, ignoring Meili's quiet huff of exasperation. "They could simply be late in writing, of course, but it never hurts to double-check."

"Right," came Meili's exhausted response, and she wasn't sure how she felt about the fact that they didn't press.

-"He's late."

Lydia tapped her fingers against her arm, trying not to feel too miffed. Anders had said he needed to speak to her—assured her it was "of the highest importance"—and promised to meet her at her home, precisely at noon. But it'd been several hours, now, and she hadn't seen any sign of him.

(It rankled, having to wait here. She wasn't old enough to remember her family in their glory days, but she was old enough to remember the last of the fallen towns. She and her parents had fled when the island had fallen; there wasn't enough land for all of them, and they'd found themselves living in a small apartment, selling off old heirlooms and requesting assistance from fellow family members. How much she wished she could reclaim what their family had lost, and leave this ridiculous apartment behind.

But her family had been cautious after the fall, and they'd chosen Frigga to take over when she'd come of age, and Frigga was too busy playing games to see when they needed action. And now look where they were.)

A knock sounded on her door; Lydia pretended not to hear it, giving herself a moment to steep in the frustration. When the knock came again, more urgent, she took a breath and pushed it aside, composing herself as she went to answer. "I hope that whatever you wanted to talk about is really as important as you said it was, Anders."

The council member stood at the door, hand still half-lifted to knock again. He lowered it quickly, smoothing out his surprised expression. "It is, I promise. Forgive me, I had…urgent business to attend to."

"And what was so urgent that you had to put off our 'vitally important meeting'?"

"Speaking to Master Aegir—and his contacts."

Lydia blinked, almost sure she'd heard wrong, or that Anders was playing a trick. When his expression didn't change, she said, "Explain yourself."

He gestured to enter, and she let him pass, closing the door behind him. "Master Aegir is right about the Union Leaders," he said without preamble. "They have done nothing to help us, but they have stirred up trouble. We would be better off without them here."

Lydia didn't necessarily disagree, but she was…more than a little wary of agreeing with him, in case this was some sort of trap. She knew Frigga had been making moves to gather support—had somehow managed to get the Union Leaders themselves to back her—and she wasn't sure whether Anders was speaking in earnest, or if he'd been sent to weed out potential opposition. "Aegir has been labeled a traitor. Beyond that, the public would likely riot if something happened to the Union Leaders."

"Then we should remind them why we're in charge." It wasn't an unheard of sentiment—she'd heard other family members murmur it in passing, thinking of their glory days—but most wouldn't say it too loud, with Frigga still at the head of the council. It made it more surprising that Anders was the one to say it, considering he was on the council himself. "I know you've been critical of Frigga," he continued. "I know you're just as tired as the rest of us—and just as angry about how far our family has fallen. Aegir didn't succeed, but he had the right idea. Wouldn't you like to reclaim our birthright—to finally return to what things were like before?"

It hit on that old frustration, and she could feel just how tempted she was to agree. She looked at her apartment, and wondered what it would be like if she was…somewhere else. But… "This is rather treasonous talk, Anders."

She couldn't rule out the possibility that he was tricking her. Not yet. She had been alive too long to trust words entirely.

"I know," he said. "But Frigga is doubling down. She's gathering support—and the more she gets, the harder it'll be to do anything. If we don't act, we'll be stuck; we need to gather everyone we can and sway them to our side."

"And you assume I'm on your side, do you?"

"You aren't entirely supportive of Frigga. I don't know if that means you're with us—but I thought you would be worth reaching out to."

She eyed him skeptically.

"I have a plan," he continued, apparently heedless of her concern. "Or, rather, Aegir has a plan, and I'm helping to facilitate it. He has contacts—assassins who've helped him before. While the Union Leaders have fought them off before, they can't do so forever. We just have to be more…careful. Figure out how to get closer, and strike when the time is right. Perhaps with a…distraction, or someone on the inside."

