'Preparations for the festival begin.'

Content warning: Parts of this chapter focus on Brain planning his self-sacrifice scheme. It's mostly mild, but it does permeate most of his POV sections, with the second-to-last of his POV sections being the heaviest. I'll put summaries of those down at the bottom of the chapter.

Chapter Thirty-Five: One Last Day

"You're acting weird."

"Can't want to spend time with my friends, huh?"

Skuld gave Brain a funny sort of look, eyebrows furrowed and a vague twitch to her smile. "You aren't worried about the box?"

"I've got things figured out." He waved her off, and while he managed not to give too much of an indication of what was going through his mind, he couldn't quite bring himself to look Skuld in the eye.

"You…do?"

"You don't have to sound so skeptical."

That funny look didn't leave, Skuld tilting her head and studying him like she could see beyond whatever he was planning. "I just—if you figured it out, why didn't you—"

"Hey!" Kvasir shouted. "Are you two coming?"

Brain looked up, briefly, from the conversation to see Mimir and Kvasir several steps ahead. It was a bright day; mostly, Brain had figured it'd be nice to take to Scala's streets and explore for a little while. "Haven't had too much of a chance," he'd pointed out—or, at least, Skuld probably hadn't, given everything that had happened when she arrived. "Besides, it'd take our minds off things."

Kvasir had been all for it. Mimir had needed some coaxing. Skuld…had just watched him with that same look.

(And he hoped, desperately, that she didn't see through him. She didn't need to know that he was doing this because if he was going to…say goodbye to them…he wanted to spend what time he had left with them. Didn't need to know that he was trying to figure out how to make things easier. Didn't need to know the details of what he was planning, because he knew her, and he knew she'd probably try and stop him, but—but it'd be better this way, she'd do okay on her own, and maybe without him dragging her down she could move forward and not be bogged down with—)

"What is it?"

"Hmm?"

Skuld was squinting at him, hands braced on her hips. "The box," she clarified. "What'd you figure out?"

Ah. That. He plastered on a grin, lifting a finger to his lips. "Can't tell you yet."

Skuld gave him an irritated look. "You don't actually know, do you?"

"You could have a little more faith in me. I do have a plan—"

"That isn't ironed out yet, because if it was, then you would've been working to get the Dandelions out right now."

It wasn't quite right, but it was probably better that she thought that, so he didn't say anything.

Skuld sighed, shoulders slumping. "I know this is a distraction, Brain," she said finally. She looked tired; there was a weight that seemed to sit heavy on her shoulders, bowing them beneath it.

It made Brain's throat tighten, and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and dragged her into a brief, one-armed hug. "It's going to be alright," he promised. "We aren't going to have to sacrifice the Dandelions to defeat Darkness."

Skuld gave him a tired, bittersweet sort of look. She doesn't believe you, something inside him whispered. And it's no wonder—look what happened before.

Well, he argued, I suppose this time will be different.

"We're being left behind," he pointed out. Kvasir had, apparently, decided not to wait for them, dragging Mimir further down the street; his cheerful chatter drifted back to them, and Brain thought he could see Mimir's vaguely befuddled expression.

Skuld's look turned slightly exasperated, but she shook his arm off and grabbed his hand instead, dragging him after the other two.

Kvasir glanced back at their approach, brightening a little. His eyes flicked between Skuld and Brain, eyebrows furrowed a little with worry, and it dawned on Brain that maybe Kvasir really was trying to figure out a way to distract all of them from…everything. Well, he thought, I'll take all the help I can get. "Any suggestions?" Brain asked.

"It was your idea," Skuld pointed out, exasperated but amused.

"My idea to walk around," he corrected. "Didn't really have a destination in mind, though." He raised an eyebrow at Kvasir.

"People have started to set things up for the festival," Kvasir said, giving him a relieved grin. "We could look around."

Mimir brightened a little, too, turning to them and signing, "It's nice. There's usually a lot of decorations and activities. The Founder's Fountain usually has candles." They looked melancholy, and Skuld stepped forward to grab their hand in her free one and squeeze. They gave her a tentative, sad smile, then freed their hand and added, "I usually just explored on my own. It'll be nice going with friends this year."

"Then we have to show you around!" Kvasir turned, walking backwards with a grin that looked slightly over-exaggerated. "Mimir—what are some of your favorite things from the festival?"

Mimir's eyes scrunched up in thought. "…There are usually some nice stalls over near Lux Street."

"Lux Street it is!" Kvasir waved them forward enthusiastically, chattering information as he did so. "Did you know the festival started back in Master Ephemer's day? I wonder if they had the same decorations and activities back then…"

Skuld's eyes scrunched with amusement. She glanced toward Brain, who tilted his head toward them, and she laughed and followed.

There really were a lot of decorations already. The streets were covered with string lights and flags and banners. A couple kids were working on chalk drawings on the street—though Brain thought that might've been more to keep them distracted, rather than to help with the actual decorating. Scala ad Caelum was already usually filled with stalls, but more had gone up, filled with pinwheels and toys and shelves for what would probably food, when the festival actually started. There were people working in the gardens, stringing decorations through trees and carefully trimming rose bushes.

And…people were laughing. Whatever unease had built because of the fighting seemed to have dimmed, at least for a little while. There were storykeepers out on the streets, giving mini performances while they set up their stalls. People in costumes, too, that didn't look like they were part of the storykeepers, kids running around as characters Brain couldn't recognize—and some he thought he could, when he got a shock of spiky yellow hair or a red scarf. Some people were joking with each other as they set up a stall; another tried to work, hanging out laundry to dry, and shaking their head in amused exasperation as decorations kept getting thrown over the line.

It was…a side of Scala that Brain had rarely had time to stop and see. In some ways, it felt a lot like Daybreak Town, with the brighter colors lighting up the streets and the excited chatter. But when he looked past the echoes, it felt like something unique—something that had used what came before as a starting point, building on it and changing over the years.

He wasn't quite sure what was tightening his throat, when he looked at it, and he found himself turning away instead.

Skuld was looking at it, too; he thought he could see that same sort of feeling reflected in her face, sad and happy and nostalgic, all in one.

Brain nudged her lightly with his elbow. "How long do you think it takes for them to notice they have help?"
Skuld gave him a funny look until he pointed, and she turned and laughed.

A cat had, apparently, decided some of the decorations looked better as toys, because it'd crept toward some ribbon and started cautiously batting it. The decorators were none the wiser, chatting until they seemed to realize that Skuld had been laughing at them. A confused moment later, they saw the cat, who took off running with some of the ribbon, leaving them to chase after it in protest.

"You gave it away," Brain commented dryly.

Skuld rolled her eyes. "I bet the cat would've stolen it, anyways." Her eyes swept over the decorations, and something wistful entered her expression. "It's…nice."

Brain took in the banners, the gardens, the laughter, and found himself humming quietly in acknowledgement.

"I…kind of wish I could see it like this more often."

