This letter is to be delivered to Her Majesty of Bright Moon. I write this on the eve of your plan to use the Heart of Etheria, after your friends have vacated the palace in search of a way to shut it down – a goal contrary to your wiser decision, my queen.

Freezing parlors and glowing crystal lamps were expected to Micah, but not welcome. Yet what else could he expect from the Kingdom of the Snows? As he exhaled, resting his feet on the table, his breath fogged in front of him. At least that was pleasant to look at.

His wife-to-be, Angella, sat in the chair beside him. Despite his fianceé's reassurance that he would get used to the cold weather, Micah was still shivering beneath his thick fur coat. Now that he and the queen of Bright Moon were engaged, they had set out to fulfill a very important task that had been abandoned five years earlier. A plan to unite all of Etheria against the evil Horde.

Growing up, Micah hadn't been able to imagine such low temperatures. The lowest Tropicilas got was around fifty degrees in the winter. Mystacor was below freezing sometimes, though it never dropped to the negatives.

The Snows, however, were below freezing year-round. It would have made a poor target of Horde attack, especially considering the land they occupied right now was too far east to make a sound effort into Dellanova. But after Light Spinner had failed the Spell of Obtainment, the Alliance had scattered.

Many monarchs cited that since Mystacor refused to join in an ethical manner, there was no point to a Rebellion in the first place. But what made the Snows so crucial was one specific detail Queen Regina had made clear. If it seemed like the Horde was winning the war, her kingdom would sign a treaty with Hordak.

Micah and Angella agreed that they could not allow that to happen. If the Kingdom of Snows joined the Horde, Etheria would lose the war. But Queen Regina was notoriously stubborn, and had been committed to neutrality for her entire reign.

Micah gave a halfhearted grin, refusing to admit his boredom. "She's taking her sweet time."

Angella tinkled a laugh. "All in a day's work for being a politician. Soon, you'll join their ranks."

"Don't remind me," Micah muttered jokingly. Yes, he wanted to marry Angella. She was wonderful, the very picture of what he always imagined his wife to be like. But there were...other worries that invaded his mind.

Clearing his throat, Micah changed the subject. "Alright, so how will we get her to join us?"

Angella shrugged. "We tell her the atrocities the Horde has committed."

"But will that outweigh the atrocities...she committed?" Micah asked softly. He sighed, rubbing his temples and trying to dispel the dull ache that remained whenever he thought of her. Light Spinner, his teacher.

Light Spinner, who died as an Obtainment Acolyte.

"Any reasonable person would look past Light Spinner's actions. At least she had good motives behind what she did," Angella said, though there was doubt in her tone. "It'll be alright, Micah. Don't worry so much."

"I feel like you're projecting your own emotions onto me. I don't worry."

"Perhaps you're right," his fianceé admitted with a rueful smile. "It's something I always loved about you, truthfully." She clasped his hand. "You are so carefree – many could do to emulate it."

Micah smiled at her, a plume of emotion swelling up. Angella, his sweet bride-to-be. He had never expected to be her fiancé once he'd grown up. Once he had met her when he was fourteen, and everything about her made him melt with delight. But he had never seen her again, till he'd become a general at the shockingly young age of eighteen.

A voice spoke in a thick Dellaneve accent. "Ah, the negotiators. Welcome."

Micah turned to the door; Queen Regina stood with her husband, King Gian. They both wore thick furs, and their shimmering black hair had a faint blue sheen to it. He stood, bowing to them. "Your Majesties. It is an honor to be here."

"I do hope so," Regina said coolly – she had reluctantly agreed to this meeting. "Now, come with us. We will discuss this in our conference room."

Micah passed a look to Angella, smiling. Don't celebrate yet, her expression seemed to say. As they followed the Dellaneve out of the room and down the icy hallway, he inhaled. The decision they made would impact the outcome of the war – and Micah would do all he could to ensure the Snows made the right one.

They sat down in the conference room, and Micah took a deep breath, fearing the brutality that sometimes joined the Snows in reputation. Easy, now. They're not monsters. They're trying to do what's best for their country.

Angella spoke first – as the queen heir, she had the right of greater plea. "King Gian and Queen Regina, we wish to thank you for your reply and opportunity to hear our case to rejoin the –"

"Oh, stop," Regina said, looking inattentive. "Away with the theatrics, Angella – tell us what you want."