It was…tempting. They could perhaps eliminate their problems, with very little to trace back to them—it'd be much more likely to be attributed to Aegir. If we got rid of the Union Leaders and Frigga…

They wouldn't have to worry about the threat to their power. They wouldn't have to worry about Frigga holding them back. And maybe, finally, they could reclaim what they lost.

(There was something dripping down the corners of her walls—like black water, but heavier. When she focused on it, it disappeared, but she thought she could hear a whisper, slipping through her ears.)

"Anders," she said slowly, "if this is a trick, then I will ensure you live long enough to regret it."

"It's not," he said, though his face had gone pale. "You can speak to Master Aegir and confirm it, if you'd like. I will meet with all interested parties tomorrow night at Aegir's estate. Can I expect to see you there?"

(Go on, something whispered. Aren't you tired of bending your knee?)

"…We'll see."

-"I need to find Skuld."

It was the first coherent thought that hit Brain's mind, after the haze cleared. His fingers groped for Luxu's Keyblade, fumbling a little (quiet again, nearly dead, and maybe that was enough to let him keep ahold of it—), and turned toward the entrance to the alleyway.

"Brain—"

Sigurd. In his haste, he'd almost forgotten that the man was there. "We can find the box."

"Brain, wait—"

"Can't." Skuld was supposed to be giving a speech, earlier—but that had to be finished by now, and he wasn't sure where she'd be after that. Might've gone back to Meili's, or to the Clock Tower, or the Marketplace—

Doesn't matter. I'll figure it out.

"What did you see?" Footsteps hurried after him, rapid against the cobblestones. "Where is it?"

"Wastelands. It's a place we know pretty well." His footsteps took him running, sprinting back through Scala's streets, ignoring the way people scattered around him with cries of protest.

"And what is your plan?" Sigurd stepped in front of him, and when Brain tried to dodge around him, he grabbed his arm and spun him back around.

"The plan," he said, sweeping Luxu's Keyblade up to dislodge Sigurd, ignoring his protests, "is to go to the world, search the wastelands, and find the box." He was pretty sure he could remember the place he'd last seen Luxu with it—but maybe he could bring along his Keyblade—

(don't don't don't)

Maybe.

"That's…not much of a plan."

"Don't need one."

"Brain—"

"We don't have time." They needed to do this now—now, before Darkness caused too many problems to address, before the bluebloods truly fractured, before things fell apart.

(I can't fail again.)

"Give the others a head's up if you see them, alright?"

"Brain—Brain!"

He ignored Sigurd's exasperated calls, calling Master's Defender with a flick of his wrist. The Keyblade sang, the humming still loud in his ears as he teleported, reappearing further down the street, and then further, eyes open for a familiar figure.

(He had half a thought to just leave now—to just go to the wastelands himself, and find the box, and not waste the time looking—

But Skuld was as much a part of this as he was. She was his friend. She deserved to be there.)

No one was at the apartment, and he barely paused a moment to wonder where the others had gone before heading out. They could come with them, if he could find them—but he wasn't willing to wait, if they couldn't.

But Skuld wasn't at the Clock Tower, either. Or the training grounds. Or even the Marketplace. In the end, he figured out where she was from a surprising source—a couple of passersby, gossiping about a Union Leader working down near the docks. Suppose she was curious about exploring other worlds, he mused, and then he was off, Keyblade flashing.

When he finally caught sight of Skuld—off in the distance, wandering around with workers near some ships—he opened his mouth to call out to her, nearly stumbling over himself in his haste. And then he…paused.

Skuld was smiling. Her eyes were bright. She looked relaxed—happy, in a way she hadn't been since they'd gotten here. She was peppering some of the workers with questions—he was just close enough to hear them and their amused replies:

"How do you handle trading with places that don't know about other worlds?"

"It's not that complicated—you just have to be careful. Say you're from some far off island or kingdom or something. Most people don't know everything in the world, so they won't ask questions."

"What if they do?"

"You hope you have a good memory of the world's map."