Brain tried to ignore the way his throat tightened. "It's a lot like Daybreak Town, huh?"

To his surprise, Skuld shook her head. "No. I mean—it is, but that's not what I meant." Her eyes were soft. "Just…where people are happy."

(Maybe it could be—if they don't have to worry about Darkness anymore.)

(You won't be around to see it.)

(Skuld will.)

"Well—might as well enjoy it while it lasts."

Skuld gave him a tentative smile and nodded.

Lux Street was already filled with stalls. Mimir lit up, spinning to sign to them, "This is one of my favorite streets—they have masks and games and food—"

"Don't think I've seen you so excited about something before," Brain commented, amused.

They paused, looking briefly sheepish, but continued, "I always liked the festival. It was fun."

"They already have some!" Kvasir's voice rose, loud enough to startle several vendors and send some birds flying, and he rushed to a stall, lifting a paper mask to his face.

Brain squinted at it before the resemblance fully dawned on him. "Hang on. Is that supposed to be me?"

Looking even more sheepish, Mimir signed, "They…do usually have stuff for the Union Leaders."

Brain bit back a groan, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Great."

Skuld got a mischievous look on her face that Brain wasn't sure he liked.

"No."

"Hey Kvasir, do they have any more?"

"Skuld."

"Of Brain?" Kvasir asked, grinning, and produced another one.

"Aren't you supposed to be on my side?" Brain asked. "They probably have some of you, too."

Skuld just grinned, lifting the mask to her face and pitching her voice a little lower to mimic, "'They have some of you, too.'"

"I don't sound like—not you, too."

Mimir smiled, but lifted a mask, too, and Skuld burst into laughter.

"…Alright. I'm leaving all of you here."

"You can't get rid of us that easily!" Skuld called after him, and it still sounded like she was trying to mimic him.

"I don't sound like that."

"You know, Brain," Kvasir said, and it took a moment to realize that not only was he trying to change his voice, but he was looking at Skuld, not him, "I think other-Brain is just feeling a little shy."

"I think so."

"All of you are bad at this."

He glanced back; Skuld and Kvasir were close behind him, Mimir lagging behind to pay the confused stall owner.

Brain puffed out his embarrassment in a sigh. "Well," he said, "guess you need to complete the look." He took his hat off and placed it unceremoniously on top of Skuld's head.

"I'm already wearing a hat!"

"You have two now. Congrats."

In a heartbeat she'd taken his hat off, lunging to try and put it back on his head, but she was laughing, and it dragged a grin out of him, too, despite himself.

Mimir appeared behind them, rapidly patting Skuld on the shoulder. When they'd gotten her attention, they pointed to a collection of small crafts and bits of jewelry, eyes bright.

"Oh!" Skuld's eyes brightened a little, too, and she let Mimir drag her toward the stall, chattering excitedly to them as they signed.

Brain straightened his hat, snorting. "Guess at least I got this from her," he commented dryly, lifting the mask. He scrunched his face as he looked at it. "It doesn't look that much like me."

"I think it looks a lot like us," Kvasir piped up.

"Thanks for the input," Brain said dryly, tapping him lightly with the mask.

Kvasir laughed, but he lowered the mask, seeming to sense the game was over—for now, at least.

The two of them fell quiet for a few moments. Brain tilted his head, trying to get a good look at the rest of the street. There weren't too many people here yet—mostly just those who were trying to set up stalls or help decorate—but he imagined that would change, once the actual festival came around.

…He wondered if he'd actually get to see it, before—before.

"Thank you," Kvasir murmured, "for suggesting this."

Brain huffed and waved him off. "Not like it's a big deal."

"No, I mean it. It's—everything lately has been so…heavy. It's felt like we've been jumping from one problem to another." He looked at Skuld and Mimir—arguing half-jokingly over something at one of the stalls—and his smile softened into something wistful. "It's nice to just…get to be friends, and not worry about it for a while."

Something felt like it was squeezing Brain's chest. He looked at the others, throat tight, and found he couldn't say anything.

"Ah—I know we'll have to get back to work eventually," Kvasir clarified quickly. "And it's not like we can let our guard down entirely—"

"Kvasir. It's alright."

Kvasir trailed away, looking slightly befuddled.

Brain shoved his hands in his pockets, and tried hard to ignore the strange, twisting feeling in the bit of his stomach. "You…aren't wrong," he murmured, and it felt strangely bittersweet.

Kvasir relaxed a little, expression easing into a smile. "I hope," he said, quiet, "that after this is all over, it can be like this more often."

Brain's throat tightened. He wondered if it could be; if Skuld and Kvasir and Mimir could have something a little more normal, after Darkness was gone and everything with the bluebloods was sorted out.

…He almost wanted to be here to see it.

(You can't be. You know that.)

"…Hey," Kvasir said slowly, and it took a moment for Brain to realize he was peering up at his face, "are you crying?"

Brain hadn't even realized it until Kvasir pointed it out; he scrubbed his eyes, staring at the drops on the back of his hand, and bit down on a flash of frustration. Don't give yourself away now. "No."

"You are!"

"I'm not!"

"That's his secret!" Skuld shouted, and Brain lifted his head to glare at her. "He's a huge softie!"

"I didn't even know you were listening."

"It's sweet," Kvasir reassured him. He slung an arm over Brain's shoulder, who stumbled under the motion. "Don't worry; we'll figure out how to manage something. You two are Union Leaders; I'm sure you could tell people to give you a break, if you wanted."

(What would Kvasir do, when he realized he wasn't going to be here?)

Brain took a breath and removed Kvasir's arm from his shoulder, who didn't seem perturbed in the slightest. "Well," he said, and hoped no one heard the strain in his voice, "are you guys going to keep harassing me, or are we actually going to see what else there is?"
"We can multitask," Skuld assured him.

Behind her, Mimir grinned, but something genuine softened the edges.

Brain…tried not to think about it. It'll be fine. They'll be okay.

-"I think…you're a cat person."

"Nope."

"But—but you have a cat Spirit!"

Skuld snorted, and pointed to Brain, who had a smug sort of grin on his face.

Kvasir switched his attention, saying, "You're a cat person."

"Doesn't count. Skuld told you, and you already said you were guessing for her."

"Point for me," Skuld told him, smugly.

"Is that how we're doing it?" Mimir signed, eyebrows furrowed. "Shouldn't it just be points if you get it right?"

Kvasir shrugged, unbothered. "I'll catch up."

"You haven't got one right," Brain pointed out.

"That just means I have more time to catch up!"

Skuld laughed. They'd wandered away from Lux Street, finding themselves trailing closer to the docks and the Market Place. She could see the ever-present stalls from here, people filling the streets and enjoying the morning sun. They'd batted back teasing comments and questions back and forth the whole walk, Skuld trying to pry Kvasir and Mimir with questions about what the festival was like. Kvasir had eventually gotten the idea to make it into a game, which had quickly devolved into general "guesses" about what someone liked or did. Their point system…was still up for debate.