Micah frowned. Angella spent weeks memorizing the speech she had prepared, and now she looked embarrassed, her cheeks turning an even rosier hue. "Well...I suppose." She sighed. "We must advise you to reconsider your threat to join the Horde. There is no good that can come from becoming their pawns."

"Pawns," Regina said. "Such a liberal term for a possible alliance with the new eastern country."

Micah decided to ignore the anger in his stomach – the Horde was occupying Tropicilas, not ruling it. "My queen, you've seen what they did to the Tropicil when they surrendered. The Horde nearly destroyed Ramish culture – and made the survivors into their slaves. The same will happen to the Snows if you join."

"You speak as though the threat of alliance is imminent," Regina said, her eyes cold. Her husband wordlessly took notes, despite supposedly being the one who conducted foreign policy. "We will remain neutral in foreign affairs unless no other option presents itself, as we have for a thousand years. Your nation has been involved in many petty wars."

"Wars that took place hundreds of years ago, when none of us were alive," Micah pointed out.

"I was alive," Angella said quietly. With a sigh, she folded her hands. "Bright Moon is not innocent, Your Majesty. Yet this is not a discussion about joining us, but Etheria's Rebellion as a whole."

"We have no need for your protection," the queen said, her ebony hair shimmering. "The Whispering Woods shield your people. The mountains shield mine."

"Those are both obstacles the Horde can bypass, given enough time," Micah said. "Illuras was attacked, Your Majesty – and I helped fend them off. There is also the discussion of Salineas and their safety. The Sea Gate can be corrupted."

"An interesting point," Regina admitted. "If the Horde controlled the seas, they would hold control over enough land to attack us from the north. They would not be able to do much beyond that, however – not with the Boundary of Horizons in place."

"They can bypass it," Gian pointed out.

"What?" Regina exclaimed. "Gi, why didn't you say something?"

"I did," he said. "Just now."

The queen rolled her eyes. "Explain this, Angella. Now."

Micah's fianceé had a troubled look on her face. "According to Mystacor, the Horde was able to get to the Forgotten Isles – a place many regarded as mere legend. The only reason I knew it existed was because of my parents. They helped the First Ones hide the most dangerous secrets of their day. Secrets even I am unaware of."

Micah swallowed. "The First Ones were very advanced in terms of technology. Somehow, they were able to combine magic and science. If the Horde were to discover those secrets..."

Regina was pale. "It would be hell on earth." She set her chin in a hand. "King Consort. Has the Horde been making consistent routes there?"

Micah shrugged. "I don't know, but they use it as an exile site. We've wondered if the Boundary is able to keep people from escaping the island."

"This is true," Angella said. "Salineas has reported skiffs sailing beyond their territory, which should be impossible – and never any en route toward the mainland."

Queen Regina frowned. "I see. This information was not presented to me." Shooting a glare at her husband, she rose. "This is a threat," she agreed. "My kingdom, and yours, are at stake."

"So you'll consider our offer?" Micah asked hopefully.

A long silence passed. Micah could see the conflict swimming in Regina's eyes; if she denied the Alliance, she would be invaded sooner or later by the Horde. Yet in her eyes, if she joined the Alliance, she risked joining a possibly corrupt king.

"Consider it signed," Regina said begrudgingly. "I will write the documents tonight. But know this, Meyan queen." She spoke with a fierce tone. "If I find that you have engaged in corruption – if I find the slightest impurity in your motives, or the chance that we will lose – I will immediately withdraw, and shift alliances if necessary to protect the kingdom I hold dear. Is this understood?"

Angella was not an easily intimidated woman. Gazing directly into the queen's dark eyes, she nodded with a smile. "This meeting has been most fruitful, Your Majesty."

"Let us pray it stays this way," Regina said, "and that you are able to keep your word. Good day, Queen Angella." With this, she left the room, King Gian still writing notes as they departed.

"Well," Micah chirped, "that went better than I expected."

They'd mirror-traveled home; Angella sighed, sitting in her chair. "Now we have to live up to our promise," she said. "I will file a pledge for our coalition to sign. We still must win over Plumeria, Dryl, and Salineas. And Mystacor."

Mystacor. Master Norwyn had been adamant that the kingdom of sorcerers would remain neutral. In a way, it made sense to Micah – such a small country with little to no military experience couldn't withstand direct combat. Yet there were other ways to help; the military needed sorcerers to transport people to important strike locations. They needed supplies – magical items, foodstuffs, weapons. There were so many opportunities they could have shared with the hidden kingdom. But because Madame Arvina ruled the roost in that country now, Micah severely doubted they would see his side.