She…seems like she's enjoying herself. Master's Defender disappeared. Luxu's Keyblade felt stiff and cold in his hands. He rubbed the palm of his free hand, thumbnail pressing indents into the skin. He couldn't quite place what he was feeling—some strange, nostalgic, bitter thing, all twisted in knots, tangled up memories of a Clock Tower and a town at daybreak and people they used to be.

Skuld caught sight of him; her eyes brightened a little (and when was the last time she'd been that happy to see him?), and she waved.

He waved back, hesitant, and found he couldn't quite force a smile.

Skuld's eyebrows furrowed, her smile dimming a little; her attention flicked to the Keyblade at his side (Luxu's Keyblade, a Foreteller's Keyblade, you just keep bringing things back), and then up to him in a silent question.

He blinked back to himself, because he had come looking for her for a reason, took a breath, and crossed the distance between them. "Not the place I expected to find you—but I probably should've."

Amused confusion, then, her head tilted as she studied him.

He poked her forehead, ignoring her noise of protest. "Always looking for new adventures, right?"

Skuld rolled her eyes and shoved him lightly. "It's interesting. There's so much about inter-world travel—do you think Meili knows all this?"

"Mm. Maybe. You could always pester them for information." His skin felt like it was crawling, but he tilted his head toward her and tried to force an amused grin. "What, you thinking about becoming a merchant?"

"No," she said with a laugh, but there was something uncertain in her expression, like she'd seen through him. He wasn't sure he liked it. "I just—think it's interesting."

Her expression softened a little, and Brain commented, "You seem happy." He didn't mean for his voice to come out so strained, but it did, and he cleared his throat and shifted his feet, trying not to think about it.

Skuld shot him another questioning look. "Yeah," she said, but there was something concerned there, too.

(Happier here. Happier away from the council. Happy with Kvasir and Mimir and Meili, even if things were hard, while he was—)

(Maybe she'd be happier without him, too.)

"Brain?" Skuld asked. "Is something wrong?"

He shrugged, eyes flicking to a point over her shoulder so he didn't have to look at her expression. "It's nothing."

(You're just going to put more weight on her shoulders.)

"Then why do you have that Keyblade?"

He twisted Luxu's Keyblade a little, angling it away from him, and Skuld zeroed in on it. Her shoulders were growing tense again, her expression creasing with worry, and Brain felt like something was creeping up his throat.

"I—"

(Don't say it don't say it you've caused enough problems—)

"I—found where the black box is."

Skuld's eyes snapped toward his face, and he watched as they widened slowly. There was something like relief, there, but he could see the way her expression changed, shifting from a relaxed kid to a Union Leader again, all business.

(You shouldn't have said anything. You should've gone on your own.)

"The wastelands," he said, mouth dry, but he was operating almost on autopilot now. "Saw it—with some help." He twisted Luxu's Keyblade just slightly, and pointedly didn't look at its eye.

Skuld went pale, and only after the fact did Brain realize just how much that particular place would probably affect her. She actually went back to the war—went back to rescue her friend. Who's—

Shit.

"I should've just gone," he whispered, the words slipping out without his consent.

Skuld seemed to come back to herself in an instant, all fire. "Brain, no." Her hand reached out to grasp his wrist, holding it tight. "I'd rather know. We're in this together, and—and you shouldn't have to go back there alone."

(He thought he could feel something sticky, crawling over his shoulders. Now look what you've done, it whispered, buzzing like insects. You can't just let your friends go, can you? You have to keep dragging them down with you.)

"We should talk to Meili," Skuld was saying, and Brain wasn't sure if he'd missed something or if Skuld was simply speaking to fill the silence; he felt disconnected, a little, and he blinked as he tried to focus back on the conversation.

"We've been there before," he pointed out. "We can figure out the coordinates."

"Meili's got more experience traveling to other worlds. And we don't know what we'll find; it'd be nice to actually have a team and to make sure that we're ready."