"It's your turn," Kvasir said, looking at Brain.

He huffed, then turned his attention to Skuld.

"You can't just do Skuld every time!"

"Easy points."

"It's cheating, Brain," she agreed—in no small part because last time he'd decided to pull out an embarrassing story about a failed prank against Ephemer. He'd lifted the mask—still clutched in his hand—in response to her protest and raised an eyebrow. She'd had to admit that was fair. "You've got to do Kvasir and Mimir, too."

"Alright," he said, looking amused, but studied the others with a thoughtful look.

It was nice—getting to hang out with her friends like this, and just spend time in Scala, without worrying about everything. It was almost enough to make her forget about the black box, still sitting back at Meili's apartment.

Almost.

She took a steadying breath at the reminder, trying to ignore the way it felt like she'd suddenly gotten cold. She didn't quite catch Brain's statement, or make out the words of Kvasir's delighted crow. The memory hung like a weight over her head, ready to drop and crush her if she let it.

She'd thought the Dandelions were lost. It'd been something she'd accepted, just as she had the loss of Daybreak Town; she'd tucked the grief into a space beside her heart, and it'd burned, but she hadn't realized how much more it would hurt when she knew there was something they might be able to do.

The Dandelions were still there. She and Brain and Mimir—they weren't the only ones. There were others. And maybe that would've been exciting, if it weren't for the fact that they were stuck in the thing they needed to use to trap Darkness.

It made her feel sick, if she thought about it too long.

Someone nudged her. She blinked back to herself, and realized the others were watching her. Brain studied her, but there was something knowing in his expression; she guessed he had an idea about what she was thinking about. "You alright?"

She gave him a tentative smile. "Yeah. I just…got lost in my thoughts."

Brain's eyes crinkled a little, but there was something still worried there. "Rare occurrence."

"Hey!" She shoved him, but she was laughing, too, even if it felt a little forced.

(Brain said he'd figure it out—but she had a feeling he was saying that as much to comfort her as anything else. There was no way he actually had a plan for getting the Dandelions out—not that quickly, not if he hadn't told her. But that meant they were still going to have to make a choice—)

"Oh!" Kvasir said, eyes brightening. "It looks like we're in time for a performance. Or at least, the end of one."

Their group paused, and Skuld followed Kvasir's eyes.

A small crowd had gathered around a group of storykeepers. One of them was gesturing, voice booming above the noise of the crowd. "We'll keep each other safe," they promised, and Skuld realized she didn't recognize the figure at all. "We'll protect this place from the dark—create a barrier to keep the monsters out."

"I don't know this story," Skuld whispered, watching them. She could feel Brain leaning closer, just as entranced.

"It happened—after you left," Kvasir murmured, just as quiet. There was something melancholy about the way his smile scrunched his eyes. "The Founder's Festival is supposed to celebrate Scala ad Caelum's creation. When it changed from Daybreak Town."

Mimir shifted a little, and Skuld leaned against them when a figure that was probably supposed to be Ephemer stepped onto the street. People cheered, and it made her smile, despite the way her eyes stung.

"It's a time of rebirth," Kvasir continued, and Skuld realized he was echoing the storykeepers, quiet voice underlaying the louder declarations. "A time to let go of old burdens, and step into the future, as a new person." He gave her a sheepish sort of smile. "That part gets lost anymore, in a lot of ways. I think most of us just like having fun and spending time with friends. But there are some things that reflect it still. Some people write their regrets on a piece of paper and burn them."

"Sounds like a fire hazard," Brain said, but he sounded distracted, eyes locked on the storykeepers.

"It's contained! There are candles, too—lights everywhere. In remembrance of the past, I think, and it's like—a promise. Of a brighter future."

Skuld's throat tightened. "There was a lot we missed," she murmured. "I guess there's a lot about this place we just…still don't know about."

"You haven't had much time to learn," Kvasir commented. "But I guess…after this is all over, you'll have time."

She saw Brain stiffen and then relax out of the corner of her eye. Because he wants to leave. Because he wants to go and find the others. And—and so did she, really, but—

Her eyes went back to the storykeepers. She'd missed the end of the story; a couple of the performers were talking to the audience, answering questions. The one playing Ephemer didn't really look much like him, but it made her throat tighten, anyways.

"…Yeah," she whispered. "I'd like that."

But it's not going to matter, if Scala ad Caelum isn't here.

It was a sour thought, in an otherwise nice morning, and it dragged her back to reality just as surely. Before any of that—before she could even think about what she wanted, about what they'd do after they figure out the problem with the bluebloods—they needed to decide what to do about Darkness. If they were actually going to use the box, and—

She breathed in slowly, and out again. She looked around the Market Place, and thought she could see the traces of what it used to be—old apartment buildings and tents and rocking boats, from the people who'd fled from the abandoned islands.

What would it be like, to lose a second home?

(It rang a little louder than she expected, the thought tugging at something deep in her heart.)

But the Dandelions—they're still there—

But I've seen what Darkness can do. And if it's allowed free—there won't be a world at all. Nowhere else to run to.

She nearly jumped when she heard the chime of the Clock Tower. She whipped around, blinking owlishly, and realized the others had done the same. "It's noon?"
Kvasir sighed. "Meili's probably looking for us."

Skuld's shoulders sunk. "Frigga…probably needs to be told. About the box."

"Maybe Meili already told her," Brain suggested, but he looked doubtful.

Still, all of them hesitated, hovering around the edges of the crowd.

Tentatively, Mimir lifted their hands, signing, "Meet you guys later?"

It dragged a small grin from Skuld. "Where?"

A hesitant moment. "The fountain?"

She could feel her smile turn a little more melancholy. "…Yeah. Okay."

-"I…don't think I expected to see you in here again. At least, not for a while."

Brain lifted his head, only briefly looking up from his project.

Sigurd stood in the entryway of the lab, still.

Brain shrugged, turning back to the machine in front of him. "Needed something to occupy my time." He patted the machine, ignoring the strangely melancholy feeling. "Never did finish this."

"Is that…the Heartless detection device Frigga had you working on?"

"Yeah. Figured I might as well try and finish things up." He huffed a laugh. "Never got Mimir to look at it, either. Guess it's too late now."

"Too late?"

He hesitated, only belatedly realizing his slip. "Festival's coming up, right?"

Sigurd was quiet—but after a moment, he slipped into the room. Brain tried to ignore him, working diligently on the machine. "Brain," he asked, gentle, "why are you working on it again now?"

(I want to leave something behind that could make things better.)

"Just didn't like having loose ends." He cast a sideways look toward Sigurd. "Anyway—I'm not the only one who wouldn't normally be here."

Sigurd fidgeted. "I…was looking for Anders."

It made Brain's skin prickle, but he settled for a skeptical hum, twisting a piece of the device tighter.