Micah sighed. "We're not going to get them easily. Let's...focus on that draft. I'll figure out a way to win Queen Ruta over."

"Ruta?" a soft voice with a Mystacorian accent called. "I can help with that."

Micah cracked a smile; Nell stood at the door. He had only known the man for a few months after becoming king-to-be, but he already liked him. There was a quiet wisdom about the Del that reminded him of Light Spinner. Anyone like that could be Micah's friend, if he tried hard enough.

"We could use your help," Micah said as Angella pulled out a quill to write. "You're my advisor, and you have experience with the Plumerians. How would we handle a parlay with them?"

Nell pushed his spectacles up on his nose and smoothed his dark brown curls. "You will have to appeal to their nonviolent ideas, Micah. They're not like you – Verns believe in never killing anything, ever."

Micah tilted his head. "But you're Vernish. Why did you join the war effort?"

"Medicine is a way to heal," Nell replied. "I'm not religious, but I agree with some of the values. We can't win by acting just like the enemy."

Micah decided to ignore the disagreement between them. "Are there doctors in Plumeria?"

"Mainly those types who think oils will cure cancer." Nell rolled his eyes. "Plumeria is a rich land, however. Trade would be the best way for them to find their place with us."

"So we negotiate trade relations? Will that net us enough food to feed armies?"

A sigh. "I doubt it," Nell admitted. "They may not want to fund the war effort at all – they'd use their lack of strength as an excuse. In that case...I don't know."

Great. "Okay. So I have to appeal to their values. Sounds like every negotiation ever, but you're making it seem really difficult."

"That's because it is," Nell said. "She's a good queen, but she is concerned with her people's interests, first and foremost. Just like Regina – hell, just like us."

"I care about all Etheria," Micah said in a small voice.

"Everyone does on a personal level," Angella said, not looking up from her draft. "I think Nell means a political one – and he would be correct. A ruler cannot afford to care for the entire world. It will render them unable to help anyone, least of all the very place they govern."

Micah sighed. "I see," he said. "I'll give it my best shot. When do we leave?"

Footsteps sounded at the door, and Lieutenant Juliet – soon to be his replacement, General Juliet – spoke. "Your Majesty, I think you'll want to hear this report."

Angella rose. "Of course." She walked over to Juliet, who whispered something in her ear. His fianceé's eyes widened. "Thank you, Lieutenant."

The queen walked back over. "Boys, you'll be taking Zeka with you tomorrow evening. There have been rumors that the Horde's second-in-command is at the Seaworthy banquet hall – you know the one?"

"Where is that?" Micah asked. The Horde's second was known to be reclusive, unknowable, and terrifying. No one had ever seen them in human form, and it was said they prowled the night as a cloud of shadow. He wasn't sure how many legends he believed, but whoever they were, they posed a grave threat.

Nell groaned. "What business would an officer that high-ranking have there?"

Angella shook her head. "I don't know. It seems the Horde wants iridulium. Why, I'm not sure – it's a mundane metal, usually used for tinfoil and the like."

Micah frowned. "We're going to need to investigate. Even if it's not a big problem, we should identify the Horde's second. The more we know about them, the better we can stop them."

He looked over at Nell, who seemed...uncomfortable. The Del was a difficult person to read – many times, he seemed almost sad, but if you asked him how he was, Nell would smile as though nothing was wrong.

Finally, Nell spoke. "I agree. Could someone else tell Zeka? I don't have the energy to deal with her right now."

"I'll contact her," Angella said. "Plan to dress nicely tomorrow, you two. We don't want anyone to suspect there's a problem. Micah, you might try teaching Nell how to tie a hanfu. There are many Tropicil refugees in Seaworthy right now."

Micah nodded, but Nell pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't need to dress up in a hanfu. Those things look like dresses – no offense, Micah."

"Ah, come on!" Micah said with a grin, slapping his friend's shoulder. "You'll look awesome. And if you tie it right, you'll look respectable – not like a drunkard or a ladies' man."

"That makes me feel so much better."

Angella giggled. "Alright, off with you two. I have a resolution to draft, and I need this room quiet."

"Yes, my queen!" Micah said, saluting to his fianceé. She smiled, nodding back, and the two men left the room.

