'Plans unfold.'

Chapter Thirty-Three: Discovery

"I didn't expect you to want to speak to me so soon," Sigurd said, and it was only partially a lie.

"I figured you probably had some interesting things to report." His black-coated contact leaned back his head. They were surprisingly out in the open—crouched on a rooftop, high enough that prying eyes weren't likely to look up at them, but still visible. Sigurd glanced down over the edge, and wondered what people would see if they looked up. "You and Brain seemed awfully close."

"We aren't. Not really. He just knew I could help him find you."

"Huh. Wonder how he figured that out."

It didn't sound like a question, but Sigurd knew he was supposed to answer, anyways. "His friend was kidnapped. He…learned some things." He paused, and then: "He called you Luxu."

His companion didn't answer right away, a contemplative silence stretching between them. "Yeah," he said, finally. "That's what I was known by, once, a long time ago."

"He said that Keyblade was yours," Sigurd continued, and he could feel himself rushing to get his thoughts out. "A Foreteller's Keyblade."

"Ha! Not quite. I carried the Keyblade, sure, but I wasn't any Foreteller."

"But you were alive back then."

Luxu tilted his head toward him; even with his eyes hidden, Sigurd felt like he was being stared at. Time felt sticky and slow, suddenly, sounds growing distorted, birds moving at half-pace. "Yeah," Luxu said, finally, the only thing that seemed to move at a normal pace, "I was."

The next words felt sticky; he had to drag them out of his throat, feeling them as they stuck behind his teeth, and when he spoke, it was slow enough to feel the shape of them. "You took his body."

Luxu was still staring at him, but he could sense he had his full attention, now. He felt frozen, limbs locked in place, and he thought he could catch the gleam of invisible eyes.

"You—said you would see what you could do." When Sigurd lifted his head, it felt like there was a hand pressing against it, forcing it down—but he needed to say this now, because if he didn't, he'd never get them out. "About my brother."

Luxu didn't move, and Sigurd's throat felt like it was closing, everything slowing to a painful standstill. The world went quiet; everything stopped moving. Even Luxu was very, very still, in a way that felt unnatural. It made Sigurd's skin itch, and he wanted to scream, to move, to do something—

And then Luxu turned away, and the spell was broken. Sound came back with a roar; Sigurd sank to his knees, and it was his only confirmation that something real had happened, and the eerie stillness hadn't just been his imagination.

Luxu didn't say anything. Sigurd waited, and waited, and waited—for a confirmation or for him to pursue his own questions or anything. But as the silence dragged on, he realized his contact wasn't going to tell him anything at all. "Is that why you never gave me a name?" he asked. "Because there wasn't one you could give?"

Still, silence.

"Did you even know how to bring back the dead—"

"I told you I wasn't going to make promises I couldn't keep." Luxu waved a hand flippantly, and Sigurd clenched his fists and swallowed his scream. "There are ways to do it, but it's complicated. You can't just pull it out of the afterlife and hope things work out. You've got to hope that the heart's lingering around somewhere—and even then, you still have to be able to find it. If you found a way to anchor your heart to theirs, you might be able to pull them back—or you might just get pulled in yourself."

Anchor… It tugged on something in the back of Sigurd's brain—a conversation, half-remembered, and he wanted to pursue the thought, but Luxu kept going before he could.

"If it's any consolation, I tried to locate your brother's heart. I'm not exactly a natural with heart magic, but I've picked up a thing or two. Couldn't find a trace of it."

Sigurd could feel the energy draining out of him. "So he's…?"

"Gone." Luxu tilted his head briefly toward Sigurd, then sighed, turning away. "Sorry, kid. That's just the way things work out sometimes."

The stillness that followed was more natural, but oppressive, all the same. Sigurd shifted to sit, conscious of the distance between him and Luxu. Life went on below, and Sigurd watched them with a strange sort of bitterness. All this time, I've been working toward a useless goal. All this time—

It felt like something was leaking through his fingers, leaving him feeling strangely empty. "Were you ever going to tell me?"
Silence again; Sigurd half expected to look over and see that Luxu had left, but the cloaked figure was still there, one arm folded across his knee.

Sigurd swallowed. "Brain and his friends confronted Darkness. He's still looking for a way to trap it—but I suppose you helped him with that. We got out relatively unscathed, but it's still underneath the city." He stood, brushing off his pants, if only to give his hands something else to do. "That's all."

Luxu tilted his head, and Sigurd got the feeling that he knew there was more of a story to it, but Sigurd didn't feel particularly inclined to explain it. He moved, steps measured, across the rooftop, carefully climbing back down. He thought, for half a moment, that he should try and stay hidden, and then decided he wasn't sure he cared. Let him be discovered. I'm sure he'd figure out how to escape, anyways.

He didn't particularly want to go back to the Clock Tower right now—not that he had much to do, anyways, after Frigga had taken him off his post. And so he found himself wandering, aimless, through the streets of Scala ad Caelum. Some people seemed to recognize him, murmuring quiet greetings or startling away at his presence, and it rubbed raw against that already uneasy thing inside him.

(He had gotten this position for Luxu's sake. He had followed Brain for both him and Frigga. He had only one goal he'd been working toward for so long, and now he was faced with the reality that it just…wasn't feasible.

He couldn't remember much of the confrontation very well, but he could remember that overwhelming sense of loss and confusion. The emptiness. What did he want? What did he do now, when he didn't know where to turn?)

Something collided with his side; he startled backward, not sure if he ran into them, or vice versa.

"I'm sorry—" he started to say, and was almost immediately spoken over by the other party's panicked babbling.