Sigurd sighed, settling next to him. "Some of your…friends? Students. Eir and Kris, they called themselves. They said they were working with you—trying to spy on the bluebloods. We…followed them to a meeting—"

"You were there?"

"—and—you knew?"

Brain couldn't quite look at him, shrugging again. "We had a head's up. Sent a Spirit along to try and see what was going on."

"Oh." Sigurd deflated. "Well. I thought, perhaps, we were doing something helpful."

"You are," Brain said, almost without thinking, and he saw Sigurd start out of the corner of his eye. Brain felt his lips twitch toward a smile, and added dryly, "Spying should be your thing, right?"

To his surprise, Sigurd chuckled. "I…suppose I do have experience."

Brain hummed. He kept working, and Sigurd sat there in silence. It reminded him, a little, of what things had been like, back when Brain had first come to Scala ad Caelum.

(Back when he'd been so tired, and alone, and running on energy he didn't have, desperate to find the people he'd lost, and not think about the Dandelions, and—

Back before Skuld had come here. Back before he'd met Kvasir and Mimir and Meili. Back before making Spirits and joking around meals.

…It didn't matter, anyways.)

"Hey," Brain said, "got a question for you."

"Okay…?"

"Why'd you keep helping, even after Frigga told you to stop spying? Just because of Luxu?"

The question seemed to take Sigurd off guard, his silence stretching long. "No," he said, finally. He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. "I always admired the Union Leaders. I thought it would be an honor to work with one of you—and I don't think I expected what I was getting into." His voice turned amused, and Brain snorted quietly. "I was so frustrated with you, but there were…moments. When you would sleep here, rather than in your apartment. When you would talk about your friends, however rare the stories. When you would call for…for something called 'Chirithy'? When you thought no one could hear."

Brain's throat tightened. "Moments when I was tolerable?"
"Moments where I was reminded you were a child."

It felt bitter, and Brain felt his smile curl uncomfortably. "Well. Don't think that mattered much. Like it or not, I'm still a Union Leader." I was still responsible for them. I am still responsible for them.

"I think it sunk in," Sigurd continued, "after our fight in the abandoned town. Maybe you were a legend—but you were also just a child, burdened with responsibility you shouldn't have had to shoulder."

Brain's hand tightened around a part of the machine, and he could feel it digging into his palm. "Who else was going to?"

"No one, then. But now—you shouldn't have to do it alone." Sigurd glanced aside, rubbing his neck. "That was…most of it, really. I know I'm probably not the person you'd prefer, but…" He trailed off, like he wasn't sure how he wanted to finish.

Brain…wasn't sure what he was supposed to say to that. "Even after I made life difficult for you, huh?"

"I think that's what people do, sometimes, when they've been through a lot."

(You don't get it, I should've done better, I should've known better—)

He wasn't sure if Sigurd had predicted his train of thought or was simply continuing his own musings when he said, quiet, "Brain. You were a child."

It didn't matter. He didn't want to hear it.

Brain checked over the machine, then stood, bracing his hands against his back and stretching. "Well," he said, "are you coming?"

Sigurd started. "Coming?"

Brain flashed him a grin, and he hoped it hid his thoughts well enough. "Got to hook this things up to the right anchor points."

"It's done?"

"Done enough." He handed Sigurd a couple of small devices and watched as he fumbled. "You in?"

Sigurd looked from them to Brain and back. "I—yes. Yes, of course."

Brain felt his smile turn a little more real. "Thanks." He turned, then hesitated a moment. If he…wasn't going to have another chance at this… "And—just wanted to say I was sorry. About giving you a hard time, at first."

He could almost feel Sigurd's surprise, but the man's voice was warm as he said, "It's okay."

-Being in Frigga's office felt like putting heavy armor over her shoulders. It made the weight of everything feel that much more present, and Skuld found herself chewing over her thoughts, turning them over and over again, frustrated.

"You're distracted."

Skuld started, head jumping up at Frigga's comment.

She had a curious look on her face, but there was something gentle there, too, and Skuld wasn't entirely sure what to make of it. "I've been trying to talk to you about preparations for the festival for ten minutes."

Skuld's face heated, and she ducked her head. "I'm sorry. I'm just…thinking."

Papers rustled as Frigga leaned back against her desk. "Meili gave me their report after you got back," she said, careful. "They said that you had the black box, but didn't say much more."

Skuld could hear the prompt in there, and she knew that Frigga needed to be told, she knew it, but—

Just do it. Just say it, just say it—

"The black box had the data Daybreak Town inside. The Dandelions."

The room went still. Skuld could feel Frigga staring at her, and pointedly didn't turn her way.

"It was always supposed to be a way to trap Darkness," Skuld continued, barreling on before Frigga could pretend to be sympathetic or tell her that it didn't matter or—she didn't know. "We were—all of us were trapped inside. As bait. With enough light, it'd lure Darkness in, and then it'd go to sleep and they'd never be able to get out—but I guess that didn't work out. For any of us." She sucked in a breath and ignored her stinging eyes. "Brain—wants to find a way to get the Dandelions out. And he's the smartest person I know, so maybe—but even he doesn't seem to know how to do it. Not in such a short span of time. And if he did—would we still be able to trap Darkness? Because there needs to be something to lure them in, and I don't—" Another shaky breath. Her fingers curled into her skull, scrunching her hair.

She half expected Frigga to say something, but she didn't, the silence long and heavy.

"I don't know what to do," she admitted, quiet.

Finally, she chanced a look at Frigga. She had a strange sort of expression on her face—something almost sad, a grim sort of twist to her lips, a crease around her eyes. She looked away slowly, and with a breath her expression smoothed. She settled next to Skuld, and for once, she didn't feel ready to shift away at the proximity. "Being a leader," she murmured, "sometimes means making difficult choices. There are not always good answers—you simply have to choose the one that seems to cause the least harm, and pray that it turns out to be the better option." She cast a sideways glance Skuld's way. "Though I suppose that's something you've learned already."

(She thought of the time right after the Keyblade War, when they'd decided to strip the Dandelions of their memories. Of trying desperately to figure out what to do when the data Daybreak Town was going to sleep. Of Ephemer killing their friend, when the option had been them or her.)

Her fists curled against her legs. She said nothing.

"You…will always have questions, about whether or not you did the right thing. You learn not to dwell on them, but at first they feel…stifling. If you had acted differently, would less people have been hurt? What would the outcome look like? Would you be in a better position, or a worse one?" Frigga placed a hand over her heart, looking suddenly very tired. "The regrets don't always leave you, but dwelling on them often doesn't do much—not when you still have roads to fix and disputes to solve and trade to oversee. So you learn to live around them, in what ways you can."

"That didn't answer my question."

"You didn't actually pose a question," Frigga pointed out gently, but her expression was serious as she considered. "I know what I would choose, in your place. But that does not necessarily mean it would be the right decision for you."