I write this letter not to protect, nor because I care for you on a personal level. For I have lost the ability to do so except from a distance.

The next evening, Micah and Nell shared a table in the large Talla an Làn Mhòir – the Hall of the Great Tide in Taloran. All around them, Ramish nobility and Salinean immigrants enjoyed their meals, laughing gaily. The room was outfitted with huge aquariums filled with exotic fish brought in from thousands of miles away, near the oceanic kingdom.

Tipping back in his chair, Micah sipped on a glass of apple juice. Honestly, what did they put in wine? It was little more than moldy grape juice. Though he was nineteen instead of twenty – the legal drinking age in Meya – Zeka had insisted he try a sip. Micah still felt like throwing up.

He passed a glance to Nell, who had barely touched his meal. They were on a stakeout, sure, but Micah at least took the fried mushrooms and cooked fruit when it came. Nell was still gazing down, almost introspectively, at his baked apples.

Micah spoke. "Nell, are you okay? You look a bit…" Glum was the Mystacorian-Meyan word, but it sounded weird on Micah's tongue. "Tired?" he tried, hoping it was similar enough.

Nell looked up. "Hum?"

"I said, 'you seem tired'."

"Oh." Trying to appear normal, Nell took a bite of his food. "I'm fine. Got lost in my thoughts again."

"Sounds like me in political discussions," Micah jested. "Getting lost, I mean."

"You're better at those matters than you might think." Nell gave a frown, looking past Micah's shoulder. He leaned in and lowered his voice. "Did you see that lady over there?"

Micah shook his head, turning around. Across the ballroom, at a table in the corner, a strange woman typed on a holo-pad. She must have been rich – holo-pads were still a luxury good, and only the wealthiest people could afford them. With a fancy red mask, an ebony gown, and billowing black hair, she stood out like a streak of night amidst the brighter colors.

She's a sorceress, Micah thought, biting his lip. "You think she's with the Horde?" he murmured, turning back to Nell.

"Hard to say," Nell said, taking a bite of the simmered fruit. "There are ethnic groups who wear masks. Those masks, I'm not certain of."

Micah frowned, not wanting to engage the sorceress directly. "Any way we could distract her? Maybe then I can see what's on her holo-pad."

"You're going to be the king," Nell said, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Why don't you command her to step away?"

"I don't want to cause a problem," Micah said. Looking down, he unclenched his fists. "Where's Zeka?"

"I'm sorry," a masculine voice said from behind them, "but Zeka had to go home due to her radiance overdazzling the crowd."

Micah giggled. "Zeke, that's a made-up word."

"All words are made-up, darling," the shifter said, adopting mannerisms uncharacteristic of a serving man. "But at any rate, what do you need?"

Nell had gone back to picking at his food. Nonetheless, the older man spoke, his tan knuckles gripping the fork tightly. "Micah wants you to get the attention of that lady over there."

Zeka nodded slowly with a frown. But just as he was about to go over, the sorceress rose. Micah studied her further; the ballroom gown covered nearly every square inch of her body. He had never seen someone so modestly-dressed before.

Micah shivered as she lifted her skirts, revealing a pair of utilitarian boots. The masked woman strode across the room to speak to a felinetta, leaving her holo-pad at the table.

As soon as she was preoccupied, Micah teleported across the room, grabbed the holo-pad, and made another transport back to his table. The screen still showed her notes.

My lord inquired to me about the nature of parties. I do not believe you would care for them, seeing as how you view simple joys such as babies as counterproductive to our goals. In terms of utility, parties are only tactically advantageous in that they provide one with information about one's political foes. But you will find on Etheria that there are plenty of practices not beneficial, but fun. I will think of a way to describe this word to you shortly.

The vocabulary of the writing was still too advanced for Micah – though he'd been decent with Meyan for years, there were still words that tripped him up. As he turned to get Nell's assistance, a hand rested on his shoulder, firmly gripping it.

He looked up. The woman stood above him, her mask unreadable. Micah's face burned. "Sorry. I just wanted to know what you were writing, Lady Noble."

The masked woman tilted her head. Was she foreign? Or was Micah's Meyan that bad? With a sigh, she gestured, and Micah handed the holo-pad back to her. She studied him for a long moment.

Nell frowned. "Lady Noble?"

The woman turned her gaze toward him; Nell strangled his fork. "May I ask from which kingdom you hail?"