"Geez, I'm sorry, I wasn't looking, I was, uh—oh. Oh, you work for the council. That's—cool. Great. Uuuhhh."

The person in question looked to be a student, white hair pulled back, face twisted in a guilty expression as she stared at him. Another student threw her arm around the girl's shoulders, making her yelp. "Eir. Buddy. You're terrible at this."

"He works for the council—"

"I'm sorry," Sigurd interrupted, "why's that important?"

The first student—Eir, Sigurd assumed—went pale, mouth clamping shut.

The second student looked uneasy for a moment, but her expression smoothed over into a smile. "No reason." She stuck out her hand. "Name's Kris."

Sigurd studied her expression, then Eir's; after a beat, he took the offered hand, shaking it carefully. "Sigurd. May I ask why two students are wandering around, looking like they're doing something they shouldn't?"

Eir, if anything, turned paler.

Kris seemed to tighten her grip around her friend's shoulders, ignoring her protests. "Just normal stuff. You know, breaking into classrooms, egging buildings—"

"That's the opposite of helpful."

"—the usual."

Sigurd studied them. Kris still had a stubborn grin on her face, but her eyes were pinched. Eir was doing a much worse job at hiding what she was feeling, wringing her hands and watching Sigurd with wide eyes.

(Looking at them reminded him of his brother, dragging him off on one wild scheme after another. It reminded him of Brain, constantly throwing himself in danger. It reminded him that things were still uneasy here, and that he didn't know where danger might be, and—)

"Well," he said, feeling resigned, "I suppose you wouldn't mind if I tagged along then?"

Eir's face fell, and Kris's smile stiffened. "Sure. Hey, maybe you could give us some pointers…"

-"Hello, Doris," Frigga said, plastering on as real a smile as she could manage. Doris certainly wasn't her top choice in ally, but she supposed Meili had a point about earning the loyalty of as many family members as possible.

"Frigga!" Doris, unsurprisingly, ushered her inside, and Frigga let herself be manhandled, watching as Doris fussed over her. "I was so worried when I heard the news—Aegir?"

"Aegir," Frigga agreed, and tried not to sigh. "He's…being handled. But I worry that this event is going to cause more friction within the family."

"Oh, yes, I can imagine—I'm sorry, I don't want you just standing here in the doorway. Come in, come in!" She ushered Frigga toward the living room, gesturing for her to take a seat. "Can I get you anything?"

She thought about brushing the offer off, but then paused, considering. "Tea."

"Coming right up!"

Doris hurried out of the room, leaving Frigga alone. The air felt…strangely heavy. The last time she'd been here had been before Aegir's challenge, with—

("Frigga, I don't want this.")

Frigga swallowed, hands curling into fists. What was your plan, then? she wondered, but hadn't quite been able to make herself ask. You're a Union Leader; why wouldn't you want to reclaim your role?

(She's also a child, some part of her whispered, that had to watch her world end.

She was my hero—

And how true to reality do you think those stories were?)

"Tea!" Doris said, voice high-pitched with forced cheer. Frigga took the offered cup gratefully, and with an effort of will forced her concerned thoughts to the back of her mind.

Doris sat, absently wiping her hands against her skirt. "I don't know if I can be of much help," she admitted. "I don't hear much from most members of the family—I have to get everything through rumors, and a couple of friends of mine. I didn't even hear that you'd lost Master's Defender until yesterday evening."

Frigga soured. "I hadn't told anyone," she said, and wondered who had figured it out. Osmin wouldn't say anything, but if Aegir knows—he might've passed it along.

"Oh." Doris's expression fell. "Was that not supposed to be…? I'm so sorry. Are you doing okay?"
It was a surprisingly sweet question, even if she couldn't answer it truthfully. "As…I can be."

Doris's expression was pensive. "It really is a shame—the Union Leaders seemed so nice."

…What? "I'm afraid I don't follow," Frigga said carefully.

Doris stared at her with a vaguely perplexed look. "Master Brain has it," she said, and Frigga could feel her world shifting sideways. "Or at least, that's what I heard." Her confusion gradually shifted toward something closer to concern. "You…didn't know?"

(Brain has it. He has Master's Defender, but he never said anything.)

"No," she said, and she heard how hollow her voice sounded. "I didn't."

-"Anything?" Brain asked, for what felt like the hundredth time.

Skuld's eyebrow twitched. "You could've just kept the Spirit yourself."

"Working on it." While she couldn't see it right now—still focusing on the connection to her own Spirit—she could imagine Brain gesturing to the makeshift workstation he'd set up at Meili's table. Kvasir, last she knew, had been watching him eagerly, giving pointers for what sorts of creatures would be 'best.' "You didn't answer my question."

"No. There hasn't been anything yet." It'd been over a day since they'd seen Lydia's conversation with Aegir, and so far, Skuld hadn't heard anything about the meeting. She'd discovered—through Brain's help—that the Spirit could relay important information that it'd heard after the fact, or reach out to her if it noticed something. Still, she'd found herself checking in periodically, hoping that she'd catch something. Mostly, though, she'd just watched Lydia pace around her apartment.

With a sigh she cut off the connection. The sky was turning orange as the sun set, and Skuld let her head thunk back against the window lightly.

Meili glanced at her from where they were working in the kitchen. Mimir had taken up a place near them, staring doggedly at the potatoes they were helping to peel. "It could be a while before they actually have the meeting," they pointed out. "We don't know how many people they're trying to get to come."

"Can't be too long," Brain argued, "or Aegir will go to trial before they can do anything."

Kvasir's expression was pinched. "Eir talked to me a little this morning," he said. "She said she hadn't been able to find out much, but she'd keep listening in."