Skuld took the words and turned them over carefully. She wasn't sure they made her feel better. "It's like I'm sacrificing the Dandelions," she whispered, "if I try and trap Darkness in the box. But if I don't—I can't watch this world fall, too. And there are some people here who've been horrible to us, but there are others, too, and I don't want—I don't think they deserve to die just because of a few people." She thought of Sven, and of Runa, and added, quiet, "I don't think they deserve to lose their home again.

"And the Dandelions are…still asleep. They wouldn't know."

It made her feel sick, even voicing the idea. She ran her hands over her face, feeling the shudder of her exhale. "I don't want to do it," she whispered. "I don't know how—is this what Ephemer felt like? When he…?"

He'd had to live with the fact that he'd killed their friend for his whole life, probably. It'd been to protect her, but the guilt and regret—it was hard to imagine. She wondered if she'd be able to live with herself, if she had to make the same decision.

…She guessed she'd find out.

"It's the burden leaders are supposed to bear," Frigga whispered, and there was the weight of experience in her words. "There is always blood on your hands. No matter how careful you are, how clever, you can't avert every tragedy. A mistaken order may cost people their lives. Incorrect shipments may mean some people go without food. And sometimes, you may have to choose whether or not to sacrifice some people to save others." When she breathed out, it came out shaky, and her voice with rough with something Skuld distantly recognized as anger. "It's not a position a child should have to be in."

Skuld wanted to protest—she was a Union Leader, too—but it felt heavy on her tongue. She stayed silent, watching Frigga, and after a few moments of the deliberation the Head of the Council turned to her. "I can take the burden off your shoulders, if you so choose. Make the final call, if you don't want to."

It wasn't an offer she was expecting, and she sat with it, blinking. In some ways, it would be…nice, not to have to think about it. To leave the decision about what to do to someone else, and let them deal with the consequences of it all. But in many ways, it felt like she'd be responsible, regardless; no matter what, she'd know that, whatever the outcome, she'd chosen to step away from it.

And, besides—the Dandelions had been their responsibility. Deciding what happened with them felt…personal. She wasn't sure she wanted anyone else interfering with that, beyond her and Brain.

"I'll talk to Brain about it," she said, "but…I think it should still be us. Our decision, together. We're…the last of the Dandelions. We should have the final say."

Frigga nodded, and there was something in her expression that she couldn't quite read.

"But…thank you." She took a breath, and tried to inject something more hopeful into her voice as she continued, "And maybe we won't even need the box, or Brain really will find a way around the problem. We don't have to decide yet."

Frigga hummed a quiet acknowledgement. "I suppose we can hope."

-Luxu found Brain when he was setting up the last anchor point.

He didn't say anything; he just watched Brain as he worked, poised carefully on the building. They were up high on a building, Sigurd a speck down below, watching to make sure he didn't fall.

"Come to watch?" Brain asked, checking to make sure the device was locked in place.

Luxu didn't say anything.

Brain stepped forward and made another adjustment, feeling the hum of magic underneath his fingertips. "Makes things easier for me. I needed to track you down again to ask for a favor. At least this means I don't have to steal your Keyblade again."

"You found the black box."

Brain huffed a laugh, and it sounded bitter. "Yeah. Guess I know why you didn't want me to find it now, huh?" He flashed a grin in Luxu's direction, and he could feel the sharp edges. "But it was fine if someone else used it."

"It's one of the best ways to trap Darkness, kid."

"But not the only one."

Luxu didn't say anything, but Brain got the impression of a heavy weight on his shoulders, time slowing to a muggy near-standstill.

He didn't let it stop him. "You know you can trap Darkness inside someone, right? Figure if you take them out, you can get rid of Darkness, too. And you already have experience stabbing me, so I thought you should be the first I ask."

Luxu shook his head, slow. "That's really what you're planning, huh? Sacrifice yourself?"

"It sacrifices less lives—just one." He shrugged, and he could feel how bitter his smile was. "Not like I should've made it out anyways, right?" He took a breath, then looked at Luxu squarely. "So?"

Luxu stayed silent, but after several long, long moments, he inclined his head.

Brain nodded, feeling his chest and throat tighten. It was…probably as good as he was going to get. (And at least this way…this way, Skuld or one of the others wouldn't have to do it. Wouldn't even have to see, hopefully. With any luck, he could do it out of sight. Maybe they'd just think he left, and wouldn't even mourn at all.

…He'd…need to figure out what to tell them. But—

But he'd wait. Until later.)

-When Skuld finally stepped out of the Clock Tower, it was growing dark. Or, at least, it should've been. String lights lit the streets, painting them in bright colors, even as the sun cast shades of orange across the cobblestones. There were more people out now, amazingly—but then, maybe their days were over, too, and they were ready to see what the festival would have to offer.

It was a bittersweet thing, to step into the streets and wander through the stalls, the people. She took it slow—she wasn't sure where the others were, exactly, but she didn't imagine they'd be at the fountain yet. A couple of kids ran past her, and she shifted to give them room, watching with a small smile as they left. She ducked underneath an overhang, and noticed for the first time the little drawings people had made on the walls, scratched into the stone, and the couple of flowers that popped up from between the cracks in the street.

The Founder's Fountain had plenty of people and stalls surrounding it—but of course it did. She hesitated only half a heartbeat before heading across the street and settling on the edge; she could feel people looking at her, sometimes, but their attention didn't stay long, slipping back to the festivities, and it allowed Skuld to settle more firmly on the edge.

"Hey, Ephemer."

The words came quiet, nearly hidden by the burble of the fountain. The statue, of course, was silent. Skuld felt a soft smile tugging her lips anyways, eyes turning to the streets around her.

There were all sorts of people here—kids and workers and Keyblade wielders, adults and students alike, and it made something in Skuld's chest ache a little. For all that they'd been through—they were still here.

They really were as stubborn as dandelions, she guessed.

"This is what you built," Skuld whispered. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes; she didn't bother brushing them away. "You did a good job."

So much that her friend had built and left behind—and so much that could be lost, if something went wrong. A history and a world and a people—could she really give up the Dandelions, if it meant that she could save this?

"Guess we're early, huh?"

Skuld tilted her head back to catch sight of Brain; he settled on the fountain next to her, expression tired, shoulders just a little too tense. "Not really what I would've expected."

"Kvasir might've gotten distracted," Skuld said, managing a small grin.

Brain huffed a laugh. "Just hope Mimir didn't get dragged on some adventure with him."

"It's probably better they're together?"

Brain snorted, some of the tension easing out of his shoulders.

Skuld's eyes softened, and she nudged him lightly. "Are you okay?"

"…Yeah. Just…thinking about everything."

Skuld swallowed tightly. "…You too, huh?"

The two of them sat in silence; the shadow of Ephemer's statue fell over them, the spray of the fountain cool against Skuld's neck. Her fingers curled into her pant legs, nails digging into the fabric. "I told Frigga," she said, "that we'd be the ones deciding what happened with the black box."

Brain made a quiet noise of acknowledgement.