"Not like we haven't jumped into danger before."

Skuld's eyebrows furrowed, and Brain tried very, very hard to ignore the feeling of being studied. "Brain," she asked, careful, "when were you planning on leaving?"

Now, he almost said, but the words got caught behind his teeth as he stared at her.

It didn't seem to matter; she'd apparently come to the realization, anyways, expression shifting slowly toward disbelief, and he had to turn his head away. "Brain—"

"It's important. If we know where it is, might as well not waste time."

"You—" She shook her head, looking like she was trying to process the idea.

It made something not-quite-angry flare in his chest, and he found himself explaining, almost defensive, "I waited too long before. I just don't want to risk it again."

"Darkness isn't going to overwhelm Scala if we wait a few days."

It happened to Daybreak Town.

"Brain." Skuld's grip on his wrist tightened, but her voice had grown gentler. "It wasn't your fault."

It was my job to protect them.

(It's still your job now. That's why you're here, isn't it? To try again? To give your friends the chance to have a happier ending?)

(She seemed better off, leaving us behind. I don't know if I—)

"Meili," Skuld said, quiet and firm, and Brain almost argued, because they needed to go, they couldn't just wait—

But then Skuld was dragging him away, shouting a "Goodbye!" to the dock workers, and Brain didn't protest.

(He did look back. There was a thought there, half-formed, that looked a lot like the ghosts of his friends, fading away as one of them moved forward—but he banished it before he let it get too far, tucking it carefully in his chest and trying to ignore how much it ached.)

-You were back here again. Your last moments, you realized now—or, your last moments from your previous life. Everything seemed jumbled, your memories of Scala ad Caelum interjected with memories of a place and time you knew but shouldn't.

The cableway was cold. The ground felt unsteady beneath your feet. There was an ache in your chest, and your fingers were growing numb. You knew, with a strange, calm sort of certainty, that you were dying.

(You could still see Ephemer's crying face, and you still had the energy to muster to grieve that—and it felt so raw and fresh that it surprised you. It felt like you'd always been like this; like you'd never lived in Scala ad Caelum at all.)

"Giving up so soon, Little Light?"

Darkness didn't swirl overhead, this time; they curled around your shoulders, a cold, sticky hug they wanted to pull out of but couldn't. "You should be careful; you can never be sure what lurks in the shadows."

For a moment, you thought you heard…voices. Not ones you recognized, but ones that made your hair stand on end, all the same. When you blinked, you almost thought you could see a hazy apartment behind your eyelids.

"But don't worry; we will keep you safe."

Mimir gasped, head jerking upward, and for a moment, they couldn't place where they were. Slowly, slowly, reality trickled back. The faint sound of the fountain. The hard stone underneath their hands. The quiet noise of people moving around them.

Scala ad Caelum. The Founder's Fountain. Ephemer's fountain.

(He promised to meet me there.)

The tears in their eyes felt foreign, and even though they blinked rapidly, they refused to scrub them. An ache settled into their bones, their fingers curling around the edges of the fountain to try and keep themself up.

"Alright," a voice said from nearby, "throw your coin in and make a wish."

They glanced cautiously to the side. A child stared intently at the coin in their hand, their mother standing behind them; after a moment they threw it into the water with a splash. "Do I have to ask Master Ephemer for it?"

"No, no—but if you're lucky, he might decide to bless you."

It made something bitter fill their throat—he was just a person, they knew him—and then it hit them, all over again, that they'd done the exact same thing, looking for him and Skuld and the others, even if they hadn't known it.

(They weren't my friends. They were yours. All that time, I was looking for—)

Their head ached. Mimir rubbed it, grinding their teeth.

They didn't know why they'd come back here. They knew, now, why they'd been drawn to the Founder's Fountain in the first place—and now, they felt strangely torn about whether they wanted to avoid it or linger there out of some weird sense of grief.

Mostly, they just wanted to lie down and sleep.

"Ah! Mimir!"