"Which means we're still stuck doing nothing." Skuld glanced at Brain, who was pointedly looking at his workstation. "Except for the person who probably should be doing nothing."

Brain crumpled up a paper and tossed it out her without looking. "You're one to talk."

"You missed."

He crumpled another paper, turned toward her exaggeratedly, and threw it. She caught it after some fumbling and threw it back at him.

Meili muttered something under their breath that made Mimir snort, turning back to whatever they were cooking.

The apartment door opened, and Skuld snapped towards it almost instinctively, tensing. She relaxed when she saw it was just Bridget and Eric, returning with bags full of groceries. "Enough to hold us for a few days," Eric said, grinning, but his expression was a little pinched. "And snacks, if you guys get bored waiting."

Bridget slipped toward Meili, passing them a small bundle. "Extra potions," she said, quiet. "And some bottled Blizzards. I know you get supplies, but—"

"We'll be okay," Meili said, their voice surprisingly gentle; their eyes softened, and they took the offered bundle.

Skuld swallowed, turning away. Right. Even after this, we'll still have to—

Something nudged the back of her mind—a faint flicker of awareness, a flash of sound and sight from somewhere else, and she sat straighter.

"Skuld?" Brain asked.

"It's—the Spirit, hang on—"

Connecting to the Spirit, at least, had started to become easier. She strengthened the faint bond it had created, the world opening up around her, sights and sounds and smells spreading out and wiping away the apartment in front of her. Her heart hammered as she caught sight of Lydia, striding purposefully down the street, casting glances around her like she didn't want to be followed.

"This might be it," Skuld said. "Lydia's on the move."

-Sigurd was really starting to wonder how he ended up in these situations. I suppose I have no one to blame but myself this time, he thought ruefully, trailing behind the two students. Still—

"So, like, what do you even do on the council? Do you just stand around and look intimidating?"

—they could be a little less conspicuous.

He supposed he should give them at least some credit; Kris seemed to be making an effort to keep him distracted, at the very least. But Eir still looked spooked, hunched in on herself like she thought she could disappear if she just tried hard enough.

"I'm a personal assistant to Master Frigga," he answered. "My tasks vary, depending on the need. Most recently—" I was tasked to spy on one of the Union Leaders. "—I worked with Master Brain to help introduce him to Scala ad Caelum."

The thought was bitter, now, everything soured by what he'd been through, and he tried to shake it off, focusing more on the students in front of him.

"Wait, really?" Kris glanced toward Eir with a grin. "What do you know? We know some guys who work with the Union Leaders, too."

Eir, if anything, looked more panicked. "Kris—"

"Her cousin," Kris said, jabbing a finger in Eir's direction, "is friends with them. Works with the Exploration Department—you might know him."

"Know—" He glanced at Eir, and the answer clicked. "Kvasir?"

"That's the guy! One of our classmates knows them, too, funnily enough. They never talked to us a lot, so it's kind of funny they made friends with the Union Leaders. Not bad, I guess—just interesting." She folded her hands behind her head, walking backwards, while Eir cast a glare in her direction.

"One of your classmates…" Sigurd trailed off, thinking a moment. "Mimir?"

That seemed to genuinely startle both of them, Eir snapping back toward him, Kris stumbling a little. "Yeah," Kris said, but she recovered quickly. "I wasn't sure you'd actually know they're name—they're pretty quiet. Keeps to themself."

"I've worked with the Union Leaders," Sigurd repeated, trying not to feel exasperated. "I'm familiar with their allies—or at least, some of them."

Kris tilted her head. "Huh."

"What…does that mean?"

"Nothing! Hey, if you know the Union Leaders so well, did you know that we're working with them, too?"

"Kris!" Eir snapped, looking mortified.

Sigurd glanced over them. "…You," he repeated, but after a moment's thought— "That doesn't surprise me as much as it should."

Kris's smile turned vaguely baffled. "Really?"

"They always seem to have…interesting taste in allies." More quietly, he added, "Besides, I could see them gravitating to people their own age—if for no other reason than to make friends."

(The other Union Leaders would've been this young, too. They should've still been training, not—)

Kris's expression fell a little, but it was Eir who spoke, not her. "But—they're Union Leaders. We're just—you know." She glanced aside, looking sheepish. "I mean, I guess they wanted me for—uh. Never mind. We're not like them, is what I mean."

"They're kids," Sigurd pointed out, but it was an absent thing, his mind more focused on what Eir had seemed about to say. "What did they 'want you for'?"

"Uh…"

"Nothing," Kris interrupted, slinging an arm around Eir's shoulders. This time, it looked a little like she was trying to drag her backward. "Hey, so—the Union Leaders. Do you think you could take a message back to them?"

Sigurd studied them. "…Where are we going?" he asked, rather than answer the question.

"Look, I already told you—"

"You want me to stop following you. I don't think that you're going where you say you are."

"Listen—"

"Hey," Eir whispered, tapping Kris's arm rapidly. "Kris. There they are."

Kris stopped, snapping around.

Sigurd followed her eyes. There, walking through the streets, was a pair of people he knew only at a distance. Fancy dress, white hair, older features. Bluebloods.

"Who are they?" Sigurd asked, quiet.

"My parents," Eir whispered. "They weren't home when I got there, so I got Kris to help me try and find them."

"Why?"

Eir's lips pressed flat, her expression troubled.

Kris glanced at him, smile sharp. "We're on a mission from the Union Leaders." After a moment of consideration, she added, "If you're really helping them—you in?"

-"You're finally trying to take my place? After all this time?"