"I know you have a plan," she said, voice lilting into a question, pausing to give him the space to explain. When he didn't explain—just inclined his head a little and watched her—she continued, "But if it doesn't work—if something goes wrong—"

"It will."

"How do you know?"

Brain clenched his jaw, and said nothing.

Skuld breathed out slowly. "Brain. If you had to make the choice—what would you choose?"

Brain stayed silent. After a long, long pause, he said, "I wouldn't. I'd find a different way."

It was a little irritating, because she was hoping for an answer, not a dodge—but then, she guessed it wouldn't have changed much. She'd have to figure out where she stood, too, and it made her stomach churn.

(She didn't want to trap Darkness with the Dandelions. She didn't want to give them up. But—

But she thought of life here, and what would be lost. She thought of moving forward, maybe.

…She wasn't sure it made her feel better, knowing what she'd probably choose.)

"Is that really…?"

"Dude, you've got to do it."

"No."

Skuld only half registered the voices until she realized there were a couple of students coming their way. Well—sort of coming. One was being dragged, her friend wrapping an arm around her waist and tugging her along. "Come on, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity, you've got to—"

"Please bury me in the ruins instead."

"I will pay you if you actually talk to her—"

Brain followed her eyes and sighed. "Speaking of 'everything'—it looks like we have company."

Skuld bit back a sigh of her own. "They probably just…want to say 'hi.'"

Brain made a vaguely annoyed noise, and Skuld…wasn't entirely sure he could blame him. Still, she tried to plaster on a smile, straightening a little, even if she felt tired.

The one student's friend shoved her forward. She turned back, making broad, frantic gestures, and Skuld had to admit she felt a little bad for her.

When the student turned back, she looked resigned, and more than a little nervous. "Uh. Hi, hello. I'm…so sorry to bother you, but my friend put me up to this."

"Do it you coward!"

"Shut up!"

Skuld heard Brain's snort of laughter, and she managed an awkward smile. "It's…okay?"

The student fidgeted a little, fumbling with something in her pocket, then seemed to collect herself and rambled, "I've seen you around the training grounds a couple times and I thought about maybe saying 'hi' because you seem nice and I'm not really good at this pleasejusttakethisokaybye—"

Skuld had half a moment to realize a letter was being shoved into her hands before the student was hurrying off, bright red, their friend giving them a thumb's up. She blinked owlishly, then glanced down at the letter.

It wasn't much—just a short little note, suggesting she actually join the class for training sometime, and asking if she was a part of the school, and saying it might be cool to hang out, if she wanted.

...No mention of her as a Union Leader. Did she know? It felt like it'd be hard not to know, but—

But it made her think. Made her hope, maybe, that one day she wouldn't just be seen as a Union Leader; that if she stuck around long enough, she might just get to be seen as herself.

For a moment, she let herself think about what that might look like. Of maybe actually going back to her and Brain's apartment and making it so it felt less empty and depressing and more like a home. Of maybe getting to actually explore other worlds with others on equal footing. Of a partner, maybe, when things had calmed down—though the apartment still only had one bed, so she'd probably have to harass Brain into finding a different living place…though considering he seemed to want to avoid the apartment, anyways, it might be a good way to have a fresh start.

Of just…getting to be with her friends, without worrying about the world falling down around her.

…It sounded nice. Maybe it wouldn't turn out that way, but…she wanted the chance to see.

A smothered snort dragged her out of her thoughts. She glanced at Brain, and realized he looked like he was trying to hide his laughter.

Her face heated all over again. "Stop laughing!"

"You're getting secret admirers." He sounded almost gleeful, words slightly muffled behind his hand.

Skuld, for a brief moment, debated whether she could drown him in the fountain. No, she decided with a frustrated sigh. I'd miss him. "Well, you—" And then she broke off, because she was pretty sure she hadn't seen Brain express romantic interest in anyone, ever, and she had the distinct feeling he'd intentionally managed to discourage any 'secret admirers' from bothering him.

"Have nothing," Brain finished, and when he pulled his hand away he looked so smug that maybe she didn't want to drown him in the fountain, but she had no problems shoving him into it. Skuld had to scramble away from the splash, grinning at his startled noise.

Brain pushed his (now soaked) hat up, giving her an exasperated look.

Skuld tried to bite down on her smile and couldn't quite do it. "I heard throwing things into the fountain is good luck."

"Yeah?" Brain asked dryly. "Come closer and we can test that."

"Nope!" She darted off before Brain had the chance to catch her.

"Skuld!"

She laughed, breathless and light in a way that she hadn't felt since they'd been back in Daybreak Town. With the festival lights, it certainly felt a lot more like home, the dark streets painted in purples and pinks and oranges, colorful flags twisting on market stalls. She half-turned back to see Brain scrambling out of the fountain, and with a grin she shouted, "Keep up!"

"Are you kidding me—"

She laughed again, side-stepping around someone when she nearly ran into them. People dodged out of her way as she skidded through the streets; in the dark, most of them probably didn't see the Union Leaders, legendary heroes from ages past, but just two more Scalan teenagers, causing trouble before the festival started.

Brain caught up to her quicker than she expected him to; she thought he caught up quicker than he expected, judging by his startled expression when he tackled her. They tumbled ungracefully onto the street, the world a blur of color a moment before they came to a stop. Skuld lay there for a moment with her arms splayed out, then burst into laughter.

Brain chuckled. He picked himself off the ground, and Skuld had half a second to consider following him before he was wringing his hat out over her.

She spluttered, shoving herself onto her elbows. "Hey!"

"There. Now we're both wet." He smirked, then passed her hat to her.

She patted her head, then gave him a sheepish smile and accepted it. She let him help her up, flicking a couple of stray drops of water in his direction. He snorted, shielding himself—not that it'd do much good, considering he was already soaked, but still.

The two walked in companionable silence for a moment, trailing through the stalls. They should probably head back to the fountain; Kvasir and Mimir would be looking for them, at some point, and she didn't want them to worry about where they'd gone. But this was…a nice distraction, for the moment. A nice way to be normal friends, and not Union Leaders, if only for a little while. Darkness and the bluebloods and the Dandelions were waiting for them, and Skuld could feel the pressure of them on her chest, but—for the moment. For the moment, she just wanted to be.

"You…know I'm just teasing, right?"

Skuld cut Brain a surprised look.

"…If you did want to ask her out," Brain paused, then shrugged. "She seemed nice."

Skuld stared at him a moment, then snorted, shoving him lightly. "I'm glad I have your approval."

"Don't celebrate yet. You'd still need Meili's approval."

Skuld rolled her eyes; she could imagine the sort of heart attack that'd give them. "I guess it's a good thing I'm not going to, then. Ask her out, I mean."