They lifted their head slowly, the palm of one hand pressed against their eye. Kvasir stood in front of them, smiling tentatively. "I didn't expect to see you here," he admitted, "but I suppose it makes sense, given—ah."

He looked, suddenly, embarrassed and alarmed, and Mimir wasn't quite sure which was worse: that he'd been worried enough to cut himself off, or that he'd had the thought at all. "It's okay," they signed, but the movements felt sluggish and foreign, and they tried not to dwell on it too much. "What are you doing here?"

His expression shifted to something a little more morose. His eyes flicked up, to the statue still behind them. "Just…thinking, I suppose."

Mimir tilted their head.

"Ah—sorry. It's nothing, really. Just…" He sighed, then sat down next to him with a tired slump. "I was always proud of my heritage. Being descended from a Union Leader felt…special. But I suppose most of family has…taken that pride too far." He smiled, but it was a bitter sort of thing, and it looked wrong on his face. "It just…hurts to accept, still."

There was a distant part of Mimir that grieved—not for the person in front of them right now, even though that part still cared, but for the fact that Ephemer's lineage had fallen so far. But there was a part of them that was still Mimir that looked at Kvasir and saw a hurting friend, and they grasped it tight.

They knocked their shoulder lightly against his. They weren't sure what to say—they didn't think there was much of anything that could actually make the situation better—but they offered a tired sort of smile, as genuine as they could manage.

It got Kvasir to smile back, even if it was small.

For a moment, the two of them just sat there in companionable silence. It was…nice. It made Mimir's racing thoughts quiet, even if only briefly.

They felt more than saw Kvasir start beside them, jerking into an upright position. "Oh. That's—"

Mimir followed his eyes, eyebrows furrowed. He was watching a woman they didn't recognize; she glanced around briefly, then slipped into the shadows between two buildings.

"Aunt Lydia?" Kvasir asked, mostly to himself. After a moment of thought he surged to his feet, shouting, "Aunt Lydia, wait!"

Mimir made a startled noise, but shot to their feet after him, tugged along more on instinct than anything.

Kvasir was fast—by the time Mimir caught up, he'd already reached his apparent Aunt. She'd turned around to face him, eyes narrowed; Kvasir looked hesitant, eyes wide and hands lifted, like he wasn't quite sure what to do with them.

Mimir hovered uncertainly behind him. They glanced at the woman—Lydia?—and tried to gauge her expression. It looked almost suspicious, like she wasn't quite sure why Kvasir was following her.

After a tentative moment, Mimir took a breath and reached for their heart magic—

(you can't you can't you can't remember what happened last time—)

They recoiled like they'd been stung. Everything felt too hot and too cold, their hands shaking so hard they sent tremors up their arms.

"You—" Kvasir started, then broke off, looking lost for words. "What are you…doing here?"

Lydia's eyes narrowed further.

"I mean—not that you can't be out! But it seemed like you, uh…didn't want to be noticed." There was something almost frightened in his expression, like he wanted her to say 'no' and wasn't sure she would.

"If that's what you believe, then why did you decide to follow me?"

Kvasir flinched. "Well—I was just. Wondering."

Lydia studied him, and Mimir shifted a little, just in case she decided to do something. Her attention flicked to them, and they froze.

She turned away after a moment; her expression seemed almost thoughtful as she studied Kvasir, and it put Mimir on edge. "Aegir was always very fond of you, wasn't he?"

(the mansion and darkness and they were trapped but now it was worse what were they supposed to do—)
"I—he is. Was."

"Did you know anything of his plans?"

"Not—not much, I'm afraid." He glanced at Mimir, some of the anxiety slowly replaced for confusion. "He didn't tell me much of anything."

"Hmm." Lydia tapped her fingers idly against her arm, then turned to leave without another word.

"Wait! Why are you asking?"

"I was simply hoping to confirm something with less effort. That's all."

"I—maybe I can help."

Mimir shot him an incredulous look.