No one was around to hear Frigga. She paced in her office, the room dark; she'd been here since she left Doris's, and she'd tried to focus on her paperwork or dealing with the bluebloods or—

"If you hadn't stolen my Keyblade," she hissed, turning another circuit, "this never would've happened. Aegir would've lost cleanly. I could easily prove my right to act as Head of the Council." Twist, turn. "Why now? Did you think it'd be funny? Did you have some plan that you were only just able to bring to fruition?

"Did you finally just get tired of me?"

It was the last thought that finally made her stop. It filled a space in her chest with something tired and bitter, and she leaned against her desk, hands braced against the edges. She tilted her head backward, staring at the ceiling. "Did I do this to myself?" she whispered, and it came out more worn than she'd expected it to.

("Frigga, I don't want this.")

Her fingers tightened, gripping the edge of her desk so hard they hurt. "Why wouldn't you take it back before?" she whispered. "You knew it was yours before I did."

The silence felt almost oppressive. Frigga hesitantly extended a hand. She reached for Master's Defender, and—nothing. Just an empty space where it had been.

She glanced up at the Keyblade hanging on her wall. It'd been a long time since she'd used it; she'd shelved it, along with many things from her past, when she'd become the Head of the Council and been bequeathed the blade. "It belonged to my ancestors," she whispered. "It should be mine." She turned away, bile in her throat. "Why haven't you acted? If you stole my Keyblade—why haven't you done anything with it?"

There was probably an easy way to get answers—it wasn't like Brain wasn't around, after all. He can be hard to track down, she argued, but it felt more like an excuse.

(He was the one who was supposed to replace her. He was a legend. With how fragile her position was, it'd be easy for him to sweep in and take over.)

(She'd manipulated him and his friends the entire time they'd been here.)

"I need to—plan. Do damage control. I need to—figure out how to stop this before it starts." She ran her hands over her face and through her hair.

"You look like you're having a rough time."

That was one of the last people she wanted to talk to—but then, she did need to keep an eye on him. "Anders," she said, slowly lifting her head.

He lifted his hands. "Your door was open."

Frigga very nearly snapped at him to get out. Instead, brittle, she found herself asking, "How much of that did you hear?"

"I saw you storm in and slam your door open." His lips twisted into a smirk, eyes flickering with something like amusement.

"I suppose Aegir would be happy to hear how low he's brought me," Frigga spat, and she knew it was a mistake, but she was…tired. It felt like she was trying to keep her head above water, and this was just one more thing shoving her down.

"He'd probably be happier if he was free," Anders said. "Or if you two could work together."

"Together?" Frigga asked. "He tried to steal my position. He was a danger to the citizens of Scala ad Caelum. He attacked the Union Leaders—"

"And isn't one of them a threat to your position right now, too?"

Frigga cut herself off, and she could feel something breaking inside her, slowly.

(If she looked closely, she thought she could see the shadows moving.)

"The Union Leaders…should've remained legends," Anders said, coming into her office and leaning against her desk like he was trying to be friends. "They work well as stories, but the truth is, they don't really live up to their expectations."

"They're children," Frigga snapped, despite herself, and she could feel something else snap; she wasn't sure if it was something breaking off or falling into place. "You're suggesting we kill children."

(Children who'd watched their world fall. Who were thrown out of time and away from their friends. Who'd had the only authority figures here immediately try to take advantage of them because they were legends—

They were legends. They were legends, and nothing would ever entirely change the fact that that had weight here.)

(She could still see Skuld staring at her, tired and stubborn, and could feel herself wondering hollowly how it'd gotten to this point.)

"Not kill," Anders said, "but…remove. We all know that they shouldn't be left in charge. But if Master Brain has Master's Defender…" He gave Frigga a side-eyed glance. "It's only a matter of time, Frigga. You wanted to present a united front; wouldn't you rather do that in a way that will preserve your position? You wouldn't have to worry about the Union Leaders anymore—wouldn't have to worry about chasing them down or protecting them or worrying that they'll overthrow you, when society decides that you aren't good enough."

Frigga stared at him, and the temptation was so strong it hurt. For a moment, she could see it—she could see a world where they were gone. It was a bitter, hollow thing, but there was triumph in it, too—relief that there was no one left to challenge her, acceptance that maybe she would never be the hero she'd wanted to be, because—because that had fallen away a long time ago, anyways, hadn't it? Maybe it didn't matter. And she was tired, and frustrated, and—and why did she have to keep up this balancing act, anyways, when so many parties seemed determined to make life difficult?

It felt like something sticky was creeping over her shoulders; if she listened, she thought she could hear water dripping in the background. Wouldn't it be nice? hissed something through her ears. Aren't you tired of bending you knee?

("I want to be just like her," she heard a younger version of her say, voice bright and cheery.

"Who?"

"Master Skuld! She's so brave and kind and cool. Maybe one day, I can be a leader like that, too."

The words remained, but they felt frail—an echo over an image of a child, eyes shadowed with exhaustion, broken by what were probably sleepless nights and attacks from people she'd thought would be allies.)

"…Anders."

"Yes?"

"Get out before I have you arrested for treason."

Anders's jaw dropped. It seemed to take a moment for him to realize she was serious; he leapt away from the desk, backing away and waving his hands, a heartbeat later than he should've. "Now—now let's not be hasty—"

Frigga narrowed her eyes, and Ander's mouth clicked shut. He turned and fled, leaving her in the dark room.

Oh? There was a whisper of something that almost sounded amused. How interesting.

The sticky feeling seemed to pull away from her shoulders. The room almost seemed lighter; it felt like she could breathe easier, even if there was something in her chest that still felt broken and fragile, and she leaned backward, her hands slipping a little as she tried to keep herself up. She nearly knocked some papers off her desk, and she went to collect them, and…paused. These are…for Meili's exploration request. She picked up the papers carefully, shuffling them.