She felt more than saw the look Brain gave her. "…You're allowed to pursue a relationship, you know," he said, sounding like he was picking over the words carefully, edging over uncertain territory. "You're allowed to—"

Be happy. He didn't say the words, but she could fill them in, and she might've rolled her eyes at him, if she hadn't seen the look on his face. "I don't need a relationship to be happy," she pointed out. "And…" she paused, considering, and—

And she thought of cooking together in Meili's apartment, and of what time she could get between the council and Darkness and everything to spend with her friends. She thought of teasing Brain, and of Kvasir's enthusiasm, and of getting to know Mimir, and—

For all the ghosts, there were goods things here, too.

"And I'm working on it," Skuld said. "Being happy." She glanced at the world around them, and felt her throat tighten. "It's so different now—but there's so much I'd like to learn about here, too. I've heard our legends, but there's so much more that happened between then and now. I want to see more of what Scala is like, and explore other worlds, and—and the school." She felt the edges of her expression soften. "There's a lot of stuff here that hasn't been great, but—I want to fight for the good parts. I want to see if this place could be home."

There was a strange sort of grief to that—bittersweet, like she was letting Daybreak Town and her old friends go. Her eyes stung a little, and she gave a self-depreciating sort of laugh, rubbing their edges.

Brain was looking at her with an understanding sort of expression, and she knew that he got it; he was probably the best person who could.

The thought made something clog her throat. Looking at the now-familiar stalls, the cobblestone streets, the wharf in the distance—there was a different sort of grief there, when she thought about what would happen after all of this was over. When they no long had to worry about the world falling, and were free to pursue their own goals.

"What if we…stayed here?"

The words slipped out before she could stop them, near-quiet, and she might've thought Brain had missed them if she hadn't seen his eyes slide towards hers.

"In Scala ad Caelum," she clarified, even though she didn't need to. "After…everything."

Brain was quiet.

"It doesn't mean we have to stop looking for the others. We can still explore other worlds, this'll just be—home base. And—"

"Skuld."

She trailed off.

Brain didn't speak for a few moments; there was a look on his face that she couldn't quite place, distant and thoughtful. "People will probably never stop looking at you different, here."

Her throat tightened. "I know."

"There'll always be a certain amount of danger, depending on what bluebloods are still here."

"I know. I know, but—I want to try."

She could see Brain thinking about something, expression turning more and more conflicted.

She nudged him lightly. "Munny for your thoughts?"

Brain turned to her. There was something sad in his expression he didn't understand; something that looked like regret and guilt and grief, and it made her frightened in a way she didn't understand.

His expression shuttered just as quickly, and he turned away, breathing out a shuddering breath.

"…We don't have to decide right away, you know."

"Don't think we have much time left."

The festival. Right. "Then…we'll talk about it afterward."

"…Okay."

(It didn't dawn on her until later that he'd said "you" and not "us." She let the idea worry her for a moment before she brushed it off; Brain had become enough of a constant that she doubted he'd leave without her, after all. Whatever choice they made, it'd be together.

…It didn't stop her from shoving him in the fountain again when he told an enthusiastic Kvasir about the letter, though.)

-When Brain opened his eyes, he was home.

It took a moment for the reality to sink in—but he recognized these walls, the stained glass windows letting colored light pattern across the floor of the Foretellers' Chambers. His throat felt like it was closing; he reached out, one hand trailing across the meeting table, and lifted his fingers, rubbing them together.

No dust.

"Hey, Brain. Are you coming?"

He looked up at the familiar voice, and—there was Skuld.

It took a moment to realize she looked older—a moment longer to realize that he was different, too, taller, draped in different clothes.

Skuld smiled at him, head tilted. "Or are you just going to hide in here and work all day?"

He huffed a laugh, and maybe it sounded wet, but he wasn't sure he cared. "I'm coming." He fell into step beside her, letting the doors swing closed behind him.

The walked in silence, but it was companionable, and he chanced a glance her way. She had an easy smile on her face, her posture relaxed. Not weighed down, exhausted, but…confident. Happy.

"There you are!"

There they were—the others. Lauriam, taller and broader but with that same gentle smile and worried furrow to his eyebrows; Brain huffed a quiet laugh as he seemed to try and reign Ven in, a wiry teenager now, who seemed significantly less cowed by the prospect of leadership than he was as a child. And Ephemer—Ephemer was looking at them, bright-eyed, and Brain wanted to laugh at the fact that he wasn't much taller, but mostly he was just happy that he was here and smiling and alive. "We thought you guys weren't going to make it."

"Brain was just glued to his desk again," Skuld said with a roll of her eyes.

"Some of us have work to get done," he quipped back, but it was a half-beat too late, shaky and wet but paired with a smile.

None of his friends commented on it. "Come on," Ephemer said, waving them forward. "The Dandelions are waiting for us to start the ceremony." He glanced at Ven and Lauriam and laughed. "I think Ven's going to start without us if we don't hurry."

Skuld gave Brain an amused look, and something in his chest ached. He tilted his head toward the others, and she laughed a little and took the lead, trailing after them as they stepped out into the streets.

Daybreak Town was like he remembered it—bright and warm, blue and yellow and pink patterning the sky. Birds fluttered overhead; he could still catch the scent of sea air in the distance—so like Scala, in some ways, but more subdued.

And in front of him were the Dandelions. Alive, and thriving. Many of them were no longer children—and had children of their own, it looked like, little faces peering from the crowd or their parents' arms. He thought he could see a couple bouncing excitedly, pointing up at the Union Leaders, and his eyes stung, even as he smiled. This is what it should've been like, something in him whispered. This is…how we should've been.

If only you hadn't failed.

The chill of something ran up his back. There was something like the buzz of static. All other noise seemed to drift away, fading silently into the background.

A red-gray haze crept over the sky. Something rippled across the streets, and if Brain looked, he thought he could see cracks. He stumbled a little, trying to catch his footing. He thought he could hear uneasy murmuring. A scream in the background.

His chest tightened with panic. "Ephemer?" he called. "Lauriam? Ven?" He searched, trying to pick out the familiar figures. "Skuld?"

He couldn't see his friends—but he could see what looked like a fox staring back at him, skin pulled away from the skull, something crawling over a rotted ribcage.

Another rumble, and Brain buckled to his knees. Well? a voice whispered, and he wasn't sure whose it was. Maybe it was his own. What will you do, hero?

Hundreds of eyes stared back at him. Accusing. Begging. Scared.

Hopeful.

"I'm sorry," Brain breathed. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I won't fail you again—"

"I—"

The word cut off with a choked gasp. He jerked a little, and for a moment, in the dark, he wasn't sure where he was.

Someone gave a sleepy sort of murmur. He registered, distantly, the weights pressed around him. It was…familiar. Comforting. The presences helped to calm his heartbeat, the tension in his chest easing, slowly, slowly, slowly.

He sucked in a breath, and another. In, and out. Slowly, slowly, the room came back into focus.

This was…Meili's apartment. Skuld was pressed close to him, one arm thrown loosely over his waist. Kvasir's elbow was digging into his side, and he shifted just a little with a wince, trying to edge himself away from it. Mimir had somehow ended up sprawled across both his and Kvasir's legs; they stirred briefly to grab their pillow out from under them, smacking Kvasir with it when he snored, and Brain snorted at the familiar action. If he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine he was back in the Clock Tower, the rest of his friends surrounding him.