Kvasir glanced back at them, looking almost terrified himself, but he gave them a smile that reminded them so much of his ancestor that their heart ached. Whatever crazy plan he had in his head, they were probably along for the ride—whether they really wanted to be or not.

Lydia gave him a skeptical look.

"It's something to do with Uncle Aegir, right?" he asked, and his expression shifted toward something more open and friendly. Something almost innocent—but then, that came naturally to Kvasir. "I might not have known what his plans were, but perhaps I can assist with—with figuring out whatever you're trying to figure out?" He tilted his head, and Mimir was pretty sure the curious confusion on his face was genuine. "What are you trying to figure out?"

Lydia studied him, then huffed, shaking her head. To Mimir's surprise, there was a genuine smile on her face, even if it was small. "I doubt you will be much help."

"Please?" After a hesitant heartbeat, he added, "I…want to help my family. If I can."

Mimir could hear the hesitance; they could see the uncertainty, twisting briefly across his face. But maybe his family was too used to the idea that he didn't know what they were up to, because Lydia didn't seem to register it at all. Lydia tapped her fingers against her arms, looking thoughtful for a moment. "Perhaps…" She turned toward him, appraising. "Alright. I suppose it can't hurt for you to come along." And then she turned toward Mimir, and they tried not to flinch away. "But your friend should stay behind. This is family business; no one else needs to be involved."

"That's—okay. I understand."

Mimir almost protested. Almost. But Kvasir turned to them, shaking his head minutely. His hands moved, and after a beat, they realized he was signing, "Follow."

Despite themself, they smothered a grin.

"I'll see you later?" Kvasir said aloud, and Mimir nodded, trying to keep their thoughts off their face.

Lydia appraised them, then turned. "Come on, then; I would prefer to get this over sooner rather than later."

Kvasir hurried after her, shooting one last look back towards Mimir. They waved, turning and pretending to leave. When they were out of sight, they circled around, trying to keep track of their friend. I don't know what you're planning, Kvasir, they thought, but stay safe.

-"Stars," Meili said, rubbing their temple, "you two really know how to find trouble, don't you?"

Skuld and Brain had managed to catch them as they made their way back to their office—tired, arms full of papers, and looking like they wanted nothing to do with whatever the two of them were about to say. Skuld couldn't really blame them, but she did think it was a little unfair that she was getting lumped into the problem. "Brain was the one who found out."

"Hey."

"Don't. Just—don't." Meili lifted a hand, then gave Brain's new-found Keyblade an exasperated look. "Take that back."

He'd been holding it stiffly the entire walk here; it felt like there was a bigger connection there, but Skuld had no idea what it was, and Brain certainly didn't seem like he was willing to offer it. At the comment, he frowned, hand twitching like he'd wanted to tap the Keyblade and then stopped himself. "I will," he said, "once we get this mission figured out."

"Stubborn." Meili shook their head, but they stood, walking toward a starchart pinned to their wall, and Skuld found herself honing in on it, staring in fascination. (She wondered what each star represented—and what else she could find, if she was out there. She'd been so stuck in politics and dealing with the bluebloods that she hadn't had time to explore any of this new world at all; it felt like something was crushing her, stealing part of her away and hiding it in the shadows. Maybe when this is all over, we could leave—like Brain said.

But you'd be leaving behind the world Ephemer built. You'd be leaving behind Mimir, and Kvasir and Meili and—

Can you really do that?)

"You just called it 'the Wastelands'?" Meili asked, and it was a welcome distraction from the strange, uncomfortable feeling twisting Skuld's stomach.

"Not like it really had a name," Brain answered, just as easily.

"Alright. So a lot of worlds meet that description—and none have the name. I'm going to need something a little more definitive."

For a moment, Skuld could almost smell a heavy, metallic scent, her palms sweaty against her Keyblade's hilt.

Brain hazarded a glance in her direction, then said, "It's—"

"Keyblades."