She…did need to talk to them about that. Figure out the final logistics for the mission, make plans…

They've been working with the Union Leaders for a long time, she thought. Maybe they could offer…insight. About what I should do.

It made her feel almost silly, having to ask them. I can simply…go and talk to them about their mission. If it comes up—then it does. She gathered the papers together, clutching them close to her chest. She took a moment to breathe and compose herself.

It didn't feel nearly enough.

-Through the Spirit's eyes, Skuld tracked Lydia through the streets. At first, she had no particular idea where they were going, trailing after Lydia's feet as the world grew darker. But then she started to notice familiar buildings, the landmarks slowly making her skin prickle. In the distance, she could see a familiar building, sitting out in the open. "She's going to Aegir's."

-"That's Master Aegir's estate," Sigurd whispered, trailing carefully behind Eir's parents.

She looked grim, fingers flexing as they tailed them.

Apparently, her parents weren't the only ones coming; another woman was approaching the gate, and in the distance, Sigurd thought he could see other figures—people trailing slowly closer, coming from everywhere across the city.

"What're they all doing?" Kris murmured.

"I don't know."

-"I suppose you got Anders's message, too," Lydia said, the sound coming into focus with a quiet pop!

Footsteps sounded nearby; the Spirit backed away without Skuld's prompting, letting her see someone else approaching the estate's entryway.

"Lydia." One of the strangers lifted their head in acknowledgement. "I'm glad to see you've decided to join us."

"Hmm. We'll see."

"There are…four people at the gate right now—no, five." Someone else was coming in the distance. "I think there are more already in the estate itself." She could see shadowy figures on the lawn, shapes moving near the entrance of the building.

"No one's stopping them, huh?" Brain asked.

"No. Not that I can see. Maybe they bribed people not to tell, or—oh, they're going in."

"I suppose," Lydia was saying, the gates creaking open, "that we should be grateful for Frigga's paranoia, in some ways." She gestured, and after a moment the others with her moved, stepping cautiously onto the walkway.

Skuld swallowed tightly, heart in her throat. With a nudge, she sent her Spirit after them.

-Sigurd had never actually been in a blueblood's estate before. He'd had to interact with many of them, given his job, but he was never on friendly enough terms with them to be invited over for…anything, really. It was strange, standing hidden in the foyer, watching more people trickle in from the shadows.

"Can you make it?" Kris asked, voice low.

A quick glance behind him showed that Eir was still lowering herself down from the window they'd used to enter, foot cautiously stretching toward the ground. "S-sure. My cousins and I used to do this all the t—ime!" Her grip slipped, and she nearly crashed into the floor; Kris jumped to catch her, slapping a hand over her mouth and dragging her back behind a pillar. Sigurd slipped further into the shadows, casting a nervous glance back toward the gathering bluebloods. Some looked their way, but most, thankfully, seemed more interested in talking to each other, discussing…whatever was going to be happening at this strange meeting.

"There are a lot of people," Eir whispered. "Do you think the Union Leaders…?"

The flicker of something caught Sigurd's eye—a small, colorful creature, crawling around just out of sight. "They probably knew something was going on," Sigurd whispered, "even if they didn't know exactly what it was. I suppose that's why they asked you to keep them informed."

Eir's expression pinched. She looked over the crowd, expression twisting uncertainly. "Everyone—"

"Shh!" Kris hissed. "They're starting."

-"Is this everyone?" Anders asked, his voice rising above the noise. It felt like a ridiculous question to Skuld; she couldn't imagine that all the bluebloods were here, but there were certainly enough that it made the room feel slightly claustrophobic. "There are a lot of people," Skuld whispered.

"Recognize anyone?" Brain asked.

"I don't know. I don't know many—wait. I think that's Fafnir."

The council member stood off to the side, arms folded as they watched Anders curiously.

Skuld swallowed, tight. "I kind of wish you could see it, Kvasir. You'd know more people."

"It's alright," Kvasir whispered, even if the way he said it made it sound like it wasn't. "Can you—"

"It's enough, Anders." The voice snapped Skuld back into focus, forcing her to listen. That person, at least, she recognized—Lydia, stepping briefly out of the crowd to give him a narrow-eyed look. "You asked us to come here for a reason. We'd like to hear about this plan."

-"What plan?" Kris murmured, rubbing her chin thoughtfully.

Beside her, Eir was staring wide-eyed at the crowd, murmuring names under her breath. "Halle, Sigrid, Sven…"

"Right," Anders said, voice lifted, and Sigurd felt himself bristling all over again. You're a council member. What are you doing, meeting like this?

(He remembered Brain's refusal to trust the council. For once, that didn't feel like such an unreasonable thing.)

"Frigga is no longer fit to lead," Anders continued, and Sigurd stiffened. Beside him, Kris sucked in a breath. Eir continued muttering, like she'd gotten stuck on the names of family members in front of her:

"…Ari, Dagr, Gulla…"

"While she won her fight against Master Aegir, she has lost Master's Defender. The missing Keyblade itself would be enough to prove that she is no longer worthy—but we have our own eyes to see that, too."

-"Anders is…saying Frigga's not fit to lead anymore because she lost Master's Defender."

Brain shifted, and Skuld moved a hand to blindly grip his and squeeze.

"She hasn't been able to control the Union Leaders," Anders continued, "who have acted entirely on their own, with no interest in helping anyone. They have, in fact, caused more strife; we have not seen such problems in Scala for decades.

"It's more than that, of course. For all that Frigga claims she wants to help our family, she has done very little to prove that. We have remained stagnant, letting our power wane when we should be ruling."