The masked woman didn't respond for a long while. Then she tapped her mask, where her mouth would have been.

Mute.

Nell nodded, as though he'd been expecting it. "Very well; forgive our intrusion. I hope you have a good night."

The masked woman nodded, gripping her holo-pad close to her chest. Micah watched as she took the felinetta by the shoulder and led her outside. He wanted to confront her. But he didn't have enough solid proof to do so.

Yet there was a niggling feeling that they would meet again. And when they did, Micah would investigate her further.

Shadow Weaver stepped out of the final mirror-stop into the Fright Zone, tightly gripping Carmen's hand. Her servant blinked, curling her clawed toes on the green metal floors and making a distasteful scraping sound. "I am never gonna get used to that, my lady."

"Better than taking a carriage all the way back," Shadow Weaver murmured, using her holo-pad's touch screen to type the rest of her report to Lord Hordak. She powered off the holo-pad; her report was due early tomorrow, so she could sacrifice a few hours of sleep – especially since her dear Adora was only a month old. Shadow Weaver wouldn't get much rest anyway.

Carmen walked over to the computers, biting her lip as she surveyed the reports. "Shads?" she asked pensively.

Shadow Weaver snapped out of her thoughts, walking over to Carmen, who was eyeing the records. "What is it?"

"Looks like we've got some fleein' the coop," the felinetta said. She searched for the word in Kriesges – a language both of them were still learning. "Verrat."

Treason.

A cold feeling settled in Shadow Weaver's stomach. Carmen's expression told her all she needed to know; this was not the first time insubordination had occurred. Carmen gripped herself, rocking back and forth. Shadow Weaver knew what the felinetta was thinking. "I'll deal with it myself," she said quietly. "I was foolish to send you alone into Jibril's cell, and I will continue to maintain that."

Carmen flinched at the name; two years was not enough to heal from the trauma. Hell, five years wasn't enough – Shadow Weaver knew all too well what it was like to relive the worst moments of one's life.

Before Shadow Weaver could dwell on her own troubles too much, Carmen squeezed her hand. "A'ight, my lady," she said gently. "I'll go see how Catra's doin'. Want me to give Li'l Miss Adora a kiss for ya?"

"Of course," Shadow Weaver said gently. Biting her lip, she drew a transportation spell on the ground. "I shall be back within two hours," she said as she dissolved into shadow.

When Shadow Weaver arrived to administer the executions, she found that the guards had already done the job. With a sigh of relief, she thanked Hordak silently for ensuring that she didn't have to deal with it. Aside from the messy work involved in an execution, Shadow Weaver still didn't like to kill.

That didn't mean she couldn't kill, of course. Shadow Weaver vividly recalled her adoptive father's cries as she sucked the trace magic from his body. She could murder with the daggers she kept concealed in her pockets at all times. Throttle her victims with magic alone...

Shadow Weaver shuddered as she stepped into the cell. The morticians would arrive soon, but she had to see the people punished. According to the report, they had been caught having sex in one of the restroom stalls. Moons above, the thought of being seen in such a state, especially in an army that forbade marriage and the activities surrounding it...she couldn't imagine the humiliation they must have felt.

Their skulls were shattered, but Shadow Weaver couldn't afford to care about them. Not when her own life was in jeopardy. As she stepped out of the room, strange feelings clung to her heart. She was not innocent, either.

Of course, Shadow Weaver had never married, and she was proper enough to remain a virgin as Mother and Father would have desired. But the rush of emotion when she gazed upon Nell at the tavern still remained. A mess of tangled feelings she hated. Immediate desire to kiss those soft, warm lips as he cradled her in the tender embrace of his strong arms...

No. Anger. Bitterness. Sorrow. Nell was not hers; he was happy being a career man for the Rebellion. Shadow Weaver clenched her fists and took several deep breaths as she forced herself to dwell on his abandonment. Not his sweet singing voice, or his crystal blue eyes, or – moons forbid – the fantasies she used to have about him.

Used to have. She chuckled to herself, shaking her head as she walked away. As if her daydreams about him had ever fully ceased. In fact, they grew even stronger as she laid eyes on her lost love again.

Did you know... - This story took a year and 7 months to finish - the longest I've ever taken on a story.
- Carmen is a very special character to me. She's evolved a lot from when she was first conceived, and she's an homage to my background as an autistic person. Tell me what you think...
- What might Micah's biggest challenge as future king be?
- Why is Nell so solemn?