The word came out before Skuld really had the chance to process it. Brain's attention snapped toward her, expression unreadable; Meili gave a half-glance back at her, frowning.

"Keyblades," she repeated, and it didn't sound any steadier than the first time she'd said it, but at least this time speaking was intentional. "It's where the Keyblade War happened. There are—there are lots of Keyblades there."

Meili's breath hissed between their teeth. "Shit. Alright." They glanced briefly at their chart, took out a notebook and wrote something down, then returned to their desk and slumped into their seat. "Well, good news, as far as getting there: that's probably as well-known as a world can be around here. The Keyblade Graveyard's an important historical site, so wielders are tasked with taking care of it. Wiping out Heartless, making sure no one disturbs the graves—that sort of thing. Students even have to visit, to learn more about their history."

Skuld's throat tightened, eyes stinging with unexpected tears. She wasn't quite sure whether the feeling clogging her throat was grief or gratitude or something else entirely, and she wasn't sure she wanted to focus on it, given what was happening, but—

But.

"That popular and no one's found the box, huh?" Brain asked, but his expression had shifted, too, reflecting the same complicated sort of grief.

"Nobody's ever reported it." Meili sighed, leaning back in their chair. "Slightly worse news: because it's a historical site, getting approval requires a lot of paperwork. We need to make sure that we know who's going, and when, and what they're planning, because if anything's messed up there'll be hell to pay. I'm not worry about Frigga signing off on it—she'll be happy to know about what you learned, I'm sure—but it make take a few days to gather everything."

"Are you sure we couldn't have a team by tomorrow?" Skuld asked, because she could see the look on Brain's face, and knew that if they waited too long he might decide to leave on his own.

(And that was strange to think about, too; Brain had never been particularly impulsive, always careful with his plans. It was…worrying.)

"I'm pretty sure we have our 'team' now," Meili commented dryly. "Unless you're looking for people besides the three of us, Kvasir, and Mimir."

She…wasn't sure she wanted additional people to follow her to such a personal place. She just thought—

"There shouldn't be much of a Heartless problem," Meili continued. "We'll probably want to pack supplies, in case we end up staying for a while. I'll assume this'll last a week; it hopefully won't take that long, but I'd rather over-estimate and come home early than under-estimate and hear about it later. But I'd rather not deal with the fallout if something goes wrong and Frigga finds out I didn't follow the proper protocol. She might be a little distracted right now, but she's still the Head of the Council, and if she doesn't hold me accountable, it'd probably just make things worse."

Brain's expression had gone carefully blank.

"Brain—" Skuld started, then broke off, unsure what to say.

"Sorry, kid," Meili said, and they did sound genuinely sorry. "It's the best I can do for you."

"…Right." Brain turned, lifting that strange Keyblade—careful, like he was worried it'd sting him, if it came too close. "I'll take this back, then. See you at the apartment."

"Brain—Brain, wait." Skuld cast an apologetic glance back toward Meili—who gestured for her to follow, a trouble look on their face—before hurrying after her friend. "Hey—"

Brain glanced back at her, face momentarily twisted in frustration; it broke when he looked at her face, and he sighed, dragging his hat lower. "Sorry. Just—a lot on my mind."

"We'll get there soon," Skuld said, and it made her throat and chest feel tight, because she wasn't sure she wanted it to be soon, even if she knew they had to.

"…Right."

-Brain was, admittedly, tempted to ignore everything had told them and just leave on his own. He was pretty sure he could figure it out; it wasn't like he didn't have his own starchart, after all. He could just stop in during the night—every night, if he had to—and look, and maybe he could find it before the paperwork went through.

…But it wasn't like he was going to have the space to, with Skuld watching him so closely.

Brain breathed out a long, slow exhale. He knew why she was staring at him; he just hated that he was so transparent. "You going to be alright going back?" he asked, hoping desperately that it could divert some of her attention away from him.

Skuld frowned. "I'll be fine," she said. "Will you be?"

"Not like I have a lot of memories there."

"That's not all I meant."