-"Typical blueblood," Kris muttered, and then cast a sheepish glance toward her friend. "Er—sorry, Eir."

"It's fine," Eir whispered, but she looked like she wasn't entirely there.

The crowd was listening closely; when Sigurd tried to get a good look at some of their faces, he thought he could see anger, or approval, or frustration that had likely been hidden for a long time.

"Frigga isn't the only problem," Anders continued. "The Union Leaders have been a threat since they arrived. Their erratic actions have seemed mostly self-serving—but now, they may have finally decided to make a move, as Master Brain is the one who stole Master's Defender."

-"They're…talking about you, Brain," Skuld whispered, and she could feel him twitch slightly. Her grip on his hand tightened.

The crowd was rumbling with unease at that, and Skuld swallowed, watching them through the Spirit's eyes.

"Master Aegir was right—and we didn't heed his warnings. It's time that we do something—that we take back the council, that we get rid of the Union Leaders, that we finally remind Scala ad Caelum that our family was the one that led them to success."

"You still haven't told us the plan, Anders," Lydia called, sounding vaguely irritated.

"I'm getting there," Anders said, sounding exasperated himself at the interruption. "Master Aegir and I have been working together. Through our talks, we've managed to…arrange some things.

"Master Aegir has been in contact with a group of assassins. We will use them to strike at the most important players—take them out, or keep them distracted, it doesn't matter. While they're occupied, we will move our own forces in to take over the city. Aside from those who are the biggest threats, it should be a quick, relatively bloodless affair.

"Frigga, Osmin, and the Union Leaders would be our primary targets. I suppose Fafnir and I will speak to the other council members and see who we can bring to our side." He nodded toward them, and Skuld tried not to shiver. "If we cannot at least convince them to remain neutral, they will be added to the target list. We will want as many Keybearers on our side as possible. I'm happy to see so many respected individuals here; use your influence to reach out to others, and help bring more in."

"That's all well and good," called a voice that Skuld didn't recognize, "but Aegir's trial is rapidly approaching. We don't have long to organize—unless you plan to let that go through?"

"Aegir's trial…is a tight deadline," Anders admitted. "We could perhaps convince Bryn and Leid to swing things in our favor and buy us a little more time, though unfortunately not much. We need a distraction—a time when people won't be expecting us to move, and where taking action would be risky."

Skuld stiffened.

"Skuld?" Brain asked, quiet.

"The festival," Anders continued, Skuld relaying the information numbly. "While everyone celebrates, we will move to strike, and finally bring our targets down."

-The walk back was a surprisingly silent affair. (Then again, maybe it shouldn't have surprised Sigurd. It was…a lot to take in, after all.)

He blinked, tilting his head back. Few people were out on the streets right now, but if he tried hard enough, he thought he could hear them in their homes, laughing from late-night gatherings or heading to bed. In the morning, he could imagine them getting up and going about their days, completely unaware of what was happening beneath their noses. Until…

"Everyone's going to start fighting." That was Eir, hushed, expression pale.

Sigurd grimaced, hands slowly curling into fists.

"They're going after the Union Leaders," she continued, voice slowly rising in panic. "They're going to hurt people, and I don't know what—"

"Hey. Hey, come on." Kris stepped toward her friend, gripping her shoulders tightly. "It'll be okay."

"It won't. We need to—we need to tell someone, but who—"

"We're telling the Union Leaders. They asked us to help, right?"

Sigurd had a feeling they already knew—but then, it wouldn't be bad, to have some additional input.

"What am I supposed to do?" Eir whispered, looking haunted; she rocked on her feet a little, despite Kris's attempts to steady her. "How am I supposed to listen to my parents plan for this…?"

Kris looked, for a moment, at a loss for words, and Sigurd was reminded strikingly of another kid he'd been tasked to watch. They shouldn't have to deal with this. They're only students.

…But they aren't alone, are they?

(What do you want?)

"Well," he said, "we don't have to wait around doing nothing."

Eir looked at him, eyes wet; Kris chanced a glance in his direction, expression morphing curiously.

"It will…probably come to a fight. There's likely very little we can do about that. But perhaps we can find ways to reduce the risk. Gather allies. Warn people. Make sure that everyone's prepared."

Eir looked at him, eyes slowly widening as the idea set in.

Kris gave him a slowly sharpening smile. "I think I like you, council guy."

-Meili's apartment was quiet after Skuld finally cut the connection with the Spirit. Meili's expression was grim, arms folded. Mimir wasn't looking at anyone, eyes lowered to the floor. Kvasir had gone pale, fiddling with his hands. Eric looked like he wasn't sure what to do with himself, and Bridget had turned away with a bitter twist to her features.

Skuld just leaned against Brain, too tired to feel much more than exhausted resignation.

"Well," Brain said, finally breaking the silence, "it's not like we didn't know they were after us."

"But this feels much more…real," Kvasir whispered. "Now they're actually organized; they have a plan. My family is—"

"Shit," Meili interrupted, "but we already knew that." They looked at Kvasir's expression, then sighed, seeming to make an effort to gentle their voice. "Look, it's bad, but at least we know what they're planning. We can take steps to try and stop them."

"But we're going to have to fight," Kvasir whispered. "I don't—I don't think there's a way around that."

Skuld grimaced, because she couldn't really see an answer to that problem, either; no matter what they did, it was probably going to end in conflict. "And Scala's…going to end up in the crossfire."

Another silence, then, as the room slowly absorbed that.

A knock sounded at the door. Skuld jumped, nearly knocking Brain over; Kvasir whipped toward the door, sparks flickering around his fingertips.

"Stars—who's knocking this late?" Meili moved toward the door.