That should be Ephemer, some part of him whispered. And Lauriam and Ven. It should be your family curled around you.

Brain's throat tightened. Suddenly the bodies pressed around him made him feel claustrophobic; he shifted, carefully dragging his legs out from under Mimir and untangling himself from Skuld. He didn't go far; just enough so that he wasn't trapped between them anymore, lifting himself onto a chair and just…staring.

"Why does it feel like one of you is always awake?"

He didn't hear ghosts anymore when Meili spoke, and that brought about a very strange sort of grief. "Nightmares. It happens."

He didn't turn to look at Meili, but he heard them sigh, settling into a chair nearby. "So are you going to actually tell me what's on your mind, or is this going to be another annoying round of, 'I'm pretending like I'm still a mysterious Union Leader and Meili hasn't seen me almost fall out a window.'"

"Technically," Brain said, "that was Skuld's fault."

"Yeah, well, I have more ammunition. And that's not the point, anyways."

He knew that. But he wasn't entirely sure he could put to words what he was feeling—wasn't entirely sure that he wanted to, some part of him strangely guilty at the thought of saying anything.

…It would've been easy to say something to Lauriam or Ephemer. Or—maybe not easy. But. Easier.

"…Does it ever go away?"

Meili's surprise was palpable. He didn't elaborate; he wasn't sure he knew how.

"…The grief?" Meili guessed finally. Brain couldn't bring himself to nod, and after a beat Meili sighed, muttering something that sounded like "stubborn kid." "I think it's different for everyone," they said after a moment's thought. "I know people who never stopped grieving—so much so that they became entirely different people. I know people who still miss the people they lost, but learned how to live with it. And I know people who don't really grieve their lost loved ones anymore; the wound just healed over."

"And you?"

Meili laughed quietly. "You always have to go right for the heart, huh?" They went quiet for a few moments. "Depends on the person," they said finally. "I drifted apart from some friends from my childhood, and thinking about them—it's a little bittersweet, maybe, but it was long enough ago that I don't really grieve that loss anymore. My mom—" They broke off in a shaky exhale. "Yeah. That still hurts, sometimes. Sometimes I'm happy that she's not here to see the mess my life's become—stars, she'd be horrified at this whole mess—but sometimes I think of how much I'd like to show her."

Brain tilted his head towards them, interest piqued. "Guessing your life didn't turn out as planned."

Meili laughed, and it might've been a little melancholy, but there was something fond about it, too. "Stars, no. When I was younger—I had all these visions of what my life might be like. I was angry and scared and thought revealing that I was a blueblood would solve all my problems. It didn't exactly do that." Their expression was surprisingly sentimental, despite everything, and they glanced back at their sleeping partners. "I didn't get the life I wanted—but I found some things to love in the one I had. It's not so bad, that things ended up different."

"You didn't lose your world," Brain found himself saying, before he could stop himself. "You didn't lose—"

The apartment was suddenly very, very quiet. Brain stared hard at the sleeping pile of his frie—of Skuld and the others, and he clenched his fists so hard he thought he'd puncture the skin.

"…Your friends would want you to be happy, you know," Meili said finally. "If they were worth having."

"They were."

"Then stop punishing yourself for living." They gave him a pointed look, glancing briefly beyond him to the supplies on the table. The box beyond it, still visible, even in the dark. "Give yourself the chance to find out what life has instore."

His friends looked a little blurry, behind his tired eyes. He didn't look at the box. "What happens if you can't let them go?"

Meili didn't say anything for several long, long moments. "I guess that'd be up to you." They glanced at the others. "But it's not like you've lost everything."

Brain's eyes flicked to Skuld. He bit his tongue and looked away.

After a moment Meili sighed. Their hand lifted, and after a hesitant heartbeat, they patted his back. "Just try to get some rest, alright?" The chair creaked as they stood; Brain didn't watch them as they went back to bed. He stared, instead, at the others, and felt the way something curled around his ribcage, tighter and tighter.

He clasped his fists together, pressing them against his forehead. He choked a little, but managed to recollect himself and exhale a wet, shaky breath.

He looked at Skuld again, and felt that thing tighten around his throat. She…wasn't ever going to be the person he'd seen in his dream, but…maybe she could be happy here. But he was—

(He wasn't sure he'd understood how badly he wanted to see what his friends would become, until he realized he wouldn't get the chance.

…It didn't matter.)

The Dandelions deserve to live. And so does she. And—I guess, at the very least, one of my friends will be waiting for me, at the end of this.

He…needed something to keep his hands busy. Didn't want to think. Didn't want to run back to the nightmares. So he went back to the table, tinkering aimlessly with whatever project he could put his mind to.

He didn't get back to sleep.

Brain's POV scenes: First scene: Brain encourages the crew to go out and spend some time in Scala relaxing—partly as a distraction, but mostly because he wants to spend what time he has left with his loved ones, if he can. He tries to assure Skuld that he has the issues with the black box covered, but she misreads him and suspects that he's just saying that to put them at ease. He doesn't correct her. Most of the rest of the scene involves them exploring the preparations for the festival and having fun together, though Brain thinks grimly at the end that he'll still have to leave them.

Second scene: Sigurd finds Brain in Anders's lab, finishing up the Heartless detection device. Brain asks why Sigurd kept trying to help, even after Frigga told him to stop spying, and he admits that it's because it really sunk in that Brain was still a kid, and he wanted to do what he could. Brain apologizes for making things so difficult for him, and requests Sigurd's help in setting up the detection device.

Third scene: Luxu visits Brain while he's setting up the device. Brain asks Luxu to be the one to kill him once he traps Darkness inside himself, which Luxu is implied to agree to.

Fourth scene: Brain has a dream about the Union Leaders; it starts out pleasant, at first, showing what they might have been, and then shifting to a nightmare of what he lost. He wakes up surrounded by his friends, and feels…conflicted. He and Meili talk about grief and if it's ever possible to move on from it. Meili encourages Brain to stop punishing himself. Brain's not sure what to do with the comment, so he goes to work, ending up staying awake the rest of the night.

Fun fact: Most of the last two scenes for this chapter have actually been written for months, haha. When I didn't feel like working on the main story, I'd open my "Skuld and Brain scenes" document and just write stuff about them interacting, with the idea that if I liked them enough, I could insert them into the story where it felt appropriate. There's a small scene in there that never got used, and alternative version of the scene where they talk after Mimir's rescued, and…these two scenes. The first scene got some editing though, haha; originally, they had a bit of extended conversation about why Brain was hesitant to stay, and his own guilty feelings over the idea of "moving on." That part got scrapped because it didn't fit as well given Brain's current state, which is a little unfortunate, because I DID like it, but—well, that's how things go sometimes, aha.