He looked back at her, ignoring her pointed, narrow-eyed look, and he sighed. "I'm fine, Skuld. It's just…been a long day."

That worry didn't go away; if anything, it seemed to deepen. She opened her mouth, like she was planning on protesting that, but paused, eyes slipping past him, concern shifting into surprise. "Is that Kvasir?"

Brain frowned, but the distraction was enough to drag his mind away from things, if only briefly. Following her gaze, he caught sight of a woman he didn't know—but there, behind her, was a much more familiar shape. What is…? "Looks like it." Something moved behind them; Brain squinted at the shape, waiting until the person popped up from their hiding place again. "And Mimir's following him."

Skuld blinked, looking thrown, and then groaned, rubbing her hands over her face. "What are they doing?" she asked, words muffled into her palms.

A part of Brain didn't want to know; they had Darkness to worry about, they didn't have time for whatever nonsense.

(The last time this happened, Mimir was kidnapped.)

Brain swallowed, the guilt hot in his throat. He still felt…impatient. He didn't want to be distracted—but he didn't want the others to be in trouble, either. He sighed, exasperated, then glanced at Skuld. "Guess the only way to find out is to follow them."

Skuld's eyes sparked with something a little livelier, and when Brain tilted his head in their general direction, she moved, heading to cut off Mimir while staying out of sight of Kvasir and his companion. Brain circled around behind them, eyes flicking only briefly toward the two individuals up ahead. Neither seemed concerned; if anything, the woman seemed distracted and perhaps a little annoyed with Kvasir's attempts at conversation.

Mimir seemed to be keeping a close eye on the two of them; they slipped from one hiding spot to the next, always keeping a careful distance between them and the others. Their focus helped them stay quiet, unnoticed by the people they were tailing—but it also meant they didn't realize Skuld was there until she stepped in front of them. They came to an abrupt halt, nearly throwing themself back behind their hiding spot, before they seemed to realize who was standing in front of them.

Brain moved to grab them before they could make a noise, dragging them into an alleyway. He nearly got an elbow in his stomach for his troubles; Mimir whipped around, fearful expression changing to exasperated when they realized who it was. "Really?" they signed.

"Kvasir's talking to some stranger, and you're tailing him," Brain responded, voice as deadpan as Mimir's expression.

"Is something wrong?" Skuld asked. "Is that woman dangerous?"

"Yes," they signed, then paused and frowned. "No. I don't know. I'm going to lose him if we keep talking."

Mimir started towards the entrance; Brain caught them, swinging them around, and they made a noise of frustration. "You have heart magic, right? You can find them again."

Something complicated flickered across Mimir's face, carefully stuffed down after a moment.

"Mimir," Skuld said, sounding like she was stumbling over the name for a moment, "what's going on?"

Mimir glanced between them, then made a frustrated noise. "That woman—Lydia—is Kvasir's aunt," the signed, movements so quick Brain almost couldn't keep up. "She was asking about Aegir. They're going…somewhere." They threw up their hands, looking frustrated and nervous.

Skuld had gone stiff; Brain forced out a slow exhale, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Right. Of course. So you're tailing him to make sure he doesn't get in trouble, right?"

"He told me to."

That was surprising. "Guess he does have some sense, after all."

Skuld hit his arm lightly, but there was a troubled look on her face. Brain studied her, then tilted his head in the general direction of the entryway.

Skuld caught the look; she gave him a tired sort of smile, then nodded.

Mimir glanced between the two of them. Their expression shifted, like they couldn't quite figure out if they wanted to be relieved or resigned.

"So," Skuld said, and there was something in her voice Brain couldn't quite place, "I guess we'd better catch up to them."

The original scene where Brain told Skuld what he found out was a bit different; originally, it was back at Meili's place, with shenanigans from the Spirit pet. I ended up changing things because initially, Brain was hesitant to tell people what he'd learned, and given his current mental state I…didn't figure that'd make a whole lot of sense, aha.