"Don't answer it," Kvasir whispered. "What if it's—?"
Too late; Meili swung the door open, then stared at the person on the other side for several moments.

Skuld tensed, ready to summon her Keyblade, and Brain shifted beside her, wary.

When Meili finally said something, it wasn't what she expected: "I'm off work."

Skuld blinked, sharing a baffled glance with Brain, tension momentarily forgotten. She craned her neck a little, and—

There. Just beyond Meili, she thought she could just make out Frigga.

-Frigga shifted, casting a glance over her shoulder. Meili's apartment was surprisingly unobtrusive—just another place, amidst countless more like it, with nothing to indicate that a member of the council lived there. She felt strangely out of place her, tapping her fingers against her arms as she waited for someone to answer her knock.

A moment passed. Another. Frigga turned, half-ready to just leave, but then she breathed out a frustrated breath and turned back to the door, ready to knock again.

The door swung open, and Frigga lowered her hand almost as quickly, clutching her stack of papers carefully to her chest.

Meili didn't look particularly impressed to see her there. "I'm off work."

"I'm aware," she said, and her tone sounded brittle, even if she didn't want it to. "But I wanted to go over the details of your request. A seven day trip to the Keyblade Graveyard?"

"You could've talked to me about that tomorrow."

She could've. It would've been easier, and less awkward than coming all the way out here. Her fingers tapped against the papers, and she said, against her better judgment, "I'd prefer to get this sorted out sooner rather than later."

"Aunty Frigga?" came a familiar, surprised voice, and she caught a brief glance of Kvasir, peering around Meili's shoulder.

"Do you have to stick your nose into everything?" Meili asked, exasperatedly waving him off.

Frigga blinked, shifting a little. "I…wasn't aware you had guests."

Meili eyed her, then sighed, stepping out of the doorway. "Alright. Come in, if it's really that important. I guess everyone already knows you're here."

Kvasir smiled sheepishly, but Frigga barely spared him a glance, because he wasn't the only one in the room. Meili's partners were there, unsurprisingly, and the wielder she'd asked to help her watch the Union Leaders—and there were the Union Leaders themselves, staring back at her. Both were crouched on the windowsill; Skuld looked like she was half ready to bolt out the window itself, one hand gripping the frame tightly, while Brain's head was titled toward her, expression unreadable behind the brim of his hat.

Frigga's thumb flicked the edges of the paper. "I…suppose it can wait."

"Oh, it can, huh?" Meili gave her a deadpan look. "That's why you had to come all the way out here and barge into my apartment?" They gestured at the table. "If it's so important, get talking. It's not like anyone here doesn't know about things." Their eyes narrowed. "Or did you want to talk about something else?"

She stared at the Union Leaders, and tried to ignore the crawling feeling of annoyance, and guilt, and uncertainty. "How long have you been here?"

Brain tilted his head a little, and Skuld's eyes narrowed. "Since the assassin," she said.

Movement, then—Kvasir, shifting a little, like he was trying to put himself between her and them.

Frigga turned back to Meili, ignoring the way her skin prickled. "I just wanted to work out the logistics. You requested a team of five—may I assume that's yourself, plus these four?"

Meili studied her skeptically, then sighed, sitting at the table. "That's right." They gestured, and Frigga settled hesitantly on the edge of a chair. She set the papers in front of her, flicking through them, carefully going over what supplies they'd need approval for, discussing additional requests from the historical society, coaxing out more detail about what they'd be doing and where.

"You're going to have to talk to Brain about that," Meili said, and her eyes flicked, reluctantly, back to the Union Leader.

She could feel him watching her, even if she couldn't really see his eyes beneath the brim of his hat.

(You're the one who was supposed to replace me.)

(You're a child.)

"…I'll figure it out when we get there," Brain said, finally, and it was more than a little annoying, when she needed details if she wanted to approve this.

…Then again, maybe he didn't have many. "If we can't get additional information," she warned, "members of the historical society might have to come with you, to make sure you don't damage anything."

"Fine," Meili answered, drawing her attention back to them, "but we'll need to adjust the supplies for them."

As the two of them worked through the process, Frigga, very pointedly, did not look at the others in the room. She could feel them watching her, too, and she wondered what she might've interrupted. The quiet and stares made her feel distinctly unwanted, and she tapped a finger against the table, stuffing down her agitation.

"That should be everything," she said, both relieved and disappointed when the work was done. "Thank you. With luck, you should have the supplies and people you need within a few days."

"…Right." Meili was still eyeing her, looking like they were trying to figure out why she was really here.

She nodded, gathering the papers back to her—but when she finished, she hesitated, eyes flicking back to the Union Leaders.

They watched her back, wary. "Got something to say?" Brain asked finally.

"You—" You took Master's Defender. She clamped down on the words, swallowing them. "…Never mind. I apologize for intruding; I hope you have a good night." She dipped her head, and with an effort of will, finally forced herself to turn to leave.

"…Wait."

The fact that Brain called her back surprised her, and she hesitated for half a moment, flashing him a curious look.

He pushed his hat up enough that she could see his expression; there was something vulnerable there. Uncertain. He looked like a child, in a way he often didn't, and it made something coil in the pit of her stomach. "I…need to ask you something." He hesitated, eyes flicking toward the others.

"The hallway?" Frigga suggested, and Brain made a face, but he didn't protest.

Skuld shifted, like she wanted to go with them, but Brain gave a quick shake of his head. Skuld frowned, but settled back against the windowsill, watching them until they'd left.

The door closed behind them with a quiet click. Brain, despite his earlier statement, remained silent, working his jaw. He stared at the door, hands shoved in his pockets, and Frigga wondered what was going through his mind.

For her part, she wasn't sure how to feel. Angry, for the fact that despite Skuld's insistence that she didn't want Frigga's position, Brain might, if he'd stolen Master's Defender back? Confused, because he'd never seemed interested in it before? Worried, because there was clearly something bothering him, and he was a child, how was she supposed to—

"If you have something to ask me," she said, and her voice came out harsher than she intended, "ask it."

His attention snapped to her. His expression went blank, and Frigga had the frustrated feeling that whatever he was swallowing whatever he'd been about to say.

Fine then. "I know you have Master's Defender," she said, and she took note of the way he stiffened, like he'd hoped she'd never find out. "I was going to find out eventually. I suppose you finally decided to take matters into your own hands?" She titled her head, watching as confusion spread across his face, and for a moment, felt a flicker of doubt. "I don't, however, understand why you haven't made your claim."

"…Claim," Brain repeated, slowly.

"Of leadership." It felt painfully like explaining something to a small child, which in many ways seemed ridiculous, but—

It's like he hadn't even thought of it at all.

"Why else would you take it back?" She could hear her voice softening with her confusion. "You clearly don't like working with me. Since you hold Master's Defender, you could viably challenge me for the position of Head of the Council. Many people would support you, I'm sure. You wouldn't need to put yourself into this position—unless you're waiting for some tactical advantage?"

Brain's expression was slowly changing to something incredulous—and then, to her surprise, something bitter. "That's really what you think, huh?" Brain extended a hand, and Master's Defender flashed into his palm. For a moment, anger flashed, bright-hot, followed by an ache as she stared at the Keyblade.

(It was his first, some part of her whispered. Is this how he felt when he realized you had it?)

"If you want it so bad," Brain said, "take it back."

Frigga's attention snapped to his face. "What?"

"Take it back. I'm not—" He paused, breath hitching, and his expression went carefully blank. "I never wanted your position, Frigga. Wouldn't be very good at it, probably—not exactly the best with people." He gave a bitter sort of smile, but there was something pained in his eyes. "I just took it back because I needed it to fight against Darkness. That's all."

("Frigga, I don't want this.")

Frigga's fingers twitched toward the Keyblade. "When…did you fight Darkness?"

"Same time you were fighting Aegir, apparently. Didn't know about that until after the fact, though." He shrugged, not quite looking at her. "They took Mimir."

Frigga stared at him, and then at the Keyblade. After one hesitant moment, she wrapped her fingers around the hilt. Familiar voices came, warm and welcoming—the voices of her ancestors, filling her with a familiar feeling of safety. They faded after a moment, as they always did.

Brain lowered his hand. The Keyblade didn't disappear.

Frigga stared at it, a lump in her throat. "Why would you…?"

"I don't particularly like you, but I didn't come here to cause problems. I just want to figure out this whole situation with Darkness. After that, I'd be happy to get out of your hair."

Frigga stared at him over the shaft of the blade. He looked…tired. Thin—too thin, probably, and she wondered how much he'd been working instead of taking care of himself. Hunched like this, he looked…young. Too young to be a legend, even if society had made him one.

Master's Defender's keychain rattled a little, and she steadied it with her free hand. "What…were you going to ask me?"

Brain huffed, shrugging. "Well, doesn't really matter now—you have Master's Defender back." His eyes flicked to the Keyblade, and there was something almost pained in his expression—familiar, now, from her own loss. He rolled his shoulders. "Just…noticed that it talks a lot more."

"When…you first reclaimed it?"

"Always." He sighed, tilting his head upward. "I see…visions, sometimes, when I use it. Here people. Get…impressions of things. Master Freya said the same thing happens sometimes with the Keeper's Keyblade; wondered if you knew anything about it." He smiled mirthlessly. "Sounds like you don't, though."

"That's…not something that I've experienced much, no. Sometimes, in moderation—but not constantly." She stared at the Keyblade. "Perhaps because you were its first wielder—or perhaps there's something it's trying to tell you." (Something Master Ephemer wanted to tell you?)

Brain huffed. "Figures."

Frigga's fingers tightened around the shaft. She looked over it, at the boy in front of her, and could feel something inside her shifting. "Perhaps you should hold onto it for a while—to figure out what it's saying."

He shot her an incredulous look.

Frigga extended the Keyblade back toward him. "If you'd like it back."

Brain stared at her, and she realized he was thinking the same thing she'd been earlier—that this had to be some sort of trick. It made her throat tighten. "I don't—" His expression turned conflicted, something grieved there that she didn't understand. But after a moment, he reached out, and took the Keyblade back. He stared at it, hand wrapped tightly around the hilt, looking like he didn't know what to say.

Neither did Frigga, really; Master's Defender's absence ached freshly, now that she'd held it again, and without that between them, it just felt…awkward.

(I was wrong. All this time, I was wrong. What would've happened if…?)

She…didn't want to be here anymore. She turned without a word, heading down the hallway.

"Frigga," Brain called, and she paused.

Whatever grieving thing he'd been feeling, it seemed to have disappeared now, replaced with a carefully measured expression. "Aegir and his group are planning an attack during the festival. They figure everyone will be too distracted to notice." He glanced aside sharply. "We'll…get you some names tomorrow."

Frigga blinked, stunned for a moment, but took it in stride. "I will…start planning, then," she said.

Brain nodded.

Frigga hesitated a moment more, then left—and while the awkward atmosphere hadn't entirely left, it felt a little less oppressive.

There IS a world where Frigga would've accepted Anders's offer. It'd probably be an interesting AU to explore, where Frigga ended up solidly against the Union Leaders, rather than an ally—but thankfully, that's not what she ends up being here.